"The panty lovers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johnson Colin)

CHAPTER THREE

Ann met Jenifer coming down the long carpeted hallway to Mr. Birindelli's office and breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that she would not have to face the tough-talking, hard-driving corporation executive all by herself.

"How are you, baby," called the tall blonde cheerfully. "How does it feel to be a special promotional assistant?"

"Good, I guess," dubiously responded the lush young doctor's wife. "What do you suppose we have to do?"

"Let's go into the lion's den and find out," suggested Jenifer. "It's almost three o'clock and our fearless leader does not like to be kept waiting."

Jenifer was wearing a cheerful cocktail dress, cut low in front to expose the alluring swelling of her high-set, well-formed breasts. She seemed so fresh and lively that Ann found it difficult to believe this was the same immoral woman who had been so lewdly sucking Mr. Birindelli's lust-swollen penis the day before. It just goes to show you, thought Ann as the two of them presented themselves to Birindelli's secretary, you can never really know what another person is like.

The secretary waved them through and as they entered the inner office, the vice president for sales and promotion was behind his desk, surrounded by a team of assistants and secretaries, shouting into a telephone.

"Tell them to get off their fucking asses," Birindelli thundered at some unfortunate person on the other end of the line. "If the cocktail room isn't ready by eight o'clock, you're fired!" And he slammed down the receiver without waiting for a reply. Ann noticed that none of his female secretaries batted all eyelash at this vulgar language, since they were evidently accustomed to him. Looking up, he caught sight of the two models and permitted himself a quick tense smile.

"Oh, here are our two lovelies. Sit down girls and listen hard because I've only got a few seconds to spare."

Jenifer and Ann took seats hesitantly while Birindelli's staff clustered around him ready to execute any order he might give.

"I had hoped to be able to give you some on-the-job training and brief you thoroughly on your duties before an important job came up, but we're got a crisis on our hands and we're going to have to throw you two into the breach without much preparation. About all hour ago we got a call from Mr. Judson Ty Benson of Salt Lake City, a perfect asshole who also happens to be the biggest buyer of women's clothing in the Midwest. Benson and his team are going to be in town for one night and they want to see the Pink Cloud and our other recent designs. We're setting up a dinner and a party for this evening and the two of you will model our stuff and socialize with Benson and his crew. Jenkins, where's that biographic sketch the market research people worked up?"

An assistant promptly handed the executive a sheet of paper and Birindelli tossed it in Ann's direction.

"Study this and get to know your man, because Benson is your baby. I want you to stick to him like glue all evening and if he signs a contract with us tomorrow morning, I'll write you a check for one cool grand. Screw up and you can look for another job. Jenifer, you get Benson's right-hand man, a guy named Franklyn. We don't know much about him so you'll have to play it by ear. Now both of you get your asses downstairs and see Pauling about what he wants you to wear."

It was clearly not the moment to ask questions. Birindelli immediately turned his attention to the documents before him on his desk and the two young models found their own way out of his office.

"That guy has all the charm of a bull elephant in the rutting season," commented Jenifer acidly, right in front of Birindelli's secretary. "Come on, let's go see old Pauling and see what kind of rags he's got for us."

Ann followed the sexy blonde model down the hall, admiring the way her friend handled herself in every situation. Nothing ever seemed to upset Jenifer, even Mr. Birindelli. How she wished she could behave with the same cool sophistication!

"Look, Pauling, I'm worried," Jenifer told the graphics director as she unzipped the gown she was wearing and stepped casually out of it.

"Try this one on," suggested Pauling, handing her another party dress and stepping back to admire the girl's smooth sleek body, now covered only by a tiny pair of lacy panties. "I didn't know you ever worried about anything. Tonight got you upset?"

"Yes, but not for myself. I can handle almost anything that comes my way, but I don't think our little girlfriend quite realizes what she's gotten herself into. You know how innocent and naive she is! What happens when this Judson Ty Benson tries to get her into bed? She'll scream 'RAPE!' Wonder-Wear will lose the sale and Birindelli will probably fire everybody in the room, including you and me."

"Could be," admitted Pauling uneasily, frowning as Jenifer's words took effect. "And yet, somehow, Birindelli usually has all the angles figured. I explained all about Ann's morals when he picked her and he insisted on having her anyway. Can't you straighten her out between now and the party?"

"I'll do what I can," agreed the model dubiously, "but I don't want to scare her off, either. Can't you think of anything?"

"Keep your eye on her and make sure her glass is filled every minute," advised the graphics director seriously. "Her type can't normally handle much liquor. Everything goes a little bit better if it's oiled."

"Okay, but you stay on your toes too. I'll be busy with this guy Franklyn," Jenifer reminded him. "Hey, I like this outfit. Does it show enough tit?"

"Plenty," the advertising man assured her, allowing his lustful gaze to roam over her smooth, young breasts. "And you'll only be wearing it for the first few minutes. After that, you'll be sporting Wonder-Wear and that shows even more."

"You know," reflected Jenifer, pirouetting in front of the mirror. "I really do dig this dress. Could I keep it afterwards?"

"That's a three hundred dollar dress," said Pauling softly, coming up behind her and putting his hands confidently on her slender waist. "And it belongs to Wonder-Wear, Incorporated. Of course, I might be persuaded to drop it from the inventory…"

"Really?" responded the voluptuous yielding young model, a trace of sensuality in her voice as she teasingly drew down the zipper. "Let me see if I can't find a way to-persuade you…"

"Good Heavens, at this rate, I'm going to be drunk as an owl before the party even starts," protested Ann nervously as Pauling handed her another glass of champagne. The innocent but tempting young model was wearing a green frilly party dress, chosen for her by Mr. Pauling, which emphasized her full dramatic figure and revealed her heavy swollen breasts almost to their tender brown nipples.

Jenifer, Pauling and a scattering of other Wonder-Wear executives were waiting with Ann in the company's cocktail room for Birindelli and his team to return from a business dinner with the Salt Lake City buyer and his assistants. At one end of the hall was a dressing room where the two models would change into the various costumes and fashions Wonder-Wear was trying to sell. A bar had been set up to keep the liquor flowing and a white-suited bartender was busily uncorking champagne bottles.

"Don't worry, these deals are just excuses to net juiced," declared Pauling. "Here come the big boys now. They've probably all had six martinis apiece at dinner."

"Not Mr. Benson," asserted Ann worriedly. "Mr. Birindelli gave me a description of him that said he's active in church affairs and doesn't smoke or drink!"

"Watch out for him honey," joked Jenifer with a lewd grin. "A guy that doesn't smoke or drink must be saving his energy for something. Hey, are you nervous or something?"

"Just a little," admitted the brown-haired girl. "Posing for the camera in your underwear is one thing, but walking around in a room full of men… I didn't realize that's what special promotional assistants had to do."

"Nonsense," insisted Pauling, who had been listening carefully to what Ann said. "That's just an insignificant part of the job. Your business is to charm that client. Make him want to buy Wonder-Wear because you and he are friends. This is a very high-powered psychological sales technique you're participating in."

As Pauling spoke, the group of senior executives entered the room and Ann's eyes followed an extremely tall lanky man of about fifty whom she recognized from the description she had been given as Judson Ty Benson. The Midwestern business magnate was a thin as a scarecrow and wore typical Western-style clothing with a checkered shirt, a string tie and steel-rimmed glasses which made him look like a circuit preacher. Feeling a gentle shove from behind, Ann stepped forward to be introduced, now glad that she had had a couple of glasses of champagne to give her courage.

"And this is one of our smartest young promotional assistants," Birindelli informed the tall gangling man. "Ann, shake hands with the boss."

"As the Bible says, 'Work and ye shall prosper'," quoted Benson, shaking hands stiffly with Ann and examining her carefully through his old-fashioned spectacles. "I am what I am today because of a life-time of clean living and honest labor, Mr. Birindelli," he informed Ann's boss.

"Of course, Mr. Benson, and we all admire you for it," Birindelli smiled back at him insincerely with a wink to Ann out of the corner of his eye. "Miss Larkin, why don't you get Mr. Benson something to drink?"

"Surely," the young model began, but Benson cut her oft with another biblical quotation.

"'The fruit of the grape brings madness to fools', as the Good Book says, young lady," he instructed her. "I never touch liquor."

"I believe we may have some orange juice," offered Ann smoothly, knowing that Birindelli was watching her sharply, waiting to see how she would handle the situation.

"Not Florida orange juice?" inquired the visiting businessman, wrinkling his brow.

"California, naturally," Birindelli assured him and Ann walked quickly to the bar, thinking that Benson was about the strangest individual she had ever met. The bartender poured a glass three-quarters full of fresh orange juice and promptly filled it up with Vodka.

"What are you doing?" hissed Ann, angry at the man's stupidity. "This is for Mr. Benson and he doesn't drink liquor!"

"Then he shouldn't know what Vodka tastes like," retorted the bartender calmly, handling her the glass. "Anyway, Mr. Birindelli's orders and I guess he knows what he's doing."

Apparently he did, since Benson accepted the glass with his peculiar preacher's smile and drank deeply.

"Avoid Florida orange juice, my dear," he informed her, smacking his lips. "Contains all sorts of impurities!"

"Oh, I will," Ann assured him, taking another sip of her champagne. "Thank you for the warning." Mr. Benson lectured on about the necessity of living cleanly and avoiding impurities of all kinds and Ann quickly glanced around the room to see how the party was progressing. Jenifer was busily chattering to a young man who was apparently Franklyn, Benson's right-hand man. Several other pretty girls from the Wonder-Wear staff were circulating through the party, making sure that everyone's cigarette was lit and everyone's glass was full. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why Mr. Birindelli had chosen her, his least experienced assistant, to be Benson's companion at this party. Surely Jenifer or one of the others would be more relaxed and sophisticated. But, as the bartender had put it, Birindelli always did seem to know what he was doing.

"Ann," said the vice president with a soft pleasant voice. "I have an idea. Why don't you and Jenifer show Mr. Benson and his staff the Pink Cloud and some of our other outfits? I'm sure he could get a better idea of how they look if he could see them actually being worn by someone as pretty as you."

Birindelli was behaving as if it were an idea which had just struck him rather than a carefully-organized operation they had been planning all day, but Ann played along with him.

"Fine, Mr. Birindelli. In fact, we brought the whole Wonder-Wear line up with us just in case someone wanted to take another look at it." And then she turned to Mr. Judson Benson, who was knocking back his fourth specially-prepared California orange juice, and gave him an apologetic little-girl look.

"Of course, we're not professional models, Mr. Benson, but we'll do our best."

"The Lord asks of each of us our most earnest endeavor," agreed Benson, slurring his words a little.

Ann gave him her most winning smile, hoping that no one could see how nervous she was, and went off to collect Jenifer.

"Everything's going like clockwork," Pauling informed the two attractive models as they entered the dressing room. "And I think you're sweeping Mr. Benson off his feet, Ann. Now get into your outfits and go!"

It was not as bad as she had imagined it would be. Never in Ann's entire life had she drunk so much champagne in one evening and her entire body felt warm and rosy. The room was hot and she felt comfortable and natural in the brief undergarments which Pauling had left out for them to model. She made a point of not looking at herself in the mirror whenever she put on a new set of underwear or one of the frilly nighties which the company manufactured for fear that she would be covered with embarrassment if she saw how much of her was showing.

From time to time, she thought of how shocked and horrified her husband would be if he could see her now, but somehow the idea filled her with amusement. Frank was a dear man, but sometimes he behaved like such a stuffed shirt. These people, she decided, really knew how to have fun and even Mr. Benson was beginning to kick up his heels a little, under the influence of a number of California orange juices spiked with Vodka.

"Do you like this one, Mr. Benson?" she asked innocently as she showed him an almost-transparent white nightie which she would never have dared to wear sober.

"It becomes you, my dear," he announced, his long angular body swaying slightly from the alcohol he had unknowingly been drinking. "As King Solomon says in the Song of Songs, 'Your beauty is like the shining sea and your breasts are like pomegranates'. Although worn by some less pure young woman, I can see that it might be quite vulgar."

Pauling intercepted her on the way back to the changing room and filled up her glass with champagne again.

"I don't think I should drink any more, Mr. Pauling," she told him. "We've still got three or four more things to model and I'm really getting pretty tight."

"That's okay," responded Pauling seriously. Even in her drunken state, Ann could see that the graphics director was still dead sober. "Benson's good and sloshed and he's ready to go back to his hotel. Birindelli wants you to get dressed and escort him. So this is one for the road."

"Oh really… do you think that's quite proper?" Ann protested as she drank the champagne. "I mean… suppose he gets the idea…"

"That guy?" exclaimed Pauling with an amused smile. "He hasn't had that particular idea in twenty years. He'll just quote the Bible all the way up to his room. You just tuck him into bed and then go on home. We'll see you back here in the morning. But remember, this is one hell of a big client. If he decides he wants to go out for a pizza or something, for Christ's sake go with him."

Mr. Judson Ty Benson seemed to be sitting unnecessarily close to her in the back of the cab and his hand had fallen, apparently by accident, onto Ann's bare thigh, but she found it impossible to believe that a man who quoted scripture as much as this one did could possibly mean any harm. Besides Ann's senses were dulled by the enormous quantity of champagne she had imbibed over the course of the evening. It had seemed that every time she turned around, Pauling or Jenifer thrust a fresh glass into her hands. But somehow she felt good, despite the slight spinning sensation in her head.

"Did we remember the samples, Miss Larkin?" the businessman wanted to know. "I'll want to study them again before retiring for the night."

"Yes, Mr. Benson," Ann assured him smoothly. "Right here in this suitcase." Their cab pulled up in front of Benson's hotel and the lanky, angular gentleman handed the driver a crisp ten dollar bill.

"Come up for two minutes, won't you?" asked the executive in a business-like tone of voice. "I have some more questions about some of these garments and perhaps you could use a cup of coffee before starting out for your home."

It was more of an order than a question and Ann was not overly enthusiastic about going up to Mr. Benson's hotel room in the middle of the night, but she remembered Pauling's instructions about humoring important clients. Not that she was worried about Mr. Benson misbehaving, of course, because he was obviously too religious-minded for any hanky-panky. But still, if someone who knew her husband should see her entering a hotel with a suitcase in the middle of the night, the wrong conclusions could be jumped to without too much of a strain on the imagination.

Obediently, the inexperienced young model followed the Salt Lake City businessman through the sumptuous lobby of the hotel, attracting lewd and suspicious stares from bellhops and busboys.

"Pay them no mind, daughter," said Mr. Benson, observing her embarrassment. "Evil is in the eye of the beholder and the pure in heart rush in where angels fear to bed."

Ann was not quite sure that this particular quotation sounded exactly right, but her mind was too addled by the quantity of alcohol she had consumed to try to decide how it should go. The door of Room Number 971 yielded to Benson's key and the two of them walked into the most luxurious penthouse suite Ann had ever seen.

"Very well, let's get right down to work because I'm sure you're anxious to get home to bed," Mr. Benson commented, setting the suitcase full of Wonder-Wear samples on the dresser and opening it up. The first thing he drew out was the sheer white nightie and a thin pair of soft, powder blue panties with white frilly lace around the legbands Ann had modeled earlier in the evening.

"Now, I am interested in this particular nightgown worn over these panties," he stated, holding them up to the light and examining it with the greatest attention. "They have good lines and the material seems to be high-quality. I think we could sell a great many of them in my territory, however…"

"What don't you like about them?" asked Ann solicitously, relieved that he was really interested in talking business but wishing desperately that she were a tiny bit soberer.

"Tell me honestly, Miss Larkin," he asked her seriously. "You're quite obviously a young woman of the highest moral standards. Do you think a nightgown and panties like this are… well… decent?"

"Decent?" she echoed, a little stupefied. Damn. Why didn't I stay away from that champagne? she asked herself. I can't think straight and if I lose this client, Birindelli will fire me!

"I mean, I wouldn't want to bring into my territory anything which could be an occasion for sin," Benson continued earnestly. "I simply cannot decide if this nightgown and those panties aren't really calculated to stimulate a man's baser sexual instincts."

Ann was dumbfounded. The nightie was thin enough to be transparent and so short that it would barely cover a woman's buttocks, and the panties were so thin and sheer you could see her pubic curls and vaginal slit right through them. What kind of instincts did he think it was calculated to stimulate?

"Those of us in the clothing trade have grave moral responsibilities, Miss Larkin," he continued, staring at her with his beady unblinking eyes. "And too many of my colleagues knowingly sell garments which are open invitations to immoral behavior."

"Well," Ann mumbled, trying to think of something intelligent to say. "I think that…"

"No, I've got to see them modeled again," he interrupted. "If they cause the slightest sexual arousal in me, I simply will not be able to place an order with your company. Without boasting, I think it is fair to say that I am morally stronger than most men and if something is capable of threatening my ethical standards, then we can safely conclude that it would be disastrous for my weaker brethren. You may change in the bathroom, Miss Larkin." Dropping the nightie over her shoulder and pushing the panties in her hand, Benson shoved the startled, astonished girl into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

The man's out of his mind, thought Ann, staring at herself in the mirror and trying to get her eyes to focus properly. Here I am, drunk as a whore, supposed to model a sexy nightgown for a religious nut and somehow not arouse any of his lower instincts, if he has any. I'm going to get fired for sure, and we won't be able to make the payments on that new car. What a situation!

But there was no question of disobeying Mr. Benson now. Refusing to model for him would be clearly insulting and Wonder-Wear would automatically lose the sale. With a sigh of resignation, she slipped out of her green low-cut party dress and her Pink Cloud underwear and pulled the nightie over her head, inspecting herself in the mirror.

There were no two ways about it. This was a sensuous, lust-arousing nightgown and a pair of panties definitely designed to bring out the lower instincts in almost anyone!

Ann's head was spinning wildly now and she wished Mr. Benson would remember that promised cup of coffee. Somehow she had to sober up enough to deal with this insane situation. Splashing water on her face, she gathered up her courage and walked back into the bedroom. Mr. Benson had removed his coat and tie and was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Good, now walk over to the center of the room, under the light!" he ordered, and Ann did as she was told, her bare feet tingling as she moved across the plush thick carpet. She pirouetted automatically, allowing him to see all sides of her and then came to rest and waited for further instructions.

"Hmmmmm, I'm not sure whether I find that erotic or not," he muttered, rising from the bed. "Come over here and lean back on the bed against a pillow. I want to see you against a more natural setting."

Something deep inside the girl's alcohol hazed mind told her this meant trouble, but she was too drunk and too frightened to dream of disobeying. She sat down uneasily on the edge of the bed, wishing she could have kept her own panties on instead of these you could see her pubic hair and everything through, even though hers were the wrong color and clashed horribly with the nightie. Crossing her legs modestly, she pulled the flimsy garment down as far as it would go and relaxed back against the pillow, trying to smile naturally.

Benson circled the bed like an animal about to spring on its prey, his fiery maniac's eyes almost bulging from his head as he surveyed the young voluptuous woman's sleekly tapered legs and the tempting twin swells of her ripely swelling bosom. Ann was feeling incredibly tired and drunk and she only wished she could crawl under the cool refreshing sheets arid doze off to sleep. In her champagne-wracked mind, all she could think of was Pauling's urgent order that Judson Ty Benson was to be kept happy at all costs. If she failed, her job went out the window and she and Frank were on the high road to financial ruin.

"Ah-ha!" he cried unexpectedly, startling her out of her own private thoughts. "As I feared! Your nipples, Miss Larkin, are plainly visible! You call that decent?"

It was true, of course, she told herself with irritation, glancing down at her nearly naked breasts to verify what this peculiar religious fanatic was shouting at her. Not only were the tips of her nipples visible, they were also stiff and swollen, as if something about this insane situation was arousing what Benson would call her "baser sexual instincts".

Moving with surprising agility, the lean and lanky businessman circled quickly and sat down lightly by her side, forcing her to move her long, tantalizingly-exposed legs over toward the center of the mattress.

"And look here!" he roared at her like an old-time preacher promising hellfire and damnation. One long finger was pointed between her thighs, only inches away from the dark mysteriously curling triangle of pussy hair which showed plainly beneath the powder blue panties thin filmy material.

"Even your… your… genital region is exposed!! Miss Larkin, these panties were designed by a moral degenerate! They were clearly intended to promote sin and promiscuity!"

As far as Ann was concerned, the whole business was getting rapidly out of hand. Benson was obviously mad as the proverbial mad hatter and Wonder-Wear could hardly expect her to stay here another minute. A glance at her companion showed that he was getting more and more excited, since his chest was heaving with excitement and his long angular Midwestern face was flushed and red.

The terrorized young girl began edging cautiously toward the other side of the bed.

"NO, you don't," he screamed insanely and despite her drunken state, it suddenly occurred to Ann that no one was likely to hear them in the penthouse suite. "You're not going anywhere just yet. This nightgown – those pussy-exposing panties – have aroused my lower instincts!" Ann gasped as his thin threatening hands reached out to claw at her sensitive vulnerable breasts. She tried desperately to push him away but his lean hungry body was too strong for her and in an instant he had crawled over her body, pushing the lust-provoking nightie high up over her waist and exposing to his lust-maddened blazing eyes a tormentingly tempting view of her almost nakedly defenseless loins and the soft sleek hair surrounding her delicate red-lipped vagina.

"Wonder-Wear is in league with the Devil!" he thundered crazily. "You have led an innocent righteous man into carnal sin and ye shall be punished for your lewd transgressions! We shall all be punished!"

"No, please, Mr. Benson," sobbed the fear-stricken girl, writhing and moaning piteously as his hard muscular hands roamed wildly over her twisting shaking body.

"First, let us rid ourselves of these lewd and wicked garments!" he proclaimed, seizing Wonder-Wear's best-selling nightie at the throat and ripping it savagely from her innocent white body. "If the eye offendeth thee, pluck it out, sayeth the Good Book!"

Rising up astride her, he looked down desirously at the ripe now almost naked young body completely at his mercy.

Ann froze in real terror, trying desperately to cover herself with her hands, the lust-maddened businessman ripping the clothing from his own gnarled tough body. After tearing the shirt from his chest, he wiggled clumsily out of his pants, his eyes never leaving her for a second. Ann had never seen anyone get undressed quite so quickly; in an instant he was naked, his lean tawny body towering over her like a skyscraper. His already long hard cock stood out from his flat muscular stomach like the heavy, thickened shaft of a spear.

Christ, it was long! Benson was uncircumcised and his penis was even greater in length than Birindelli's, although not quite so thick. Despite his age, the businessman's body was still hard and agile, the result of a half-century of clean living. Ann saw immediately that there was no hope whatsoever of overpowering him or escaping. She was trapped!

"Don't… don't do it to me!" she wailed as her fear increased.

"You must suffer for your sins," Benson roared insanely. "You have led a just man into evil and this shall be your punishment!"

Ann saw immediately that the strange angular businessman was quite out of his head and she remembered all the doctored glasses of orange juice he had consumed in the course of the evening. Why, he's twice as drunk as I am, she realized with a sudden shock. Only he doesn't know it!

But drunk or not, he was clearly going to rape her and there was nothing she could do about it now. Of course she could start screaming her head off and maybe someone would hear her and call the police, but where would that leave her? Her picture would be in all the morning papers and there would be plenty of bellhops to testify that she came willingly to Mr. Benson's room in the middle of the night carrying a suitcase full of clothing. The police would probably think she was a dishonest prostitute and her husband would call his lawyer for a divorce the moment he heard about it.

No, there was no way out! She was going to have to lie here and let herself be cruelly raped by this middle-aged madman!

But Benson was wasting no time in contemplation. Kneeling up between her lewdly outstretched legs, the crazed businessman passionately dropped his fanatical face to the soft twin peaks of her ripe young bosom, moving his slavering mouth rapidly from one tensed brown nipple to the other as if he could not make up his mind between the two. The wetness of his lips against her defenselessly yielding flesh sent a chill racing up and down her spine and a piteous groan escaped from her tortured tingling lips.

But Benson seemed incapable of holding still for more than a few seconds and as Ann tried in vain to wiggle away from his searing tongue, the religious fanatic found a new object for his attentions. Pinning her arms to the mattress with his tremendous lust-crazed strength, he forced her legs even farther apart with his knees and with a snarl thrust his face into her thin, panty covered pussy slit.

"No, please, not that," she cried uselessly, but Benson was beyond listening to her futile please. Pressing the flimsy, moisture-covered crotchband aside with his fingers and nuzzling his way through the soft brown pubic hair, he suddenly flicked his tongue up into the moistly quivering mound of her tender young cunt, hungrily licking the sensitive pink lips surrounding her tiny tension-filled clitoris.

Ann kicked her long tapered legs out wildly on either side of Benson's head, but every movement of her nakedly trembling body only seemed to open her up even wider to his depraved invasion of her loins. Releasing her arms, he plunged his middle finger into her sparsely growing pussy hair, using both his thumbs to draw apart the pink petal edges of her vagina, exposing to his bulging, frenzied eyes a lust-exciting view of her moistly quivering cuntal slit.

For a moment, he hovered over her like a vulture, saliva already dripping from his gaping mouth, surveying the prize he had fought for and won. Then, with a groan more animal than human, his head ducked abruptly and he buried his long slippery tongue way up inside the warmly clasping walls of her vagina.

"AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!" she cried out in despair as he invaded her helplessly trapped cunt. She ground her hips frantically into the mattress as she attempted to escape this ghastly attack on the most intimate part of her body. Ann's fingers curled into the Salt Lake City executive's steel-gray hair and she tried with all her might to lift his lewdly burrowing face from her defenselessly tongue-spread young pussy. But if Benson even noticed the pain of having his hair pulled, he gave no sign of it, his tongue penetrating her more deeply by the minute.

Releasing his hair, Ann clutched the sheets in her fists and raised her head and shoulders up off the mattress, unable to believe that this incredible thing was really happening to her, little Mrs. Ann Larkin, the doctor's wife. It was too cruel, too bizarre to be true. Oh why had she ever gotten involved in this insane business to begin with?

Let him do what he wants, she told herself, dropping back down on the mattress and resigning herself to the inevitable. He's too strong to fight and too crazy and drunk to reason with. He said this was a punishment and in a way he's right. So take your medicine with dignity and stop flailing around like an idiot. You should have walked out the door when he first suggested a private modeling session and you didn't, so you have no one to blame but yourself!

So she lay back on the luxurious penthouse bed, stiff but submissive, remarking to herself that the experience was degrading and humiliating, but not painful, at least so far. In fact, as Benson's tongue lashed furiously in and out of her involuntarily dilating cunt, she observed that the sensation was anything but painful. Despite the waves of shame which swept insistently over her, tiny wisps of forbidden tingling pleasure were beginning to build up in her stomach and radiate out in all directions, causing her thighs to jerk spasmodically upwards. Her stomach was filling gradually with a warm pleasant feeling and it was another half-minute before she realized with horror exactly what was happening to her.

This maniac was turning her on! He was arousing her against her will!

Tightening every muscle in her body, Ann Larkin fought back with all her strength. If she allowed this to happen to her, she could never face her husband again. She must not surrender!

But her noble resolution faded rapidly as Benson's mouth slavered over her with increasing fury, his tongue snaking viciously up into the mysterious softness of her gradually widening vagina. The tingling electric current had now spread into her trembling white breasts, causing her nipples to stand up boldly.

Benson's mind was a raging mass of confusion as a lifetime of repressed sexuality finally burst its bounds. Ever since his youth he had been holding back this reservoir of stormy lust, making delicate passionless love once a week to an ugly old woman ten years older than he. It had never before occurred to Benson to have sexual relations with a woman other than his wife, but when he had seen this splendid young creature earlier in the evening, he had felt an indescribably powerful emotion welling up inside of him, totally unlike anything else he had ever experienced.

Of course he had known immediately when they handed him his drink that the orange juice was half alcohol. But instead of protesting or throwing it in Birindelli's face, he had drunk it down and called for another. For the first time in his long, Bible-quoting life, he had wanted to get really drunk, blown out of his mind, just to see what would happen.

And this was what happened. Well, he told himself, if this was a sin, by God, it was going to be a good one, and he continued to flail with his tongue like a madman at Ann's hopelessly resisting pussy.

As the fury of his sexual madness increased, Benson wanted even more, desiring to do all of the lewd depraved things he had read about in books and had never before had the courage to try, particularly not with his aging frigid wife.

Might as well be damned for a goat as a sheep, he decided, pushing the trembling young model's knees up in the air in such fashion that her sleek smooth thighs covered his ears and the whole flat plane of her pussy with the crotchband of her panties pulled aside, was exposed to his maniacal eyes. His wetly swirling tongue worked madly, lapping everything in sight from the pulsating moist opening of her vaginal tunnel down to the tight little puckery hole of her anus.

"Oooooohh," Ann groaned as she felt his hot searing tongue pass quickly over the sensitive rubbery opening, sending an unexpected rolling wave of sensation through her tormentedly writhing body.

"Not there, please, don't touch me there!"

But Benson was beyond mercy. Discovering that the inexperienced young girl liked the feeling he burrowed even farther up into the defensively contracting crevice between her buttocks, thrusting his tongue again and again up into the vainly resisting rectal opening, trying to force himself up inside her while she struggled with all her might to hold him out.

But further resistance was useless and they both knew it. Her buttocks were grinding inexorably down into the soft yielding mattress as the tiny sparks of lust in her belly burst into real passionate flame, spreading like a wild-fire into the rest of her body. Without realizing what she was doing, she wound her delicate hands into his gray hair and pressed his face down into her now excitedly seeping pussy as hard as she could.

"Oh, do it, yes, do it like that!" she babbled insanely. "Fuck me, you crazy old man! Do whatever you want with me!" The shame and humiliation were all gone now and in her champagne-fogged mind, Ann was only conscious of the magic electric current racing madly up and down her spine.

Now her company's chief client was moving, excited by her words, advancing his body up over the flat trembling plane of the young model's stomach to the temptingly spread range of her swollen and shaking breasts. As he crawled forward between her outstretched legs, Ann could feel his long spear-like cock approaching and she found herself longing to be pierced and penetrated, hurt and impaled on its huge throbbing length. Half in fear and half in breathless anticipation, she reached down and held the lace-covered edge of her panty legband to one side and waited breathlessly as Benson reached down quickly between their two yearning bodies and took the hard rubbery cock-head between his fingers, searching through the full, fleshy lips of her softly quivering cunt for the entrance to her now willingly yielding vaginal passage.

Then he found it and shoved!

"Aaaagggghhhhh!" she screamed as the most incredible sensation she had ever experienced swept over her. It was neither pain nor pleasure but something beyond either one and she had never felt so filled in her entire life.

Benson fell forward, his hard lean chest crushing against the tender pliant flesh of her softly trembling breasts, and his hips responded instinctively at the same moment, thrusting powerfully with all the strength in his body and burying his long, thickly pulsating cock to the hilt, deep up into her forcibly yielding young flesh.

"Oh, oh, God!" she gasped below him, her cunt feeling as thought it had just been shredded into a thousand tiny pieces, never to he healed again. She could feel every inch of this man lodged securely deep up inside her, with all movement transmitted directly to her body when he moved.

But the lust that the lean executive had generated deep in Ann's cunt was still strong, much too strong to be conquered by the discomfort caused by his sudden entry. As he began to fuck into her with long smooth even strokes, her body immediately caught the rhythm and she started to thrust back up at him, undulating her hips in time to the powerful skewerings of his deeply fucking cock.

Benson's hands roamed wildly over Ann's lewdly twisting body, exploring the smooth silken surface of her skin as if he had never touched a woman's body before, his fingers moving under the soft nylon covering of her panties and caressing the softly tensing globes of her buttocks which were flexing and unflexing in time with his murderously-powerful cock-thrusts. Ann's whole body was jerking and twitching uncontrollably now as groan after groan of intense pleasure came to her lips and she could no longer concentrate on anything but the depraved happiness of lying there with her legs spread wide apart being fucked half to death with her panties still on by this crazy old Midwesterner. The fact that all of this was happening against her will only increased the pleasure, since she did not have to waste any energy feeling guilty.

Benson was not an experienced lover, never before having been in bed with anyone but his wife, but what he lacked in experience and technique, he was making up in enthusiasm and raw naked desire. He stepped up the rhythm of this strokes as his hand slid down between their two bucking and swaying bodies and fondled the widely-stretched lips of her pussy where his massively throbbing cock was penetrating her. This vile caress only served to increase the young woman's pleasure, bringing additional moans of servile acceptance and submission to her mouth as his fingers brushed repeatedly over the surface of her tiny pink, sensation-filled clitoris. He could feel the narrow channel of her vagina begin to flower open as if it had taken on a life of its own, and were trying to suck his cock all the way up inside and hold it there interminably.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she chanted rhythmically beneath him, her face contorted almost beyond recognition, her lips bared back over her small white teeth and a light film of perspiration covering the surface of her skin.

Benson responded with a grunt, knowing instinctively that he himself was also nearing the end. But the gray-haired religious fanatic worked to make it particularly good, fucking his hotly pulsating cock up into her hungrily clasping cunt as far as it would go until his heavily swinging balls were slapping mercilessly against the panty covered softness of her rectum.

"Oh, I'm cumming," she whispered suddenly with disbelief, her voice husky with passion. "Oooooooogghhh!"

Benson felt her open up to him like a flower touched by the morning sun and warns wet liquids from deep inside her hotly contracting cunt walls flooded around his viciously pistoning cock, lubricating his lust-hardened penis and enabling him to fuck into her even harder. Her body jerked continuously and convulsively, her arms and legs flailing out involuntarily, and Benson could sense the interior walls of her ecstatically pulsating cunt clasping insanely at his penis, trying desperately to milk him dry.

Ann was sure for a minute that she was going out of her mind. The feeling had never been so strong before for the sexually neglected young woman, and she felt her body flying out of control and floating toward the ceiling as Benson groaned and began violently shooting his scalding white sperm deep up into her frantically climaxing cunt.

The hot wet stream of living sperm went spraying into her nakedly trembling belly and Ann could feel every drop of the life-giving fluid as it spurted from the tip of his wildly-ejaculating penis and crashed against her hungrily absorbing cuntal walls. Her legs were wrapped tightly up around his back, her feet pressing down against his desperately straining buttocks and urging him farther and farther up into her softly yielding pussy flesh while her tongue snaked lewdly up into the older man's mouth. They both came together in an instant of maddening fury, groaning into each other's throats while the Salt Lake City executive filled Ann's hotly squirming young body with his hot sticky cum.

When it was over, somehow neither of them could think of anything much to say. Benson, his face white and serious, retreated from the center of the bed to the far edge and turned his back on her while Ann consulted her watch, decided it was too late to try to go home and wondered what was going to become of her.

She felt strangely relaxed for some reason and her conscience did not hurt as much as she would have expected.

Perhaps it was the champagne, she speculated, and then dropped off to sleep, feeling the sperm-soaked crotchband of the lacey, powder blue panties slip slowly back over her well-fucked young vaginal lips.