Carol (Carol Schmidt Series) (3 page)

Instead, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. Her bra was a
simple white full-cup, and showed just a hint of nipple through the cotton. She
ran her hands around both breasts. They were a little fuller than average, but
snuggled inside a D-cup they sat slightly loose, just the way she liked it.
Brad wasn’t the only one who enjoyed fondling his own chest!

Rubbing her boobs with the flats of her hands, she felt hornier than
ever. Her nipples stood out hard and pronounced against the fabric of her bra,
and she giggled with pleasure as she tweaked and flicked them, remembering how
much fun she used to have back when she was at school, just playing with her
own tits.

Then, suddenly, she felt them drop slightly.

“Jeez, you’re beautiful,” she heard Brad say, as he undid the clasp
from behind.

A second later her bra was cast aside and he had one of her puckered
nipples between his lips. Both his hands were cupping her breasts as he sucked
like a hungry child. You had a give it to him, he was good: he was sucking
those tits like they were the first he’d ever tasted. She closed her eyes and
let him have his fill.

He moved back and forth between them, licking the cleavage as he
went, and running his eager fingers over her chest until her nipples tingled
with anticipation, and she felt desperate anxiety if his lips and teeth stopped
working their magic even for a moment.

He clearly loved her breasts, tickling the areolas in slow,
deliberate movements, flicking the very ends of the nipples playfully, working
his tongue up from the soft, fleshy underside of each one and getting as much
of it into his mouth as he could. Occasionally she whispered to him, telling
him to keep on doing just exactly what he was doing, although it didn’t seem as
if he needed much encouragement.

She raised herself up on her knees, swaying as he licked and groped
her tits. And, boy, was he good! That’s why his pickup site did such good
business, he was one hell of a performer. There was no doubt about it; Brad was
very good at his job indeed. What he still didn’t know, however, was that Carol
was absolutely brilliant at hers.

By now he was kneeling in front of her, head bowed, his knees wide
apart to bring himself down level with her chest. Beneath him she could see his
cock dangling there, its foreskin rolled forward like a hood. But as he
lavished expert attention on her breasts, the foreskin began to retract and his
fat purple bulb came slowly out, like a snake emerging stealthily from its
hiding place, looking for its next meal.

Just as the thought of fucking him entered her mind, she felt
something between her legs. One of his hands was reaching through, running his
fingers from the small of her back right between her butt cheeks and through to
her pussy, which he explored with agonizing delicacy, before drawing his hand
all the way back up between her butt. He did this five or six times, each time
a little harder, his hand easing a way between the cheeks and tickling the bud
of her anus fleetingly on its way back to her sex. And each time he did it, her
juices spread a little further along the crack, until her whole ass was wet.

“I want to taste you,” he said.

There wasn’t any argument about it. Immediately, he was lying on his
back, his head toward the foot of the bed. She straddled him obediently,
spreading her legs wide and lowering herself down until she was just inches
above his mouth. Then she rested her forearms on the bed, on either side of his
hips, took his cock in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

His hands held her buttocks as if they had been designed for that
job and nothing else. The fingers sank into the flesh, and he pulled the
buttocks apart, then pushed and squeezed them against each other in a slow
rotating motion, loving the soft, pliable feel of them as he squeezed and
kneaded them in and out of shape.

She felt his breath on her sex, and he was mumbling to himself,
admiring her, holding her ass up, and making sure the camera got the very best
shots of her rear end. The bastard! The filthy bastard, she said to herself.
But she didn’t mind, not really. She knew this would happen, and she was loving
it. She’d take just what she wanted from the horny prick. That, after all, was
her job.

His penis was almost fully rigid now. Mind? she asked herself as she
ran her tongue around the swollen glans. On the contrary. She wanted to give
him the best night of his life. He deserved that, at least. So with one hand
caressing his scrotum, she sucked him back to full strength.

The forceful way he held her ass was in contrast to the way he began
to touch her sex. At first she felt only tiny flashes of sensation, momentary
tingles as the tip of his tongue brushed the very edges of her vulva. Once or
twice he flicked her clit too, so lightly that it might have been a feather. He
was teasing her, making her pussy crave more, until the absence of greater
stimulation was a sort of ecstatic torture. She knew how wet she must be now.
Yet he was hardly touching her.

Gradually, though, she felt the point of his tongue run part way
along her sex, nudging the lips with infinite care, one then the other, as if
the hot slit in between them was forbidden territory. Then he placed his tongue
at the lowest point and let it remain there, like an animal of prey patiently
waiting for the inevitable assault.

How long? She had no idea. His hands dug even deeper into her ass,
and he pulled her a little further down onto him. Then he finally slid his
tongue inside her. She spread her legs until they could go no further, feeling
her ass stretch and her crotch open up to him at its fullest.

His tongue was soon prodding and pushing the walls of her pussy, the
heat from his mouth and lips heavy on the flesh all around her sex. He was
sucking her in, loving the feeling of her in his mouth. You can’t fake that.
You can’t do it for the camera. He adored the taste and smell of her, the
softness of her against his mouth. And the thought of it almost made her come.

After what seemed like an age, he drew his tongue all the way up her
sex, keeping the pressure steady, as if her was slowly eating her alive. He was
using both his lips on her now, lapping up the juice, swallowing it down and
moaning to himself.

He couldn’t pull her ass any further apart, so he pulled her down
closer still, until his mouth, wide open and greedy for her, covered the whole
of her sex. His tongue ploughed up and down her, making little swirling,
darting motions as it went, pushing into the creases between the folds of her
lips, then suddenly losing itself deep inside.

She was bucking hard, and he had to hold her tight to keep her sex
rooted to his face. Whenever he moved up to suck her clit she exploded, half
suffocating him, her ass pushing into him so hard that he had to gasp for air.

His cock was all the way inside her mouth, but she was hardly
conscious of it. He didn’t seem to care either. He was getting off on her pussy
alone; that much was clear. Meanwhile, she had begun to lose sensation in her
legs, and she was a mass of shivering mini-orgasms and sudden flashes of
irresistible pain that sent her body rigid, bringing tears to her eyes.

She found herself talking. Telling him to stop? To carry on? He was
going faster and faster, tongue-fucking her with such ferocity that it felt as
if he was going to split her in two.

“Now,” she said, forcing herself out from underneath him. “Do it now
or I’m gonna die.”

For a second or two he seemed confused, as if he’d been dragged from
the best, wettest dream of his life. The taste of her pussy was heavy in his
mouth, and he was visibly trembling, his cock rock hard, glistening and ready.

He pushed her over, grabbing a rubber from somewhere or other, then
knelt behind her. He took her hard. No gentleness, no pretence. He entered her
all the way, his hips slapping into her rear end, ramming hard into her from
the start.

“Now, now, now...” she said, her arms sinking down onto the bed, her
face pushed into the quilt.

With each thrust she felt the tension spread from her groin and up
into her stomach, burning hot and uncontrollable. He was withdrawing his cock almost
completely with each stroke, and each time he reentered her she gasped with the
physical shock of it. She could hear the crackle of their juices, and she
imagined the wings of her beautiful pink butterfly forced open again and again.
And she loved it.

His hands were squeezing her ass, sinking into the flesh as if he
wanted to tear her apart, as if his desire for her could only be satisfied if
he opened her up entirely and entered her in every possible way.

She could feel his balls slamming into her belly as he thrust faster
and faster, a low growl coming from his throat. He was pumping her so hard that
all she felt was a massive buzzing, burning sensation within.

She cried to herself with giddy whelps of pain as the fire inside
her escalated. She knew exactly how to end it, too. Squeezing her eyes closed,
she waited for him, her body shaking uncontrollably as the flood of pain-pleasure
became so intense it felt as if something must have broken inside her.

When he came he emitted a long series of “oooh” sounds, his fucking
gradually slowing down. But the big, hard thrusts continued. He was still
loving it, riding through his ejaculation, letting her know just how much he
was still lusting for her. There was no quick exit, though. He didn’t want to
stop.

As his strokes got slower, he seemed to quiver, bringing himself to
more and more peaks of pleasure as he drove himself back into her, again and
again.

Now
, she told herself.

She reached down, her hand trembling, and found her clit. He was
slowing down now. By the time she’d started working the tip of her finger into
it she knew she was almost there.

Just a handful of seconds later she screamed, burying her mouth deep
into the bed as she came. She jerked backwards, smashing her ass into him.

But instead of stopping, she forced her finger to keep pushing the
little button, taking herself higher and higher, her face screwed up in agony.
With the other hand she reached back and spread her pussy. Not that he needed
an invitation. He was turned on by her orgasms. He took his cock in his hand
and rubbed the head against her gaping sex, watching with amazement as she
fingered herself.

With one final effort, he pushed himself back into. Her legs went
into one last, blinding spasm. Then her body flopped down onto the bed. It was
over.

She twisted and turned, both her fists pushing down into her crotch,
as if protecting herself from further pleasure, the physical limits of her lust
already reached.

He looked down at her, there on the bed in front of him. Then,
overcome by exhaustion, he dropped down next to her, not quite believing what
he’d just experienced.

His face was lightly covered in sweat, and he felt the cool air on
his skin. That had been incredible, he told himself, a smile spreading across
his face.
She
was amazing. The best pickup, the very best ever. Period.
And it wasn’t over yet. In twenty minutes he’d be good to go again. And with
this one, he was gonna take it as far as it would go.

He must have dozed off. When he awoke, she was straddling him,
moving her hips very slowly up and down. She’d gotten another rubber onto him,
and even now, as he opened his eyes, he could feel his cock stiff and hard
inside her.

She looked down at him.

“Just a little post-coital TLC,” she whispered. “Close your eyes. I
need to come again. Let me screw you back to sleep, baby.”

She wasn’t lying. The afterglow of her orgasms had persisted as she
lay there and rested on the bed. And now, with those little irregular waves of
pleasure continuing deep inside her, she was going to have him again.

She rocked backwards and forwards, remembering how he’d entered her
with big, forceful thrusts, and the way he’d squeezed and pummeled her ass,
sucking her pussy until it felt like it was disintegrating. But most of all she
remembered that beautiful penis.

You have one lovely cock, Brad!
she said
to herself.
What was next for me, Bad Daddy? What would you have done to me?

On she went, rising up and letting herself sink down onto him,
feeling his hotness push into her, and imagining that fat purple head full of
blood, quivering and straining, sending him out of his mind.

She wanted to suck him off again, to feel him deep in her mouth. But
there wasn’t time. The Cardinal would be waiting, and his patience wasn’t
infinite.

Brad was drifting between ecstasy and sleep, a strange, angelic look
on his face.

She slid carefully off him and took his cock in her hand, rubbing
its thick head against her pussy one last time, up over the clitoris and all
the way down again. Shuddering, she let it rest against her sex.

Then she reached down onto the floor beside the bed and got a small
aluminum box from her jacket pocket. It was about the size of a pack of
cigarettes. She weighed it in her hand for a second, then opened it.

The room filled immediately with a sour, chemical smell. He
murmured, opening his eyes to find a damp cloth covering his mouth and nose.