There were numerous reasons why Drew Livingston was concerned, numerous reasons why he was willing to do his sister and brother-in-law a favor and head over to Europe to try to find their teenage daughter, seventeen-year-old Amy Mitchell.
For one, he was due for a three-week vacation anyway, and he'd planned to spend it either at Majorca or Corsica. Now, he'd have to spend much of his time running around from city to city, trying to track the girl down.
But he was far from unhappy about the prospect. For what Amy's parents didn't know was that her uncle was more than just fond of her. Ever since she was a little girl, Drew had pictured what she'd look like when she got older. And all of his dreams and expectations had blossomed into a vision of a lithe and nubile female girl-child, not yet a woman and no longer a mere child, but a combination of the two which made him fawn over her every time he saw her.
She had emerged from her cocoon to become a butterfly of his imagination, a succulent young vision of lusty sexuality. The girl was everything Drew had always wanted her to be, everything and more. And though he lusted after her, and had since she had reached puberty and had begun to sprout fur on her tender private parts, he had never been able to consummate his desires and sexual appetites.
How could he, when he rarely if ever saw Amy without the company of her parents. So he was relegated to the position of the doting bachelor uncle, the family eccentric who refused to get married and give up his independence, who led a playboy's life in New York City without the boring day-to-day responsibilities of supporting a wife and children.
But that, needless to say, didn't preclude the fact that Drew was so turned on to his teenage niece that she peopled his dreams, wet and dry, consuming him with the image of what it would be like to take her up in his arms and teach her all the things thirty-five years of virile and studly manhood had taught him.
No one, not his close friends nor his business associates, knew of Drew Livingston's secret needs, the constant letch he had for adolescent girls. Oh, he often went to bed with women his own age or women in their twenties. But it was a rare occurrence indeed when he found himself wrapped up around the lush and tender body of a teenager.
And of all the girls he had seen and known in his life, none could even begin to compare with his niece. Amy was possessed of a vitality and raw untarnished youthfulness that he found utterly and absolutely enchanting.
Many were the nights when he found himself lying awake in bed, thinking of her, picturing her in his mind, undressing her too and then planning all the countless and diverse sexual acts they would one day perform together. But seventeen years had passed, the last two or three being the most painful ones in particular for Drew.
For as she had approached sexual maturity, as she had evolved from an awkward and gangly child to a fetching teenager, he had become more and more turned on to her, barely able to control himself and keep his hands off of her whenever he went to visit her and her parents in their suburban home on the outskirts of the city.
Just before she'd gone off to Europe for Easter vacation, he had been able to arrange a little bon voyage party for the two of them. Actually, he had some of his friends, married couples as well as single men and women, over to his plush bachelor apartment for cocktails.
Amy was the guest of honor and when she had arrived he hadn't been able to believe his eyes. She wore seemingly nothing more than an ankle-length jersey sheath, a kind of polo shirt dress that clung and rustled to her body.
Her long tawny blonde hair hung down over her back and shoulders and when she walked when she laughed even, her ripe young breast jiggled back and forth and up and down beneath their flimsy and revealing jersey covering.
Even many of Drew's friends were visibly impressed by his niece's physical and sexual comeliness. But none more than her uncle, who could not keep his eyes off of her all that Sunday afternoon. When they were finally alone together, just before he took her to the train station to return home, he had the greatest of difficulty keeping his hands off of her.
And it was on that occasion, the last time in fact that he had seen his niece, that he almost felt she was on the verge of reciprocating his sexual attraction. She held onto his arm in the taxi and he felt like a kid again, out on his first date.
Her very close physical proximity to him was more than enough to get him going and just before he saw her off, as he kissed her good-bye at the train station, he was positive he had seen her glance down appreciatingly between his legs, able to see the state of bulging disarray which marked the front of his tweed trousers.
Now, she was gone. And it was up to him to find her.
What had happened was this: Amy had gone off to Europe with two of her girl friends for Easter vacation. She was a high school senior and although this was not the first time the youngster had been abroad, it marked the first occasion when she wasn't accompanied by an adult chaperone, either her parents or a tour guide, as had been the case in the past.
But somewhere along the way, Amy had disappeared.
Not exactly disappeared. She wasn't abducted, kidnapped or anything like that. But she hung out with a pretty wild crowd and it had been no hassle to get her two friends to lie for her. She'd stayed on in Paris while they'd boarded a plane to return home to the States.
This much Drew had been able to get out of Amy's parents, his distraught sister and her husband. They had received a single card, a view of the Eiffel Tower with the hastily scrawled words, "I'm fine. Have to be on my own for awhile. Love you, Amy."
That was all they had received from her in the past three weeks. Now, they weren't about to sit tight and let her come home when she was good and ready. "She has no money, nothing," Drew's sister told him when he went to her house to get all the details he could amass. "How is she going to survive, my little baby girl, the spoiled brat!"
Paris was supposedly the last city she'd been to, the place where her two friends had told her parents they had left her. Drew made all the necessary flight and hotel bookings, but before he left he had a hunch that Amy's friends had not told her parents everything they really knew about the situation.
He didn't tell the Mitchell's his suspicions, but casually mentioned that he wanted to get in touch with Amy's two girl friends, just to see about a couple of things. He left it vague, but his sister was more than eager to help him in his amateur detective hunt. The only reason they hadn't resorted to hiring a professional detective was that Drew's brother-in-law felt the expense was prohibitive. And, on top of that, he didn't feel it was warranted, either.
"She'll come back when she's good and ready, and not before. Amy's a spoiled brat, but she's not a stupid kid. If she didn't want to come home, I guess we either have to sit tight and eat our hearts out or else hope she'll open up to you, Drew... that is, if you ever find her," her father had said.
But underneath the blase phrasing, Drew was able to hear his brother-in-law's note of pain and anguish. He knew too that he would not return to the States unless Amy was in tow, even if it meant handcuffing her to his wrist. Which wasn't such a bad idea at that, he thought later, thinking of what it would be like to have her linked to him forever, eternally coupled, eternally joined and united through the best of all possible means, namely... sex to sex.
Yet there was work to be done for sure and so a few days before he had arranged to leave the country, he paid an unexpected visit to the house of Rachel Strauss, none of the two girls Amy had gone to Europe with.
He'd expected to find the door opened by the teenager's mother, for it was just about three-thirty, the middle of the afternoon. Instead, without as much as asking who was there, the doorknob turned and he presently found himself staring at the slim and fetching figure of a dark-haired youngster.
"Yes?" she asked with a quivering note in her voice. Her long black hair was fashionably frizzed, vaguely Afro-styled. She wore glad rags and antique clothes, clunky thirties wedgies. All in all, he was quite in approval of the teenager's appearance.
"Can I help you?"
"You might," he said with a good-natured laugh, wishing she'd invite him inside. "I'm Drew Livingston... your friend Amy's uncle. Her mother's my sister."
"Oh, I see," and her plucked eyebrows were drawn up in a surprised gesture. "Well, come on in, Mr. Livingston."
"Drew," he corrected with a laugh, having already decided what had to be done, the best way to handle the girl. She had a smart and inquisitive air about her. But even more than that, she was also far from unappealing, far from being a turn-off, especially sexually.
As she led him into the house he had a chance to look her over. Her jugs were larger than his niece's, firm and rounded beneath her loose-fitting blouse. But it was her ass which delighted him, a round apple which jutted out prominently and swished from side to, side as she locked the door behind her and led him into the living room.
"Uh... would you like your mother to be here when I talk to you?" he asked, using that as a ploy to find out if she was alone in the house.
Rachel fell for it, not in the least bit suspicious. "She works. Anyway, it's none of her business really, is it?"
"No, I guess not," he replied and seated himself on the couch. She kept her distance, at least in the beginning, and sat across from him, folding her hands in her lap. "You see, Amy's parents told me all they knew about what happened. But I'm leaving for Paris in two days and I wanted to know if there was anything else you... you might have forgotten to mention, that you might have remembered since you last spoke to them about Amy."
Certain that a look had come over her eyes which told him that the teenager was holding something back, Drew was now more determined than ever to get to the heart and the truth of his niece's disappearance. But he had no idea what Rachel was afraid to mention, what she had not told the Mitchell's.
"No," she said with a telltale nervous stammer in her voice. "I don't... don't think I forgot to mention anything. Amy just wanted to split before we went home, that's all. She didn't say why and I didn't ask her, man. I mean, what she wants to do with her body... I mean herself, that is, is her own business, dig it."
"I dig it," he murmured, the word "body" reverberating in his head with the sound of crashing cymbals. What she wants to do with her own body is her own business, he thought to himself. He could only think of one possibility and he didn't even like to consider it.
"That's about it, I guess," Rachel said, looking a little more relieved.
"I see," Drew replied thoughtfully. There has to be something, something else, he thought, I just know she's holding back on me.
"Come now," he told her in a soft and appealing voice. "You and I both know that I'm not stupid, Rachel. If my niece didn't want to come home, it wasn't because she missed her independence. Her folks are the last people in the world to hassle her. They let her go off to Europe with you and your other friend, didn't they?"
"Well, I guess so," Rachel murmured, turning her eyes down as he edged even closer so that now his thigh was up against her nearest leg.
Drew trembled involuntarily, able to feel the heat of her flesh permeating her skirt and the material of his trousers. Slowly as possible he slid his leg back and forth, frictioning and rubbing up against her thigh. It was all he could do to contain himself, feeling the need to reach out and embrace her, to pull her towards him and press his body hotly against her slim and nubile young figure.
But he held himself back, enjoying her covert glances, the way he was positive he kept seeing her eyes dart down to gaze with flickering pleasure at the sight of his bloated and swollen crotch. Behind the fly of his tweed trousers his cock seemed to be on fire. His crotch felt hot and clammy and already, thick pearly dribbles of pre-seminal fluid were leaking out of his piss-hole and trickling down along the trapped and imprisoned length of his boner.
"So where is she then? Jeez, if she's having a ball, if she met some stud, I'd be the last person in the world to drag her home," he announced, choosing his words carefully.
At the mention of "stud" her eyes betrayed her.
She glanced up into his eyes with another telltale expression. Drew felt he had latched onto something and he was already trying to put the pieces together in his mind.
"Sure," he continued, "I wouldn't think twice about leaving her, if she's having fun, that is. But if she's decided he's a drag, well, then she might as well come on home. Right, Rachel?"
And saying this, even as he continued to rub his leg up and down along her thigh, he slid his hand down from where it was resting possessively over her shoulders, draped there like a boa, or an ornament of flesh, bone and muscle.
He inched his fingers towards the jutting shelf that was her jugs, his fingers tingling as he felt her breath coming in sweet hot surges. Her breasts rose and fell and she held her breath, not saying a word to him as his hand moved slowly down, trying to cup the nearest of her twin rounded knockers.
"Come on, tell me," he insisted in a more forceful and demanding tone of voice. "I can keep a secret, for God sakes."
She said nothing.
"Come on," he prodded.
"I... I promised," she stammered, blushing with confusion.
And it was then, even as she hung her head down, red-cheeked and not knowing what to say or do, that his fingers made contact. The instant he touched her nearest tit, cupping it firmly in the palm of one large and hairy paw, the girl trembled almost convulsively. But what delighted Drew more than anything else was that the youngster made no move to pull away.
Girls these days were a different lot than when he was a teenager. Now, sex was as prevalent and open as the use of drugs and confident that this was just the beginning of what might very well turn into an hour or two of both revelation as well as revelry, he began to rotate the palm of his hand around in circles, pressing his fingers down against her lush succulent young boob.
Rachel stiffened, but still she made no move to pull away. Drew grew even more confident of his powers of seductive persuasion. The best way to the truth was through her twat, he quipped with an unseen grin, knowing too that he would not be satisfied until he had gained rights to both of these concepts, learning what had happened to his niece as well as learning what lay beneath the girl's loose-fitting clothes.
So he continued to palm her jug, squeezing it delicately and able to feel the way her nipple was swelling in heated response. She whimpered softly, as if she was a trapped animal in less pain than otherwise might have been the case.
But Drew Livingston had certain things going for him, and one of those -- aside from his big meat -- was the fact that he was the kind of man many girls, teenagers in particular, fell for, hook, line and sinker.
Possessed of raw and burly good looks, the picture of a middle-aged man in his athletic and virile prime, he had a rugged movie star quality about him, that and a general openness to new ideas. He was the kind of man who liked Bach and the Beatles, who could just as easily get stoned and wiped out on martinis as well as marijuana, the kind of well-hung stud who at the age of thirty-five was just reaching his virile peak.
So it was actually no great triumph or surprise to him that the dark-haired teenybopper was being so receptive. Despite her passivity, she wasn't stopping him and he had all the moves at his disposal, knowing exactly how to turn her on and keep her aroused until he was up there with her, the two of them enjoying the fruits of each other's physical presences.
His other hand went into action then and ever so gently and carefully, almost as if she was a china or porcelain figurine that could be easily damaged, he eased her back against the love seat and swung around, resting precariously on the edge of the cushion and using both hands to work on her tits.
Her eyes were half-closed, but that didn't matter to him at the moment. If the girl's parents were due to arrive, he was certain she would have said something to that effect. But since she had remained silent, he gathered that privacy was not something he had to worry about for the time being, at least.
With growing confidence he plied his craft, the seduction of hot-blooded adolescent girls being his stock in trade. This was his metier, his element and he knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Both hands swiveled delicately yet stimulatingly around her jugs, palming them and tweaking each stiff and turgid young nipple.
He could feel them swelling beneath her blouse and as he held onto one of her tits, he used his other hand to rapidly unbutton Rachel's blouse. Her silence was a bit unnerving, but perhaps she was more nervous than he realized.
But whatever she was thinking, whatever was going through her mind, he knew for sure that she was getting increasingly aroused, turned on by his sexual pyrotechnics. Almost without her being aware of it he had her blouse undone and at the moment he pulled it out of confinement from her skirt, peeling it open like parting the layers of a blossom, she jerked against the back of the love seat and gasped with a sound of surprise.
"Wait," she muttered half-convincingly.
"It's all right," he whispered. "If Amy can do it, why can't you?" With these words of what he hoped would be a kind of rationalization and small comfort, he opened her blouse up slowly. Her cheeks were splotched with a blush of confusion. But at the sight of her gloriously naked boobs, Drew knew that he couldn't hold back or stop himself any longer.
Her ripe tender jugs were buoyed up by their own firm resiliency, rising and falling gently in time to her labored breaths. The aureoles looked prickled with goose bumps around the perimeter and capping each of her cone-shaped beauties were stiff and ruby-red nipples, their tips rounded and smoothed off.
He plucked them between his thumb and index finger, then spit into the palm of his hand and rubbed his slobber over one nipple and then the other, lubricating them so that his hand glided over her jugs, fondling and arousing her even more.
Her whimpers grew more insistent and demanding and the moment he caught her glancing down again at his bloated crotch, the moment she seemed to instinctively and involuntarily thrust her hips forward in a demanding coital love-gesture, he knew she was his, that it was time to give her the full treatment and not hold anything back.
Hopefully, success would result in additional knowledge about Amy's whereabouts, as if he would gain her confidence through giving her physical pleasure and thus learn what had really happened to his seductive niece.
With this aim first and foremost in his mind, aside from his own sexual release that is, he kept at it, growing more confident of himself and more certain that Rachel was willing and able to do whatever he would propose.
He said nothing to her, rubbing his hands over her melons before sliding off the love seat. He knelt right between her legs, pleased when she opened her thighs so that he could edge right up against her. And then, with lowered head, he started doing a job on her knockers the likes of which he hoped she'd never enjoyed before.
An expert at tit-sucking, he worked with maddened fervor, teasing each nipple until it responded and grew even stiffer and more swollen from his oral caresses. His lips glued themselves to her jugs, one hand working on one tit while he mouthed the other hot and surging mammary.
"Oh, oh shit, oh no, shit," she kept mumbling in confusion. Yet she still made no attempt to stop him as he slobbered more aggressively, supping on her ripe tender knockers.
His lips were fastened tightly around one nipple and then the other. He frictioned down with the edges of his front teeth, using his tongue at the same time to lick and slurp across every inch of her hot young boobs. He could have gone on like this for hours, but he knew that time was of the essence, not wanting to be caught red-handed should one of Rachel's parents arrive home unexpectedly.
So once he had done justice to her girlish and succulent mounds, his tongue began to traverse her body, licking down along her chest, even as his fingers continued to pull and toy with her boobs. He tasted a thin layer of salty sweat along her skin and he could feel her heart beating rapidly, prime indicator of her rising excitement and youthful desire.
He intended to give her everything she wanted, even if she didn't know she wanted it, not yet at least. Accordingly, kneeling there between her thighs, he tongued down to the slit of her navel, probed its puckered folds and pulled her lower until she was slouching down and her skirt had risen up towards her bare and dimpled knee caps.
His hands slid down and then began to move up along her calves, inching higher, caressing her bony flat knees and then gliding up along the warm resilient flesh of her shapely thighs. Rachel panted more loudly and openly and made no move to prevent him from continuing his torrid sexual advances.
The silence was almost an additional stimulant, turning Drew on even more than ever. He rubbed his hands up her thighs and used his tongue to slide along the waistband of her skirt, actually dipping right underneath it. He couldn't feel the elastic ringing the waist of her panties, but he knew she had them on and tried sliding his tongue down even farther.
She shivered against him and he edged her skirt up, baring more and more of her olive-hued thighs. And then with a sudden savage gesture which left her relatively breathless, he hoisted her skirt like a billowing sail, pulling it up around her waist and thighs.
He didn't care that she had failed to respond, to lift her butt off the couch so that he could push her skirt completely up around her waist. For he was still able to see what he had waited for. Now, it was all he could do to contain himself.
He wasn't anxious now, unless of course Rachel Strauss was a teenage tease, a cockteaser who would put a stop to his advances just when he was ready to consummate his lusts. He hoped that wouldn't be the case for as in the past, he'd discovered that in those kind of situations he reverted to more animalistic and demanding behavior, getting his way even if his teenage sex mate was no longer interested in finishing what he had started, namely, allowing him to ball her.
Hopefully, Rachel was not of that odious adolescent breed.
Praying that things would go his way, he now stared with open-eyed delight. He had a perfect bird's-eye view of the tightly stretched slip that was her pink nylon panties, able to see the dark and arousing shadow of her tender young muff, visible behind the front of her undies.
And even more than that allusive and revealing shadow, he could see the V-shaped depression of her muff, that and the way her twin outer cunt lips seemed puffy and rounded as two tiny sausages bordering her split.
Certain as well that the crotch of her bikini briefs appeared to be damp with what he knew was cunt juice and not urine, he bent his head down and started using his tongue to lick across the front of her undies.
Her body trembled against him and he detected a slight forward motion, the way her hips trembled and the horns of her pubic mound shuddered as she pushed her pussy towards his lowered face. Delighted by the way he was succeeding in arousing her, he grew even more confident of his seductive endeavors.
His tongue was wide, raspy-edged as a fine file. He licked up and down right between the puffy sausage-shaped outlines of her labia majorum, tasting in increasing concentration the juices of her succulent young honey pot.
Her crotch was emanating an absorbing musky odor, an aroma of spice, pungent with the smell of her oily and murky vaginal secretions. It was his favorite perfume, and he inhaled deeply, sliding his tongue along the scratchy surface of her nylon undies. He could feel her pubic hairs rustling on the other side, the sound growing louder the more forcefully he plied his tongue.
Rachel was whimpering loudly then, losing her shy reserve the more he worked on her box. He pushed the tip of his probing tongue right between the outline of her puffy smooth edged cunt lips, actually digging it right inside her muff, stuffing the nylon along with his tongue, since he hadn't yet taken off her panties.
That seemed to do the trick, all right.
She let out a tremulous gasp and immediately, Drew reached up with both hands. He had been tickling the tender flesh along the insides of her thighs as he slobbered over the crotch of her briefs. But now he knew she was right there with him, just as turned on, just as eager for him to keep at it and in every way he knew how, as well.
As a result, he didn't think twice or hesitate to grab hold of the elastic waistband of her panties. And as she groaned and shuddered against him, thrusting her slim nubile hips back and forth on the love seat, he wrenched her panties down with a sudden forceful motion of his hand.
Before he even could take the time out to stare at her cunt, to gaze at it with delight and sexual excitement, he pitched forward and rammed his tongue down, right between what he now caught a fleeting glimpse of, her pink and smooth-edged cunt lips.
Attacking her box with suddenness had the desired effect and she gave herself totally to him, not stopping him or preventing him from eating her out, not in the least. Immediately, his tongue dug right inside and only then, only when he tasted her pungent secretions against his taste buds, did his hands fly up to stroke her wet and slippery outer folds of vaginal tissue.
Her cunt lips were even thicker than he'd imagined and he held onto them as best he could, letting her kick her legs out tremulously so that her panties finally slid down past her knees to a fall in a crumpled heap around her ankles. He didn't even notice her kicking them completely off her legs, he was so absorbed.
But then she spread her shapely thighs even wider apart as he dug in and started slobbering like a maniac. Holding onto her juice-smeared flaps, he began to ease them back, peeling them apart like the ripe fruit of a fig, laying bare the pulpy wet secrets of her hot and shuddering vulva.
The raw naked flesh of her youthful mount consumed him and he groaned with delight, palpitating her box with the tip of his stiffened and outstretched tongue. And once he had succeeded in splaying her cunt lips as far back as her flesh would allow, he now had a chance to examine her cunny in more detail.
Even as he licked circles around the creases and wet slippery folds of her pulpy vulva, he was exploring as heatedly with his eyes, taking in each and every detail of her tender love mound. Her honey-pot was marvelously tight and girlish, the sparse triangle of black hair which adorned her mons all shiny and glistening with dewdrops of musky vaginal juice.
He lapped thirstily and swallowed her abundant and free-flowing secretions, enjoying the way she was bouncing up and down on the love seat, thrusting her hips forward and actually trying to ram her cunt right down his throat. That, needless to say, was exactly the way Drew Livingston liked his young teenage bedmates to behave, open about their pleasure, telling him what they wanted so that he would be able to give them everything their hearts desired.
But what he desired he was yet to reveal.
He had not so much as touched himself all this time, concentrating upon arousing Rachel Strauss and trying to ignore the feverish throbbing pressure of his unrelieved hard on. It tore against his fly and he leg go of one of her cunt lips and reached down, quickly rearranging his crotch so that his cock had a little more room to breathe, so to speak.
Then he reached up again and took hold of her juicy outer lip, held it as far back as its mate and examined the interior of her muff. Farther inside he could make out the gristly set of inner cunt lips, drooping down on either side right near the opening that led down into the depths of her as yet unexplored vagina.
He was more than just intrigued, for right between them, still hooded and unrevealed, lay her clitoris, a sleeping little unopened blossom. He knew how to make it unfurl and display itself though and using the tip of his tongue the way a teacher uses a pointer, he touched the prepuce of her clitoral shaft and licked up and down, eliciting from the teenager an immediate and heated response.
"Do it, do that again," she murmured and he did just that, tonguing her clit until the hood of foreskin-like flesh slid back and the shiny juice-smeared tip of her clitoris bobbed out in plain view. With a forward lunge, he threw himself against her hairy twat and pressed his parted lips around her clitoris, sucking it up into his mouth in all its lim and girlish entirety.
His teeth and tongue attacked it at once, exerting pressure and simulative friction, even as he sucked in his cheeks and held it inside of his mouth. The result of all these clitoral attentions was obvious enough.
Rachel rocked back and forth, moaning hotly, hissing between her teeth. A fresh gush of musky sap dribbled down the undulating walls of her rapidly heating muff and he let go of her clitoris at long last and rammed his tongue down into her dark and sopping wet vagina as far as it would go.
Immediately, her cunt muscles went into action, pressing down against his probing pistoning tongue, trying to clench and hold onto it as he jabbed it in and out, imitating the motions his cock would soon -- so he hoped and prayed -- be duplicating once he had gotten her too turned on to be able to stop him.
Eating her out had definite advantages, enabling him to judge the width of her box, realizing that he would have more than just a little difficulty housing his meaty pecker inside of her tight and narrow pussy.
He tried to loosen her up, to get her vaginal walls to expand by pressing his tongue back and forth against them. And when this didn't work, he thought nothing of sliding his middle finger right inside of her muff, alongside of his probing darting tongue.
"Ohh shit, do it, more, yes, it's so good, so fucking good," she whimpered, shaking fitfully as she felt the combined pressure of his tongue and stabbing digit.
And then, once he had gotten her accustomed to this, he eased his tongue out and pushed her butt up off the cushion of the love seat. Drew still probed her cunt with his finger, but now he eased a second one inside, scissoring his two fingers against and around her clitoris and then poking in and out of her palpitating vagina.
The two fingers opened and closed, exerting considerable tactile pressure against the walls of her vagina. They were beginning to widen as he edged his tongue down past the lowest edge of her muff, knowing exactly where he was headed next.
Satisfied that she was his for the time being, satisfied that once he had given her a kind of sexual pleasure, a kind of orgasm he could tell she had never before experienced -- for he encountered no cherry barring the path of his tongue, needless to say -- she would reveal what she knew about Amy's whereabouts, he kept at it, not about to stop.
His tongue dipped down past her muff, licking up the shiny trickles of cunt juice which had oozed down out of her pussy to dribble along her inner thighs. He tried to reach her asshole then, able to see and feel the beginning of her bum furrow, her ripe olive-complected buttocks as firm and juicy as the rest of her hot-blooded and lush young body.
Rachel, he thought, seemed to sense what he was up to. For even as his two fingers continued to probe and piston in and out of her tight girlish quim, trying to get her muff to expand so that eventually he would be able to house his cock inside without difficulty and with impunity, she now lifted her legs up and pushed her butt towards his sucking mouth.
He had to hold her legs up with one hand though until he made contact. Too bad I don't have a dildo or something to stuff up her snatch, he thought to himself, for it was difficult doing all these things at the same time.
Nevertheless, he was quite resourceful and managed to succeed where others might have failed and given up. His two fingers jabbed in and out of her pussy even as he now was able to gently spread her buns apart, just far enough so that his outstretched tongue could work its way right between them.
Her anal groove was damp and sweaty, exuding a slightly sour but not unpleasant odor of excrement. The gaminess of her poop only turned him on all the more and he pulled her swarthy buns farther apart as she shoved forward, finally enabling him to get at her puckered asshole.
This he could see was all tight and pink, much narrower in appearance than the conformation of her juicy quim. The slit of her unopened bottom-hole intrigued him mightily and Drew was a man who accepted life's challenges, this being a lesser one but one he was not readily able to ignore.
He stuck his tongue out, lashing it over the swirl of perianal folds which surrounded her virginal asshole. She was whimpering and mewling with delight, hissing too between her thick sensual lips. He knew she would love to get rimmed and probably hadn't enjoyed the sensation too many times in the past, if at all.
And that was what he did to her and for her, ramming his tongue forward even as his fingers continued to plunge and dart like little broncos, sliding their way in and out of her succulent box. He pushed his tongue forward and ever so slowly her anus began to loosen and eventually expand, allowing him to enter right inside her poop-shute.
He kept at it, feeling the dry slickness of her anal walls, using his tongue like a battering ram and piercing her fundament within another minute or two. And once his tongue was inside her heinie, once it was lapping and slurping in and out of her rump, tickling and stimulating her rectal walls, he knew that the moment he had waited for was nearly at hand.
He had no idea of how much time had passed since he'd rang the doorbell, how much time had passed since he had first pressed his hot and thickly sensual lips around her knockers. But she didn't seem to be in a rush or to be hassled about time, her impatience the impatience of a youngster who was no doubt more aroused and horny than she'd ever been in her young life.
Pleased with himself and his way with the youngster, delighted that she was as turned on as he was, he continued to eat out her ass and finger-fuck her cunt, even going so far as to plunge yet a third finger down into the clenching rippling depths of her overheated and itching cooze.
"Oh do that, more, please, oh anything. Shit, so fucking far out, so fucking good," she panded, corkscrewing her hips from side to side as he plunged his three fingers in and out of her cunt and ate out her ass with everything he had at his immediate physical disposal.
He refused to stop until he heard her begging and that was exactly what happened a minute or two later. Obviously, he'd gotten her to the point where she couldn't help herself, to the point when she needed what he had to offer by way of orgiastic persuasion and stimulation, namely what was most ideally suited to do the task, his cock and nothing else.
All this time his cock had remained tumescent, so much pre-come drooling out that his crotch felt slippery and damp, clammy and rather uncomfortable, at that. But now, a minute or so later, he heard the words he'd been waiting for ever since he'd started seducing the teenager.
"No, no more. I... I can't. Oh shit, I'm gonna come, Mr. Livingston," she babbled, shuddering against him as his tongue ripped in and out of her anus, able to feel the pressure of his three fingers on the other side of the taut divisional membrane, the septum which divided her vagina from her rectum.
He eased first his tongue back then until the rim of her asshole snapped shut and then he lifted his head up from between her legs, staring into her eyes. She was panting, her features contorted with excitement, almost about to lose her balance and hurtle into the pit of her climax.
But before this could happen, he ripped his fingers out of her vagina, knowing that now it was his turn to enjoy the fruits of her body and the fruits of his sexual efforts. She could tell what he had in mind, even before he got slowly to his feet.
Rachel Strauss leaned back against the love seat, her skirt bunched up around her waist, her blouse opened and her panties lying alongside of her chunky shoes. She was gasping, her tits rising and falling like a metronome as he stood in front of her and quickly removed first his shorts and then began to unbutton his oxford cloth shirt.
Her silence did not disturb him in the least.
He knew that she was quivering internally, desperately in need of a climax as a result of his heated sexual attentions, as hungry for an orgasm as a junkie was for a fix. In a sense, he was as addicted to sex in general as she was now addicted to finishing what he had started, i.e. coming and coming like she had never come before.
Of the latter there could be no doubt, for Drew was perfectly equipped to handle Rachel, perfectly suited to turn her on and satisfy her in a way she had never known before. It was an adventure of sorts, an exploration into the workings of her body she had not yet experienced until now.
Thus, he did not expect to hear her mouthing any words of objections, any platitudinous cock-teasing phrases he had occasionally and annoyingly heard in the past, such as, "I can't," or "some other time," or the like. No, he was not to meet with refusal or unsatisfied libidinal urges.
Rachel was as hot for him as he was for her and the teenager responded to his casual disrobing by pulling her blouse off and then pushing her skirt completely off. She kicked off her shoes and was now stark and completely naked, utterly at his disposal and his beck and call.
But this was a give and take, not an act of selfishness in the least. If anything, Drew had been more than giving, having never pressed his own needs upon the youngster. He hadn't, for example, forced her or even suggested that she reciprocate his cunniligual caresses by going down on him and sucking him off. He hadn't asked her to rim out his hairy asshole the way he'd so willingly rimmed out her own tight and pink little poop-shute.
So now, it was with the utmost confidence -- if not calmness -- that he took off his clothes. Her nudity filled his sight and his eyes were opened wide and unblinking, delighted by her lush naked body. She was as young as his niece, sixteen or seventeen years of age, still with a look of unblossomed innocence.
That was the look which aroused him most of all and he was able to picture the two of them caught up in the throes of their sexual union even before he had taken off all of his clothing. He removed his shirt and then kicked off his wingtips, his fingers moving to rapidly unbuckle his slim alligator belt.
Drew certainly was enjoying himself, enjoying as well the look of unabashed sexual excitement he saw in her eyes. He would take his pie and eat it too, as the saying goes, getting his rocks off and finding out more about his niece's whereabouts at the same time.
Nothing could have pleased him more.
Rachel sent out an aura of sexual magnetism and as she openly admired his hairy manly chest he unzipped his fly and pushed his tweed slacks down off of his waist and hips. He stepped out of them, displaying the way the front of his under shorts were swollen and tented out with the as yet unrevealed length of his massive boner.
She let out a little gasp of surprise and delight, having not expected him to be as well equipped as he obviously was. Pleased with her delight, feeling delight himself, he moved towards her, hooking his thumbs inside the waistband of his shorts so that when he was less than a foot away from where she was leaning back on the love seat, he snapped the elastic loudly and peeled his briefs down with a display of raw and savage bravado.
Like a jack-in-the-box his meaty phallus sprung out into the open, its great crimson eye unveiled, a ripe plum-shaped fist all sticky and glistening with his abundant pre-seminal secretions. The huge organ strained out at about a forty-five degree angle from his lean and hairy stomach.
Slapping from grizzly thigh to grizzly thigh were his heavy and pendulous nuts, so filled with cream that they threatened to explode like an overfilled helium balloon. "Jesus H. Christ," she murmured with incredible awe. "How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that... that baseball bat of yours, Mr. Livingston?"
"Where there's a will there's a way," he snickered merrily, delighted and determined that he would have his way with her. Accordingly, he reached out and took hold of one of her hands, gently easing her off the love seat. Six inches around and even wider at the massive blood-engorged glans, his poker was a veritable salami, standing out at exactly nine ripe meaty inches.
He had measured himself as recently as a year ago, though with all the fucking he did, one would think his tool would only grow larger as a result of its constant (or just about) use. But it had remained the same size since his eighteenth birthday, he recalled with a self satisfied grin, pleased that he had had the right combination of genes, for few girls and women he had gone to bed with in the past had ever been able to get enough of his dick once he had given them a trial run.
Unfortunately, though he would have loved to entertain Rachel at his apartment, taking his time whereas now he had to rush a little, he knew that he was leaving for Europe and would be unable to see her, at least until he returned to the States.
Make it a good one, ole boy, he told himself as he helped her down onto the living room carpet. She stretched out and because of the massive and considerably unwieldy dimensions of his phallus, he reached for a throw pillow decorating the couch, telling her to shove it under her rump as she would have done with a pillow had they made in bed together and not on the floor.
This she did without a fuss, though she seemed unable to stop staring at his huge straining dong. He was confident he would be able to house it inside of her tight and tender split, knowing that he had the technique at his disposal, that it was just a matter of timing and delicacy.
Her ass and pussy now raised up invitingly, her tender jugs flattening out somewhat as she lay on her back, he stooped down and knelt between her thighs. Then, keeping one eye on her cunt as if he was almost afraid it would vanish before he had a chance to enjoy it fully, he took hold of her legs and lifted them up, instructing her to lock her ankles as tightly as she could around his wide muscular back.
Straining forward, she managed to do this without too much difficulty. Positioned in front of her, he pulled her up a little closer so that his cock now rubbed back and forth between her legs, tickling her juicy crimson gash.
Rachel Strauss held her breath, not believing that he would be able to stuff his enormous mule-cock between her legs. But Drew was a man who always got his way in all things and he was totally convinced of the ease with which the act would be brought to fruition and success.
Now that he was ready, as was the girl, he took hold of his throbbing hardon and brought it down, directing the leaky bulbous head of his cock right up against her narrow vaginal furrow. She held her breath, all eyes to the delicate operation.
Drew pushed himself gently forward. He was resting on his knees, knowing that at least initially this position was the best one to use, the easiest one he knew whereby he would be able to horse himself completely and right up to the root.
Holding his cock as steadily as he could, feeling the way the blue veins were braiding his shaft, prominently visible and pulsating with the blood which flowed within his huge red-hot tool, he pushed himself an inch closer until his glans was rubbing back and forth against her juice-smeared vaginal furrow.
The outer lips seemed to flutter and dilate a mere inch, hardly enough room for him to ram his prong down into the depths of her tight and succulent quim. "Pull your lips back as far as you can, Rachel," he said in a hoarse and breathless voice, barely able to control himself now that he was getting so close to success.
She reached down, following his careful instructions to the letter. Her slim piano fingers caught hold of each ripe puffy red cunt lip and she peeled them back with impunity, her gesture far more confident than when he'd first taken hold of her outer cunt lips. Her vulva was glistening as was the head of his cock and once she had opened her trench for his delight, inspection and delectation, he didn't hesitate to thrust himself forward, his weight centered on his hips.
The head of his tool pushed down, cramming its way right inside of her hot wet vulva. She winced, but didn't stop him, moaning and thrusting her hips forward as he kept on exerting pressure all along the shaft of his battering ram.
Slowly the head of his cock tunneled its way forward, stuffed inside of her vulva. It pressed down against her clit, frictioning along it and making her shudder with joyous sexual delight. He let her grow accustomed to the considerable pressure, for he was certain by her actions that she had never handled a cock as large as the one that rose out from between his thickset and muscular thighs.
Swaying from side to side, he waited a few more seconds and finally she nodded her head, knowing that she was ready for more. It was as if her cunt was a mouth, gobbling down his tool, capable of swallowing only so much cock-meat at a time or else she would choke on it.
But he had the patience of a saint and he eased himself forward as slowly and gently, as carefully as he could. And as he did so, his cock began to burrow down into her pussy, pushing itself along her vaginal walls, the head of his tool sliding past her vulva and on into her snatch.
She bit down on her lower lip, but made no motion for him to stop. He could feel her cunt walls being pulled apart, stretched taut in order that his shaft might fill her box as it had never been filled before.
This he knew as certainly as he knew his name and he went at it with a vengeance, keeping his eyes directed down between his legs considerably intrigued -- as well as turned on -- by the sight of his penis moving deeper and deeper into her pussy. It kept inching forward disappearing by degrees.
The outer lips of her cunt, thick, smooth edged and puffy earlier, were now pressed tight and thin, changing around the rounded sides of his manly poker. She was gasping, her tits undulating up and down the deeper he moved his pecker and he didn't stop, knowing that he would make it, just as he had known before he'd even started.
"Okay?" he whispered, pleased when the nubile teenybopper nodded her head up and down with vigorous affirmation. He smiled and thrust a little more forcefully, wincing as his shaft was being rubbed raw all along the length it had traveled.
But those flickering sensations of pain meant nothing to him. It was the raw lusty pleasure of the conquest that counted and he kept at it like a man obsessed, hunching forward, sweat dripping down his sides and chest and his balls smacking back and forth between his thighs as he kept on piercing her muff to the quick.
He had almost two inches left to give her when she groaned and he felt the head of his cock tipping her womb. But now he couldn't stop and with a last and almost desperate lunge, he plowed into her until he could go no further.
His cock was just about hidden from sight, just the very base of his prong visible between his shuddering thighs. She was groaning, convulsing in front of him as if she was having a fit, her eyes opened wide and unblinking now that he had given her all that he had to offer.
"Oh God, God so much so fucking much, but do it, hurry and do it before they come home. Make me come, make me come, Livingston!" she cried out, straining and gripping his wide set and burly shoulders with both of her hands.
It was time to really let loose and confident she could handle it, confident that nothing now stood in the way between him and his orgasm, Drew began to slide his legs back so that he would be able to really hammer his battering ram of a cock in and out with the least bit of difficulty and effort.
He held himself steady, his joystick still deeply ensheathed. Despite the lack of room, the way his shaft fit her cunt like a glove, frictioning roughly along her vaginal walls, her muscles still were able to fibrillate against his pole.
He savored their lusty contractions and finally reached the new position. His palms were flat on the floor on either side of her, his legs stretched back behind him and his dong buried up to the hairy hilt, deep within her cunny.
His glans rubbed against her cervix and she was once again mew ling like a kitten, tossing about on the floor as he eased his tool almost all the way back, stopping when just his glans filled her vulva. Then, with a sudden flurry of motion, he rammed his prong home, scraping it down and hitting into her cunt with the force of a steam hammer.
The pistoning stroke set her in motion and she moaned and ranted with delight, clinging to him as he now began to do his job in earnest. He rammed in and out, one hot lightning-fast stroke after another, his balls keeping time to his rhythmic strokes as they slapped back and forth against her upraised buns, tickling her anal furrow each time he slammed his dong home.
With lowered head and extended tongue, he started working on her tits at the same time, licking them eagerly and agilely, sucking her nipples up into his hot slobbering mouth even as he kept on hammering his penis in and out of her tight and burning quim.
The fit was so exquisitely close, so fractioning and tight, that he could hardly see straight. By this time, after not more than a dozen bone jarring strokes, Rachel's skin had begun to glow, suffused with a ruddy sexual glow of excitement.
He knew she'd come in no time at all and he hurried to join her, wanting their climaxes to occur at the same time, if he could schedule it that way. "Yes, yes do it. Oh man, what a fucking pickle, give it to me, more, harder, harder, man!" she wailed, shuddering back and forth as he banged into her and hit against her pubic horns.
But cunt juice began to ooze down around his prong, coating her vaginal walls as well as his dick so that the more he hammered away, the wetter and more lubricated her twat became. It was easier to really thrust in and out and he gasped and kept at it, lost to his raging sexual excitement.
This was what he loved, what he felt his body had been meant for, to savor the tight gripping embrace of an adolescent's vagina, to feel a teenager squirming up against his rod and getting off on his manly sexual excesses. Nothing could have been more soul-satisfying and Drew went at it hot and heavy, feeling the way she was getting closer and closer to the pent-up orgasm.
He also was reaching the point of no return. His balls were churning his come like butter, rubbing and banging back and forth against the sensitive and tender flesh of her upraised buttocks. His tongue slurped greedily over her tits and he coated her boobs with so much slobber that they shone and he could almost see the reflection of his reddened face reflected on their rounded surface.
"Yes, that's it, oh shit, I can't, it's gonna... yes, now, man, oh fuck me fuck me!" she suddenly screamed, stiffening and tensing as he crammed his wong in and out, hard and fast and mean.
A gush of juice signaled her release and whatever had finally done the trick to trigger her orgasm, she couldn't stop it from running its course. With a loud and piercing scream, clinging to him and trying to pull him down against her, Rachel began to come just the way Drew Livingston had hoped.
And just the way he had hoped, she was coming as never before, so caught up in her orgiastic fervor that the room seemed to spin around her. She tossed and turned on the floor and he lifted his head after letting go of her jugs and fell crushingly against her, rubbing his hairy chest from side to side to stimulate and additionally arouse her by his tactile caresses.
"Do it, come, keep coming. Oh yeah, me too, yeah, now, fuck yes, now!" he bellowed, moaning hotly as he stiffened and felt his heavy pullet-sized testicles being pulled up high within his battering scrotal sac.
And then he too joined her in the pleasure of her ecstasy, in the pleasure of her searing orgasm. The hot gushes of thick creamy-white semen began to pour like molten lava down into the depths of her fluttering and overheated trench.
She squirmed against him as he sank down and lay on top of her, shuddering with violent sexual excitement. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. Now, nothing barred his way or separated him from his blissful release.
"Oh baby, feel it, feel my come, what a fucking hot load, and all for you, for you, baby!" he groaned, shaking on top of her and pressing her down to the floor.
He kept swaying from side to side, unable to stop coming. He could actually feel the muscular ejaculations that accompanied each fresh burst and volley of gism, hot gobbets of manly cream gushing plentifully down into her shuddering and burning muff.
His climax was all he had wanted it to be, all and even more, besides. It was so enervating and arousing that he couldn't stop groaning, gasping for breath as he drained his balls dry, still coming long after she had felt the last rippling wave of her own torrid climax.
He didn't stop shivering until there was nothing left in the way of come to give her. Then and only then did he too close his eyes and gasp for breath, savoring the increased lubricity of her trench, the way her cunt muscles were still fibrillating around his pole, contracting involuntarily.
The hot gushes of cream had splashed inside of her and now filled her muff to a most incredible degree. There was so much come inside of her pussy that in fact it began to ooze down, dribbling out around the gaping opening of her virginal and juicy trench. He felt it coating his dong and then sticking to the hairs of his pubic bush.
Drew lay on top of her, feeling his cock losing its stiffness and steely rigidity. Blood flowed out of it again and it began to go soft and limp inside of her pussy. He knew that all he had to do was move gently back and forth for a few minutes and he'd be able to get hard all over again.
But time was against him and the best thing to do was get dressed as quickly as possible, lest Rachel's mother or father arrive at the house. But he had to find out about Amy. After all that was perhaps his primary objective. He'd seduced and conquered Rachel Strauss, at least on a physical and sexual level.
Now, he had to achieve the same positive results mentally.
"Where is she, sweetheart?" he whispered.
Rachel opened her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking against him as he lifted the bulk of his weight off of her slim and sweaty young body. He held himself up, his palms outstretched once again, his abundant chest hairs matted down with perspiration.
"She told me you were a stud, now that I think of it. She mentioned you a couple of times, when we were on the trip, about what a great guy you were and all, how she really grooved on you. But... you know, I didn't think about it until... well, you know what I mean," she stammered, blushing once again as he stared at her with a questioning and inquisitive look on his face.
"Go on. I'm listening. I wonder what she'd say if she knew the two of us had made it together," he said, forcing out a laugh and hoping Rachel was on the verge of opening up to him and telling him the truth, telling him what she had made a point of withholding from the Mitchell's.
"If she knew, she'd probably kill me," Rachel giggled.
"Sure, she'd be jealous as hell. If you knew Amy the way I do... but I guess you do, at that. Anyway, she really thinks you're superbad, Livingston."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Superbad? Means you're the best, top drawer as my dad would say. Shit, she'd probably give her right arm to do what we just did," Rachel told him.
He tried to hide his look of amazement and delight, so turned on by her words that he couldn't believe she'd actually said what he'd always hoped to hear from Amy. "Well, it's a definite possibility, what can I say," he laughed good-naturedly as his cock began to ease down along the come-smeared and still fibrillating length of her juicy little muff.
And then, with a little more prodding, he got Rachel to tell him what she really knew. By the time the girl had finished, Drew's ears were ringing with the afternoon's revelations.
He decided that luck was in his favor, right from the start.
He'd seduced Rachel, Amy's friend, both physically as well as mentally, getting the girl to spill the beans and tell him what she had been holding back from Amy's parents, the real reasons surrounding Amy Mitchell's decision not to return home, but to stay on in Europe.
And furthermore, he found himself sitting right next to a girl cast out of the same mold as Amy. They'd boarded the plane together and Drew, who was used to first-class accommodations, had been forced to ride coach when he could not get the reservations he had requested.
He decided in retrospect that the airline had done him a great service. Otherwise, he might never have been able to enjoy the close-up company of young Janet Halston. He helped her stow her back-pack in the overhead rack and then, with a great show of friendliness, got her to accept his offer of a drink when the stewardess came around.
Despite the fact that Janet was not older than sixteen or so, the stew didn't hassle Drew about ordering an alcoholic beverage for the girl, wine in this case. "Gee, this is really nice of you, Mr. Livingston," she said as he clinked glasses with her, Janet sipping white wine while he had his requisite martini.
Introductions had come and gone and now he settled back in his seat, finding it next to impossible to keep his eyes off of the teenager. She was blonde and tawny the way his niece was, slim and lithe beneath her tight bellbottom jeans and baggy peasant blouse.
"I just hope the kids hanging around The Dam are going to be half as friendly," she went on.
"Amsterdam?" he said knowledgeably. "But the flight is landing in Paris."
"I know. I'm going to meet my ole man... my boy friend, that is, and then we're gonna hitch down to Amsterdam. Won't it be a gas, going off to Europe like this for the rest of the summer until September."
It was now the early part of May and Janet went on to explain that the private school she attended -- Connecticut money, thought Drew with a pleasant smile... let out early, so she had nearly five months to bum around and see the continent.
Drew listened attentively. He had all the words and the moves that went along with them and he made sure to keep her wine glass constantly filled to the brim. The more she drank, the more effervescent she became, bubbly, cheerful and marvelously animated.
He turned slightly in the seat, glad that they were towards the back of the plane and out of the mainstream of chatter which echoed down the aisles. There were only two seats in a row, not three and this too pleased him to no end, for he knew he'd never be able to get to first base with the girl had there been another passenger on her other side or worse, right between the two of them.
[missing text] projection, hoping that it would intrigue Janet.
So he waited, forced to endure what seemed a non-stop hardon for the next two hours or so. His cock extended the front of his chino slacks, but he made no move to rearrange the bulky.
The wine went to her head and once they were on a closer footing, he brought up the subject of grass. She told him that she'd been warned not to try to smuggle any dope into France, but that she had one joint on her person, and would love to share it with him, though they'd have to do it separately. So right after they'd finished their dinner -- Janet said it was a waste of good grass to smoke and they stuff your face -- first she got up and went into the bathroom and then came back to palm him half of the remaining joint.
He had absolutely nothing against smoking it and hoped that it would turn the girl on sexually, as it usually did for him. He smoked it quickly in the lavatory, splashed some aftershave around the narrow cubicle to hide the smell and returned to his seat, already well on his way to being stoned.
Her eyes were aglow, red-rimmed and turning glassy when he sat down next to her, having made sure to turn off the light above his seat, that as well as procuring a blanket from the stewardess. He made no pretense about what he was doing, spreading the blanket, two of them actually, over their bodies as he snuggled down and sighed with contentment.
"Man, you're far-out, Drew," she said with admiration, now that they were on a first-name basis. "I mean, I bet you're as old as my dad and yet you like to get high. Shit, that's far out."
"Actually," he said, leaning over and kissing her playfully on the tip of her button nose, "I'm a dirty old man. I'm off to Paris to have an affair with a chick as young as you are. I'm," at which point he leaned closer and stared intently into her eyes, "her sugar daddy. And let me tell you, kiddo, she can't get enough of me. Know why?"
"No," Janet whispered with a stoned little giggle, amazed at what he was telling her, just as Drew had hoped.
"Because... I'm hung like a fucking horse." And as Janet's mouth dropped open and responded to his words, as she began to laugh with delight that he was so uninhibited the way she felt she was, Drew reached out with one hand under the blanket and took hold of her wrist, pulling her arm over and pressing her palm and five fingers down against the huge swollen and misshapen bulge which was still tenting up the front of his chino trousers.
He didn't expect her to pull back and sure enough, the grass and his company, his physical magnetism, had all combined to do the trick. To turn a number, as she told him she liked to call it, right there on the plane was something which appealed to her sense of mischievousness and sexual freedom.
So, it was ultimately no great coup or surprise that when he let go her fingers pressed down hotly against the bulky projection of his rampant boner. Drew smiled with contentment, glanced around and made sure that none of, the neighboring passengers knew what was going on.
But they appeared to all be asleep and he turned his back on them, swung sideways and shoved his hips forward, biting down on his lower lip to suppress a groan of pleasure.
Janet was certainly into what she was doing.
Her fingers moved back and forth, fondling and feeling him up, absolutely turned on to what he had gotten her to do. But Drew was not to be satisfied with being merely goosed. He had to have her at the same time and without telling the girl what he had in mind, he finally reached out and pressed his own horny and sweaty hand down between her shapely thighs.
A little whimper of complicity escaped her lips. But she made no move to push his hand away. Rather, she responded as pleasurably as Drew was doing, even going so far as to lean her head on his shoulder.
She closed her eyes, filled with delight and from afar anyone who might have seen them would have smiled at the sight, father and daughter half-asleep and content with each other's company. Nothing however could have been farther from the truth. Dirty old man or not, Drew Livingston knew what he wanted and he was well on his way to getting it, too.
He could feel the soft meaty pad between her legs and he rubbed his hand back and forth grew quickly impatient and sought to yank down the zipper to Janet's fly. "Let me do it for you. It'll be easier that way," she whispered, her eyes aglow with sexual excitement. "And you do it too, as much as you can, dig it?"
"Man, I dig it, all right," he snickered, letting go of her crotch as she eased her band off of his tool, her fingers having felt the entire length of his straining rod, eager to touch it in actuality, not through the covering of his chino trousers.
So as she opened her jeans and unzipped her fly, Drew did precisely the same thing under the blanket. He unbuckled his belt, pul
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