The woman is the distraction that will cost Pete the job. As soon as he walks into the room, with snakes of nervous tension coiling in the pit of his stomach, when he sees her, his mind goes blank.
There’s only one name Pete hears as one by one the interview panel introduce themselves – Beth Philips. There are three other people ranged in front of Pete, their smiles of reassurance intended to reassure the young man that this is just a job interview and that they don’t actually plan on harvesting any vital organs from his body, but they might as well not exist since Peter can only boggle at Beth Philips.
His mouth flaps open and closed, no sound coming out at all when the opening question is delivered. It’s an easy one to start with, a question designed to ease the nervous candidate into the interview process, to take his mind of his nerves, but all Pete can think about is how do the buttons on Beth’s blouse manage to take the strain of containing what is obviously a fair old set of mahoolahs.
Pete shifts on his seat. He can see a couple of the interview panel exchanging glances already. He tells himself to focus, and to stop staring at the woman’s chest, but it’s no use, all he can do is sit there and listen to his own voice drone – blah-blah-blah – in response to the questions that come his way. He’s talking without thinking, his eyes fixed on the hypnotic swell of Beth’s bust.
His cock begins to throb as it stiffens and uncurls inside his suit trousers. Pete’s hard-on is positioned in such a way that, in an attempt to conceal the ridge in his trousers, he’s forced to adopt a peculiar hunched, question mark attitude way of sitting, an ankle resting on the knee of his other leg while he leans his torso forward. The fucking thing, his erect penis that is, is caught between his thigh and the leg of his trousers, making the whole situation both awkward and embarrassing. If he tries to lean back in the chair his dick will be outlined quite clearly, which is clearly totally unacceptable – there’s no way he can sit in front of an interview panel with a great lump of stiff dick trying to force its way into the open through the material of his trousers.
There’s nothing he can do except grit his teeth and do his best.
But now the woman’s said something to him. He sees the Cupid’s bow of her lips forming words and realises Beth Philips has asked a question.
Bullets of perspiration bead on Pete’s forehead as he looks up from Beth’s straining blouse and falls headlong into the deep pools of her blue eyes.
The woman is stunning – literally. Pete hasn’t even processed what she asked, he’s too busy replaying the husky timbre of her voice, which is low and sexy and kind of gruff – a weekends spent in a lover’s bed sustained by cigarettes and whisky sort of voice. Although a woman of her age wouldn’t have such a clear complexion or such healthy-looking skin if she indulged in either alcohol or tobacco, but Pete would bet his left testicle she’d rolled in a few weekend beds with her blonde hair all mussed up.
Even as he knows he’s blowing the interview – no trainee manager’s job for him with this supermarket conglomerate – Pete is picturing Beth Philips in a hotel room with her big tits cantilevered over the cups of a corset. In Pete’s head Beth is a lingerie kind of woman, and that woman, the one in his head dressed like a bordello whore, smiles at him as her fingers unzip her skirt. The skirt slides to the floor, sighing as it slips over the dark stockings Beth wears. She steps daintily out of it, taking care not to snag the lethal heels of her high shoes.
Pete sees the amused smile on Beth’s face, one corner of her mouth curled upwards as her eyes flash with a mischievous light. She poses with her fists on her hips and allows the stunned young man his fill of her voluptuous bounty.
“Will I do?” the fantasy Beth asks in that blues singer’s growl. “Do you like me dressed like this?”
Pete, unable to say a word, can only nod. He feels his jaw hanging slack and closes his mouth before the drool can slide over his chin.
She’s so beautiful, gloriously so. Soft, honey-blonde hair frames her pretty face. Pete stares at her and sees that Beth’s face is no longer completely smooth and unlined. There’s a slight tissue-paper crimp of crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes when she smiles, but the slight imperfection only serves to heighten the woman’s appeal in Pete’s eyes. At twenty-two years old he’s turned on by the hint at Beth’s true age – forty-four, and he knows that her maturity and experience can only mean a good time for him. Beth’s breasts, big and round with long, thick teats set in the centre of the pale saucers of areola appear heavy and firm, their size exaggerated by the way they’re held aloft by the scaffold of the corset cups from where Beth hauled the shivering orbs after removing her blouse.
The young man glances down to the smooth junction of Beth’s thighs. He sees the woman’s meaty labia dangling there below the gentle, unblemished slope of her midriff that’s visible beneath the frilled hem of the black corset and her stocking tops. Beth is perfectly dilapidated, without a pubic hair remaining, and Pete thinks how sweet it would be to have Beth lay back and open her legs so he could slide his tongue through those flaps of flesh and probe at her opening.
He looks further down and sighs when he sees Beth’s legs presented in dark stockings, the tops of which are strapped to the corset by no less than six fastenings, three to a leg. And then of course there’s the shoes, bedroom shoes, a whore’s footwear, purely decorative, designed for effect and worn for the same reason. Beth’s shoes are a midnight black with heels as lethal as an assassin’s blade, with the long tassels from the bows that are wrapped around the woman’s calves and shins dangling behind.
“How do I look, Pete?” Beth murmurs. She takes a pace towards him. “Do you like me dressed up, Mister Armitage?” she asks. “Do you like my pussy all bare?”
“Oh yes,” Pete sighs, smiling.
The voice comes through the delicious fantasy images, cutting through Pete’s lewd reverie.
“Mister Armitage, are you there?”
“Oh … I … Sorry,” Pete responds eventually. He blinks and finds himself still in front of the interview panel. The three interviewers are staring at him like he’s just exposed himself to a nun while Beth Philips merely reclines in her chair and taps a pencil on the desk. Pete glances at Beth and feels the heat rise in his face. She knows what I was thinking.
“Ah, you’re back with us, Mister Armitage,” Beth smirks.
The pencil ceases its tapping as Beth shifts her position. Pete sees the weight of her breasts shift under her blouse. He could almost whine with frustration.
“Suh … sorry,” Pete stammers. “I suppose I’m making a mess of this interview. I’m just so … so—”
Horny? Desperate to get a look, just a peep at those big tits of yours? Flustered because I’ve been thinking about you all dressed up in lingerie and killer heels?
“—nervous,” Pete finishes.
“I think,” Beth begins and then glances left and right for the panel’s consent. ‘I think that we should take a break. Perhaps you could use some fresh air, Mister Armitage? Maybe a glass of water or coffee?” She fixes her disconcerting, blue-eyed gaze on the strung-out young man. “A brief recess might be in order.”
The three other panel members mutter and mumble and then nod.
“If you take ten minutes, Mister Armitage,” the old bald man, the panel leader, suggests. He inclines his head towards the door.
Pete rises to his feet and, trying to mask his persistent hard-on as best as he can, lurches towards the door. When he gets outside he mutters a curse, chiding himself for the complete bollocks he made of the interview. He knows he’s blown it. Even if they gave him a second chance in front of the panel he knows that they’d never consider him for a position. He’d be lucky to get a job collecting trolleys from the car park, let alone a position on their management programme.
Tempted to just blow it out and leave, Pete decides to see it through to the bitter end. Who knows, maybe he could pull a blinder and get offered a place on the course after all?
Yeah, and pigs might fly.
Ten minutes later, Beth Philips steps into the ante-room Pete waits in.
“Ah, Mister Armitage,” she says, looking even sexier to Pete now he’s seen her stood up. He can see just how well built she is. The spectacles give Beth an air of authority – a kind of schoolmarm air – a strict disciplinarian appeal that sends a frisson of arousal rippling through Pete. His erection, dormant after subsiding a few minutes after his exit from the interview room suddenly revives. Beth glances around the ante-room. “Uhm …” she begins, “… will you follow me, please?”
Puzzled – he thought he’d be returning to the interview room to hear the bad news – Pete follows behind Beth’s cock-thickening hip-sway as she leads him along a series of corridors. Eventually they stop outside a door, which Beth opens. She enters first and then holds the door open, gesturing with a sweep of an arm for Pete to come in.
The young man walks into the office. There’s a desk and a large executive chair – the kind that reclines and rotates, plush and luxurious, which indicates the office belongs to a high-powered executive. There are two trays of documents on the desk, a laptop computer and a silver, expensive-looking pen. In one corner of the office stands a filing cabinet with a wooden bureau inlaid with some intricate scrollwork. In another corner there’s a low, Ikea type coffee table, with two chairs and a two-seater sofa of the same Scandinavian design.
“Sit down, Mister Armitage,” Beth Philips instructs, pointing to the Scandinavian nest in the corner. Pete sits and tries not ogle when Beth, after lifting the hem of her skirt to almost mid-thigh, settles into a seat opposite. “Well,” she says peering over the rims of her spectacles. “How do you think that went?”
Pete looks at the floor. “Uh … not too well, Mrs Philips.”
Beth chuckles. “No, Mister Armitage … Peter, may I call you Peter?” The man nods. “No, Peter, it wasn’t the most dazzling performance we’ve seen on the panel.” She pauses for a beat. “Not the worst either,” Beth adds, “but it wasn’t good at all.”
Pete’s eyes flick to the woman’s legs as she shifts in her seat and offers her body in profile. Pete has to suppress the gasp that wants to burst out of his chest when he sees Beth’s blouse stretched tight across her bosom. The woman crosses her legs, which causes Pete’s cock to strain inside his trousers when he looks down at Beth’s skirt moulded to her rump, the hem riding higher to give the young man a glimpse of the darker band at the top of Beth’s stockings. Lust tugs at Pete’s balls when he notices that Beth is wearing stockings, and when he looks more closely at the skirt and can now see the small, studded outline of the fastenings beneath.
“I’m afraid,” Beth continues, “after consideration the team thought you weren’t the right candidate at this time.” Beth removes her spectacles and taps the end of one arm on her lips. She studies Pete for a few long, increasingly uncomfortable seconds in that attitude of pondering, waiting for a response.
“Uh … it’s OK, Mrs Philips,” Pete says with a shrug. “I knew I didn’t have a chance almost as soon as it began.”
“Was it me, Peter?” Beth asks, uncrossing her legs as she leans forward. She glances down at her own chest. “Did I put you off because of the way I look?”
Pete feels the heat rush into his face. What could he say? The truth of it was yes, Beth had knocked him for six. It wasn’t anything overt, she was dressed modestly, everything was covered, but for him it was the way she was packaged: big boobs straining against the blouse; blonde hair piled up in that messy-sexy style as though she’d just left her bed after being fucked and hadn’t had time to do anything more elaborate; the shoes and tight skirt were part of it.
Then there was her voice, the low, sex growl that turns him on. And the way she looks at him, like she knows a dirty secret or caught him masturbating, makes his stomach flip-flop with excitement.
“I don’t know, Mrs Philips,” Pete groans. He looks at the woman again as she smirks at him, the spectacles back on her face.
For Pete the desire for Beth Philips is an indeterminate tug in his gonads, a deep and hollow vacuum, a dull and throbbing ache, and in that moment, with the perfectly ripened woman smiling at him, her body only three feet away, Pete understands why men do crazy things for sex. He knows why a dog will sit and howl all night when it sniffs out a bitch in heat. He wants to launch himself at Beth, but knows that in that single tick of the clock, to do so would ruin his life. Lunging at attractive female executives wouldn’t go down to well in court, but the urge to rip her blouse open so the buttons flew like shrapnel, to haul those big jugs out of the bra and suck on Beth’s teats while he tugs and tugs and tugs at his cock is almost overwhelming.
In his mind, in yet another fantasy in which Beth plays an integral role, Pete sees himself between the woman’s thighs as she reclines in her chair. With her legs hooked over the chair arms Beth herself holds her thick labia apart with the tips of her fingers, the fingernails sculpted and painted – mini works of art. The rings on Beth’s fingers glint in the suffused sunlight seeping in from the louvered blinds covering the big window while she deliberately exposes the scarlet core of her body, which for Pete, inexperienced and unpractised, is a place of mystery. He’s only vaguely aware of the geography of a woman’s anatomy between her legs. He knows that his dick fits in there, but he’s not exactly sure just how it all works since, to date, all of his sexual encounters have been furtive, clandestine affairs in back alleys after the pub, or a quarter of a dozen drunken one-night-stands, fumbling and groping under the covers in dreary bedsits.
The imaginary Beth sighs and offers him her cunt to lick.
Then the real, living, flesh and blood Beth regains Pete’s attention when she shockingly murmurs, “You looking at my boobs constantly didn’t help, Peter.”
Pete’s head snaps up. He looks into Beth’s face. Did she really say that?
“I think that’s exactly what happened, Peter,” Beth Philips adds. Pete blinks, totally unprepared for the confession that follows. “It happens to me a lot, I’ve grown used to it. Ever since I sprouted tits men have gone all weird on me. My father’s friends used to proposition me. Some offered me money …” Beth grins and shifts her arse in the seat again. “… Some of which I might have taken.” The woman chuckles. “That gave me a thrill,” she reveals with a wink, a lascivious lowering of one eyelid behind the lens of her glasses. “Taking money for doing it, for sex, for sleeping with a man old enough to be my father.” Beth rolls her eyes and continues her monologue to a speechless Pete. “It got worse as I got older. Now I get men half my age coming up to me all the time. On trains, at airports, and especially on the beach,” Beth reveals in a weary tone. She pauses for a few beats before quietly adding “On the beach when I’m sunbathing topless.”
“Mrs Philips …” Pete whines. “Why are you telling me this? I … I don’t understand. I came here for an interview.”
“Sometimes,” Beth says as though Pete hasn’t spoken. “I take a man up on an offer.” She shakes her head slowly. “Not often, only occasionally, say two or three times a year if I haven’t got a steady boyfriend, but I’ll call a guy’s bluff and offer it to him.” She swivels in her chair and leans forward again. Pete gulps when he sees the heavy tits move inside Beth’s blouse. “I don’t have a steady boyfriend at the moment, Peter, and I know you haven’t propositioned me.” Beth pauses again. “But you want to – don’t you? You want to proposition me.”
“Yes, Mrs Philips,” Pete mumbles as he nods and gulps.
“Today, Peter,” Beth breathes, “although you didn’t get the job, how would you like to get me instead?”
Pete blinks and then stares at the woman in disbelief. “Mrs Philips!” he gasps without realising he’s spoken.
“It isn’t Mrs Philips, Peter,” Beth responds. She rises from her chair. “There isn’t any Mister Philips … Well, there’s my father of course but there’s never been a Mister Philips romantically linked to me. I’ve never been married. I’m a Miss not a Mrs.” Beth’s fingers draw Pete’s eyes like a hypnotist’s pocket watch as Beth reaches for the buttons on her blouse. He sits there and gapes, saucer eyes growing ever bigger and rounder as each button flicks open.
Pete sees the tops of Beth’s breasts when the blouse gapes open. He swallows heavily, mesmerised by the soft flesh spilling over the cups of Beth’s pale blue bra. “Fucking hell,” he sighs. “Oh, fuck … You’re beautiful.”
“I don’t know about beautiful, Peter,” Beth says with a smile. “I’ve got something that the boys like.” She jiggles her breasts with her hands. “It isn’t just the big tits, a few guys have told me it’s the way I look or the way I move, or that it’s my eyes or my arse that they like.” She shrugs. “Whatever it is it’s been a blessing and a curse.”
“Mrs Philips,” Pete groans when Beth unfastens the front clasp of the pretty bra. “Can I touch them?”
“You caught me in one of my moods, Peter. I’m feeling frisky. I’m horny. Your reaction to me made my pussy get all wet. I loved seeing the hunger in your eyes.” Beth holds the bra open in a parody of a park flasher in a dirty raincoat. Her eyes narrow. “Of course you can touch them, you silly boy,” Beth adds in response to Pete’s question. “What do you think I’m doing getting them out for you?” Beth moves her torso and her tits wobble and sway. “You can touch them, kiss them, Hell,” she grins, “you can slide your dick between them if you want. How about that, Peter? A tit-wank with my boobs.”
Pete gazes at the round globes with their promise of weightiness. He sees that Beth’s breasts are better than he’d imagined. Their shape and the areola, slightly darker than the tanned skin surrounding them are such that he groans out loud, a desperate, visceral call of longing.
“You sound like you’re in pain, darling boy,” Beth says. She pouts in a facsimile of maternal concern. “Is it that bad? Have I made you all horny for me?”
“Yes, Mrs Philips,” Pete murmurs, his voice a low, husky croak.
“Call me Beth, Peter,” the woman says as she shrugs the blouse from her shoulders and lets the bra straps slide down her arms. “After all, my sweet, we’re going to be intimate so we might as well be on first name terms.” Beth’s lips purse in a moue of consideration and she adds, “But it does make me all gooey when you call me Mrs Philips.” Beth regards the young man, his face slack with surprise at finding himself in such an unimaginable position. She loved it when that happened and the young guys she chose found themselves in a scene right out of a porn film.
This doesn’t happen in real life, a young man had hissed when Beth, had sucked his dick in the rather cramped and grubby toilet cubicle on a commuter train out of Waterloo station. The tawdriness of their surroundings and the fact that Beth had let the guy, a complete stranger, pick her up in the carriage only heightened the illicit thrill for the woman. It does to you, today, she’d sighed and sucked the rather large knob-end between her lips before turning around and standing, offering him her pussy from behind. Beth had cum loudly as the guy dumped his seed into the condom Beth carried for those impromptu encounters. When it was over she’d packed her tits away, smoothed down her skirt and, leaving her knickers behind as a souvenir, casually sauntered out of the cubicle to looks of disapproval and embarrassment from the commuters who shared the train.
“One day,” Beth continues, still talking about Pete’s habit of referring to Beth as Mrs Philips, “we could role-play that I’m a teacher and you’re a naughty boy in detention.”
Pete sits in the chair, his jaw dangling. Did she say one day, as in another time, another occasion? “Oh fuck,” he breathes.
Beth reaches towards her hip and unzips her skirt. “That’s the idea, Peter. We’re going to fuck.” The skirt, after a quick wriggle of her hips that make Beth’s breasts wobble and sway, falls to her shoes. In a move very like the one Pete had envisioned during the disastrous interview, Beth steps out of the pool of cloth at her feet.
He sees she’s without underwear. No knickers – the dirty old bitch! She’d been sat there all that time with her pussy all bare.
Beth poses in her garter belt, stockings, and heels. “It must be your turn, Peter,” she says, her eyes teasing. “I’m as naked as I’m going to get.” The woman gestures at her body with a slide of her fingers from her breasts to her hip – a magician’s flourish as though to say: Ta-dah-Look at what I’ve unveiled! She nods at Pete and says, “Time for you to show me what you’ve got.”
Pete glances at the door. “But—”
“Don’t look so worried. I locked it.” Beth rubs her palms together. She grins and her eyes sparkle with expectation. “Come on,” she orders, clapping her hands to make Pete blink in surprise. “I want to see that cock you’ve been keeping hidden. It looked to be a nice big one from what I saw in the interview room.”
Pete groans. “You mean …?”
“Oh yes,” Beth says with a grin and a quick nod. “I saw all right.” She steps towards Pete. “Here, stand up. Let me help you. You can feel my tits while I unzip your trousers.”
Beth holds out both hands and, after a second or two of hesitation, Pete lets the woman clasp his hands and she hauls him to his feet. Beth eases Pete’s suit jacket off his shoulders. She pulls it clear of his arms and walks to her desk and then, in an oddly domestic action, Beth hangs the jacket carefully over the back of the executive chair. While she’s there behind the desk she then pulls the cord that lifts the louvered blinds with a quick clatter of their wooden slats.
Beth walks back to Pete. “There,” she says, “that’s better. Now you can see me properly.” Beth looks at the front of Pete’s trousers, giving the bulge a meaningful glance. Pete gasps when Beth’s palm presses against the ridge outlined there. “Feel my tits, Peter. Go on, give them a good squeeze.”
“Wow, Mrs Philips,” Pete gasps when he touches the spongy flesh of Beth’s big jugs. “They’re the best I’ve ever seen. You should be a model!”
Beth laughs as she rips Pete’s zip down. “You mean as in glamour, eh? I’m way too big and buxom, not to mention too old, to be a fashion model.” The woman’s hand reaches into Pete’s flies and he groans when her fingers find him stiff. “I’d do porn,” the woman adds. “I wouldn’t mind giving that a go. Fucking on film … with people watching? What a turn on.” Beth unbuckles the belt and unfastens the buttons. “There!” she cries in triumph when Pete’s trousers and underwear are tugged down by impatient, female hands. “There’s the cock I want.” Beth’s fist closes around Pete’s engorged girth. “Yummy,” the woman murmurs as her hand begins to move. “I’m going to enjoy sucking and fucking this big bugger.” She leans in, and Pete, with his trousers around his knees and his shirt hem dangling, groans when he catches a waft of Beth’s scent. “We could make our own private porn film, Peter,” Beth whispers before laying a gentle, butterfly’s wing of a kiss against the young man’s cheek. “I’d keep the file of course. I don’t want anything like that on the internet.” She chuckles. “Imagine what my bosses would say to that – a film of me being fucked spread all over the web.”
Pete gasps again, swallowing heavily. Is he really here, with her, doing this? Is she serious about making a dirty film clip with him?
“I … Oh, fuck, Mrs Philips, this is so good, you’re so beautiful.” He winces when the woman’s fist begins to work faster up and down his cock. “Am I really going to fuck you?”
“Yes,” Beth whispers into Pete’s ear. “You’re going to fuck my tight … Wet … Cunt.”
The semen flicks out of Pete’s cock. He can’t take any more excitement, and that word from Beth’s mouth, so shocking to hear her utter the profanity after seeing Beth in her cool, professional mode, tips him into the abyss. Pete sighs and gasps and grunts, the jizm squirting out of him while he groans and his head rolls back.
“Cum for me, you wicked boy,” Beth squeals. “Look at all that spunk just gushing out of you!” Her hand keeps tugging, milking the man of his seed, the hot stuff squirting all over the carpet. Beth squats and takes the last squirt into her mouth. She rolls cum, viscous and creamy around with her tongue before she swallows. Then, rising to her feet she presses the aesthetically pleasing curves of her body against Pete’s flank and forces her tongue into his mouth.
The kiss ignites the flare of Pete’s desire and lust burns inside him, white hot and overwhelming. The young man returns Beth’s kiss with ardour. He slides his tongue over hers, desperate to be inside her. His fingers grope for her breasts and he moans into Beth’s mouth at the texture of the heavy globes when he clamps both hands over them, the nipples hard against his palms.
“Get out of those clothes,” Beth gasps when the kiss breaks. She’s a hot for it as Pete, and Beth’s pussy clenches with anticipation while she watches Pete’s dick waggle and swing when he hops on one foot to yank off a shoe and peel off the sock.
The woman reclines on the sofa, her legs sprawled wide. She slips a finger between the sticky folds of her labia, moaning and sighing and arching her back, her breasts thrust towards the ceiling when the tip of her finger sides over her clitoris.
Finally nude, Pete drops to his knees between Beth’s legs. He kneels on the carpet and stares at the woman’s sex while she so lewdly exposes herself to her young lover.
“I’ve never seen one close up before,” Pete murmurs, transfixed by the ugly beauty of Beth’s pussy.
“This is my pussy,” Beth says. She wriggles her buttocks on the sofa and slides her hips closer to the edge. Holding herself open with the fingers of one hand, Beth peels the loose prepuce to expose her taut clit. “This is my clitoris,” she informs a bug-eyed Pete. “If I finger it like this …” Beth pauses and groans when she does exactly that. “It feels really nice, so fucking beautiful, Peter,” Beth adds. She repeats the action and winces, the breath hissing from her. “I want you to lick me there in a minute, right there, right on the button. I’ll tell you how I like it, whether you should go slower or faster, side to side or up and down, or even in circles.” Beth slides a finger into her opening. “This is my fuck-hole.” She chuckles and grins into Pete’s face when he glances up at her. “Crude but descriptive, eh?” Beth pushes the finger into her body and slides it out again. “That’s where you put that big, fucking cock. I like a big dick in my cunt, Peter. I like lovely young men with big dicks to fuck me.”
“Jesus, Mrs Philips, I’m going to cum again if you keep talking dirty to me.”
“If you can stay hard and fuck me, you can cum as many times as you can manage, darling.” Beth jack-knifes at the waist and reaches for Pete’s face. She pulls him up towards her and kisses his mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll be wearing a condom for this fuck, Peter,” Beth informs her lover. “I don’t want spunk dripping out of my pussy. After all I’m at work, and since I haven’t got any knickers with me I can hardly walk around leaving dollops of cum everywhere.” She kisses Pete again and then lies back on the sofa. “But later, if you come to my flat tonight, we can fuck and I’ll let you cum over my tits or in my mouth or in my pussy. Would you like that, Peter?”
“Oh God, Mrs Philips,” Pete moans. “I would, yes.” He nods with enthusiasm. “I’d love to cum on your tits.” He strokes his dick which has revived considerably and is stiff and ready to go. “You’re unbelievable. You’re so hot and sexy; I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this with you.”
“Give my pussy a lick,” Peter,” Beth sighs as she splays her flaps again. “That tiny hole there is my pee-hole.” Beth points a sculpted fingernail into the centre of her scarlet core. “Maybe I’ll let you watch me piss sometime.”
“That’s so dirty,” Pete sighs.
“Lick me, Peter,” Beth murmurs. “All of it. Lick my clit and then push your tongue into my fuck-hole.” Beth grunts, her body tensing when Pete complies with the instruction. “My clit, baby. Lick my clit and push a finger into me. Yes! That’s it. Now two fingers. Really rub me hard inside, darling. There’s a place inside me that feels so fucking good when you rub it.”
Pete laps and laves and finger-fucks Beth while the woman groans and squeals. Beth run her fingers through Pete’s hair, totally destroying the slick, gelled look he’d gone for. She pulls his face against her sex and smears her essence over the young man’s chin as she strives on towards her climax,
“Is it OK?” Pete asks, panting as he comes up for air.
“Wonderful,” Beth gasps, her heels digging into the carpet. The woman folds her legs at the knees and holds her shins to offer Pete her uptilted cunt. “Lick my clit and really rub me inside. I’m so close to cumming, baby. Make me cum before we fuck.”
Pete strokes his cock and stares at the pussy he’s caused to bubble with juice. “I want to fuck you soon,” he growls, a fist jacking his dick.
“Get me there first,” Beth squeaks. She groans when Pete’s fingers curl inside her and his hot breath wafts over her sex.
Beth cums a few minutes later. As she thrashes and writhes, her heels back on the floor and scraping rents into the fabric of the carpet, she mutters a constant torrent of sewer-mouthed pleasure. Pete, desperate to be at the woman, rises to his feet and hauls her upright. He tugs on Beth’s arm and she staggers up from the sofa, her legs unsteady as a colt’s as she totters around in her heels.
“Kneel,” Pete snarls and pushes at Beth’s shoulder. “On your knees and stick that gorgeous arse out. I’m gonna fuck you from behind.”
Stepping back to use his thumbs, Pete parts Beth’s buttocks and sees the tacky flaps of her sex peel apart. He ducks down and slides his tongue through the mess, even continuing up to dab his tongue into the dark smudge of the woman’s sphincter.
“Fuck,” Beth moans. “You’re licking my arse. Oh you dirty boy. I fucking love it.”
With those words stored away for future reference – if Beth liked it, he’d do it again, and try it on the next woman he managed to pull – Pete uncurls his body and takes his length in his fist. A low groan slides from Beth’s lips when Pete rubs the blunt cock-head through her labia. She gasps and mewls with pleasure when the slippery dome, slick with pre-cum, slides over her clit. Beth claws at the sofa back and sobs, her hips thrusting back towards her lover when he nudges at Beth’s body and feels her insides open as he slides inside her.
“A condom,” the woman sighs, casting a hot-eyed look back over one shoulder. Her eyes heavy-lidded with desire Beth pouts, “You were meant to wear a condom.” The woman groans and her head lolls forward as Pete, too wound up and horny to care about jizm dripping out of Beth’s body later, vigorously fucks into her.
Pete’s fingers dig into the flesh of Beth’s hips, their bodies slap-slapping together as they rut. The man looks down and savours the sight of Beth’s back. He sees the tanned shoulders and wonders how Beth looked as she sunbathed topless on what was obviously a recent holiday. He can see the paler skin of where her bikini briefs covered her, the strap marks high on her hips. Moving his grip from Beth’s hips to her narrow waist, Pete grunts and leans back, forcing his cock deep into Beth’s body.
“Fuck me, Peter,” Beth grunts, her palms flat on the wall behind the sofa as she leans up and thrusts straight-armed back onto her lover’s dick. “That’s deep, baby,” she sighs, her face turned to the young man as she gives him the glazed-eyed over-the-shoulder look through the lenses of her spectacles again. “Keep fucking that pussy. Keep going.”
Crouching low over Beth’s back, Pete reaches under and catches the swinging tits in his hands. “I love your big tits, Mrs Philips. They’re so fucking gorgeous. I’m gonna suck those babies when you sit on my cock later.”
“You can do all that and more, Peter,” Beth moans with the young man’s arms wrapped tight around her torso. She can feel him on her back, his arms like a vice while he’s mauling her tits and thrusting quickly into her body in short, sharp jabs of cock that puts Beth in mind of seeing animals mating on the Discovery Channel. “I’m so fucking horny, darling; I want you to come to me tonight. Come to my flat and we can fuck.”
“Yes please, Mrs Philips,” Pete grunts, abundant tit-flesh spilling between her fingers. “I’d love that.”
Regardless that Pete’s train ticket home was only valid for that day he didn’t give a shit. Fucking Beth Philips all night would be worth the fare. He feels a scrape along the underside of his cock. It isn’t painful, just a sensation, and he wonders what it can be.
“I’m cumming,” Beth grunts, her hips jerking, and Pete realises that the scrape on his cock was the woman’s fingernails as she’d rubbed her clit.
“On your back,” Pete says, eager to watch Beth’s face as they fuck. He also wants to see her big jugs wobble and shake from his superior position above her. Beth pants and gasps but collapses onto her side before rolling onto her back. Pete grabs her shins and, with the smooth texture of Beth’s stockings under his palms, arranges the woman’s legs so that her knees are folded and pressed up almost to her shoulders, her thighs wide. With Beth’s pussy at his mercy, Pete slides into her and gasps. “I could do this forever, Mrs Philips,” he sighs. “I’d never get sick of doing this to you.”
“Do it to me now, Peter,” Beth replies as she begins to move beneath her lover. “We can fuck again later, but I have to get back to work soon.” She shuffles up onto her elbows and tilts her face up to Pete’s. “Kiss me while we fuck, baby,” the woman moans, her eyes rolling when Pete thrusts particularly deep. “Kiss me and fuck my pussy. I can feel you deep – so, so deep inside me.”
“Oh, Mrs Philips, you’re so lovely. You’re amazing. I love your body.” Pete is panting the words and licking his lips between sentences. His eyes move from Beth’s pleasure-contorted face to her tits and down to her stomach as it tenses with effort. He looks further down to where Beth’s labia, tacky and glistening with a cocktail of their bodily fluids cling to his equally smeared shaft on the outstroke.
They kiss, Beth’s tongue sliding over Pete’s as the couple both moan and pant, their breaths mingling.
“I’m going to cum, Mrs Philips,” Pete groans after their lips part with a wet smacking sound.
Beth, still resting on her elbows, looks up at her lover, her legs wide to receive him. Her face is twisted in a grimace of what appears to be agony, but which is simply a contorted expression of undiluted pleasure. “I’m going to cum with you,” the woman grunts. Her climax hits her and Beth’s thighs begin to judder. Her stomach tenses and the groans burst out of her before she wails and pants, the joy bursting in her chest when she feels Pete’s cock pulse inside her body. Beth knows that he’s filling her with semen, and regardless of what she’d said about him wearing a condom, she knew she’d smile to herself every time she caught a waft of sex from between her legs as she sits in another dreary interview that afternoon. “Fill my pussy with cum, Peter,” Beth sighs as she lets herself go and her orgasm takes her.
Pete waits in Beth’s office for the afternoon. He isn’t bored at all since he can surf the web, catch up on emails and also search for a job on her computer. In the afternoon Beth comes for him and they go to her flat where, after a simple meal of baguettes and cheese and a bottle of Rioja, Beth leans across the table to kiss the young man’s mouth.
“Come to my bedroom and we can fuck,” she murmurs.
Pete grins and resolves to apply for the trainee management job again in six months time. Until then he’s happy enough playing kinky games with Beth.