“Oh, my!” She stared with … what? amazement? surprise? perhaps a touch of fear? … at the strong, pulsing shaft of engorged manflesh that her activity disclosed. “I didn’t … I mean I never …”
She dropped to her knees in front of him and spent long moments just looking at him before finally reaching up to gently—very gently—touch and caress him.
Then, every bit as gently, she leaned closer. She breathed in deeply and he almost would have sworn that she was taking in his scent. Odd, he thought. Damned odd. But sweet.
And then once more the pink tip of her tongue crept out and, very lightly, she tasted him. Kissed the underside of the red and shiny head. His pecker jerked in response to the touch, and Clarice jumped back away from him as if startled.
When she realized that his pole was not actually chasing her—or whatever it was she’d thought it was doing— she laughed, the sound of it light and happy, and leaned forward again, this time to repeat the experiment, but deliberately, obviously delighting in her ability to provoke such a reaction.
“Havin’ fun?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact I am, yes.” She grinned up at him and then flicked her tongue over the small slit in the end of his prick, clapping her hands with joy at his bouncing, jumping reaction to the touch. “Are they all like this?” she asked.
“Damn if I’d know. This here’s the only one o’ the things I’ve ever had.”
She gave him an odd look, and he was reminded that she thought he had considerably more experience in that regard than was the case. Still, this didn’t seem exactly the right moment to be giving explanations. Another time maybe. Not now.
Clarice bent forward again, this time taking the head delicately into her mouth. He was engulfed with a damp, sweet warmth. And then with a sharp pain.
“No teeth, please,” he told her.
“Oops. Sorry.”
Damn girl didn’t mind giving head. But she acted like it was something she’d never ever done before. For that matter, she was treating his cock like she’d never seen one before and yet she was bold as brass when it came to inviting him into her bed.
Odd girl, Clarice. But lovely. And plenty of pleasure to be with.
He let her examine, touch and taste for a while, then took her by the hands and guided her gently onto her feet. He bent, slipped one strong arm behind her back and the other at her knees and picked her up. She weighed next to nothing.
“Shall we?” He inclined his head in the direction of the big bed with its canopy of pink and white ruffles.
“Yes. Please.”
He carried her to the bed and lowered her onto it with a long , deep kiss.
She felt like little more than a wraith in his arms. A wisp. So slight she seemed hardly to exist, yet so warm and soft and accommodating. Her arms wrapped close about his neck, and her kisses were slow and good.
After a bit, almost as an afterthought, he raised himself over her, allowing his legs to intrude between her knees so that she was open to him. He kissed her breasts and her belly and felt the warm fluids at her crotch that told him she was ready. She began to moan and pulse her hips in response to his touching, and he shifted position so that he was poised at the opening to her slim body.
Gently he lowered himself onto her. Into her. There was a moment of resistance. And then with a rush he plunged the rest of the way inside Clarice.
She gasped and clutched him in a sudden, convulsive spasm that as quickly subsided, and after that it was fine.
He stroked deep into her, and she responded eagerly and with growing pleasure, her breathing quickening and soon becoming ragged as her climax built and built and soon exploded well in advance of his own.
Finally, when both of them were spent, Longarm lay atop her, careful to take most of his weight on his knees and elbows while she held him in the embrace of arms and legs alike.
“How nice,” she whispered. “Do you know something?”
“Mm.”
“I really like having sex with a man. I don’t care what Aunt Edith says. It’s even better with a man than with a girl.” With that she closed her eyes and, with a sigh of contentment, seemed to drift away into a light sleep.
Longarm, on the other hand, was wide awake. He was much too old and experienced to be shocked by anything any-damn-body might say or do. But damned if Clarice hadn’t come mighty close to it.
Chapter 27
Longarm lounged atop the big bed with his arms behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles and a sense of deep contentment so complete, his belly and balls felt emptied, drained.
Clarice did not want him to smoke in her bed—something about the smell of it lingering, and she didn’t want anyone to know about her guest—but he didn’t mind that. Not considering the alternative she suggested.
Clarice, it turned out, was entirely content to spend endless time happily licking and sucking on a nipple. Something to do with bottle deprivation as a child, no doubt. And while her normal target apparently was the nipple attached to a nicely rounded female breast she did not at all mind switching to a harder and flatter surface. And from Longarm’s perspective, well, he hadn’t known just how completely sensitive a man’s nipples could be when exposed to such exhaustive a regimen as that provided by the young Miss Clarice. He could feel the pleasure tingling all the way into his groin, and if the girl didn’t watch herself she was going to get something started. Him, for instance.
Not that he thought she would mind. Getting started, along with finishing it, was an activity she seemed to take
