By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2004 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

The mid afternoon sun blistered out of the cloudless May sky, a summer heat come early. The air smelled of lilacs, freshly cut grass and sex, her own sex. The pungent odor drifted up from between her naked thighs, through the folds of her ankle length skirt, to tantalize her flaring nostrils. Vanessa Darling sat on her veranda fanning, her breathing rapid and her huge breasts straining against the tight bodice of her white cotton gown. Enough curls had escaped the pins that held her thick mop of raven hair atop her head to frame her beautiful face and trail along the back of her long neck. She was wet. Sweat dampened the surface of her skin and a smoldering horniness licked at the petals of her pussy, teasing its knob. She raised her mint julep glass against her cheek, enjoying the cool moistness, enjoying the tinkle of ice that played against the drone of a distant motor. A bee hummed around her head, attracted to the heavy sweetness of her perfume.

She watched George’s naked back bent over the lawn mower, his perfect muscles rippling under his ebony skin. His tight and lifted ass moved jauntily under cotton pants that were too tight and too short. She could feel her nipples hardening and a familiar heat rising from deep inside her groin up into her tightening belly. She opened her legs, snaked a hand under her skirt. She rubbed her horny slick clit and thought of what lay in wait between George’s legs, that thing stereotyped, that long, thick thing that encouraged myth.

George was turning, starting back across the lawn toward her. She put down her fan and brazenly massaged her breast. She was so ready, so sopping ready. Stop it, she said to herself, but didn’t. She gave her pussy a few gently slaps and then rubbed harder. George was coming closer. She imagined the thing growing between his legs and began to moan. Yes, she almost sobbed, as a searing wave of pleasure exploded out of her pussy walls and coursed through her body. She tugged desperately at her nipples. George tilted his head, watched her surreptitiously. Yes, she groaned thrusting her hips against her hand as pleasure roared out of control into a mindless rage of an orgasm. Oh my, she whispered, tears running down her cheeks, as her passion began to subside.

George was almost directly in front of her. She picked up her glass and circled the rim, licking the sliver of lemon into the glass with her long pink tongue. She took a sip, put the glass down on the table and moved toward him. She stood in his path, forcing him to stop mowing.

“It’s a hot day, George. You should come out of the heat. Have yourself a cool glass of something.”

“I haven’t finished my work ma’am. I got . . .”

Vanessa moved to his side, took his hands off the mower’s handle and scrutinized them carefully.

“What big hands you have, George,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. She deliberately moved her gaze from his face, down his torso, belly button, hips and groin - a shiver ran through her as she noticed the dark head of his cock peering out of the bottom of his shorts. “Big feet, too,” she said, staring at the bare feet stuck in his enormous work boots. She looked back into his eyes and circled his palm with her fingers. “Your hands are so soft. How do you keep working hands so soft, George?”

“I oil ‘em, ma’am. I oil ‘em at the end of every day.”

“That’s a good boy, George,” she said, rubbing his hand across her cheek. “So soft,” she repeated stepping close into him. “Now, come with me.”

She shoved him in front of her and nudged him toward the house. Sinewy and fine: skin and muscle; smooth and hard; shiny bald head, strong neck and shoulders and swaggering hips; 6’ 6” of animal grace and pride and power. I will have him, she thought, letting her hand graze his ass. I will have you, Black Prince. She grabbed his hand, decisively leading him up the veranda steps and into the high-ceilinged old mansion.

“Follow me.”

She moved down a hall, through a formal dining area and into a kitchen. Large windows lined two walls and, with the help of a large ceiling fan, filled the room with light and welcoming cool air. The carved wooden table that ran down the middle could have seated twenty, at least.

“Sit,” Vanessa said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table.

“I shouldn’t be here, Ma’am,” George said, standing stock still in his tracks in the doorway.

“Don’t be afraid, George. Come!”

Vanessa took a tall glass and a wide mouthed tumbler from a cupboard. She opened the fridge and dropped ice cubes into each. She filled the glass from the water bottle and the tumbler from the pitcher of mint juleps.

George sat still and silently, his head bowed.

Vanessa climbed across him to sit on the table’s edge, her legs hanging open on either side of his. She placed the glasses on either side of her.

“Are you feeling cooler, George?”

“Yes Ma’am, a lot cooler, Ma’am.”

Vanessa began to slowly unbutton her dress, pearly button by button. She could smell the heat wafting from George’s pores. She could feel her own lowdown heat, her new wetness mixing with the old. Slowly, she revealed her FF breasts and then tugged impatiently. Buttons flew from the material, bouncing onto the floor, exposing her tiny cinched waist and her nakedness below her corset.

George sat still and silently, his head bowed, his cock extending lewdly out of his pants and along his leg.

Vanessa raised her arms and one pebbled aereole, one long hard nipple, popped out of its lacy cage. She ignored it, plucking pins lazily from her hair, releasing a cap of silken curls that fell all around her face and halfway down her back. She took an ice cube from the water glass and ran it slowly across her lips, her throat, down until it was lodged in the crease of her considerable cleavage.

It’s making me wet, George. Take it, please.” She leaned back, beating her legs against his. “It’s melting. Help me.”

George was breathing hard. He stood over her awkwardly, his shaking fingers poised.

“Not like that; with your mouth, George. Use your mouth!”

“Oh Ma’am,” George said.

George lowered his head over Vanessa’s bosom and she gasped as his soft lips and hot tongue circled and then captured the cube.

“Don’t go, share,” she commanded, taking his head in her hands, guiding his mouth to hers.

He was so tall that she was almost pulling him off balance and now his tongue, thrust deep inside her mouth, probed and darted and plunged, demanding control. The ice cube was forced from his mouth into hers and she liked it. She let her mouth go all soft and slack and full of warm wetness. She sucked his tongue sweetly, licked his teeth, opened wide for him. The ice cube soon melted and there was liquid spilling out of them: out of the corners of their mouths, out of her pussy, out of the head of his engorged cock. Finally, she struggled away from him leaving George bent over, shaking and awkward, his leg smeared with pre-cum.

Vanessa pushed herself further back on the table. She massaged her tits sensuously and then lifted them out and over her corset. They hung low, almost to her waist and as she shifted her shoulders playfully, they swayed and bobbed, hypnotizing George who couldn’t keep his eyes off them.

“Do you like mint juleps, George? Would you like a taste?” Vanessa asked, reaching for the tumbler.

“Yes ma’am. I like a drink now and then.”

“Okay, but you’ll have to pay.” Vanessa had lowered one nipple, and then the other, into the mouth of the tumbler. Brown liquid dripped from them onto her legs. She tipped the tumbler and poured more over herself. “Show me your cock, George, and you’ll get some of this. Show me your cock!”

“Are you sure? Don’t seem . . .”

“Shut up, George, and pull it out. In fact, take off those pants!” Vanessa was sitting up on the table, her legs pulled close to her chest. She rocked forward and back, pinching her dribbling nipples. “Hurry up, George.”

He pulled his shorts down over his hips, over the long length of his incredibly huge cock, and bent down to step out of them. Vanessa looked at the curve of his rounded ass and back and wanted him so badly that she had to feel more. She collected both breasts and with her eyes glued to George’s frame, began to suck and suckle, bite and nibble, devour her own drunken tits.

George stood naked, hands on his hips, his warrior cock at attention, purple thick and ramrod ready.

“George, come to me,” she commanded.

Vanessa could no longer think. She had given her tits all she had to give and now they wanted man. She had squeezed her clit between her legs, feeling the erotic current driving her up the river of no return. And now she wanted man. She looked at George. He stood naked, hands on his hips, his warrior cock at attention, purple thick and ramrod ready. George looked different. The naked George had no fear. The naked George had no station. The naked George knew her secrets and stripped her naked, made her . . .his.

He moved to the edge of the table, his eyes boring into hers. His stiff and heavy cock lay on the table, a weapon aimed right at her pussy.

“What can I do for you, Ma’am?”

Vanessa shuddered. His voice had dropped an octave.

“I promised you a . . .,” Vanessa was holding a now dry and sticky nipple toward him. She felt like she was going mad. Juice oozed out of her pussy and her heart was beating out of her chest. She felt like a crazed, needy addict and he was the craved drug.

“What can I do for you, Ma’am?”

George’s eyes had become slits. He bent his knees slightly and began stroking his cock. His smile was daring, his cock still growing.

Vanessa could feel him: feel his hands on her, feel his lips on her, feel his cock inside her. Vanessa could see his hands, his snarling lips, his cock – all across the table – and that was too far away.

“Come to me, George,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, George, please.”

George leaned onto the table and licked her legs open with his tongue: ankle to knee, knee to thigh. Vanessa felt every nerve in her body on erotic overdrive. His tongue felt like silk and then sandpaper; soft and then hard.

“Suck me. Suck my pussy, George. Please.”

George placed his cock against her clit. He laughed as he felt the vibrations of a pussy begging to be kissed; begging to be filled. He made her wait as he slowly unhooked her corset. He made her moan when he caressed and kissed her face and neck and breasts.

“Don’t come,” he commanded, as he lowered his face onto her pussy.

Vanessa felt a gush of liquid from his mouth or her pussy or both. She couldn’t tell. The pleasure was too complete, too all-consuming. A hundred tongues were inflicting torturous pleasure over her lips and clit. She was being fucked by a knowing tongue while a fleshy maleness pressed into her leg. Her own hands were kneading her breasts, making them swell with longing, while George’s tongue and fingers were taking her somewhere sacred and yet, profane. There was no turning back.

“I’m going to come,” Vanessa said, grasping George’s head and pressing it harder against her throbbing cunt.

“Not yet,” George said, escaping.

He sat back on his heels, his warrior cock at attention, purple thick and ramrod ready.

Vanessa lay on her back, on the edge, moaning.

“Please,” she begged. “Fuck me please.”

George moved over her cock in hand. He aimed carefully. A glob of pre-cum dripped from his cock onto her pussy. He massaged it onto her clit. Vanessa felt the erotic current surging again. The flesh of his cock head was teasing against her lips and clit for a moment and then the whole of it, pulpy, rich and irresistible, inside her. He fucked her slowly at first, in rhythm with his finger on her knob. His eyes were alive with power. And just before she was about to scream for deliverance he began to ride her, to give her what she wanted, to take her where they wanted to go. She was an all-feeling whole. This was life. This was why. She could feel their intoxication building, ecstasy building, their passions exploding inside and out.

“Come,” he commanded.

“Yes,” she said.

And they did, slamming and roaring, as if theirs was the last fuck on earth.

They lay together on the wooden kitchen table, their heartbeats slowing in the respectful quiet of after-love.

Brrrring Brrrring Brrrring Brrrring Brrrring Brrrring: That was the emergency line which meant business was calling.

“You,” he said.

“No, you,” she said.

George climbed off the table and stood naked next to the wall phone listening, his cock limp and his eyes laughing. Soon the message kicked in:

Sorry to intrude, but the deal’s going south, Boss. Liquor South were hiding some costs, something about standing royalties on the original Mint Julip recipe and it takes the per case base unit over the price you guys okayed. We’ll sit tight in . . .

George picked up the phone: How much are we talking about? …

“2% over,” he repeated for Vanessa who shrugged her shoulders and yawned.

That’s doable. Sit tight and we’ll be there within the hour … No problem. Bye.

So ended their lazy afternoon, their mint juleps and Southern accents and the rest of the lawn would have to wait. Half an hour later, dressed in their power suits, Mr. and Mrs. George Darling were in their Mercedes, en route to the office, determined to save their deal.