With the housing market in Metropolitan Detroit in the tank, she found herself doing more of the later in an attempt to facilitate the former.
Not that she minded. Quite the contrary, actually, judging by the performance she gave in the foyer of a four bedroom, three bath colonial in Birmingham, Michigan.
This was the fifth house we had seen today, and one of more than 125 houses in the area with price tags north of $1,000,000. If you had the cash it was definitely a buyers market, and Marybeth was doing everything she could to see that this potential buyer was happy.
In her early 40's, Marybeth was a 5'7" bottled blonde with augmented breasts. She worked out three times a week, lunched at best restaurants and grabbed cocktails after work at the hottest bars in town. Pretty much the prototypical Birmingham have it all woman, including the multiple failed marriages—she was already a three time loser—with no intention of going four for four.
She wore a navy, pinstripe skirted business suit that crested mid-thigh, a tight white knit top that seemed a size too small for her 36D's and black toe-less pumps that would need the attention of a good shoe man after the session on her knees.
Marybeth gripped my ass while going down on me hands-free, the head of my cock nudging against the back of her throat. She twisted her head to and fro, an agonizingly slow pace that had me to the brink a half dozen times.
"How's that feel, Kirk? Are you gonna cum for me baby?" she said while taking a breath.
Rhetorical questions if I'd ever heard one. Marybeth transferred her attention to each of my balls for a few minutes, an eternity given the circumstances, then resumed her oral manipulation of my cock. She glided her steamy mouth back and forth in deliberate fashion, stopping to suck hard on the tip when it passed over her lips.
"Oh Christ, that feels good."
With my compliment she picked up speed, effortlessly sliding my slick cock in and out of her throat as she worked me toward an orgasm; one that had been building since nine this morning when I saw her saunter ahead of me into the first house. That was six hours ago.
She put a hand to my balls and began vigorously massaging them between her fingers and palm, turning up the heat that was already percolating. I started to quiver and new I was close, and being a gentleman, gave her fair warning.
For a fleeting moment she released me and responded with, "Cum in my mouth baby. I want to taste all of you"
With that Marybeth rested the head of my cock on her tongue and been stroking me in earnest. I busted a nut, propelling a half-dozen bursts just where she wanted them.
She sucked on the tip of my cock for a moment, then raised herself from the floor. Looking me straight in the eyes, she titled her head back and ever so slowly swallowed what I had just deposited. Without uttering a word she firmly said, "Now that's how to give a blow job."
Moments later we were sitting at the breakfast room table, casually sipping a glass of wine as though nothing had happened. Marybeth seemed to be treating the whole thing as a normal precursor to a business transaction, almost like taking me to lunch, though she was the only one who ate.
"So, other than the blow job, was there anything else you liked today?" Marybeth asked in a very matter of fact manner; then tossed me a little grin at the last second.
Sitting there in the sparsely lit room, getting a chance to really see her, study her, for the first time, Marybeth was a stunning women. I knew she had an unlucky history with men, and I could only assume it was do to her relentless pursuit of real estate sales--a painfully self-absorbed profession.
I, of course, used her drive to my advantage. Spending the day pretending to be looking for houses for two reasons: Marybeth's reputation as an accommodating, first rate cock sucker, and the Johnson party. Having nabbed the first, it was time to go for the second.
Robin and Jeffry Johnson are third generation auto money trust-fund scions who have an estate/compound in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, one of the wealthiest zip codes in the country.
Robin's heritage is that of the General Motors line; her grandfather was a majority owner of one of the companies William Durant acquired in the early 1900's to form GM. A willowy, strawberry blond in her youth, and a text-book free spirit to boot, Robin left Michigan the day after graduating high school and signed with a New York modeling agency within a week.
For years she was a staple on the runways of New York and Paris, was featured on the cover of Vogue magazine, hung out with the likes of Andy Warhol and Liza Minnelli, and, according to legend, snorted coke with, and blew, each member of the Rolling Stones in one of Studio 54's balconies.
Jeffry's family was in the supply side of the business, and his grandfather stood alongside Henry Ford as they tried to bust the unions. Jeffry foraged his way unremarkably through Brown, befriended a number of Kennedy's, bedded one or two, and spent a day and half working for Goldman Sachs.
After lunch on the second day he walked into the managing partner's office and said, "All you people do is beg, borrow and steal your way to make enough money to become, well, me. And I'm already me. I'm going to go join a band." And he did.
They met in New York at the end of the 70's and decided that their life expectancies would be substantially greater if they left Manhattan and returned to dreary, boring suburban Detroit. They've spent the better part of the last 25-plus years appearing at parties, balls, and philanthropic events under the heading of socialites.
In addition to their glassed over public personas, what they had really become were two of the most notorious high-end swingers in North America, cultivating a network of multi-millionaire wife swappers, escorts, gigolos, and assorted other hangers on. Now in their early 50's, the Johnsons were ready to relocate full-time to their private island in the Antilles. One problem, they couldn't sell their estate in Michigan, and they sort of needed the money, what with so much of it being spent on everyday necessities such as champagne, caviar and caretakers.
Two years ago they listed the 30,000 square-foot mansion, which sits on ten acres with three ponds, four bungalows, and two pools, for $15 million. Three months ago, with the price down to $11.5 million, they hired Marybeth Strong, their third listing agent in as many years. This is where the party came in.
Marybeth had known the Johnsons for some time, and rumors of their lifestyle ran rampant within the walls of Oakland County's prestigious schools, clubs and charities. One evening, after dinner and couple of bottles of wine, Marybeth ventured back to the Johnson's home where she and Robin took turns sucking-off Jeffry before retiring off to Robin's personal enclave. It was over coffee the next morning where she heard the whole story of the lifestyle, and that most in the Johnson's circle were very well off.
Being the enterprising real estate agent that she was, Marybeth suggested a party, one final blast, where fifty couples would pay $300,000 each for three days of sex, food and debauchery, the likes of which haven't been seen since the fall of the Roman Empire. And most importantly, a one-in-fifty chance of winning the estate at a drawing held on Sunday afternoon.
The party was this coming weekend.
"So, I liked the second and the fourth house, and the blow job of course, but what I'm really interested in is attending the Johnson party."
The ever so self-confident real estate agent managed a stoic stare. Marybeth took a sip of wine, gathered herself and finally played stupid, "What Johnson party?"
"The Johnson party. Or should I frame it as the Johnson orgy."
Remembering that I might still be a legit home buyer, "Okay listen, there is a get together, but it's not what you think. Also, there's no way I can take you."
"First of all, it is what I think, and second, why, are you already taking someone?"
"Now that you mention..."
"Don't. I know you're not talking anyone--yet."
"How is that, Mr. Know-it-all?"
"Last week I took $1,000 off Jeff Johnson at Oakland Hills—he's a terrible golfer and a worse gambler—but he's been playing with house money since he popped out of the womb, so a grand to him is like an old penny to the rest of us.
"We're up in the men's grill after the round. Jeff gets a few scotches in him and starts blabbing to me like we're childhood buds. He asks me if I'm in the market for a house, I say sort of, and he tells me about his. Well I'm not in that market, but I'm looking. Then he says, 'Well have I got an agent for you. Looks like a movie star, sucks like a porn star.' "
"Me."
"You."
"Great."
"Yeah, I wouldn't worry about it. He's a flake of biblical proportions and, based on quick calculations, you're about to make about a half-million dollar payday."
"I don't have to be there to earn it. And you can read that anyway you like."
"I know you don't have to be there, but I'm pretty sure you want to be. He said it was a real turn on how you and Robin French-kissed after he came in your mouth."
"Bastard."
"You may as well take a wing man, just in case you need someone to fall back to. We obviously get along swimmingly."
"Yeah, for someone I've know for all of nine hours."
"Then it's a date. I'll pick you up Thursday afternoon."
Marybeth finally agreed, and told me she was staying in the Townsend Hotel, her ex got the house, and to meet her there at 2 pm.
As we were parting she said one last thing. "They're taking blood at the door and testing it every which way 'till Sunday. No one as much as shakes a hand until they pass the screening."
On Thursday afternoon Marybeth was waiting for me when I pulled up, albeit a few minutes late. Dressed in a tight, short skirted crimson business suit with no top under the coat, only the latest from Victoria Secrets enhancing her already enhanced breasts—a look favored by woman in the Manhattan financial racket, not Michigan real estate—she looked radiant.
She tossed a small suitcase in the backseat of my STS, and pulled out some paperwork as she slid in the passenger side. "Wire transfers. I've got to make sure all the money has hit. No money, no party." She was all business, at least for now.
We rolled up to the estate's gated front, passed the first checkpoint of security and were allowed to go onto the main entrance. There we were double checked at the valet stop, and when cleared, handed over our keys.
The place was immense, too big to take in with one view. Massive limestone pillars and walls, surrounded by oaks, pines and maples. Hardly the image one conjures up when thinking of middle-aged flower children, but there you have the contradiction of inherited wealth and time on one's hands.
Two porters, one black, one white, each about six-three, appeared from nowhere. With chiseled torsos wrapped tightly in what resembled a gymnast's uniform, they grabbed our bags from the trunk and were instructed to escort us to bungalow four.
"Nice codpiece," I said, nodding to Marybeth is reference to the bulge in their pants.
"Nope, that's the real deal. The hired help," Marybeth explained as we followed them down. "Robin told me she brought in four men and four women, each with spectacular features and skill sets, just to add flavor to the event. The guys go a minimum of 10-inches. I believe the women are former Playmates. Something like that."
"She get them out of a catalogue? I mean, how does one shop for people like that?"
"Money has its privileges."
"I guess. Impressive packages if I do say so myself."
"You think? I expect you won't mind, but I can't wait to see and feel what one of these guys looks like unwrapped."
"No go right ahead. That is the name of the game isn't it--orgy?"
"Good. I thought it would be best to clear that up right away. I don't want you getting possessive on me, and quite frankly, I'm a big girl and I tend to get what I want. And want this weekend is to get a little sluty with strangers," Marybeth stated, in what I was finding to be her very blunt and matter of fact manner. "And it's not like I'm going to keep you from what you're after."
"What if you're one of the things I'm after?"
"I'm sure we'll get around to that."
It was easy to tell why Marybeth was one of the area's top real estate agents, and also why she'd been married and divorced three times by her mid-40's. She was a major league ball-buster alright, but I signed on for a good time, not a long time, and anything she wanted was fine by me.
We walked a brick path about a hundred yards from the front on the house to bungalow four. It was a two-bedroom, two bath cottage with a kitchen and dining area and living space. A small pool was located between number four and three. It would easily go for $750,000 on it's own in this neighborhood.
"We each get a room?" I disappointedly asked.
"No, sir," said Nate, the black porter whose muscles flared when he spoke. "You and MS. Strong will be in the room on the right. Another couple will be joining you in the bungalow."
"Thanks." I reached in my pocket for a tip, but was interrupted.
"No tipping sir," said Evan, the white Adonis who placed my bag on the edge of the king size, four post bed. "We're being more than adequately compensated."
"Well I know Robin said 'no cash,' but can I show my gratitude another way?" Marybeth butted in, sliding next to Nate with a come hither look straight from central casting. It appeared "sluty with strangers" was off and running.
"We've got to get back out front," Nate stammered a bit.
"Not both of you," my anxious date said. "The rest of the guests aren't arriving until four."
Nate and Evan looked at each other, and Evan winked and left the bungalow.
"Good, now let's see if you come as advertised," Marybeth said as she unzipped Nate's shorts, with very little concern that I was still in the room, and began to fish-out a massive hunk of meat.
"Oh my God," she blurted out, truly startled by the girth. As she fondled it I thought it would stretch into next week.
"I'm definitely not going to put that thing inside me right now—you'll make the rest of the weekend pale by comparison. I'm going to save you for the grand finale."
A disappointed frown cascaded over Nate's face, which Marybeth caught.
"But don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging."
With that, Marybeth descended to her knees and somehow managed to wrap her lips around the head of Nate's massive cock. I more or less stood in awe. One, at the size of this guy's dick, and two, that she was able to get any of it in her mouth. But not only did she get the head in, she was beginning to move up and down on it.
Slowly and cautiously, Marybeth took in more and more of Nate. A one step forward, two steps back approach, until it appeared he butted against the back of her throat. She paused, still with less than half of Nate's prodigious cock in her mouth.
For my part this was now spectator sport, sort of like watching an Olympic gymnast working through her routine, to see if she can score a perfect ten. I didn't even notice that our hostess, Robin Johnson, had wandered in the bungalow.
"She's amazing, isn't she?" Robin whispered to me as she wrapped her arm around my waist and nuzzled close.
"Quite frankly, most women have reduced the art of the blow job to nothing more than jerking a guy off with the tip of his penis on their lips. Marybeth is one of the few we've met who give it the attention to detail a man so richly deserves."
We formally introduced ourselves as we watched Marybeth tongue bathe the Nate's cock, giving each of his balls a good suck before taking him back into her mouth.
Robin had the look of a well-aged, fair-haired flower child, while still maintaining the sharp-edged facial features that made her a Vogue cover girl staple in the 70's. A very attractive willowy blonde with streaks of gray and piercing blue eyes, she was barefooted and attired in a modest sun dress, and I doubt anything else, based on the feel of her breast up against my arm.
Both of us were mesmerized as Marybeth had managed to take most of Nate down her throat, leaving her nose just shy of his trimmed pubes. She retreated, then ascended, methodically sucking off the biggest cock I'd ever seen.
"You don't realize how difficult that is, unless of course you're bi," Robin said in a hushed voice.
"I'm not."
"Didn't think so. Anyway, I tried both him and Evan last night and couldn't take more than a few inches of either. I can give head with the best of them, if I do say so myself, but those two are gargantuan."
Marybeth was working the first half of Nate's cock back and force in her mouth with a pretty good pace, while quickly stroking the rest with her right hand. He had his eyes shut and mouth open, letting out a soft moan every minute or so.
For my part I'd been sporting wood for about ten minutes, what with the world class exhibition in front of me, and the free-spirited former cover girl draping herself behind me.
She's very impressive," Robin said as slowly lowered the hand that was around my waist down to the front of my shorts. "That's the main reason my husband hired her. Anybody can sell a house, but we've swung all over the world, and very few can suck dick and eat pussy like Marybeth."
The second part came as a surprise, though I don't know why, but my attention was now divided. Nate's breathing had picked up, and he had Marybeth's head in his hands, gently getting her to take as much of him in her throat as she could. He appeared moments away from exploding.
Robin was rubbing my ass with her right hand, her left hand down the top of my shorts, slowly whacking me off. All the while her chin on my shoulder; eyes riveted on scene in front of us.
"Oh fuck baby, I can't take anymore," Nate spoke for the first time, firmly gripped Marybeth's skull, and grunted as he trusted forward, gagging her as he came.
She backed off slightly, but continued pumping his spit-shined, gleaming cock, accepting the torrent that was flooding her mouth. He moaned a couple more times before he fell back on the bed, spent. Marybeth swallowed the last of it, and slipped to the floor.
"Bravo, bravo," Robin cheered out, removing her hands from my shorts and politely applauding, operatic style. "Marybeth, you are hands down the best cock sucker I have ever seen. And given how many I've seen, that is high praise my dear.
"Now, I got some work to finish as well. I couldn't live with myself if I knew I blue-balled your date; especially given the circumstances of the occasion."
Robin dropped to her knees and simultaneously spun me around to face her. My shorts were undone and around my ankles in a flash, and my cock bobbed up and down while she was tickling the underside of its head with her tongue.
Nate, a true professional, asked if there was anything else that we needed before he left, and Marybeth excused herself to the bathroom while Robin took all of me down her throat at once.
"I'm not going to be as challenging as the hired studs."
Robin let me plop out of her mouth, then said, "Trust me, you're a welcome change. Cocks such as those men have are all about conquest. There's not much pleasure in having something like that jammed in your gullet, only in being able to say afterwards that you did it. Besides, you've got a wonderful cock, and I'm truly going to enjoy every second of making you come."
I was back in Robin's mouth, the head of my cock being teased with her swirling tongue, when Marybeth walked out of the bathroom, stark naked.
"Don't mind me; I'm heading out to the pool for some sun."
This was my first glimpse of her without clothes, and she was stunning. Long, strong legs, severely toned torso and the artistry of one of metro Detroit's foremost plastic surgeons—gravity defying breasts, firm and high on her chest. The thought that I would be sleeping with her at some point this weekend made my cock twitch in Robin's mouth.
My hostess sensed my excitement and squeezed my balls as she drew me deeper into her mouth, slowly engulfing my entire shaft. She kept me there, the muscles in her throat massaging the head of my cock.
"Oh god, that's good, feels so good."
My cock slid across Robin's tongue and out of her tepid mouth and she swept her grayish blond hair away from her face. The smile that had graced more than 100 magazine covers shimmered as her eyes met mine. I thought she was going to say something, but realized that not only was she working on making me cum, her left hand was busy at work on herself.
"Here," I said helping her off the floor. "Let's see if we can't work on this together."
She slid her sun dress of her left, then right shoulder and it cascaded to the floor. She had well-formed, smallish breasts that sagged slightly, though less than what I thought I would find on a 50-something woman, and a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair.
I led her to the bed, but she quickly took over, insisting that I lay down first so she could straddle my face while she continued to suck me off.
Robin settled her steamy twat on my lips as she toyed with the head of my cock. My tongue felt its way to her protruding clit and I returned the favor, nipping her sensitive bud with rapid slaps with my tongue. This elicited a deep moan and she squirmed down further, almost suffocating me.
I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked hard, and she responded by grinding down more. I sensed it wouldn't take long for her to cum, and I reached around and managed to grab and twist her nipples. That set her off.
"Ahhh, ohh god, ohh god that's good," Robin moaned as she backed away from my cock to focus what was happening to her. "Do that, right there. Oh god that feels good. Don't move from that spot."
Sweet nectar seeped from within and her clit was hard as my cock has ever been. I locked my lips around it while simultaneously flicking at it with my tongue.
"Oh, oh, ohhhh shit. Oh I'm cumming, right there, ohhhhh god I'm cumming. Oh that's so good."
Three or four quick spasms shot through her. She squeezed my head between her legs and ground her twat down on my face. For a moment I thought I would black out.
"Oh god, that was out of this world."
Robin's muscles relaxed and she rested her head on my thigh, gently playing with my balls as she regained some composure.
"You may find this hard to believe, given our reputation, but I haven't cum in over a month. That was so great, and so needed."
She took the head of my pulsating cock in her mouth and gave it a long suck, replicated what I just did with her clit. I get really horny when I eat pussy, and it wasn't going take long for me to get off.
Robin repositioned herself between my legs and got after it, working my cock all the way up and down in quick fire motion. She stopped briefly, allowing the head to nestle in her throat, only slide it back out.
"Oh shit, I'm going to cum right now."
Robin bobbed her head faster and faster, and sensing I was about to blow, grabbed my nuts squeezed.
"Jesus, oh my god," I screamed, certain they heard me out by the pool.
She was locked around my cock and her cheeks pumped me for all I was worth as I shot stream after stream of hot spunk into her mouth. She fisted my cock, making sure every drop had been released and sucked hard on the now overly sensitive tip; so much so that I needed to wiggle out of her clenches.
Robin easily swallowed the entire load, smiled and got up and off the bed. "Well, this party is getting off to a fast and fabulous start."
She pulled her sundress back on over her head and blew me a kiss. "Help yourself to anything or anyone—as long as they're willing—and they're all willing."
"Who's that out by the pool with Marybeth?"
"One of Jeffry's golf buddies is a big shot Hollywood producer, and he brought her along. I believe she won a Golden Globe a few years ago."
"Really?"
"She practically begged him to bring her. Word has it that she's got an insatiable appetite for sex, which is sort of a prerequisite for being here to begin with."
"That would explain why Marybeth is working her over with a dildo the size of a fire extinguisher."
"Probably won't be the last time. See you around campus."
Robin bid adieu and I threw on some shorts, grabbed a beer from the fridge and plopped on the sofa in the common area in front of the TV. I surfed through a few porn channels, or what I thought were porn channels, before I hit a wrong button on the remote and the camera zoomed in.
Whoa, what have we got here? I spent about five minutes flipping around before I concluded that the Johnson's had wired their entire estate with close-circuit video monitors. I found the menu and switched to Cottage 4, common area, and there I was, watching me watching me.
I panned left, then right. Zoomed in tight, pulled back. I guess whoever got to a channel first owned the controls. This was going to be oh so cool. I clicked through a number of rooms with nothing going on, it was early still, before finding some action in the game room.
A trio of naked, busty hard bodies with long, flowing locks--one with hair died brilliant red, another bleached shocking white, and the last deep blue (it was the 4th of July after all)--with neatly trimmed pubes in matching colors, were spinning around brass stripper poles while Jeff Johnson sipped a cocktail and fisted his pud.
He called out for Julie (the sound and video quality were impressive), and the redhead slipped off the pole and onto his pecker. White and blue twirled off their respective poles, both absolutely stuck their dismount, and dropped to the floor in a well orchestrated 69.
"The Tredo Triplets," came a voice from behind me. "It looks like Johnson didn't miss a beat."
I peered over my shoulder and was greeted by an outstretched hand.
"Hi, I'm Frank," said a distinguished looking gentleman, who appeared to be in his late 50's. With longish, though neat, brown hair, dressed in khakis, blue Polo button-down, Oakley sunglasses hanging from a string around his neck, and deck shoes, odds were that Frank was a member of one, if not all, of the same country and yacht clubs that the Johnson's belonged to.
"Pleased to meet you, I'm Kirk. You know those babes?"
"Julie, Jennifer and Jillian; the famous Tredo Triplets from Miami. Alone they go for $10,000 a night. Together, for the weekend, probably set Jeff back a couple of hundred grand. Not that he doesn't have it."
We both played voyeurs for a few minutes, watching with earnest as Red bounced up and down on Jeff Johnson's dick like she was spring loaded. It didn't take long before he coaxed her off his dick, and the three of them gathered around, mouth's wide open like baby birds waiting to be fed in the nest.
Johnson fired off three blasts, one spraying across each of their faces, before he sat back and watched the Tredo sisters kiss each other clean.
"The triplets are here, fantastic," said another new voice from the behind the couch, this one female.
"Renee," said Frank, "I want you to meet Kirk. I'm assuming he's one of our cottage mates for the weekend."
"Wow, you guys wore uniforms."
Renee, who looked to be in her mid 40's and very attractive, was dressed exactly like Frank, right down to the dangling Oakley's and deck shoes. Her hair, brown as well, was tied back in pony tail. Her shirt had one less button fastened than his and she was visibly without a bra, her pert breasts fended for their own quite well.
"Not intentionally," Frank said in reference to the clothes. "We just left some bullshit fund raiser with the Bushes in Kennebunkport, too much effort to explain."
We went through a variety of obligatory conversation before they excused themselves to their bedroom, Renee giving me a kiss on the cheek before departing.
It didn't take long, maybe five minutes, before sounds of sex began to emanate from their room. I flipped the TV to cottage four, bedroom two, and saw Renee bent over the baseboard of the sleigh bed, Frank banging the ever-living daylights out of her from behind.
Renee's breasts swayed to and fro, and she was already huffing and puffing like she was in the final mile of a 10k.
"God damnit Frank, fuck me, fuck me like it's the end of the world!"
Frank grabbed her pelvic bones, and quickened his already maddening pace, slamming forward like she wasn't even there. Renee braced herself and took everything he could give, and begged for more.
"Oh, oh, come on Frank, harder, harder you bastard. Oh, god, oh my fucking god, will you please fuck me harder, harder."
Shocked the hell out of me. I never would have pegged Renee for the overly verbal, boisterous type.
I watched intently as the jack-hammering continued, with Renee cussing up a storm as Frank repeatedly impaled her. It lasted a few more minutes before Renee wailed out a slew of explicit instructions, culminating with Frank furiously rubbing her clit with one hand and shoving a finger in her butt with the other.
Renee let out one last guttural scream; then withered to the floor. Frank, left with his sex-soaked unit in his hand, finished himself off, raining a series of cum shots down upon his satiated wife.
I stared blankly for a moment, utterly impressed by what I had just witnessed. I was so wrapped up in the action on the TV that I hadn't noticed that Marybeth had walked in and brought a new friend with her.
"Wow," they said simultaneously.
Turning, my eyes feasted on two gorgeous, naked women. Marybeth stood behind the couch with her arm around Lisa's waist. The Golden Globe winning actress was a tall and taut strawberry blonde with round, full breasts. Her sculpted facial features were flawless and her smile illuminated the room.
"And I thought it was hot outside," Lisa said
"Hi," was all I could muster, and it didn't even come out as clean as it reads.
"We came in for something to drink. Is there something you would like?" said Marybeth, the queen of the double entendre, as she gazed down at the erection propping up my shorts.
"A beer." Again, I was stumbling all over myself. I must admit a naked movie star standing before me had an adverse effect.
"I'll have the same," Lisa said, sauntering around the couch and making herself at home right next to me. "Mind if I have a look?"
I wasn't quite sure what see was referring to, and as her hand moved toward me my cock stirred, but instead of grabbing my trousers, she picked up the remote that was resting next to my leg and began flipping through the close-circuit channels.
Marybeth brought each of us a beer, placed mine on my lap with a sneer, and sat down in the chair to the side of us.
"Stop there," Marybeth said to Lisa. "See, that's one of the guys I was telling you about. They're monsters."
Lisa's jaw gaped open as we watched Evan the Porter wreak havoc on the pussy of what appeared to be a 50-something socialite in the common area of Cottage 2. The petite woman, she couldn't have been more than five-feet tall, wore only a necklace of pearls which glistened against her deep, full body tan.
Evan gripped the tiny woman by her ass cheeks and repeatedly stuck her with what had to be at least ten-inches of thick cock. She looked to be halfway between an Epileptic seizure and Nirvana, uttering throaty moans in the midst of on again, off again orgasms.
After about five minutes of this, none of us had said a word as we watched intently, Evan pulled out and painted the socialite's torso with a lather of jism. Just as the last drop spilled out the tip of his cock, our omnipresent hostess appeared from off camera and tongue bathed the thoroughly satiated socialite, licking her clean of the porter's seed.
"Well, that's about all I can take," Lisa broke the silence. "Do you mind?" she said, with a glance over to Marybeth.
"Be my guest."
"And you sir," as Lisa helped herself to my zipper, freeing my lesser-sized, but equally hard, erect dick. "Do you mind?"
"No, I don't believe I do," I stammered.
My shorts were around my ankles with Lisa straddling above me before I could process what was happening. In a blink of an eye, one of Hollywood's hottest actresses was lowering herself on me, her sopping pussy engulfing my cock.
"Oh god, that feels so good."
I couldn't tell if it was me or her who said it.
Lisa looked into my eyes within an insatiable leer and began to move in slow ministrations. She fed me her right breast and placed my hand on the left, impressing upon me that her nipples needed my undivided attention.
"Oh, I needed this so bad. Oh my god." This time I knew it was her, given my mouth was full of starlet breast.
"Your cock is perfect. Fuck me with your perfect cock." No wonder she won an award for best supporting actress.
Lisa got into a comfortable motion, sort of a combination grind and slide, all the while reinforcing that I couldn't suck or pinch her nipples hard enough. This chore was enough preoccupation to keep me from pre-ejaculating, which I almost did the moment I saw her. But now we had found a mutual rhythm and I felt I could last as long as I needed to.
Moans filled the room as Lisa had me positioned right on target. She pulled my head tight to her chest and I bit hard on her nipple, sending a shock through her that caused her to yelp.
"Oh god, do that again. Bite me, bite me hard. Ohhhhhhh god."
The action shifted from a calculated, slow-paced screw to a hard charging fuck, as Lisa bucked on top of me like she was trying to break free of some invisible restraint. She had a vice grip arm lock around my shoulders, leveraging my body to get the deepest penetration she could.
I wanted to tell her how good she made me feel. How her steamy, smooth pussy encased my cock and sent shivers down my legs and through my spine. But I couldn't speak, hell, I could barely breath. So I did the next best thing I could think of to relay my feelings--I clenched down on her nipple so hard I thought I would bite it off. Lisa responded by letting loose with a scream that was heard throughout the grounds of the estate.
Her body shook, and hot, sweet juices seeped from her clenching pussy as she began to climax.
"Ugh, ugh, ohhhhh shit, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god. Fuck, fuck, fuck."
I thought she was just about finished, but she surprised me when she raised herself off my cock, and jammed herself back down on it over and over. The final time she burst, flooding my cock, balls, legs and the couch, as she threw herself over the edge with the most intense orgasm I've ever had the pleasure to participate in.
She held me tight for a moment; then let me up for air. Lisa flashed me that million-dollar-a-movie smile, wiped the sweat from her brow and tossed back her golden mane.
"You might not believe this, but that was the best fuck I've ever had. Oh my god. Whew."
I didn't know if she was acting or not, and couldn't have cared less. She ran her finger nails down my cheek and gave me a sweet, sensuous kiss. As we parted lips she said, "You didn't come yet, did you?"
I returned the smile, "Not yet."
"We can't have that now, can we?"
She began to slowly move back and forth on my cock, and reached behind her back to fondle my balls. Lisa was so beautiful it was like having a work of art on my lap, like I was making love to a Monet. But that ridiculous premise was quickly replaced by the reality that I was about so shoot my load.
"I'm gonna cum Lisa, I gonna cum."
"That's okay baby, I want you to fill me up with your cum. No one deserves it more than you. Come on, fill me up."
She twisted and turned my balls a couple more times before I finally thrust into her, lifting both of us off the couch as I began to pump a mother lode of cum into the award winning actress.
Finished, Lisa nuzzled my neck for a while like we were long-time lovers, before rolling off onto the couch. I must have had a shit-eating grin the size of a summer moon, because Marybeth, whom I totally forgot was in the room, walked past me and said, "Nice show, I came twice myself. By the way, I think this definitely means you're buying a house from me."
