Donna Edmondson and the funny pages.

Donna Edmondson and the funny pages.

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Donna Edmondson, a proud native of Greensboro, North Carolina, was chosen as Playboy's Playmate of the Month for November 1986 and Playmate of the Year for 1987. It was noted that she was a Southern Baptist and a virgin at the time of her appearances; her bodacious body and soft sweetness and charm made her one of the most popular playmates in Playboy history. In this story she reveals her fondness for Calvin and his stuffed tiger.

Summary

Donna Edmondson, a proud native of Greensboro, North Carolina, was chosen as Playboy's Playmate of the Month for November 1986 and Playmate of the Year for 1987. It was noted that she was a Southern Baptist and a virgin at the time of her appearances; her bodacious body and soft sweetness and charm made her one of the most popular playmates in Playboy history. In this story she reveals her fondness for Calvin and his stuffed tiger.

Content

Submitted: October 25, 2014

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Content

Submitted: October 25, 2014

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Her skin was smooth and moist, almost virgin fresh after the shower with mint soap, the misty froth still tingling on her skin, effervescent.

 

“Ooooh, that Calvin and Hobbes are so cute.”

 

Voluptuously plump Donna Edmondson licked her lips as her eyes sparkled over the funnies.

 

Sitting in the canvas chair and wrapped in a plush white terrycloth robe her body still exuded an irresistible sexually. Her hair was in curlers and two girls were fussing over make-up and grooming but Donna sat, placid and alluring, letting her delicate fingers glide over the color panels of the funnies as her soft lips silently mouthed the words in the dialogue balloons.

 

“That Hobbes, he’s like this tiger you know?” she explained in her lilting southern drawl. “Only he’s not a real tiger, he’s like a toy tiger? Stuffed and all? ‘cepting when that naughty little boy, Calvin?” Donna sparkled as she chattered on about her favorite strip. “Now that rascal? He deserves a good spanking.” Donna shifted her juicy bottom in the canvas sling of the seat. The terrycloth tickled her skin because, except for a soft blue bra, she was naked under the robe. She thought about spankings and giggled. “That Calvin, he deserves a good spanking for sure. Oh golly! Especially when he’s playing with his tiger. And that’s when he’s real, you know? Hobbes, the tiger; he’s a toy sometimes but sometimes he’s a real live tiger. Not like in real life an’ all but like real live in like the story, the cartoon. Yeah, he’s a real live cartoon tiger ‘ceptin’ when he’s a toy an’ all. Oh, it’s confusing, but real real cute, ya know?” Her voice oozed a magnolia sweetness that would arouse even a stuffed tiger.  She sighed as the stylists began undoing the curlers in her thick hair. She knew the shoot was coming soon; she focused on the comics for distraction.

 

“In this story he’s being real sneaky like, you know the way little boys can be?” Her fingers traced over the outline of the drawing. The two girls, nodding as they feigned an interest in the comic strip, began vigorous hair brushing and Donna knew that her call on the set was even closer. She gulped and went back to the story.

 

“He’s goin’ to pounce on that boy for certain,” she giggled. “That Calvin is like a really cute little kid and he has like this yellow hair that stands straight up on his head. I think he’s just great.”

 

Donna could sense a change in the studio; the crew was tensing up for action. It made the sweet southern belle a bit nervous as she chattered lightly, mildly distracted by her own panic. She tapped on the paper. “And so anyway. Lookie here’s Calvin now, ‘I’m home!’ he’s sayin.’ And gee that little boy is so darn cute.” For a moment she imagined hugging the spiky haired tyke to her chest, his blonde spikes tickling under her chin. Her nipples tingled now.

 

“Wap!” She slapped the paper and laughed. “Wap! Here’s that pouncin’ tiger.”

 

She furrowed her brow and studied the last panel closely. “Oh, the tiger is saying’ somethin’.” She thrust out her chest and spoke in a bold tiger voice. Every eye on the busy set from the gaffer to the photographer to the art director looked at the voluptuous curves of Donna’s robe-swathed torso. “Here’s the tiger talking: ‘I thought that after seven boring hours at school….’ He talkin’ to that little rapscallion Calvin, ‘After seven hours you might ‘prreciate one moment of pure… ab…’” She furrowed her lovely brow and struggled over the word. ‘Ab…abject, abject terror.’ Golly what does that mean?”

 

She briefly frowned in confusion and every person in the studio felt lustful and desirous of her delicious body. Her face brightened as she continued to read, oblivious to the arousal she managed to generate simply by reading the funnies. “Oh, and Calvin, he’s all mushed up with those stars circlin’ around like he’s dizzy, you know? Calvin says to the tiger, ‘Let me up to get my bat and I’ll thank you.’ Oh that boy is wicked! He and the tiger  are for certain goin’ to be making a big ruckus now.”

 

A hand gently took the funnies from her grasp. She swallowed silently knowing it was time for work. She rose from the canvas chair and let her feet glide into pink pompommed slippers. She wouldn’t have them on long. She looked up and there was almost a gauntlet of lust before her, gaffers, electricians, carpenters, assistants, production crew, all men of course, all looking at her expectantly. At the end of the gauntlet, a bed surrounded by the blaring studio lights waited for her. Donna sighed, focusing her eyes on her destination and not daring to look left or right. She held her breath, not realizing that it made her bodacious bosom heave and exposed some luscious cleavage beyond the ripples of terrycloth. “Oh shoot! I expect you boys are waitin’ on silly me,” she managed to whisper, not intending the sensual sibilance that all the men heard. Her body wriggled curvaceously through the gauntlet. She felt a chill from the heat of their lust. Somebody said her name ‘Donna Edmondson’ and in spite of the glamour of being a playmate, her name and title: Donna Edmondson, Miss November, the phrase was a gentle and whispering name. She whispered back, “Hello,” her voice gentle and soft. She whispered it as if not believing herself to be the sexy thing filling them all with lust.

 

She paused at the edge of the bed. She could feel the dozen pairs of eyes behind her. Her fingers toyed with the knot of the robe. She trembled as if she expected a tiger to pounce on her.

 

“Donna, we’ll start with face down on the bed.”

 

Donna nodded. Of course… face down on the bed. The ends of the belt of the robe seemed to unfurl themselves, as if anxious to strip bare her scrumptious body. Donna’s hands fluttered to her sides and the robe’s weight eased itself off of her shoulders. Slowly her skin came into view, each magnificent curve kissed by the glare of the lights. The robe formed a soft white snowdrift at her feet. Her leg crooked and she touched the sheets with her knee. Her delectable body fell forward—afloat almost, her arms crossing under her face on the pillow. Her breasts, covered by the flimsy bra, snuggled onto the white sheets. Her belly flattened against the soft fabric. Her spine was slightly dimpled adding soft and sensuous curves to the line of her bare back. Her legs straightened out and her toes curled over the sheet. Her bare ass, round and plump and pale kissed the glow of the lights with its naked warmth. She snuggled into the cool of the satin sheets, her skin still shimmering from the misty minty shower. She oozed innocence; she beamed sensuality. She was a paen to softness, living proof that there was a god and he loved to fuck soft plump misty eyed young girls. Her lips parted. Her eyes gleamed.  A soft breath, her cheek blushing, who wouldn’t want to do this girl?

 

Donna was naturally giving, instinctively offering herself to the camera. She vamped like a playmate shooting a centerfold, her face a kaleidoscope of sexy looks, a fresh new emotion with each quickly shifting pose. She looked to the side mischievously. She gave a sultry look. She opened her mouth in in alarm. She covered her face with her hands and suppressed a girlish giggle. She vamped like a Hollywood starlet, then looked directly into the lens as if looking into her lover’s eyes, earnest and sultry. She looked brave, she looked sexy, then she slapped her hand over her face and looking through her fingers at the camera and she giggled again.

 

She felt the arousal in the room, all those eyes on her. Her skin tingled. The camera clicked over and over. Good girl, so sweet.

 

She licked her lips and gulped, knowing that the shoot was just beginning.

 

She waited. Now she could feel the eyes on her getting more lustful, almost warning her of what was coming. She shivered even though the lights were warm and caressing. She heard the floorboards groan.  She felt the springs of the bed give way as more weight climbed over her. She didn’t dare look. She fixed her gaze on he camera. Good girl. The man stretched over her almost naked body. The camera clicked.  She looked straight at the lens like she was looking at her fate.

“Sit up and stroke her shoulders,” the art director called out to the man now on the bed. “Donna honey, keep your eyes on the camera. Gives us a sweet look, that’s right.”

 

Donna felt the masculine fingers kneading into her muscles. Mmmmm, she purred. The man’s fingers luxuriated in her flesh. Touching her skin was like touching the sweet purity of honey and the fingers showed their appreciation by digging deep into her. Wow, he was strong; she pondered her own fate, a destiny brought on by her own arousal, and for a moment she felt a tingle, golly, down there. She sighed and the camera clicked. She tried to think of that rapscallion Calvin but all she could think about was making love, giving pleasure to a man. She felt the eyes of the crew on her now. She heard the shutter click. The fingers caressed across her shoulders and traced over the straps of the bra and along the thin pale tan line underneath. An electric spark flashed over her skin where the elastic pressed into her flesh. Donna held her breath. The fingers worked softly but insistently over the hooks of the bra. She felt the elastic straps ease over her skin as the hooks came undone. She stretched and purred like a cat in a Tennessee Williams play.

Face down on the white satin sheets, her chestnut curls shimmering around her face and her eyes almost misty with pending tears, so irresistible and shy, she radiated sex.

 

She gazed with sultry innocence right into the lens. Her body reclining over the satin sheets glowed as if about to levitate. She trembled under the man’s touch. His finger tips danced lightly over the skin that had just been pressed by the bra strap. Her breasts were large pillows under her, still covered by the loosened bra, her nipples stabbed through the satin.  His fingers caressed over the sides of the breasts and she squirmed in resistance.

 

Her skin was tan but pale with lines of modesty, the outline of bikini straps so sexy to see. Her spine was elegant in the soft curve of her supine body, delectable to see and touch. Her ass jiggled slightly and her toes flexed in excitement. She vamped like a white slave in a sultan’s tent. She looked to the side playfully. Her eyes glowed in humid gaze. She imagined reaching for his cock. Being naughty, letting her fingers run over the length of the shaft, she knew it would be long and thick, and it would be so hard; she pretended it was already pulsating under her touch. Oh god. She opened her mouth in panic. She covered her face in shame. She gazed directly into the lens, earnest and sultry in her desire. She was hungry, she was yearning, then she cupped her hand over her mouth as if she had said a naughty word. She wanted it; she wanted the lens to love her. She could already feel its lust.

 

Her hair shimmered in soft chestnut waves and strong fingers combed through the curls sliding the strands to one side and two lips pressed over the back of her now bare neck. Donna shivered under the touch of his mouth and an indulgent paroxysm burst on her skin in sweetness where his tongue touched her flesh. Delicious. His lips caressed over the warmth of her skin across her shoulders; his tongue licked the back of ther throat; his teeth nibbled her ears. She melted.

 

Two firm fingers spread the open straps of the bra and a thumb slid up and down her spine. Donna shuttered. Her feet fluttered nervously. His hand stroked the smooth bare orbs of her ass then wandered down her legs; she pressed her thighs together defensively but she felt heat rush over the rich curls of her sweet pussy.

 

“Donna, we need you on your side now.”

 

“You want me to sit up?” her voice was breathless with hesitation.

 

“Just shift so we can get some shot of your, ah, your front. That’s right, face the camera. Good girl.”

 

The bodacious playmate shifted her body as the man moved behind her so she could recline on her side.  The satin rustled under her mint and magnolia skin. Her belly fluttered and her breath caressed the satin lightly. Her curls tumbled in gentle waves as her head lifted. She reclined, her chin in one palm with an elbow dug into the sheets, her other arm draped over her breasts and to hold up the loosened bra.  She held in her belly, heightening the lusciousness of her curves and she squeezed her thighs tight, arcing her leg so as to hide the glistening curls of her pussy. She looked fine. Really fine. Divine. Every man in the room wanted to fuck her.

 

She still hadn’t seen the face of the man in the bed with her. She could feel the power coiled in the muscled body behind her; she knew what lust was and she could feel lust glowing like a nuclear reactor behind her, youthful, vigorous, powerful, demanding, overpowering. Oh god, his absolute lust radiated over her. Oh god. Did they get these models from the senior class of Greensboro, North Carolina football team? Go Aggies!! She closed her eyes and pictured the stadium filled with a crowd roaring for her.

 

“Put your hand on her belly.” Donna gulped at the AD’s instructions to the man behind her. “Is that OK Donna?” the AD added. She nodded shyly.

 

The young man’s fingers pressed over her navel. She held her breath. His palm stretched flat over her belly, his fingers creeping towards the curls of her pussy peeking out from between her thighs. She bit her lips. The camera clicked softly.

 

“Um, Donna, the bra?” the photographer mumbled after a few more frames.

 

“The bra?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“Why don’t you help her?” the AD said. Donna gulped and the man behind her began to tug the strap of the bra and the sheer fabric brushed over her nipples as the cups pulled away. She pressed her arms to hide her nakedness. The bra was gone and with one hand the man was caressing the skin just under each breast and with his other hand his middle finger was teasing the flesh where her thighs pressed together. She shivered. The camera clicked.

 

“Donna?” The PA’s voice was soft but urgent. “Donna, you need to drop your arm.”

 

She gulped and let a nipple peek out from between the fingers and thumb of the hand demurely cupping her breast.

 

The camera clicked and the crew looked on expectantly but that nipple peek was all that was coming. Still Donna looked luscious, nude but demurely covering most of her breasts and squeezing her thighs tight. But the stroking fingers, wandering from her knees to her waist were making her shapely legs tremble.

 

 “Turn around now, Donna.”

 

“You want me to…like face him?”

 

“That’s right, Donna.”

 

“Um.”

 

“That’s right, Donna, go ahead and turn around; have your body face him. But keep your eyes on the camera.”

 

Still she hesitated

 

“Donna,” the PA urged, all the men nodding, knowing what was coming and willing it. “Donna, you need to turn and face him Donna. We need this to be good.”

 

“OK.” Her voice was meek and submissive. The satin rustled as she leaned forward, then face down again. She paused and the camera caught her pose, her plump bottom in the air, her face on the sheets and her lush breasts swelling onto the satin, her legs straight and shapely and toes pointing like she was doing pirouettes.

 

She gulped and turned some more, her back to the camera now, her elegant back suggesting the sensual shape of a cello.

 

“Donna, pull your right arm under your head, lean on that.” The luscious playmate clearly had her arms crossed over her breasts. She was demurely avoiding the eyes of the man on the bed with her.

 

Every nerve ending of her naked body could feel the raw heat of him, the vitality, the insolent youth.

 

“Holy moly,” she murmured, reluctant to move.

 

“Donna, lean on your arm. Let him see you.” The voice was firm.

 

She slowly moved her arm until it was in the pose requested.

 

The camera clicked.

 

“Ok, Donna, that’s fine. Now put your left hand on your hip.”

 

The entire crew leaned forward. Even though only the man in bed with her would see her bare her bodacious breasts, even from the back her nakedness was impossible to resist.

 

She gulped and moved her arm away from her quivering breast and lightly rested a delicate palm on her curvaceous hip. She was a good playmate. The camera loved her. The snap of the shutter drilled into her with passion.

 

The camera seized it all: bare shoulders, the flawless line of her spine and the delicious allure of the cute dimple flowing down her back, the fine etched arc of the two soft globes of her ass meeting, the long curves of the back of her shapely legs, her toes pointing out as if she were a ballerina. She supported her torso with one arm, palm down on the sheet. The other palm was on her hip. Her hair tumbled over her bare shoulder and her eyes gleamed like jewels. She looked like she was posing for a pin-up.  Except there was the man kneeling on the bed with her, his eyes roaming over her naked body.

 

She couldn’t look at him. She gazed over her shoulder and through locks of her moist hair. The camera lens met her gaze.

 

“He’s, like all naked,” she mumbled through clenched teeth, her mouth wanting to smile. She wanted to be good; the camera wanted her to smile.

 

He shifted and something long and thick and hard briefly grazed over her thigh.

 

‘Holy cow,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “This is for real!” She gulped. “Almost.” Her voice tremulous. What could it mean? She trembled.

 

“Fuck,” the man grunted. She turned to him and looked sexily stern with southern belle eyes brimming with reproach.

 

His eyes were greedy. He looked at her chestnut hair radiating waves of innocence, her bare breasts full and heaving, the rich curls of her pussy, those big bright nipples, her parted lips and misty eyes, the flesh of her breasts quivering softly, the moistness of her pussy, those big red juicy nipples. His tongue snapped at her sweet and guileless face, her glistening eyes. Her hands stayed still but she twisted her head in resistance. She turned back and looking over her shoulder gave the camera a helpless look. The man behind her nuzzled into her hair.

 

Donna’s eyes studiously focused on a spot in the middle of nowhere between her naked body on the bed and the camera’s brazen gaze and the crew’s blazing single-mindedness on her vulnerability.

 

 

“Man, these tits, man. I can’t take it.” The male model groaned. Donna shivered and tried not to look back at him. She could feel his gaze on her trembling nipples. She held her focus on the camera lens.

 

“Oh man,” the male model drooled.

 

“What are you going to do about it?” the photographer asked, snapping another picture.

 

“This.”

 

She squealed as his mouth swooped in and sucked up a breast. She turned to look at it, his greedy maw suckling over her tender flesh. Her breasts proved the perfection of softness, her flesh tingling like sparkling wine against his lips. Her nipples hardened and the areolae formed a cone that his teeth delighted in taunting. His tongue danced over the pale white flesh of each breast, then licked in a spiral, tracing the sweetness of those dark circles around each nipple. He sucked with a fury that made her gasp.

 

She felt his mouth, lips and teeth and tongue frenzied with lust, gulping her up. She felt complete, feeling the pull of her flesh deep into his mouth.  Her spine arched and her toes curled.

“Heavens to Betsy!” she moaned as she surrendered entirely.

 

An electric charge of sensual pleasure sparked up and down her back from head to toe.  Her free hand moved from her own hip to his as she bent herself, feeding her breasts into his mouth.

 

She watched his mouth and hands maul her flesh, devouring her nipples, the entire areolae, all the flesh. She’d turn back to the camera with imploring eyes then jerked her head back to witness the ravishment of her breasts, especially each time he bit down on a nipple. He loved biting her hard nipples and sucking her flesh deep into his mouth, his lips and tongue and teeth taunting greedily over her entire chest. And her throat and her face, but especially those big luscious breasts, man did he love going at them, the rapscallion. 

 

Donna struggled to stay upright on her side, her delicious ass on display to the crew while that bad boy gobbled up her creamy mounds. She wriggled slightly in excitement and she wriggled more to keep her balance. She was losing her mind, her eyes darting between the lens shooting her and the mouth devouring her. Beyond the lens and the camera lights she could feel the lust of the entire crew. Her sex throbbed and she squeezed her thighs. No, she shook her head in panic. She pulled his hair, tugging his head back even as he tried to suck harder.

 

“Be nice, Ok?” she whined. “You can kiss them. Just be nice.” She looked at him with misty eyes, her hair shimmering around her soft face. She turned back to the camera. Everybody wanted to fuck that innocent and alluring face.

 

A long pause punctuated by the cameras clicking to capture the pleas in the playmate’s gaze.

 

The art director gulped, clearing his throat. Christ he wanted to fuck this girl. “Put her on her back. We want to see those breasts.” The entire crew, in unison, nodded agreement. Donna hesitated and resisted slightly so she sank down in slow motion, those luscious breasts swelling into a delicious offering.

 

The man on the bed backed away and the cameras, two or three of them now, wandered over her naked writhing body. Her hands kept fluttering in brief efforts to hide her nipples and her bare sex but as she writhed and pursed her lips for the cameras she couldn’t resist giving teasingly seductive peeks of both. She remained mindful of the naked man kneeling close by but she kept her soft eyes playfully dancing among the cameras and teasingly away from the cameras too.

 

“Donna, let him kneel between your legs.”

 

Donna froze for a second. “But, his…thing….”

 

“Just for the shot. Be a good girl, Donna.”

 

“Can we, like, just, you know, just do something easy and all?” Her voice was pleading.

 

“Like what Donna,” the PD’s voice was impatient.

 

“Maybe if we just had like, a little kiss, or something?”

 

Without waiting for a reply from the PD she turned and soft whispered to the naked man. “Could you just like do one little kiss. Like a real soft one?” The PD and the crew were practically drooling at the sight of the naked playmate pressing her lips gently over the mouth of the naked man.

 

The kiss held of a couple of beats and Donna broke away, clearly aroused. She dropped her eyes demurely. “That was nice,” she said softly and she meant it.

 

But the PD needed to move on. “Donna, let him kneel between your legs.”

 

Ah, Donna, did he tempt you? How badly could you perceive his lust? Was your shyness in earnest? Yes or no?  She knew the cock was hard and hungry; it was scary but that’s why she loved it.

 

She wriggled like a playmate posing for a centerfold. Good girl. Her blush was rose then red then pale white with fear and then red with lust again, her face sad then merry then confused then full of desire. Everybody wanted to fuck her. Everybody. She was luscious.

 

She squirmed slightly and her breasts jiggled as her body shifted. With the reluctance of a virgin in a harem she slowly spread her thighs. He nudged between her legs, kneeling over her. She cupped one hand over her pussy and crossed the other arm over her breasts in a futilely defensive gesture. She looked at the man with imploring eyes.

 

Did she see meteors tilting in his face? First she denied him, her arms stiff and her hand firmly cupped over her sex but all too quickly her muscles relaxed as if under a lover’s kiss even as her palm still stroked over her bare pussy lips. She was anticipating the feeling of what it would be like to have him inside her even as she tried to resist it.

 

“Fuck,” he growled.

 

Her eyes pleaded and her body begged. She couldn’t help darting her eyes down to look at…it. Oh god, it was big and hungry.

 

“Heavens to Betsy,” she giggled. For a brief second her hands fluttered towards her embarrassed face revealing her bright nipples and moist sex. She whooped loudly, a rebel yell and covered her alluring body again. The man moaned.

 

Her eyes ran up and down the powerful body hovering over her. Her hand was tingling with electric arousal, her palm cupped over her sex, her knuckles tickled by the cock head probing over them. It was scary all right; Heavens to Betsy…The cock was huge and fierce; in Donna’s eyes it was the length of a man’s forearm with the girth of a beer can- deadly but she knew it was hers, a missile with her name on it, like in the old movies.

 

She was scared. Cuddle, that that she needed. She would cuddle him all night if she could, then maybe when they were all snug and cozy his cock would ease into her and fill her up. She shivered at the feel of it. Her softness completely conquered by his force. In her mind she was already surrendering. She could feel the cock taking her.

 

“Wow,” she whispered, the syllable breathless and drawn out.

 

“Look at the camera, Donna, the camera wants to do you.”

 

“Like this?” She gave the camera smoldering look but she gulped as she felt the head of the cock graze over her knuckles; she pressed her hand firmly over the gates of her sex for protection but only succeeded in arousing herself even more.

 

“Damn,” the man between her legs growled in frustration. “We gotta get it done.”

 

“How do you want to handle this, Donna?”

 

The bodacious playmate was panting, desperate for breath. She could feel all eyes on her naked body. She could feel the yearning deep inside her, longing for his cock to take her. She felt wicked and shy.

 

“I guess…just a little bit maybe? I guess we can, you know…really…you know?”

 

“No, what, Donna, what should we do now?”

 

“You know, do it?”

 

“Do it?”

 

“It!”

 

“What?”

 

“…it…make love,” in a fervent whisper.

 

“You want him to do you, Donna?”

 

Blushing full crimson, she nodded gently.

 

“Yeah,” the male model agreed quickly. The room filled with a chorus of male voices groaning with pleasure.

 

“Just a little bit, you know?” she added softly. The entire crew nodded, but who could imagine fucking this beauty just a little bit. The man was grunting like a bull.

 

“Oh fuck, I need to fuck her.”  With one hand he wrenched her arm by the wrist and bared her pussy. He gripped his cock and got ready to lunge.

 

“Hey,” she protested. She bared her breasts now, using her free hand to block the cock roaring towards her pussy. “Go slow, you know? Let’s cuddle first.”

 

She looked up at him with beseeching eyes. The hand he had pinned next to her head fluttered like a bird in a trap. Her naked nipples stretched out in longing and the creamy flesh of her breasts quivered as she trembled in anticipation.

 

He looked down at that beautiful face; she looked back up. She glowed with innocence. Her lips parted. Fuck yeah, he’d cuddle all right. He was going to fuck her for sure but those lips, damn they looked sweet.

 

Delectable Donna lifted her head to receive him, her eyes misty with love, her tongue glistening behind her gleaming teeth and moist red lips. The kiss was soulful and soft, generously long in duration, sometimes their tongues tangoing in the open air like hummingbirds in love and sometimes their tongues entwining inside each other’s mouth, probing and teasing.

 

Donna showed her arousal by rocking her naked body over the satin sheets. She arced to lift her bare breasts up to him. When she struggled with her hand still pinned to the sheet she was struggling so she could use her fingers to caress his face as he kissed her. He showed his arousal by working to thrust his cock into her even as he kissed her. Her free hand worked in a frenzy to protect her pussy.

 

After the deep kiss his mouth wandered over her face and throat slathering her with his lust. On her naked breasts he was merciless; his biting and sucking made her nipples glow almost metallic red and the pale flesh of each mound glistened like honeyed dew on a spring morning.

 

Still they struggled mightily, his hips thrusting forward to ravish her and, in her panic, her hips squeezing against his, seeming to urge him on.

 

“Come on, let me do it.” He rammed hard only to be swatted away by her delicate hands. Her hand caressed over his cock trying to guide it away; at the same time her fingers studied it, measuring the length and girth and weight and her body trembled with shame and fear. She was so deliciously naughty. She felt it pulse under her touch and she foresaw the endless mass of white fire waiting for release inside her. She could already anticipate the gushing, rushing pressure, the massive load, viscous yet solid as it flooded her with his ecstasy; golly, she was a wicked girl.

 

“Easy, OK? Let’s go easy, OK?” Her voice was meek and even as she spoke she was easing the head of his shaft along her thigh, closer and closer to the honeyed spot. “You don’t gotta be rough, you know. It’s nice when you go easy.” Her voice was dripping molasses and magnolia; her voice made one of the crew come.

 

She bit her lip as she and he continued to wriggle and struggle subtly, his panting and her breathless murmurs harmonizing in an ancient song of ravishment.

 

All the witnesses agreed that it was Donna’s hand that did it. Even as she was shaking her head and pleading no, no, no, her pinioned hand furling and unfurling in an anxious fist, even as she sweetly resisted, her free hand slowly slipped the head of his cock past the curls of her moist bush. The harsh press of hot power, hard and heavy, came suddenly and a gasp of fear burst from her soft lips. The camera clicked and the two of them froze. Their eyes dropped in unison to see the cock implanted just a bit into her tight pussy.

 

The crew’s lust was palpable; perhaps the man had been unknown to Donna but it was clear he had a reputation, a reputation for being a hard driving fucker with a merciless cock and it was about to plow into the sweet playmate like a bulldozer.

 

The delicate petals of her sex tightened around his cockhead delivering waves of pleasure through his shaft. He grinned, “Yeah, all right.”

 

She gasped. Her free hand came up to her lips. Oh no. Oh god. It was really happening! She stared at the shaft pressed into her sex, the cock head inside her, the curls of her pussy seeming to dance in invitation to the rest of the long hard weapon pulsing over her. Her soft thighs juicily engulfed him and moment by deep slow moment, as her helpless eyes watched, that massive shaft disappeared into her. “Not too deep, OK. Just a little bit,” she pleaded softly.

 

Wap! He pounced on her, drilling deep with one thrust. Her bare ass slapped the sheets. “Here’s that pouncin’ tiger,” she thought to herself as her open mouth noised like a police siren.  He pinned both her hands down, spreading her arms out so the camera had good shot of each bounce of her breasts as he pounded her body.

 

“Now we got it going,” he gloated over her helpless wails.

 

He rutted into her like a satyr into a nymph. He went at her with a fierce velocity, plunging in and out jackrabbit style. The bed springs squealed with pleasure. Her face innocent as a flower and transparent as a child, you could have sworn upon that innocence as if swearing on an angel’s heart. He rammed into her tightness; her cunt was a heart beat.

 

“Oh, this is so bad, so wicked,” the tender girl moaned to no one.

 

The man fucking her announced to the world, “Fuck this is good!” It didn’t matter the size of the cock, big or small, she was getting fucked. In and out he pounded and she gave no struggle at all even as she whined and growled, miming the motions of demure resistance but welcoming his cock deep inside her.

 

“Ohhhh, this is so bad,” she purred again.


“If it feels good, it's all right,” he snarled and rammed in hard. “We’re so wicked,” she moaned in disbelief and he snarled again, “If it feels good, it's all right.” “Oh god, no,” she sobbed. Once more he slammed into her softness. “Tell me when you feel it.”

“This is so bad,” she groaned, “I’m being so bad.”


He was fucking her to the thump of a funk groove inside his head, his cock pounding to a sexy beat. “If it feels good, it's all right, if it feels good, it's all right. Tell me when you feel it.”

 

“Feel it?” she gasped.

 

“Feel good, feel fine, feel my fucking take you all the way.”

 

“All the way?” Her head was about to explode. He rammed into her succulent tightness again and again.

 

“Fuck,” he growled, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

“Oh geezus,” she gasped, “God, I…wow; I’m so bad!”

“Fuck,” he growled, “Fuck you’re good.” He rammed into her delicious honeypot.

 

“Oh,” she purred in her southern twang, “I’m so bad.”

 

“Donna, this is good,” the photographer urged, “You’re being real good.” The camera clicked over and over in agreement.

 


Her body gyrated in that confused combination of resistance and wantonness, thrusting up and rolling her hips as she pushed him away shaking her head and her breasts. “No, no, no,” she moaned.

 

“If it feels good, it's all right,” the man chanted. He fucked her hard, in and out, deep and solid. “If it feels good, it's all right. Tell me when you feel it.”



Life or death, for Donna, was a fierce struggle deep inside her. His cock plunged into her tightness and she let it be holy as she sobbed and struggled. Life or death.  She concentrated on the overwhelming mass ramming into her softness, its length- infinite, its girth- awesome, its weight- crushing; but behind it, coming closer with each thrust was the ejaculation she knew would fill her- heat and power, the white seed would flood into her very depths and devour her heart. She sobbed and her tear-misty eyes looked lovingly at the cock plunging into her. Her eyes spoke, “You can do it; you can come in me.”
 

His mind was racing too-tits and ass and a real tight pussy, a perfect fuck, fantastic to ram deep inside her. Fuck, her pussy was tight and sweet and he partied like a wild man as he fucked and sucked. Tits and ass and a tight tight pussy. Perfect.
 

 

“Tell me when you feel it,” he demanded fucking like a madman.


Wide eyed, she looked at him. Yeah, yeah, she wanted to say but nothing came out of her panting mouth. The shaft lunged in and out of her in rapid staccato strokes; for an untimely short moment Donna believed it was somehow never going to be over, though she managed not to get panicked about that.
 

“Tell me when you feel it.” He spit it out, a runner’s gasping as he drilled into her over and over. Shit, she was a sweet fuck, fuck was she tight. And alive. “Tell me when you feel it.”
 

She wanted to scream out an answer but she didn’t know what he was asking. Did she feel his cock drill into her and fill her up? Heck yeah. Did she feel a womanly ecstasy, a gushing of hot delicious bliss about to burst from her tight pussy? Dang, she did all right. Her mouth was a magical O, a princess cast under a spell. Her eyes brimmed with tears of heaven. Picture perfect was she and the click of the cameras caught it all. She wanted to feel that sacred paroxysm, the rush of white heat gushing into her.
 

“Tell me when you feel it.” Damn she was tight, and sweet, and hot, fuck she was a good fuck.

 

Oh it was so hard; she felt it so hard. She sobbed wordlessly : Yeah, yeah.

 

Her mouth, a wide saucer of wonderment wanted to say, “You make me feel good. Wow, this is really good.” But she panted silently instead, her lips round and soft and her tongue glistening behind her white teeth. She panted rapidly with each of his thrusts.
 

“Tell me when you feel it.” He slammed hard and vicious.

“I feel it, yes,” she gasped and she began to cry, gushing, stormy tears. The tears were a miracle of release, washing her sweet face with glistening gems.

 

She froze for a moment, her tears making her blushing face sparkle. She held his face and kissed him deeply, thrusting up into him. She broke the kiss and dropped her head onto the sheets, never breaking contact with his eyes. She was strong now; she was alive; she was ready for his fire to rush into her. She could have nothing else. “I want you to fill me up, you know, fill me up real good.” She smiled sweetly. Yeah. Good girl.

 

He really went at it, drilling her good, fucking hard and furious and endlessly; he fucked her for a long, long time but never breaking the gaze they shared between them.

 

They seemed almost, with
staring on one another, to tear the cases of their
eyes; there was speech in their muteness, language
in their every gesture; they looked as they had heard
of a world created between them, or one destroyed: a notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say if the ecstasy were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the fucking, it must needs be one or the other. She was pure sex, throbbing with elation.

 

She was thunder, Donna was. Fire and quake. A thing that couldn’t quite be contained. There was not any better advertisement for Playboy than Donna Edmondson, a sweet girl who made ravishment and arousal look like the most delicious thing in the world. Monday afternoon in the photo studio, where she was being balled so furiously, she was visible up close, moving parts whirring, betraying no resistance. It was all her generous soul on display with her nakedness, this sort of show: She gave her body and spirit, bighearted and meek even as she fucked furiously.

 

He shot one load into her. Christ it was good to bang this girl, to feel the head of his dick explode into her honey. She could feel the eruption and even as she pumped up and he drilled down she gasped at the torrential gushing of the white inside her.

 

“Oh wow,” she groaned her head twisting in incredulity. “So much, oh golly, there’s so much!” The white heat filled her and she froze, gathering her own strength for the banshee she was certain would emerge from her own depths. Then her hips began to piston, rallying her energy. Another load, the release from his shaft ecstasy for him and heaven for her, exploded. He continued to pound into her. In and out, in and out.

 

The transition was gradual. For the first few minutes she was a machine, denying any connection with the seed that was blossoming within. She thrust up and he thrust down like they were creating dance. This utmost invention was not a mirror, though their grinds were a mirror that could kick post-extant stars back to another mirror, which flipped the image over, doing the job the mind does for the eye, which was what she saw in every cell of her body and he shot again bursting their tranquilities through with the virtue of lust. As if it wasn't already known that every good story had a gun here it was: he unloaded into her a machine gun bursting rapid fire into the screaming playmate.

 

He kept firing, faster and faster, and she took it, good girl; she came over and over and she looked more and more heavenly with each burst of ecstasy. Even after he was eventually dragged off her and the cameras moved in closer to get shots of her misty eyed face she kept writhing as though the cock was still filling her.  The man was handed a towel. “Good job, Cal,” somebody said and Donna imagined hands slapping him on the back for a job well done. “Cal,” someone had said; of course, his name would be Cal- Calvin. He sure did a number on her didn’t he?

 

She looked at the lens and giggled softly. “That Calvin. Heavens to Betsy, he’s a bad boy,” she purred as she came again just for the camera. Good girl.

 

 

 

 

 


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