Donna Edmondson : Real Estate Angel

Donna Edmondson : Real Estate Angel

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


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 the essay accompanying her centerfold she reveled her passion for real estate.


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 the essay accompanying her centerfold she reveled her passion for real estate.


Submitted: April 16, 2016

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 16, 2016



Donna Edmondson couldn’t have been more thrilled. She was driving a brand new Mercedes through the streets of Holmby Hills and she was going to be a real live real estate agent in this incredibly expensive and exclusive neighborhood. Well, she was going to play the part anyway. A video crew was crammed in the back of the car and a cameraman was sitting next to her pointing a gleaming lens in her direction.

By now, even though constitutionally shy and demure, Donna had learned to be comfortable in front of cameras and best of all she could keep her clothes on for this shoot. She chattered as she drove and the crew recorded everything. “I don’t really have a license for California, you know?” She turned to the camera on her right and looked into the lens too long so she abruptly had to avoid an oncoming car. “Opps!” she giggled. “I don’t have a real estate license. But the agency said that we could do the shoot, and all? And, golly, if I make the sale they’ll even pay the commission! Goodness gracious, how much money is three percent of one million and five hundred thousand dollars?”

“They’re going to pay three percent, Donna?” a producer asked from the back seat.

The lovely southern belle furrowed her brow cutely, “They didn’t rightly say, you know? But, gee, it exciting isn’t it?” She chattered on and on through the LA traffic and soon they were cruising up an elegant drive.  
“Real estate, real estate, real estate,” chanted Donna happily, “Nothing is so amazing like real estate. No, really! look around, it’s magical!” Donna was crimping her nose and trying to focus her eyes on the pages of information on the clipboard on the seat beside her. Her driving, never really good, was horrible while she tried to read and drive at once. “This mansion is loaded with features…Wow,” she said, looking up at the magnificent tree lined roads, “It’s all castles out here!”

The car slowed as Donna bent her head and peered out the window. “Goodness gracious,” she said, “It’s like a story book.”

She exited the car slowly, allowing the crew time to set up the shots of her first approach to the house. As she strode confidently towards the sumptuous building she luxuriated in the rich lawn massaging her feet even through her shoes. She paused and bent, unconsciously doing a bunny dip to display her bodacious body as her graceful fingers plucked a few green leaves. “Look, a four leaf clover!” she gleefully sang out. “I used to collect them. A whole book pressed together.” She looked at the leaf, believing that it would be lucky for her and she laughed while tucking it into her hair.

The door was opened and she walked in. The camera crew caught all her giddy excitement as she wandered from room to room checking the house against the papers she had on the clipboard.

Before she reached the stairs to the second floor though the customer arrived. He was a distinguished looking businessman; his suit and tie weren’t flashy except the suit was impeccably tailored from the finest wool and silk and the tasteful tie was flawlessly knotted. Golly, she thought, he looked like a king, or a president at least. The president of some amazing company and at night he was maybe a super hero! Donna gulped and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Donna, and I’m here to show you everything.”

“You mean the house,” the man added, amused by her nervous chattering. His hand reached up and plucked the four-leaf clover from her. The remarkably intimate touch made the girl tremble.

“Yes, the house,” she said; flustered, she started over. “Hi, I’m Donna.” She shyly smiled for approval. She watched him slip the clover into his pocket and that seemed even more intimate. She blushed a sweet rosy hue. “My clover…” she breathed like a petulant child.

He smiled benevolently and gently slid the clover back into her hair and she beamed with delight and she looked beautiful.

He approved. “I’m Peter.”

Her brow furrowed cutely as she figured it out. “Oh, you’re the one who does all the investing…and playmates…” She gulped remembering the Mansion gossip. An image flashed in her head for a quick second: she saw herself naked on white satin sheets and Peter, naked too, pressed his body over hers, entered her as her lips parted. “You’re Peter.” She suddenly felt warm, almost sweaty. “You do…I mean…all those playmates…and…golly!”

“Yes, I’m Peter,” he agreed. “I do investment work. And yes, all those playmates.”

“And I’m supposed to show you the house?”

“Do you want to show me the house, Donna?” He voice was smooth and amused at her girlish display of nerves.

“Um, yes, I do, I want to, um, you know, show you everything.”

“Everything?” His eyebrow arched and Donna felt a seductive twinge in her spine as he smiled.

“In the, you know, house?”

“Even the bedroom?”

She blushed a deep scarlet. “Everything,” she said bravely. She tried to get back on script. “The original structure was built in 1937 but it was completely renovated in…”

“It’s seems kind of ostentatious.”

Ostentatious. Golly what a word! Donna almost swooned but she struggled back into sales person mode. “Well, it’s big and spacious, and terribly grand. But proper for an important person like you.” Her arm swept out to illustrate the vastness of the space but then she glanced down at the floor, lost in her own thoughts as she murmured softy. “I mean, a man should be able to have what he wants right?” She looked at Peter and he saw her tremble as if she had just seen a dangerous animal. “I guess a powerful man, he can have any… um, thing, you know? I mean how could a girl say no. It just ain’t right.” She put a hand over her mouth; she said too much.

He gently took her hand off her face and lifted her chin. He kissed her softly and her kiss was sweet magnolia and moonshine.  She trembled. He felt her bodacious chest heave against him.

Goodness gracious, she thought, I shouldn’t be doing this! I’m supposed to be selling the house to him.

She pushed away from the kiss. “You know when people find out you’re a playmate they think they have to take you to bed. Well, heavens to Betsy, it just ain’t true!”

Peter couldn’t help snickering slightly. “Heavens to Betsy?”

“Now don’t you be putting on airs ‘cause of the way we talk in Greensboro!” She looked very cute when she pouted.

He stroked her under the chin. “I like the way you talk.”

“Really?” she lighted up. “I can just be myself?”

“You’re a lovely girl. I like you just the way you are.” He pressed her in the small of her back urging her back into her real estate agent role. “I’ll probably buy this house just so I can take you to the bedroom.”

“There’s no rush, silly,” she said nervously; she was trying to glide over what she thought he had said. She slid away from him and led him down the hall. But her genteel Anti-bellum manners took over and she poured her graciousness over him like molasses. “There’s so much to see in this grand mansion, um, sir.” Her eyes looked away. “I love to wander through houses. Often I take way more time than a normal person. When something feels good I need to slow way down and enjoy every second. I mean, it’s really good I want to slow…it…way…down…” Her voice drifted off and she blushed, uncertain why she was so flustered. Suddenly she pictured herself in bed with him. He was pumping deep into her, nice and slow. Her hands gripped the white satin sheets and she moaned. She liked it nice and slow, a big strong man drilling deep into her softness. Donna gulped and blinked away the daydream.

“Goodness, gracious,” she gasped under her breath; her eyes guiltily darted around the room. They rested in a corner where she saw a shadow; just one more teasing vision of him ravaging her body flashed through her skull. She quickly glanced at her clipboard to clear her mind. “This is the library,” she said. She was blushing.

She stepped deeper into the room and her hand lightly caressed the smooth oak tabletop and row after row of leather volumes. “There’s, um, six thousand books here,” she read from the page. “Many from the, um, eighteenth and nineteen century.” She looked up from the page. “Gee, they’re real old.” An oak and bronze ladder was part of the built-in bookcase. Donna felt herself allowing Peter to push her against it; she’d grip the wood behind her, jutting out her chest as his face nuzzled into her cleavage. Her nipples hard and aching. A hand ripping open the blouse, the bra pulled down to liberate those swelling breasts. Teeth nibbling on her flesh. Her passionate sobs echoing in the room and her body writhing against the ladder as her trembling hand searches for his zipper. “Not here, sir,” she gasped. “We can wait. Up in the bedroom. We’ll go nice and slow.” She blinked away the images and she wondered if she really just said those words out loud. Peter was on the other side of the table. She peered anxiously into his eyes.

He looked pleased. “Are you distracted, Donna?”

Her eyes darted away and she looked down at her papers, seeking distraction in the itinerary: living room, library, dining room, but one word stuck out as if in bold letters—bedroom. The word taunted her.

She squeezed the clipboard as if she could get it to behave. “Let me ask you,” she said, her voice taut with nervous straining. “Are you interested a little, you know…in…with…me?” She laughed nervously.

“With you?”

“Um, in the house, I mean…when we go upstairs.”

“With you? In the house?”

“Well, not in the house exactly. No, wait, in the house, yeah, I mean upstairs…you and me. Golly, I’m all tongue-tie!” Her knuckles were white over the clipboard. “But you know, sometime, when two people are, um, interested and all? And in this big old house it’s so romantic with all these…rooms and…you know…beds and stuff? You know what I mean?”

“Are you asking if I want to ball you?”

The young girl pressed a hand over her mouth in shock; she almost dropped the clipboard.

“Donna, everybody wants to ball you.” He chuckled agreeably. She winced every time she heard that blunt, vulgar word, but her eyes sparked naughtily at the same time.

Donna stopped and looked at herself in a floor-length mirror.

The silk blouse was crisp and form-fitting; at the same time the purple silk hugged the magnificent infinity of her curves. The shirt was delightfully designed for plenty of cleavage; three buttons closed from the waist up but three open after that. The necklace was just costume pearls, but it made her feel elegant, like a real lady in one of those old movies. A wide black belt, glossy patent leather, cinched her waist to a flawless hourglass shape. The black skirt was designed to empower with a professional look but wrapped tight around Donna’s plump ass and shapely legs it showed off the alluring power of a bodacious playmate. The zipper holding the tight skirt closed seemed to vibrate with tension as if about to burst. Gosh, darn it, she couldn’t help being sexy. Everybody did want to take off her clothes. It sent chills up her spine and she heard Peter’s laughing words again, “Donna, everybody wants to ball you.”

The uncouth word hit her like a thrilling slap. Well, OK, she thought. I’ll be daring. But her innate modesty made it hard. “Gee. It’s good that you’re so…” She trembled and tried to think of the proper thing to say, “You’re so honest. I guess a girl can’t help but admire a strong confident man like you. You let a girl feel really feminine, you know? You know what you want and you come right out and say it, I mean how can a girl say no. It just wouldn’t be fair.” Her eyes darted away; she was skittish.

He stood silent, patient, and it was like he was stripping her with his eyes.  She couldn’t bear it.

“I just gotta ask, you know…” Her voice in her shy Southern Belle singsong was full of breathless excitement. “In the bedroom?” She gestured into space as if conjuring up the bed between herself and the man. “We’re going to? I mean do you want to…with me? Do it? I mean, golly, if you want to and all but maybe I’m just being…But if you wanted to I couldn’t, I mean I would and all, I couldn’t say no…If you wanted to…but do you?”

“Do it with you? Donna, are you asking do I want to ball you?” His eyes devoured her. “You’re a lovely girl, Donna.”

“Gee, that’s sweet.”

“You know I’m going to ball you.” His voice was flat but filled with an irrevocable certainty. She tried to reconcile the elegance of his manner and appearance with the crudity of that word; but each time she heard it she felt herself become more roused.

She gulped. “I guess so. I mean I want you to…I mean, yeah, I want you to want to…you know…do it? I got a yen for you right off.”

“Do you get yens often?”

“Now and then.” She was reluctant to answer.

“What do you do about it?”

Donna, in her girlish imagination saw her bare breast being engulfed by his mouth; she could feel him gently parting her legs, and she could feel the strength of his manhood begin to fill her. “Stick around and find out,” she giggled.

“OK, I will.”

His smile warmed her. “And if you want a tip, sweet talk me. I like it. Like that lovely girl line.”

She licked her lip and grew more agitated. She held her breath as if trying to calm herself. “Let’s look at some more house, OK?” she breathed.

They wandered through the rooms now in silence. In her head Donna heard herself delivering the official discourse on the attractions of each stick of furniture or the view outside each window. In her mind she saw her blouse fall away as she prattled on, then the bra-- no then the skirt, men liked to see her that way. She imagined walking along in nothing but her bra and garter belt, his eyes seduced by her juicy bottom, then the bra was gone and she saw herself turned to him as he followed, she’d be walking backward still talking about the fine oak of the parquet floor, but his eyes would be on her bounteous breasts and he’d be licking his lips in anticipation and she’d say, “You know, we can talk about parquet floors any time but I need you to suck on my nipples right now.” But in reality she didn’t lose her clothes and she didn’t open her pretty mouth. Instead the two walked slowly toward the only logical place for them to go.

Donna already knew the floor plan and she grew more uncertain with each step. She paused in the hall and pouted as if perplexed.  

“We’ve seen almost all the rooms, Donna,” he said patiently but firmly.

She nodded. “I’m kind of scared, you know?”

He silently questioned her.

She gently touched under her throat and batted her lashes shyly. “In the bedroom. Are you going to…what you said you want to…?”

“Donna, I didn’t say I wanted to; I said I was going to.”

She gulped with an endearing nervousness. “Ball me?” The naughty word slipped out of her luscious mouth as if it had a will of its own. She blushed; he smiled.


Walking down the hall toward the fateful door Donna trembled. Her legs stopped their progress; she couldn’t lift a foot to move on. He nudged her forward, one gentle sharp burst of pressure pushing between her shoulders. She staggered for a step; his fingers caught in the string of faux pearls. Like an orgasm down her sweet throat the little white beads exploded into the air and bounced noisily down the stairs. Tap, tap, tap. One bead rolled down the hall in a piercing progress to the bedroom. It tapped against the doorframe and was still. Donna, who had followed it with her eyes gulped loudly. She took a few more tantalizing steps to her destiny.

Finally the delicate playmate opened the fateful door. “The master bedroom,” she said breathlessly as if announcing the verdict for a condemned prisoner.

The room was filled with sunlight and the furniture was all modern, steel and leather and glass. Except for the bed. The bed was round and in the center of the room with a round mirror floating above it and mirrors all around at different angles. All the light seemed to hover around the bed as if to announce its importance. Everything else in the room was white or silver or jet black and gleaming but the round bed was covered by a soft fur blanket with a golden hue that seemed to undulate into the light pouring through the room and bouncing off the mirrors.
Donna looked one last time at the real estate prospectus. Her lips moved as she silently read over the sales pitch for the bedroom and its furnishings. She spoke only one phrase out loud. “A waterbed.” She gulped audibly. She recited as if a prayer, “A Big Sur Waterbed from Timberline, Grand Rapids, Lansing, Michigan. Golly.”

Peter, amused by her announcement, strutted into the room and gave the fur-covered bed a nudge and the nap of the fur danced in the sunlight as the mattress bobbled invitingly. He chuckled and turned back to the nervous real estate agent.

She smiled nervously. “A waterbed,” she repeated, holding the paper as if it were evidence or a license to kill. “Big Sur, Timberline, Grand Rapids.” Each phrase somehow took on erotic overtones in the shy lilt of her Southern accent.

“Yes,” Peter agreed. He moved closer to her. She sank back, leaning into the wall almost defensively. Grand Rapids, wow! Her mind raced: white water, geysers, furiously powerful floods. Her eager imagination couldn’t help picturing his gushing load bursting inside her writhing body.

Peter was close to her now, his hand on her belly, pressing her rear into the wall, his face nuzzling into her hair. “Have you ever made love on a waterbed?”

She sighed and took one more glance at the paper before it fluttered helplessly out of her hand. “With a touch of a button the bed slowly turns,” she recited off the page before letting it slip out of her meek fingers. “If somebody had told me what was going to be happening to me today I never would have believed it.” She lifted her face close to his, surrendering her bee-stung lips to Peter’s mouth.

Their lips and tongues together made a pact; Donna’s delicate mouth in its sweet eagerness promised the even sweeter surrender to come. Her plump bottom jiggled against the wall in anticipation of the approaching onslaught of erotic pleasures. Then, as he continued to kiss her his hand began to undo the buckle of the wide patent leather belt cinched around her narrow waist. Donna’s body froze in panic as the belt tightened when he tugged it then loosened pleasantly as he unclasped the buckle. As she had hoped, he moved slowly to prolong the pleasure for both of them.

“Gee, you make me feel sexy,” she breathed appreciatively.

The belt tenderly slipped off her waist and slithered down to the floor; the metal buckle chimed once as it fell. Her massive chest heaved under the snug and tight bra and blouse.

She watched the belt glide away and then her eyes, earnest and pleading, bore into his.

“You’re such a good girl, Donna.” His voice was confident and firm. She understood what he was saying.

“I want to be good for you,” she said sincerely. “I want you to feel real good.” She kissed him softly, angelically, with a lot of generous tongue from her sweet mouth and a good measure of gentle caresses with the palms of her hands.

Donna broke the kiss and looked down to see his hand pressing the blouse over her belly. She shifted her shoulders in that cute little rhythmic shrug she did; left shoulder up and the eyes go left then right shoulder up with the eyes following as the curls of her hair swayed and she smiled shyly. His fingers spread over her belly and she giggled.

“You’re putting me in an awkward position sir.” Her voice was soft and nervous.

“What position do you want me to put you in?”

“No, really, I’m just a quiet small town girl. All this is happening so fast.”

“What position do you want me to put you in?” he repeated insistently.

“What position?”

“Vertical? Horizontal?”

“Horizontal?” Her eyes darted to the bed then to the floor to the side of her.

“You know, horizontal.” He drew a line in the air. Donna saw two people coupling in a frantic frenzy of fucking. She saw Peter fucking her, his powerful manhood sliding in and out slowly, so deliciously slow, inside her soft sweetness as she lay horizontal on the bed, her soft mouth sobbing melodically. She blinked and gulped.

“With you?” Her voice shivered in hesitation.

“With me.”



She leaned back, resting herself again the wall, pressing her palms on either side of her. She bit her lower lip pensively. She took a long time before she answered.


Before Peter could react she added, “But just you and me, OK? Not the cameras?”

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as if that was reason enough for the cameras to film her.

She giggled shyly. “So men keep telling me.” She paused, frozen to the wall awaiting her fate.

She watched as, stepping to one side and leaning against the wall himself, he began, with one hand to undo the buttons of her blouse. The camera was just outside in the hall and all it could see was Donna’s body against the wall and in a position of surrender. Peter took his time with each button. Her downcast eyes witnessed the gradual unveiling of her bra and she bit her bottom lip nervously. She wanted to stay his hand but she kept her palms pressed flat to the wall. At the first button, at the bottom of the v-neckline, his fingers lingered a moment at the soft skin under her throat, then he worked carefully using only two digits to grind the button from its enclosure. Donna shuddered as the fabric loosened. With the flat of his forefinger he traced a line on her skin to next button. Again he used just two fingers, taking his time; with the sweet playmate’s tight body shyly pressing into the wall Donna’s downcast eyes witnessed his careful work. She liked that she took his time; she wanted him to take his time with everything. Nice and slow she purred in her mind.

The next button was over her belly button and still looking down she winced slightly before holding her breath as he finished undoing the closure. His fingertips caressed over her bare belly and navel; her flesh was soft, smooth and sensitive and she struggled to suppress a giggle.

“This is nice,” she gushed tenderly in her lilting drawl.

“What’s nice?”

“You’re being…you’re going nice and slow, you know?” She was breathless after this long speech. His palm was caressing lazy circles on her belly and under her luscious breasts.

“Nice and slow,” he murmured as if soothing a wild bird, “That’s right, nice and easy.”

Still leaning her head back against the wall and almost swooning at the seductiveness of his palm on her bare skin she let her eyes glance up to his face. “You’ll go slow, OK?” she pleaded earnestly, “When you take me? You know, on the bed and all?”

“Nice and slow,” he agreed.

“Gee, you’re sweet,” she drawled appreciatively.

He let the silk blouse dangle open revealing the cleavage offered up by the flimsy purple bra. His hand now worked to open the skirt; there was a button on the side of the waistband closest to him and it came open easily with just a thin groan from the tremulous girl. She steadied herself with her left hand on the wall as her right hand helped him guide the zipper down; and, once the sweet girl cooperated by leaning forward for a moment, the skirt slid down her legs and gathered at her feet. The tails of the silk shirt dropped around her waist hiding the garter belt. Donna’s wide and shapely hips were designed for garter belts. Now the sexy lingerie’s dainty ribbons held up Donna’s silk stockings as they peeked out from under the tail of the silk shirt. The soft silk fabric hung delicately over her moist pussy. Still not entering the camera frame Peter began to tug the open blouse down her shoulders and arms.

Donna resisted for a moment but then in a liquid dance of soft curves her body twirled gently and she pressed her front into the wall. With the side of her face leaning against the wall she looked at him earnestly. “Be nice, OK? I want you to have everything.”

The blouse slid down her spine and there was that magnificent ass framed by the garter belt and the straps holding the thigh high stockings.

The wall felt hard and cruel against the curls of her naked sex. Once more she contemplated what was coming. Hard, thick, gliding in and out. In and out. “When we…you…when you’re, you know…inside…inside me…go slow, go real slow OK…I want it to last a long time.”

He nodded and she sighed, pleased by their pact.

The closure for the bra was on the back and his hand tip-tapped up her spine until his fingers covered the strap and with one sharp tug and then a wave of release the elastic strap opened and bra hung loosely off her shoulders. She almost swooned with delight.

Peter let her remain with her chest to the wall and her cheek resting flat against it. His hands busied themselves with undoing the garter belt and slowly peeling the stocking off her shapely legs.

Her ass was plump and tight as her hips gently gyrated over the wall. His hands caressed the bare soft smoothness of each orb as he worked the clasps open on the belt. First the metal pins holding the silk stockings. His fingers teased over the front and back of her hips. She counted in her head each pin undone. One- nice and slow, two- this is so pleasant, three- I want to make you feel good, oh god, four- oh wow!

The silk stockings surrendered to his greedy touch and they slithered down her shapely legs. His palms grazed over her bare skin.

She murmured wordlessly; the pleasure of being stripped by him was as arousing as the pleasure he got from stripping her. She daintily lifted each foot up so he could slide the shoe and stocking off and he tenderly caressed each toe, sending spasms of arousal through her entire body.

He pressed his palm firmly over the base of her spine and her nerves coiled in expectation. The hook and eye arrangement of the garter belt seemed to melt under his touch. “Oh no,” she gulped when he tugged it off her waist. She felt tense like a wild beast suddenly untethered. She trembled to hold her body in control.

She was reluctant for a brief moment but then she allowed him to turn her around so she was facing the camera. The bra fell off her breasts and the two mounds seem to spring to life as the hard nipples offered themselves for his approving scrutiny. Suddenly she grasped everything. His lust. The opulence of the house. The carnal intention of a round waterbed. And the lights. The camera lens gazing on her naked beauty. All those men who would watch her video. She was a sex goddess.

“I guess all you boys were looking out for this,” she said playfully and with more than a little pride as she regarded the camera crew still just outside the door. Her eyes dropped and she realized her helplessness. She glanced at Peter. “I hope you like them,” she breathed meekly, “You know, my…these.” She looked down at her own naked breasts and even she showed wonderment at the lusciously slow rocking of her creamy flesh.

She leaned against the wall; completely naked she looked like a voluptuous work of art. One bare foot was flat against the wall, her shapely legs bent in repose. Her breath slowed. She was savoring every moment. She could feel the lens drinking her nakedness. And the crew, they made her feel sexy. Even better, she felt the command of Peter’s gaze on her unclothed body. She was his slave, really. She couldn’t say no. She couldn’t imagine it. Her arms crossed under her breasts, lifting the creamy mounds in offering. She crooked her head and looked ahead of her across to the other side of the room. She pouted, as if deciding and the camera just outside the door gazed on her lovingly. She sighed and pushed herself away from the wall. She felt Peter’s eyes on her as she strutted in a shy version of the eager nymph offering herself to her lover. She padded, naked and barefoot towards the camera. Her breasts danced in seductive rhythm. She lightly touched the open door and nudged it closed. Her doe eyes peeked around the edge so her soft teasing smile could say to the camera lens, “I’m too shy to let you all watch me, you know, make love and all.”

Her eyes twinkled and the door clicked closed.

She turned to Peter and she tried to bravely gaze into his eyes to let him see that she was offering her naked and aroused body up to him. She trembled lusciously.

“This is all just for you. I want it all to be for you, OK? I want to make you totally happy,” she breathed gently. “Let me make you happy, OK?” Her liltingly voiced plea was sincere and serious.

She slowly padded on her bare feet, every curve in her magnificent body dancing as she drew closer.

“I know what I need to do,” she said sincerely, “I want to do it with just you though, OK?” She quavered as she pleaded. “Nice and slow, OK?” She smiled shyly, “You make me feel real naughty.”

“When people find out that I’m a playmate, they expect all sorts of sinful stuff. But…” She put a hand to her mouth to suppress another prayer to Betsy. Her eyes had stayed on the floor but now she looked up at him as though defiantly offering her nakedness to him. “Now though, with you…It has to be right…” Her soft voice faded into a hopeful supplication.

She was arms-length to him and her fingers stretched out and caressed his tie; her fingers luxuriated in the silk and her nails sexily etched over the complicated but subtle design. “I love men’s ties, you know,” she purred gently, gazing at the quietly dancing colors on the silk. Her study of the qualities of the tie was tenacious and fastidious, an attempt to avoid making contact with his eyes. “A serious man wears a tie to a serious meeting.” Her voice paused and serious started to sound awfully sexy on her lips. She blinked and tried to focus on admiring the tie; she sensed his gaze intensifying so her gaze on the tie became more solemn. “Serious…Like showing a house and all.” Her fingers began to slowly undo the knot. “I guess you are serious,” she said in a hopeful way. “Serious, and strong…vigorous.”  She pronounced this last word like a fourth grader proud of her vocabulary. She finally looked up and met his gaze; trying to look bold she only good manage fetchingly fragile. “Vigorous means forceful,” she said delicately and she paused as if contemplating the import of her words.

The tie was open and she was tugging it around his neck and gently folding it in her hand. “Will you be forceful with me? Make me do the things you want?” She bit her lip at the thought of what he wanted to do to her. She daintily placed the neatly folded tie on a chair.

Now her hands guided the suit jacket off. “When a man wants me like you do,” she said softly, “When a man really wants me, I mean, golly, it’s everything isn’t it?” She was naked, prowling around him like a slinky cat and she was slowly undressing him.

“It’s like suddenly everything is clear to me. And I know I have to do everything to please him…you.” She pondered her deepest thoughts. “It’s like I’m at the center of the universe. And I have to be good. I want to be good for you.”

She circled behind and slid the jacket off his arms and draped it on the chair. Standing behind him she undid the buttons of his shirt, scratching his skin with her nails as she worked.

In her innocent inexperience it took a long laborious time for her to open all the buttons. As she reached around her hard nipples jabbed into his back arousing her to trembling. “When a man looks at me the way you do,” she whispered, her moist breath on his neck, “It’s like I get all weak inside. I mean, people think playmates are like perfect or something? But when I see your big strong eyes and I know you want me, gee, what can a girl do?” She was tugging the shirttails out now and rolling up the tee shirt.

Still standing behind him she neatly folded these clothes as she nervously chattered on. “I think it’s important for a man to show who the boss is, you know? I mean, when you take me, I’m like all yours.” She came close again, touching her naked nipples over his back. He turned around and she pressed her chest into his as if to hide her bodacious gifts. She bent her head up and, grinding into him, she held his head and kissed him passionately. It was the kiss from a girl full of trepidations surrendering everything. Her tongue was sweet and lively and bold one moment and shy the next. His hands gripped her bare bottom and pulled her against him; then he roved over her skin until he engulfed her breasts greedily and nuzzled his face in their glory. Donna arched back and let him feast. Her fat ripe nipples leapt between his teeth.

Even as her delicious flesh was sucked up into his voracious mouth her fingers in fumbling anxiety undid his belt and zipper. She lifted herself back and forth on her feet as she squirmed in his arms. She twisted around in an effort to both feed him more of her body, but also to push the pants down his legs.

Her own legs gave out and she sank to the floor. At the same time he raised himself up so she could slide the pants down easily. At his feet, she lovingly undid each lace and gently slid off each shoe and sock. She pulled the pants off; the entire time her eyes gazed into his with a soft and eager look of pleading. She saw the bulge under the boxers and she shuddered. He raised her to her feet and engulfed her in another writhing fondling kiss. Donna wriggled and writhed in all her bodacious glory and the curls of her bush teased over the hard outline of his shaft under the fabric of his boxers.

Struggling in his arms Donna displayed erotic perfection; her struggle seemed so shy and modest but she was struggling as much to control her own desires. Her soft skin caressed over his chest; her fingernails scratched over his back. His fingers dug deep into her plump ass; the outline of his hard cock rammed against her pussy.

She dropped back, in a rush of excitement; he caught her in his arms and gazed at her wide eyes and heaving chest.  She brought her arms up, scooping up both of the luscious mounds in a shy hug. Her fingers gestured slightly to the other side of the room. “It’s a waterbed,” she whispered and blushed as if she had sad something naughty.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. He stood her upright and she slowly walked backwards, her head tilted in way of the coquette.  “Come on,” she said shyly, barely able to look at him. Her fingers were hooked in his. “Let’s…try it out.”

Her bare feet padded softly; hesitantly she drifted backwards to the bed like a nymph drawn to a rippling brook. “I mean, if you want to…”

She paused at the edge. The water mattress actually made a gurgling sound. Donna put on the voice of a little girl imitating a serious announcement, “It’s a Big Sur, Timberline, Grand Rapids waterbed.”

She gulped softly and gently sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs pressed together and she folded her hands protectively in her lap. She looked down at the floor. The bed rippled, rocking her curvaceous body.

“Oooh, it’s all squishy,” she couldn’t help giggling with girlish delight. She hugged herself more tightly.

Peter bent for a moment and gently but firmly lifted her ankles up onto the bed, twisting her slightly and gently pushing her down onto her back. “Oh,” she said in voice that in trying to hide emotion trembled with struggling passion. She laid back, arms crossed under her breasts and ankles crossed locking her legs closed. When she looked up she saw her mirror image staring down at her wide-eyed and with her large languid breasts swaying in echoes of the motion of the bed. She glanced away and there was her profile in another mirror. “Golly,” she whispered reverently. “It’s like a church.”

Peter did not spend time wondering how a bodacious and naked playmate rocking on a fur covered waterbed surrounded by mirrors was like a church. He was thinking about how awesome it was going to be to be pumping in and out of her with his cock.

Her curves somehow grew sexier as the water gently rocked her naked body. “It’s sorta like, um, sorta like a hammock.” Her soft and vulnerable face became serious, almost profound. “I never did it in a hammock either.”

She was nude and violable; her downcast eyes fluttered nervously. He wanted to jump on her, rape her. He lightly touched her big toe with his pointing finger. “Like that painting,” Donna warbled sweetly. Her head cocked to one side and she watched his finger balance on her toe. “Gee,” she said humbly as though she were in front of the famous image by Michelangelo.  The fingertip, with the grace of an Alpine skier, slid down the arc of her foot. He felt her legs relax ever so slightly as they trembled lightly under his agile touch. He circled lazily over her knees. The moistness of her thighs slowly parting was as delicate as dew teasing open a flower.

“Have you?” she asked dreamily.

“Have I?”

“You know, silly, have you did it in a hammock? I bet you have you wicked man.” She giggled softly and watched, hypnotized by his fingers drifting with a floating calm over her knees. Her legs parted a little more.

“You mean, done it in a hammock?” He tickled now under her knee and she playful arched one leg a bit. “You mean balled a playmate in a hammock?”

Donna blushed and nodded, biting her lower lip and arching her spine as his fingers made a lugubrious stroll of her parting thighs. “This is a waterbed,” he teased but Donna wasn’t listening. She gasped wordlessly as his fingers traced the delicate fold of skin between her soft thighs and her even softer pussy.

Her own hands were over his wrist; they weren’t guiding him in but they weren’t resisting either. She just let her own fingers lightly caress his skin as if showing him how she wanted to be touched.

He touched her gently; her pleading eyes were too sweet to deny. She bit down hard on her lip and her eyes squeezed tight to hold in the ecstasy and hold back the tears. Her hips bucked slightly and it was the renewed rocking of the waterbed that urged his finger into the soft folds of the flower of her sex. She gasped and thrust up and the waterbed bounced too and she was totally fucked by his finger. Every time she moved the waterbed reacted with a wave and each wave with a noisy slurping rushed over her like a giant tongue licking her naked skin. The effort now was to lay as still as possible and let the motion of the water carry her along. She trembled trying to hold herself steady and her knuckles were white from their tight grip around his wrist. He took his time, calmly finger-fucked her sweetness and watched the dazzling protean display on her face: she was a helpless innocent one second and a voracious vixen the next; she was wild with desire sometimes and sometimes overwhelmed with dread. A spiraling vortex of ecstasy surged through her rocking body.

Her head was twisting back and forth, her eyes everywhere as if looking for rescue; everywhere she looked she saw a mirror that showed her body writhing against his hand. She wanted escape and she saw it when something tumbled out of her hair. The four-leaf clover she had picked outside. “Golly, I am lucky,” she gasped breathlessly with sex-crazed frenzy. And then she surrendered to an orgasm—a total mindfucking with every limb spiraling helplessly in the air and shrieks at raise-the-dead decibels.

When he sat on the bed a minor storm brewed up as the bed rocked to receive his weight. At the same time he pulled Donna up beside him; his arm around her soft shoulder kept her warm naked body close to his.

“That was, oh my, that was...glorious. Yes, it was, that was glorious,” she whispered in awe. Already he was fondling a bare breast and a new rush of arousal was making her tremble. She frowned in concentration. She absently stroked his bare thigh.

 “I mean, I want to say, holy cow, thank you, you know? Golly, you are so…masterful.” She closed her eyes and savored the last word in her lilting drawl. She thought about the way he touched her inside and realized that soon it would be his cock deep in her, his cock throbbing inside until it exploded, pouring its white seed all the way in her. Ooooo, she wanted it bad. “I want to make you happy.”

“Can we let the camera crew in?”

She pouted. “Isn’t nicer just you and me?” Her fingers tapped delicately over his bare belly above the waistband of his shorts. “When I’m with a crew and all…I just get so nervous? But when I’m with a romantic guy, and we’re in a romantic place…” Her fingers paused; she was letting her heartbeat speak her reality. “I mean…how can a girl help herself, you know?”

She looked up at him with shy eyes. “I want to make you feel good.”

Her thumbs, wobbly with anxiety, hooked into the elastic of his boxers. She looked everywhere except at his nakedness as she pushed the boxers down. “If you want to… do stuff?...Inside me?” Her voice was meek and sincere.

He worked his way out of the shorts; her eyes darted everywhere except to the pulsating shaft now moving towards her. And then she looked and couldn’t turn away. “Oh my, oh wow! You look so… strong.”

She lay back down with a sigh of surrender floating on her moist lips. “Go slow, OK?” she pleaded in her soft Southern Belle sing song voice. She paused and her eyes widened. “We have the house until tomorrow. We can…Ohhh, I want you inside me for a long time, OK?” He followed her down. His right arm slipped under her shoulders. Her left leg hooked over his left shoulder and his left hand crossed under her thigh to tweak her two nipples spread out before him. Her right leg stretched out straight towards his feet. With her on her back and him on his side the bed rocked in a jittery swirl. “This is nice,” she purred, cuddling into him. “I really want to make you happy,” she cooed as she stroked the length of his cock with her right palm guiding its glide towards the glistening curls of her pussy. In her sweet nervousness her mind kept circling back to the same desperate idea. “I want you,” she mewed sweetly. “We have all night.”

“All night is good,” agreed Peter. He licked greedily over her enormous breasts.

“That’s real nice,” she purred. “Nice and slow.”

The tip of his cock kissed the lips of her sex and she jolted, sending the waterbed into spasms. She giggled through the ride. “It’s a waterbed,” she tittered helplessly. Then the cock pressed in a bit, unlocking the soft gates to her depths. “Oh, oh my,” she protested meekly but she used her hand to nudge his hip forward. The momentum of the waterbed was a convulsive rocking. “Oh no,” she sobbed as another wave of the waterbed took her over the edge.

The hard and thick cock rammed into her moist and soft heat.

Few events are more tense with power than the loaded moment when Donna received his cock inside her. She was charged, laden—loaded pussy, loaded cock, loaded desires, loaded gun; she was thunderstruck, a jolt shaking all the oxygen out of her. Jogged out of orbit, her body dense as gold, she hung in space like a meteor between heaven and earth, as if her hands and feet were bound with golden cord.

His hips thrust down and up, probing ever deeper in the moist heat of her; her hips gyrated in circles fragile as the flutter of butterfly wings but greedy as a kitten’s tongue lapping up cream.

“Oh wow, golly, wow,” she murmured helplessly as he pumped in and out of her delicious body. He ploughed in deep and she writhed, wracked by the waves.  Mingling with the murmurs were enchanting squeals of arousal when either the waterbed or the man gave her a particularly deep and passionate thrust.

“Heavens to Betsy!” she squealed in rapturous giggles, then her eyes in liquid passion brimmed over with heartfelt appreciation. “You’re inside me,” she gasped exulting in the revelation of their blending lust. She grew bold and greedy at once. “I want to make you come inside me, deep, deep inside me,” she purred worshipfully.

He obeyed, stroking her depths with his hardness, in and out and over and over and he savored every wriggle of her writhing body as she received him. He pumped into her slowly, reverently, tenderly caressing her bliss and she blessed him with sighs and murmurs and an ever-tightening pussy. The waterbed lapped and slapped a slow erotic rhythm, a bass harmony to the lilting soprano of her sighs and the slosh-slosh of his thrusting shaft.

“Oh yes, oh yes,” she prayed over and over and sometimes she pleaded sweetly, “Am I doing it good for you; do I make you feel good?” A whirlpool began to surge in her depths; ecstasy was now her god and her fate. “Harder, harder,” she begged.

He rammed in faster and harder, over and over and she grew tighter and hotter and more frantic with each thrust. The squeals took over entirely now.

Her body rattled like loaded dice; locked and loaded she was equipped with all the optional extras. She was drugged, drunk on desire. His cock was loaded, over-brimmed with white fire to pump into her tightness. His cock engorged, swelling to monster proportions, loading its length into her, blessing her, her budding flower opening to take him, more and still more. She bent to him, ripe to her very core, ripe and willing to be ravaged by his cock. His cock swelled, a summer gourd; her sex dripped, soft and plump, laden with the pumping shaft. She thrust her hips up, provoking and coercing. The waterbed was madness; every thrust into her sweetness caused the surface of the bed to push back with a velocity trebled. Donna was being fucked by gravity in all its overwhelming supremacy. Rapturous, she could feel the shaft inside her charging up to blast out an untamable and intoxicating inferno. She felt the trembling: an undersea volcano and she envisioned the white flood loading in a fiery stream into her depths and she was exhilarated by this bliss and her pussy rippled and teased sweetly over every nerve of his cock. The pressure of the seed loading up to blast her and the tight squeeze of her hot and lively snatch made an unendurable pressure bomb. His shaft was fully cocked and about to explode deep inside her. Her anguished face danced in constant motion, sometimes looking down at the shaft pistoning in and out of her pussy, often her pleading and begging eyes darting up to his; fire glowed in her eyes. The more she submitted to the power of the huge shaft caressing its volatile head over all the tender spots of her arousal the more screaming and writhing poured out of her naked body. Pumping into Donna Edmondson was glorious; she struggled but it was struggle inside herself, resisting her desire to be consumed even as she pulled him in deeper one moment and pushed against him the next. And the violence of the waterbed drove the storm into furious rapture.

The swinging bouncing waves of the waterbed were epic in their delightful cruelty. Every stroke into her brought on massively powerful reactions, counterpunches smashing her up and down and in and out and into greater and greater bliss.

When in a brilliant release of pressure he began to empty into her he wasn’t just unloading, he was cramming her with his white fire and she writhed and twisted, urging the pureness of his exploding pleasure fill her every pore. Her face radiated amazement as if this flood was happening for the first time; she kissed him deeply, expressing her gratitude as he blasted more and more of his lust into her and her bliss burst forth too in a wild wet flood of release.

She came in slow motion, in the logic of a dream: displacement, concentration, determination, compulsion; her body glowed in thrashing ecstasy, ripples of the waterbed gliding, floating, supernatural motions carrying her over a waterfall. Her face flashed a thousand different feelings: Indecision, defiance, hesitation, delight, anxiety, rapturous girlishness, sultry surrender. Every desperate breath was thick in erotic overtones; a reality totally unnatural transformed her naked body into a super nova of bliss. Her face flashed: consternation, serenity, dismay, and victory. Her soul was twisting in contradictions; her angelic face and devilish body thrashed violently in resistance and surprise. Her coming was biblical. And she was slow, so slow, in letting it go. She came for a long luxurious time as his shaft pumped more and more glory into her.

Even in her frenzied ecstasy she closely watched his face, even in the mirrors where she saw her curvaceous body being ravaged, she searched his face for his pleasure and approval and his orgasms raised her own orgasms to wilder heights. But like all great conflagrations, in two blazes of ecstasy, two massive fires of lust, they burned all oxygen from the room and the smashing waves of the waterbed slowly subsided into a quiet bliss.

When she could finally breathe herself again she glowed like a giddy girl, a naked nymph curled in his arms.

“Golly gracious,” she sputtered, trying to control her pounding heart and bouncing breasts as she gasped for air. “A waterbed! Wow!” She snuggled into him and scratching over his chest with teasing nails. She looked at her fingers on his skin; she didn’t dare look at him. “And you, sir, you were…wow…you were…Wow!” She giggled then looked very serious as she remembered. “Very masterful,” she whispered and, released, she could deny him nothing. Her body was his to do everything and anything, he could do it all to her willing body.

“If you want…” She hesitated. She slowly stroked his shaft, stoking it with her loving worship.

“What’s that?” he finally asked.

She looked up at him with doe eyes, the bed rocking them gently as delicately caressed over his now rock-hard cock. “If you want…for the cameras, I mean…Like if you wanted to…” She finally made a tiny frustrated fist and hit his chest. “Gosh darn it, I mean if you want to do it again, you know, make love?” Her voice was tentative and nervously hopeful. “We could do it for the cameras?” She let him pull her mouth up and he raped her tongue with his.


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