Hope Marie Carlton livens up the party; or, Cherry Coke

Hope Marie Carlton livens up the party; or, Cherry Coke

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Hope Marie Carlton was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for the July 1985 issue. Following her appearance in Playboy Carlton appeared in several action-adventure/comedy films directed by Andy Sidaris, as well as a number of "B" movies in the 1980s and 1990s. This story is about a party at the Playboy Mansion but party didn't start until Hope Marie Carlton got there. Hope brings it with her, you see.

Summary

Hope Marie Carlton was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for the July 1985 issue. Following her appearance in Playboy Carlton appeared in several action-adventure/comedy films directed by Andy Sidaris, as well as a number of "B" movies in the 1980s and 1990s. This story is about a party at the Playboy Mansion but party didn't start until Hope Marie Carlton got there. Hope brings it with her, you see.

Content

Submitted: August 07, 2020

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: August 07, 2020

A A A

A A A


OK, I was drunk; not a lot drunk, I was on duty after all. But feeling loose. Otherwise this story wouldn’t be all that interesting.  OK, I was packing heat at a party at the Playboy Mansion, but that’s not all that interesting; I counted at least three other plains clothes security ops just in the same room with me, probably bodyguards for some of the celebrities there. I wasn’t a bodyguard though, I was guarding diamonds. OK, I was supposed to be guarding diamonds but the stones were locked away in a safe upstairs. OK, I told you. I was drunk. Let me start over: It’s May, 1984 and it’s the announcement for 1984’s Playmate of the Year. They had this idea where all the playmates were going to wear diamonds and the winner was going to be crowned with a diamond tiara. I was there to deliver the jewels and then bring them back to the Beverly Hills shop. Only the owner of the store’s mother found out and, at the last minute, pulled the plug on the publicity stunt; but since nobody was going to be at the store until after midnight to receive the gems they were safer in the safe and I had nothing to do but mingle with a roomful of playmates who all wanted to see my Smith & Wesson M&P 9. And OK, I was a little drunk.

She was standing away from the bar sipping a bottle of Coke. She giggled at me each time I passed her to collect another drink. She could see I was eying her, but so was every guy in the room; sure, there were plenty of Playmates, actresses, and other hot women at this party, but she was a party all by herself, laughing, giggling, flirting, never standing still. Mostly legs and curves and with the energy of a hummingbird, she strode through the crowd greeting people with a laugh and a hug, like a salesman or a politician, though she had nothing to sell and wasn't up for any office. It's as though she had trouble finding a reason not to be happy and wanted to spread the word.

And OK, she was fucking sexy; she looked like a confection, a cherubim painted by Raphael. Her hair was done in ribbons and bows but they couldn’t tame the golden swirl of her curls. Most of the other girls were in low cut evening gowns and a few were definitely in nothing but lingerie; Hope Marie Carlton captured everybody’s heart simply by dressing like the vivacious teen that she was. She wore a white blouse, tasteful in its shimmering satin but she had that school girl way of leaving one too many buttons undone so it was easy to see her ripe breasts and she wore what must have been a $300 pair of jeans that looked painted onto her youthful body. But it was her eyes, delicate and youthful but wise too. And she kept checking me out.  Finally, on what must have been my eighth trip she spoke to me. “Are you planning to get so drunk that you’ll fall down when  they try to take the photo?”

“Photo?”

“Yeah, they tell me they do a group shot just before the girls start getting pulled upstairs or to the grotto. But you have to be on your feet.”

“I can stay up,” I said.

I looked at her; she saw right through me.

“Maybe you should be drinking what I’m drinking?”

She giggled. Her finger tapped on the label of the bottle: Cherry Coke. 

“What the hell is Cherry Coke?”

“It’s new,” she gushed. “You can’t even buy ‘cause it won’t be on the market ‘til next year.” She posed as if making an endorsement. “They must think I’m the perfect spokesperson.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, duh. Cherry Coke for a cherry girl?”

She looked at me conspiratorially, asking me with mocking eyes if I could handle what she was offering. “I believe in truth in advertising,” she laughed. “If you can stay up than maybe you’re just the guy for me. I want to lose my virginity to a great artist.” She looked serious now. “Are you a great artist?”

“Why aren’t you drinking drinking?”

“Drinking drinking? Oh, you mean why don’t I drink booze? They just passed a law in California. You have to be eighteen.”

“Goes in effect in January. What the fuck do you mean about being a virgin?”

“Mr. Hefner is worried about it causing trouble; underage girls drinking at Mansion parties.” The airquotes around “underage” dripped with teenage condescension. “I guess he’s worried about the virginity thing too. Has me reserved for himself, but he’s not an artist.”

I took the Cherry Coke out of her hand and finished it in one gulp. Suddenly she realized that she had gone too far and she took a step back.

I took her by the shoulders. She was so soft she might have fallen. But her eyes were fixed on me.

An absolute silence fell suddenly. We were standing together on the edge of the carpet. "You’re coming with me." My voice was firm.

“OK,” she said meekly and I led her across the room and upstairs. “So I guess you’re an artist,” she giggled nervously as I tugged on her arm.

“I’m a fucking artist,” I growled.

She was nodding and smiling to her friends in response to their looks of concern as we pushed through the party. And she tried to mask her own anxieties with a stream of girlish chatter. "Sorry,” she mumbled, “I got a lot of friends here.” Still chattering as I pulled her along, she managed to shift to my other side to avoid being seen by Hefner as his little kitty was taken away. More uneasy faces looked at us and she noticed my annoyance. “They like me ‘cause I'm always out to have fun," she tried to explain. "When people say, 'Hope, you always look as if you're having a good time,' I say, 'Yeah, I go everywhere with myself.' " 

We were mounting the stairs and she looked up at the wide steps as if it were the side of a mountain gulped audibly but still let me guide her along. “Boy, this is a huge mansion. I wonder how many bedrooms upstairs.” She frowned suddenly, realizing that a bed was now the only place we were going. “I guess this is a big year for me,” she sighed and submitted to her fate. 

We came to an open door with an empty bed, a large bed waiting for two bodies to fuck on it. She looked at the bed and saw what I saw, but she saw her fate too. I kissed her hard. She kissed desperately, a teenager franticly justifying herself. Then she pressed her cheek against my chest and sighed, "I mean, it's the way the cards fall, isn't it? It's as if I'm in the middle of a game right now and I don't know what's going to happen next, which is exciting and very scary.” 

I shut the door and carried her to bed. She let her head fall back as I unbuttoned her blouse. There were ribbons threaded in her braids.

Her hand went down between the rise of her breasts and snapped the clip of the bra so that the cups fell open on either side of her like two white shells. Her tiny voice was mewing softly, the delicate purring of a kitten both frightened and intrigued.

I pulled the pink bows off the ends of the braids. I ran my fingers down the braids roughly, loosening them, so they fell apart, the hair in ripples. She rolled away and faced down on the bed. I reached under and undid the closure of the tight jeans. She giggled and wriggled delightfully as I gave the pants a good tug. There is nothing more heartwarming than uncovering a nubile eager young girl’s ripe ass. The two flawless orbs, smooth and round, came into view, the pale flesh a luscious contrast to the dark fabric. She jiggled her bottom just for fun and she writhed and laughed as I pulled the pants off entirely.

She slipped her arms around me, her lips pressed against my shoulder, my neck. “Take your clothes off,” she whispered. That had to be the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, a young and nubile virgin pleading that way. Even as she smothered my face and neck and chest with kisses I managed to wriggle out of my clothes. My eager hands pawed over her smooth skin; I tasted her mouth so dewy and fresh and her breasts melted into my mouth.

But she was anxious. She was afraid to touch my cock but she wriggled herself slowly into position, getting under me and getting my legs between hers. My cock knew what it wanted and when it touched her soft pussy she sobbed. “Don’t scream,” I warned “There’s too many people out there.”

She didn’t scream out loud but her face burst into anguish as I pushed into her. She was a fallen angel now and she struggled to resist me, biting and scratching and pushing away but my cock was in her and going in deeper. Then there it was, the sweet spot. I smashed it like a demon casting her soul to hell and she writhed in silent torment as I pumped into her. There was something about her need to be silent that heightened the erotic pleasure. Her eyes were screaming but holding in the screams increased her arousal. She was a virgin in all her glory. Christ she was better than a virgin. She was a vestal virgin. She was holy. I managed to drill her for a long long time and the expressions on her face slowly evolved from bitter anger to loving desire; after what seemed like hours of fucking her tight virginity she began to play along, thrusting into me and gyrating her hips as she kissed me and played with her own nipples.
I kissed her again. A lot of her long hair was gathered up in the barrette, flowing down her back like a shaft of light. And she had put on her white jeans and one of those baggy white cotton sweaters I especially loved. She looked like a long-stemmed white flower, a flower you wanted to pluck. No ravish. Her. I wanted to ravish her.  So I did. 

Virgins tend to sleep peacefully after their first fucking and so I, still throbbing from the glories of her tight pussy, got dressed and went back to the party, figuring I’d get lucky again. But too many of her friends had seen me drag little Hope Marie upstairs so no other playmates wanted to fuck me tonight.

I needed to sober up anyway and I had to watch the clock so I could collect the jewels when it was time to bring them back to the store.

I was hanging out in a little dining area under a tent set up outside. It had little tables set up and a buffet and I sat down with several plates of my own figuring some food would sober me up. I heard Hope Marie before I saw her; she had squealed in rage when she discovered me and she marched right over as I rose, not knowing what to expect. She had changed her clothes into a soft white sweater and white jeans; a little too late to be wearing white I thought.

She jabbed a finger in my chest, her face red with teenage indignity. “You said you were an artist! I asked around. You’re fucking security guard!” she sputtered sexily.

“I am an artist. I’m a security operative too.” As I spoke a shifted my position so we were standing next to each other at the table. 

“What kind of artist are you?” she snorted, still incensed. 

“I told you, I’m a fucking artist.”

With a sweep up my arm I cleared the table. I pushed her down. She resisted as best she could but I had her pinned pretty well, locking her wrists with one hand as I pushed the sweater up so her nipples would be mine. First I gave her some kisses, brutal thrusts with my tongue that she accepted with fiery caresses from her own tongue and then with my hand I went to town on those bare breasts. Her nipples stabbed into my palm as she thrust her chest up in her writhing struggle. 

She was flat on the table with her legs dangling over the edge and me standing between them. My mouth moved down to start sucking on her nipples while my free hand worked to open the jeans. Her crotch was rubbing against mine and while sucking her breasts was mind-blowingly wild fun I was going to have to get my dick in her fast because I was ready to pop. I let go of her wrists and she immediately began beating my head and shoulders with her tiny fists. She was screaming but just guttural nonsense shrieks. The jeans were open now but I still had to get them down. Because of her supple youth I was able to get one of legs up in the air and against my shoulders; I had to give up sucking her nipples but the sight of her fury as I de-pantsed her was worth it. I kept her bare legs hooked over my shoulders and used one hand to fend off her attacks while I got my cock out. 

I had balled sweet Hope Marie earlier but this transcended everything; this was the moment. I found her sex, vulnerable and soft as she tried to protect herself and I rammed in hard. Her body arched as she howled but she gripped the sides of the table and went at it like a banshee. 

I rammed in over and over, locking my arms around her legs so she couldn’t escape, and in her frantic writhing she sometimes seemed anxious to escape and sometimes anxious to pleasure me even more. Each of my thrusts was fierce and angry, revenge for indignity I’d ever suffered. This was creation too; I was created in her once more. I had worried that I’d pop into her quickly but now that I was inside her delicious heat my cock got harder and bigger with every thrust, heavy with the load I would eventually blast into her. My cock was solid, a machine of destruction and invention; it was a torpedo sheathed in steel yet sensitive to every nuance of the girl’s arousal and surrender. Her arousal was the concentrated force of selfhood, a divinity within her determined to annihilate her. She did what she had to do; she shrieked. Her cries, stinging my ears, propelled me into motion.

With her naked thighs against my chest and her legs hooked over my shoulders she was able to fight back by pushing her legs against me. By now her tiny fists were beating on the table and her tiny feet fluttering in the air behind me. Her head twisted back and forth and her golden hair danced in spirals. Her screams were wild and cacophonic, screeching out her ecstasy as they fell into rhythm with my thrusts.

We went at it a long long time; impossible to measure in time it was the fury of her ecstasy and the kaleidoscope of emotions that measured this infinite onslaught. In fact, she was beginning to come finally and her pace slowed and she began to murmur softly. Her orgasm was a silent scream as her body tightened around me, then she came again; her bliss rushing against my own ecstasy torpedoing into her. She was shocked by her own orgasm and she kept shaking her head in disbelief but I proved it to her by letting loose my own geyser of lust. I filled her up then filled her again.

In a final gasp she melted into a flood of radiant ecstasy, sweat dripping off her glowing skin. Her heart ached; a drowsy numbness engulfed her senses. She mewed like a kitten as I slowly climbed off her trembling body.

We held each other awhile; she was humming blissfully. I felt great. Maybe it was the booze talking but I felt like Larry Holmes after he pounded his way to another heavyweight championship. Maybe there’s something about a virgin sacrifice that makes a guy feel like an invincible god. In fact I wanted to go out and punch Larry Holmes in the nose. I announced my intentions and she giggled. 

I rose and she turned over, casually stretching her languid body like a kitten. She rolled over and her ass was perfection. “After you slug him come back in here and we’ll celebrate.” Her face abruptly turn serious. “Oh, oh,” she murmured, her gaze looking over my shoulder to the doorway.

A butler was standing there. His face was blank even though he was looking at a just fucked nude nymphet on a bed. “Miss Carlton? Excuse me, but Mr. Hefner would like to speak to you upstairs.” Upstairs, based on the look on Hope Marie’s face, meant the master bedroom.  She nodded and gave me a what are gonna do shrug as she rose and started to hunt for her clothes. The butler ahemed discretely. “I don’t believe that will be necessary, Miss Carlton.” He gestured to two tall playmates behind him; they were already nude. “Miss Witter and Miss Schott will escort you.”

Hope Marie giggled, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and did a nude pirouette as she sauntered out of the room. Her night of fucking wasn’t done yet and I was about to get fucked. “They’re ready for you in the office, sir.” His voice was almost kindly. “And Mr. Hefner would like you to through the back corridor so you don’t disturb the party and you’ll be escorted to your car. For security.” He extended a hand to show the way and I was summarily banished from Hefnerland. But I did fuck her first.

 


© Copyright 2020 GlobeTwo. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

Other Content by GlobeTwo

More Great Reading

Popular Tags