Karen McDougal

Karen McDougal

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Karen McDougal, known for her appearances in Playboy magazine as Playmate of the Month for December 1997 and Playmate of the Year of 1998, in 2001, the readers of Playboy voted McDougal "No. 2 Sexiest Playmate of the 1990s." In this story we can see why.

Summary

Karen McDougal, known for her appearances in Playboy magazine as Playmate of the Month for December 1997 and Playmate of the Year of 1998, in 2001, the readers of Playboy voted McDougal "No. 2 Sexiest Playmate of the 1990s." In this story we can see why.

Content

Submitted: June 05, 2013

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: June 05, 2013

A A A

A A A


I guess I should let you get the snickering out of the way right away. There’s two things, maybe three depending on your point of view. First of all, when I was in college I was a dancer, like in ballet. Go ahead and snicker if you want but I was in great physical shape; male ballet dancers are among the strongest, most flexible, and most balanced athletes in the world.  That’s what the recruitment poster says anyway. And that leads to the second thing. One day, a producer came to the dance department at my school to recruit for a video; I got picked and the next day I was dancing on a set with a very naked Carrie Stevens rolling around in a bed in front of me, and a few months later I was dancing naked with Nikki Schieler. That was the deal, naked playmates simulating sex and me dancing around somewhere in the background. So OK, that’s the thing—simulating sex; I never really touched them.

It was good money, even if I took a lot of jokes and elbows from my buddies and had to ignore a lot of stupid questions too. Then came another call to do yet one more playmate video; hey, it was hard work, but like I said, good money.

This time my instructions were a little different; the shoot was taking place in Vegas and PEI paid my freight to go out there and they put me up in a small room in one of the swanky hotels. I arrived in the afternoon and before I could get my bags unpacked I got a call from the front desk.

“Miss McDougal would like you to come up to her suite,” said some grumpy clerk. “She’s expecting you immediately.”

I shrugged and hung up the phone. Karen McDougal was Miss December and she was the star. I was the hired help and did what I was told. Probably she wanted to go over the plans for the next day. Some of the playmates did like to pretend that they were in charge on the set.

Her suite was about 10 floors above mine and it could have held at least 10 of my rooms inside it; obviously she was the star.  I knocked on the door and it turned out to be open so I just walked right in. I was summoned you see and you don’t keep playmates waiting. This was not your generic hotel suite either. The place even had a roaring fire going in the fireplace, something completely silly in Vegas, but there you go. Flowers were everywhere; she had made herself at home. Arranged over the mantelpiece were dozens of what looked like personal photographs in expensive frames, but on close inspection I found that they were all photographs of the lovely Miss December.

In a lot of them she wasn’t wearing very much—swimming nude or peering coyly from behind a tree which hid the more interesting parts. In another photo she was sitting at a table in trendy restaurant with the publisher; and in another, she was sparring with Mike Tyson. Then there was one in which she was being carried in a workman’s arms only the workman happened to be a famous Hollywood action star. All the photos were sexy; her eroticism seemed to leap into the camera, but all the photos were tasteful too—nothing nude, which was a little odd since she was a playmate after all.

At a hint of expensive perfume I turned around and found myself shaking hands with the essential quintessence of a beautiful playmate.

I had seen her in the magazine; now that I got a look at her in real life, I was ready to concede that she could take any room by a storm if she cared to let loose. She looked sultry, gracious, beautiful and overwhelming. She smiled the way the Mona Lisa would smile at a kitten.

“I see you’ve been looking at my little gallery,” she said, rearranging the photos I had picked up and examined. “You must think it terribly vain of me to have so many pictures of myself on display.”

“Not at all,” I said, “It’s very interesting.” She wasn’t Mona Lisa much longer; she turned all femme fatale and Barbara Stanwick on me and flashed me the smile that made thousands of men, myself included, go weak at the knees.

“I’m so glad you approve.” She was wearing a pair of green velvet lounging pajamas with a long, gold, fringed sash, and high-heeled green morocco slippers. Her was done up in a braided knot at the back if her head, but instead of making her look prim it emphasized the sensuous lines of her throat. Dangling from that slender throat, a tasteful golden playmate necklace.

“What can I get you to drink?” Her voice was husky and direct, but the question was fraught with innuendo and implication. If she had told me to roll over or sit or beg I probably would have done it. I asked for whiskey and she poured me one that was big enough for an entire football team to enjoy. She poured herself a Champagne cocktail from a blue crystal pitcher and she joined me on a sofa that was the color of sea foam but whose contours pushed us closer together.

“Thank you Miss McDougal,” I said, accepting the drink. In front of us was a low table, its surface a mirror that caught Karen’s screen goddess profile; that same glass caught the refection of Karen’s other profile so, like in that famous shot of Rita Hayworth, I could see multitudes of Miss Decembers moving towards me.

“Please, you must call me Karen while you’re here. And I shall call you..?”

“William.”

“William,” she said, trying it on for size, and then shortening it, “Bill…Billy.” She gulped a large mouthful of the Champagne and sauterne mixture she was drinking, picked out a pineapple from the top of her glass and ate it.  She smiled quietly to herself. It irritated me quite a bit, that smile; in part because I felt she was mocking me, but also because I wanted desperately to stop it with a kiss. Failing that, the back of my hand.  

“Are you OK?” Her voice smooth and lush, more Bourbon than Champagne. She tapped me on the thigh.  

To indicate that she hadn’t finished her question, she added: “I don’t mean to sound rude. But what I want to know is, are you comfortable?”

 First looking down at that graceful hand on my thigh, I took note of the surroundings before answering. “Me, comfortable?” Snug as a bug in a rug, I am.” She laughed at that, then looked me in the eye, then at the rest of me. It was the sort of provocative look that only the most beautiful women can get away with. It was meant to get me to climb aboard her like a honeysuckle on a trellis. A look that made me want to gore the rug like a raging bull.

“I’m glad you found some time to come up; forgive me for the short notice. I won’t keep you long. I have a dinner date in a little while anyway. And I’m sure a good looking young man like you will have…” She paused as if considering her words. “…Things to do.” In her luscious mouth the phrase seemed erotic of not mildly pornographic.

“I’m fine, this is fine. I’ve got a date with the entire MGM Grand chorus line at seven sharp.”

She smiled slightly. “That’s so nice for you,” murmuring like a cobra.  She sat up and I never saw a girl with such perfect posture. Never before had I thought of a straight spine as sexy but she sure made the geometry of anatomy awfully interesting.

While I was checking Miss December out she clearly was looking me over too. “My, but you’re a well-built man.”

“My mother played for the Green Bay Packers. I get my build from her.”

She giggled. “You like to joke don’t you?”

“Oh, I have my tough side too.”

“Oooh,” she swooned,” I just love violent physical men. I was out of snappy lines but that was OK because she suddenly sat even more straight and was suddenly prim and proper, as if wanting to change the subject. Her tone was all business now. If the sharp change in tone was supposed work like a Mickey Finn it did its job; my head was swirling and swooping riding on the big libido rollercoaster.

Her magnificent lungs breathed out more words. “Well, I do like to meet with my…partners.” Again the subtle pause signaled a portentous payload in the word; the two syllables of ‘partners’ stretched out into an incredibly sensual paragraph. Or maybe not. “I like to agree to terms, lay out the ground rules so to speak.”

I looked at her. She kept shifting on me, flipping personas like Rich Little doing his act; I never knew from second to second if I was dealing with a vamp or a nun or a tart or a kewpie doll. She was always in control though. There was no indication whatsoever of any strain of the helpless baby doll, the usual Playmate persona I’ve been encountering; she was close to something new in my experience. She wasn’t merely pretty; she was sophisticated, like Ava Gardner or some grand ballerina prima donna. She was dark, rather than light, but she wouldn’t have been listed as brunette; her hair seemed to sparkle and shimmer as though she washed it with gold-- or maybe those golden brown tresses were hiding devil’s horns. Her face’s flawless features would qualify her for star billing; somehow you didn’t just see her features, you saw her. She exuded the promise of a careful study of the entire Kama Sutra as illustrated by Kali. She’d drive anybody mad. As a matter of fact, after exchanging only a couple of sentences with her I was sore with myself for being so enthralled; I usually could be very professional when I did these Playmate gigs, but there was something in Miss December’s eyes, or the back of them, or somewhere, that made me want to meet them and shy away from them at the same time. It wasn’t the good old come-hither, the ‘welcome’ of her allure that biology uses for tanglefoot; I could have slid through that like molasses through a tin horn. It was the promise of complete desire. It was something as feminine as that; it was a woman letting a man have her eyes, but it was a good deal more-- like a cocky challenge from a cocky brain. I knew I had looked away from it and I knew she knew I had, and I was sore.

So I placed my drink on the table; the glass meeting glass with a clatter louder than I had intended.  “I’m a professional; I know what I’m doing,” I said in a tone that tried to be indignant but merely sounded peevish.

A breath of a laugh came out of her. “Do sit down, Billy.”

I continued towards the door. She rose. The curves of her body flickering like Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 by Marcel Duchamp. She moved towards me. It would have been a pleasure to watch her move if I hadn’t been so sore at her. She wasn’t merely graceful or overwhelming like some Playmates can be, but her motion was so easy and straightforward, without any tricks. Pure sex. She was pushing the big button and she knew it. “Let me fix another drink for you.” Once more her voice oozed like a saxophone crooning in film noir. She made the notion of fixing a drink sound like an offer to turn down the bed.

“Come, sit,” she said, pouring more whiskey with a delicacy that was irresistible.

I sat; but on principle ignored the drink laid out for me.

“When I said ground rules, I should have made myself more clear.” Her words would have looked apologetic on paper, but the tone behind them was amusement-- not sarcasm mind you, but the amusement of a huntress playing with her quarry.  “This is an understanding between you and me. A mutual goal if you will. You  see, I insisted on the right to select my own…co-star.” There was that thick significant pause again; her eyes flashed a thesaurus that asserted that ‘co-star’ meant squire, suitor, swain, sweetheart, courter, cavalier, honey, paramour… inamorato…lover.

She ignored my face as I catalogued all the different things she seemed to be offering in the word ‘co-star’ and she pressed on. “What I hope is we could agree on a certain…verisimilitude.” I must have blinked in confusion. “Veracity?” she said, “Truthfulness? Reality?” Her voice was mildly uncertain as my jaw dropped. I was suckered punched into the Land of Doubt and Perplexity “Look,” she said, staring straight into my goggling eyes, “I think we should fuck on camera. Don’t you agree?”

She said it as unequivocally and uncomplicatedly as if she was suggesting we be filmed holding hands but the effect on me was nuclear. My mouth, still gaping, moved as if searching for words; I blushed and when I blush my ears turn fire engine red so right then, hit by her words, I could imagine steam shooting out of my skull.

She calmly placed my drink into my trembling hand and I threw it back in one gulp. “I…I…I don’t…I can’t…I haven’t,” I sputtered helplessly after the liquid ignited my insides.

Her eyes were thoughtful for a moment but then they flashed in epiphany before settling on the Mona Lisa with a kitten look. With a wry smile on her lips, she rose and jiggled that Duchamp Nude Descending a Staircase walk of hers and she picked up the house phone to call the front desk. “Hello,” she said serenely, but grinning broadly back at me. “Give me Mr. ---’s room please.” She had named another Hollywood action star, even more famous and more expensive than the one in the photo. After a brief pause an eager “hello” snapped out of the phone.

Not bothering to indentifying herself she spoke again in a voice that expected respect. “I won’t be joining you for dinner tonight, Bruce.” In reaction to the bad news the voice on the other end came out demanding and argumentative. Karen interrupted him. “Let’s just say I’ve got a better offer.” She abruptly hung up and sashayed back to the couch. On the way she unpinned something at the back of her head and her golden brown hair tumbled from the tight controlled braided knot into perfectly arranged waves around her radiant face.

“I’ve cancelled my plans for the evening,” she said flatly, as if I hadn’t overheard the call. She smiled at me wickedly and now her words poured out mellifluously, “So stop thrashing about for words and kiss me you idiot.”

Normally, I’m not too good at taking orders, but on this occasion I didn’t quarrel. It’s not every day a playmate tells you to kiss her. She gave me the soft luscious inside of her lips, and just to be polite, I let myself be devoured. After a minute I felt her body stir, and when she pulled her mouth away from that lamprey-like kiss  her voice was shot and breathless. 

“My that was a real slow burner.” Her tone appreciative, even charmed. She was boosting my confidence even as she aroused me into insanity.

“I practice on my forearm,” I glibly replied, trying to hide my nervousness and embarrassment behind bravado.

She smiled and raised her mouth up to mine, kissing me like she intended to lose control of herself and so that I would stop holding something back from her. She was breathing through her nose --like she needed more oxygen. She studied my mouth with that kiss, gradually getting serious about it, and me keeping pace with her, until she said: “I want you to fuck me, Billy.”

I heard each word in my fly. My mouth flapped open again and the steam shot out of my bright red ears while my eyes popped out once more. My lips moved and sputtering, meaningless syllables struggled out of me. “I…I…I…”

She put one finger over my lips. “Don’t you want to fuck me, Billy?” Her voice was cashmere and kittenish. “I want to fuck you, don’t you see?” I still moved my lips, my mouth as dry as tumble weed. “It’s OK,” she said calmly. “I understand. You’re a virgin. Lord knows how it’s possible with a physique like yours but you’re still a virgin, aren’t you.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

I nodded stupidly, thinking I was about to be dismissed from her lair. But she gently stroked my hair and spoke again. “That’s lucky for me, Billy; I get to be your first. Don’t you know how exciting that is for a girl?” Her eyes batted like a vixen’s in a silent movie. “And, Billy?” she gushed in a tiny breathless whisper, “That’s lucky for you too; don’t you know I’m going to fuck you silly?”

We stood in silence, letting enough time pass for a couple of millions of dollars to get gambled away in the casino downstairs, then she cocked her head and nodded-- both a plea and affirmation; taking me by the hand, she led me towards the bedroom. I hesitated and we stopped before reaching the door. “You’re right,” she decided agreeably, “We should strip right here.”

She wasted no time. She pulled the pajama jacket over her head and her breasts quivered; these were real playmate’s breasts and for a moment I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Both cherry red nipples were firm bright fruit.

“Get undressed, Billy,” she said, dropping first her sash, and then the trousers, so that she stood there in just her panties, waiting for me to help myself. I stripped down fast.  She studied me, noting every muscle of my body, trim from the rigors and discipline of ballet. “Yes, I thought so,” she said, mostly to herself, confirming the guesses she had made when she first saw me. Already my cock was stiff and pointing at her like the needle on a compass faithfully seeking the magnetic north.

“Billy,” she said, brazenly licking her lips now as she admired my erection. “We’re going to fuck; we’re going to fuck a lot. But first…” Without warning she was close to me and kissing me softly with an open mouth. She stood slightly to the left of me so my cock brushed against the smooth supple skin of her right thigh. With one hand she caressed my cheek while with her other she ever so lightly touched the throb of my cock pressing gently against her leg. Meanwhile the kiss was warm and inviting, kind of a ‘Hello, sailor’ kind of a kiss.

I stood there with every nerve ending in my body spiraling in turmoil and glee. I had no idea what to do with my hands; they hovered uncertain over her breasts but then the kiss broke and she dropped to her knees and without any preliminaries popped her mouth over the head of my cock. And bang! I popped a huge load right into her mouth; she didn’t seem to mind at all though because she kept stroking and sucking and gulping like she was enjoying an ice cream cone and an ice cream soda together.

After another couple of minutes of that heaven she stood again, letting her big and firm breasts rush along the skin of my belly and chest. She was smacking her lips and giggling. “Well now that we got that out of the way we can really get serious.” Her face got kewpie doll serious. “Billy, don’t you like my body? Don’t you want to touch it?”

She had taken a step back so I could see the full display of her Playmate figure. She put her hands behind her head in a classic Playmate pose and she smiled and the smile said ‘I’m all yours’ and it said ‘I’m very vulnerable too’ and it said ‘I am going to rock your universe’ and it said ‘Gee, I’m glad to be here with you’ and it said a lot more stuff, all of it warm and inviting and sexy, a smile so complex in its messages that it could only be hers. Her teeth were bright against the deep red of her lips; her eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement, dancing all the time as she looked me up and down. Her face still had the elegance and grace of a refined model but there was also a sense of fun, even of caring, shining from her flawless skin.

Her golden brown hair was slightly disheveled but that just made her more sexy, even more approachable. The perfect lines from her slender throat guided my eyes down to her chest; she noticed me staring and she lifted my hands up to them. “It’s OK Billy, they’re all yours.”

My fingers were hesitant at first but the smooth firm orbs were like magnets and soon I was fondling and squeezing, memorizing every iota of those fabulous mounds. The nipples stabbed like diamonds into my palms as my fingers sank into that pliant warm flesh.

“Billy,” she purred, running her fingers through my hair and urging my head down, “If you don’t kiss my boobs I think I’m gonna pass out.”

They tasted sweet and luscious; I was pig slobbering and sucking and biting but she loved it. She shifted back and forth on her feet, feeding me each nipple in turn and guiding my hands to pinch and twist the firm but juicy flesh. Somehow she got my left arm around her shoulders and my right hand over the amazing orbs of her ass; touching her ass drove her nuts so she stood on tip toe and we continued to party over her breasts, one of her hands guiding my head back and forth over her mouth and throat and nipples and the other hand keeping my cock well stoked.

I could have happily spent the next few hours right there, mauling and pawing and sucking; but she wanted more. “You know I do have a bed in the other room,” she laughed. And she laughed some more as she managed to guide me into the other room even as I continued my joyous assault on her breasts and ass. Somehow she got loose enough to get herself next to the bed where she winked at me and licked her lips. “I think it’s time for the first of tonight’s many, many fucks,” she announced in the kewpie doll voice she was using now.

I was more than willing. Impatient for her, I snatched her panties down, pulling her onto the bed, where I pried her sleek, tanned thighs apart like an excited pirate opening a priceless treasure. For awhile I poured over the jewels, touching each drop of nectar with my fingers and feasting my eyes on what I had never dreamed of possessing.

We kept the light on, so that finally, I had a perfect view as I plugged into the crisp fluff between her legs. My cock practically jumped in and Miss December helped, spreading herself wide and shifting her hips so I would have the perfect angle for entry. The cock pushed into the gateway and immediately my spine tingled with the sudden tightness and heat around the head. Karen was sweating, beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead. She nodded to me. “That’s right, baby, right there. Just wait now,” she purred, placing the flat of her palms on my belly, “Just hold right there, oh, just for a minute. I want to feel your big fat dick just like this. Isn’t this nice, baby?” My cock was vibrating like a singing sword and I was dying for more. But she was right; it felt damn good just to be together like that.

Slowly she let me in deeper; the journey was endless and the trip was mind-blowing. Tighter and tighter the pressure around my cock built up. But it felt so good. I was braced on my arms so I could see her breasts quivering and heaving and the sweat pouring down her brow and her throat; still she smiled like she was having the time of her life. Her hands gripped my ass and she pulled me in all the way. I almost popped a load but she did a little twist with her hips and my cock got even harder. With her hands on my ass she worked me in and out of her and her smile became more like a little O of pleasure; her eyes got all misty.

I pumped in and out, letting her set the rhythm; sometimes fast, sometimes slow but always deep and hard. Always tighter and tighter and hotter and hotter.  “That’s good, Billy; you’re so good. So hard inside me,” she whispered. A little tear appeared sliding down a cheek and I tried to pull out, thinking I was hurting her. “No, baby, it’s so good; I’m your first, Billy. I want you to come in me, baby, fill me up.” She thrust up into me and we went crazy, slamming into each other, over and over. She was saying things in some crazy language and she was thrashing and bucking like she was holding a live wire. “Yes,” she hissed finally, and I swear to God she slipped a finger into my butt. Jesus, I went insane from the pressure but still we fucked, drilling and hammering and banging like we were creating the universe. When I came it was the Big Bang, an explosion I was certain was going to shake the hotel off its foundations. Karen rode it with a wild whoop and she did some magic with those muscles in her sheath and squeezed me even tighter, raising the level of bliss to beyond mind-blowing, beyond cosmic. As I shot load after load her joyous and riotous laughter was heavenly.

I collapsed eventually but Karen seemed even more energized than ever. “Don’t you go anywhere,” she giggled springing from the bed. She scurried to the bathroom and the sight of that tight firm ass jiggling along started stoking me up already. Leaving the door open she gleefully watched me watching her doing some girl stuff; first she carefully washed her hands and rinsed out her mouth, then she sat on one of those fancy low French sinks and cleaned herself up. Every gesture she made, from soaping up her hands, to wiping herself delicately with some tissue, made her look like a siren, a goddess, in short-- a playmate.

On her way back to the bed she stopped at the ‘fridge and picked up a bottle of Champagne. She giggled when the cork popped and she giggled as she sexily took a swig right from bottle and the fizz streamed down her chin. I had a gulp and I was ready for anything.

“Just lay back, cowboy,” she ordered and she straddled my hips. In a matter of minutes she was bouncing on my cock like a cowgirl at a rodeo. Of course, she had me do that weird thing with my finger up her butt, but it turned her on so much that I still don’t regret it. Somehow, even as she fucked me she managed to do a split with her legs, sending her toes pointing straight out to the left and to the right; the muscles of her outstretched limbs were firm and hard and straining but that was nothing compared to the incredible pressure the move put on my pumping cock. Her perfect legs were perfectly horizontal; they stretched from side to side perpendicular to her torso, but her fabulous torso was turned towards me and, her body so flexible and supple, could twist and bend in such a way that her entire being screwed tight and firm around my cock. Her graceful arms floated above her head fluttering like a ballerina dancing the role of a flower. She bent forward in a finely etched arch, then bent to the left, then back, then right; her arms fluttered like flowers in a breeze and her sheath sent electric charges through my cock. I rammed into her sweet heat, fucking her hard and deep and she took it all joyously. Swiftly I came, and Karen, blessed Karen, smiling on me out of immortal beauty, asking me what ecstasy was on me, and her ecstasy soon following; she swayed and swooned promising, “Stay with me, sugar, we’re going places.”

She guided my free hand to the sweet little button inside her pussy; the connection was a sharp sizzling crack of electric thrill and we came together in staccato grunts and spurts and cries. She took us places and she drove our bodies like we were bandits racing across the border.  She thrust up into me, dangling from my neck; her hips gyrated in tight little circles and my cock stayed hard inside her, wanting her more and more. “Keep going, sugar,” she growled, her face glowing and bright. Shapely legs wrapped around me, her feet dug into my ass and; she squeezed me tight. With a sharp cry she took her place among the clouds.

Her face flushed all soft and grateful and she had that misty look in her eyes as I unleashed wad after wad up into her.

Afterwards, she lay on top of me, breathing like a sleepy but contented cat, stroking my chest as if she was in awe of me. “Baby, what you lack in experience you make up for in stamina.” Her fingers danced over my belly. “You are going to make a lot of girls very happy.” Then she sat up and bent over me, licking me clean and making me hard. We fucked again, then again, then again. All I have are a series of images in my head: Karen giving me head, showing me how to eat her; Karen squeezing her breasts over my cock while she licked the head of it; Karen bent over the side of the bed and jiggling her ass until I fucked it; Karen blowing me in the shower, then on the balcony with the Vegas lights twinkling below; Karen riding me in a slow easy canter, slowly building an orgasm that we shared for endless minutes until we both finally passed out.

The next day, the video shoot went very, very well.

 

 


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