Sandy Johnson

Sandy Johnson

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Sandy Johnson was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for the June 1974 issue. Her centerfold revealed her glorious 35C-24-34 figure.

Summary

Sandy Johnson was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for the June 1974 issue. Her centerfold revealed her glorious 35C-24-34 figure.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Sandy Johnson

Author Chapter Note

Sandy Johnson was Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for the June 1974 issue. Her centerfold revealed her glorious 35C-24-34 figure.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 04, 2013

Reads: 1470

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 04, 2013

A A A

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Peter hated the California oil business but he invested where the money was.  He didn’t mind oil per se but rigs uglified the community and he felt slightly guilty cashing in on something so environmentally unfriendly. His focus was investments and he was rarely in the field like this but a deal needed to be negotiated and so here he was looking at some truly ugly, but very valuable real estate.

The unsightly oil derrick was camouflaged as a lighthouse and the area adjacent to the Venice Pavilion was expensively landscaped, but no amount of dressing up could hide the monstrosity pumping into Mother Earth.  Peter looked out of place, standing in the mud with dirt streaking his Italian loafers; his clothes were casual but expensive, neat kakis with an elegant black leather belt and a navy blue blazer over a crisp white shirt. He glanced around at the filthy surroundings and scowled; he rarely scowled and he rarely lost his patience but now, if he bothered to wear a watch, he would be checking it. “Where’s Hornby?” His voice was calm and quiet but carried enough authority to make the other man nervous.

The other man had a watch and he looked at it reluctantly. “I guess he’s, um, late.”

“I know he’s late; I flew in from Chicago and I managed to be on time. He had to drive in from Santa Monica.”

“Well, traffic?”

“No.”

“The car has a radio; I can check with the office.”

Peter’s silence was command enough to make the other man stomp back to the car. While waiting Peter glowered at the derricks pumping in and out of the ground. He was wasting his time here but he had already decided to check out a particular club in Santa Monica anyway so all was not lost. Peter’s business was scouting investments but his pleasure was scouting new playmates. For almost six years he had been leading prospective models to the Playboy Mansion and arranging for their test shoots. He had excellent taste and almost every girl he recommended made her way into the pages of Playboy and all of them shared the pleasure of his bed. It was a pleasant hobby.

In his head, to relax himself, he played a greatest hits reel of some of his favorite playmates; he had just finished with the bodacious Cynthia Myers and was about to undress the elegantly sensual Leslie Bianchini so he was smiling when the other man came back. “Hornby wants us to go out to the office in Santa Monica.” His feet were sinking in the mud.

Peter scowled yet again; at least he would be closer to the club. “I’ll follow you,” he said crisply and even more crisply headed for his car.

Things back at the office turned out worse for Peter; Hornby was there but waiting for them in the parking lot. As Peter climbed out of his car Hornby was bounding toward him with a hand out and an insurance salesman smile. Peter’s instincts were to drive away but Hornby was the crucial linchpin to a multi-million dollar deal involving land swaps and a huge expenditure of capital.

“Hey man, glad you could make it.” Hornby’s head was moving like a bobble doll. “Look, there’s a change in plan. I gotta go see someone and you should come along.”

“Someone?”

Hornby’s enthusiasm could not be dampened. “My girlfriend. She’s in a dance recital.” He gestured toward his own car. “We’ll take my Caddie.”

Peter hesitated. He had been warned about Hornby’s evasive negotiating methods; they must be closer to a deal than he thought so he had to stick close. But a dance recital? Peter had his own timetable; his eyes drifted out to the horizon, the December sun already hanging pale over the ocean. He had wanted to see the properties in daylight but that hope was sinking fast. He glanced over at Hornby’s fire engine red Cadillac, then back at his own more subdued Mercedes. “I’ll follow in my car,” he said flatly. He needed some time to organize his thoughts.

Hornby nodded, “Yeah, fine. Hey, you’re that Playboy guy too, right? Maybe there’ll be a new playmate in the show; but keep your hands off my Sarah.” He guffawed at his own wit.

Peter nodded grimly and started his engine.

The recital was in the Santa Monica Playhouse, a small theater near the ocean and off of Wilshire Boulevard. They were late but Hornby obviously had some pull so they were seated immediately while a group of middle school students stumbled through a ballet routine. Peter averted his eyes from the stage and began to assess how important a multi-million dollar deal could be.

The curtain came down and he leaned over in hopes of getting in at least one sentence worth of business but Hornby was already bobbling in enthusiasm. He waved the program under Peter’s nose. “Sarah’s next,” he gloated. “You won’t be able to keep your eyes off her, but not for Playboy, right?” He yucked and snorted at his own wit as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

Eleven girls were on stage all dressed the same: white blouses tied coquettishly tight just above the navel and open to reveal the moist cleavage of eleven pairs of nubile fresh breasts and the girls wore the kind of black tights that seemed, while not quite sheer, so form fitting that they appeared painted on. The girls leaned on walking sticks and had straw skimmers on their heads and sultry smirks that morphed into seductive grins at the welcoming applause.

Hornby nudged Peter and gestured toward a girl in the center of the line but Peter’s attention was immediately drawn to a different girl on the end. She had a youthful and vivacious aura that was irresistible. Her long brown hair shimmered in luxuriant waves over her shoulders. As she leaned forward the deep velvety flesh between her breasts radiated with inviting soft warmth. All the girls smiled broadly but this girl’s smile was lively and fresh and friendly - sinful, playful and enticing- the sort of guileless seductiveness of an innocent and precocious nymphet. The other dancers were struggling to project “sexy” but this girl radiated a natural sensuality that seemed to warm Peter’s skin as he gazed. All the girls were curvaceously buxom but this girl’s body was voluptuous and supple and sexy but also quivering with vitality, an energy and excitement yearning for release and there was only one way to release it. Even over the footlights her youthful eyes signaled that she was ready for release, eager for it: her eyes sparkled as if saying “You’re going to love balling me.” Peter was smitten and already making plans.

The dance was full of jazz hands and high kicks; the girls were competent enough but the crowd was appreciative beyond measure. Hornby kept elbowing Peter and gesturing toward his girlfriend, who, if Peter bothered to notice, was one of the better dancers on stage. But Peter’s eyes followed the voluptuous young beauty as she strutted and vamped in the background; what this girl lacked in dance ability she more than made up for in irrepressible and lascivious liveliness.

The finale came with the girlfriend doing a solo with the other girls lined up behind her; they had their backs to the audience and they leaned on their canes with their legs straight and their feet arched, thrusting their hips and rears high into the air. Ten teenage derrieres under the revealing black tights. They rocked their bottoms from side to side: crisp snaps in time to the music, like metronomes. The super tight leotards shook seductively and invitingly; Peter realized that his jaw had dropped in amazement. That girl’s ass was better than perfect. The girls turned around in a sexy spin, arched their backs, thrusting their breasts into the air and waving their skimmers as they kicked high into the air. Peter caught one more glimpse of the girl’s incredible body before the curtain dropped.

Once more Hornby jabbed with his elbow and Peter suppressed the urge to break his arm. “Nice, huh, nice?” But then the curtain came up for the bows and when the young girl who had seduced him so easily bowed she bent so low that the full valley of her luscious cleavage was his to ogle. Peter clapped appreciatively.

“Come on,” Hornby shouted over the applause. We’ll pick up the girls back stage.” Peter shrugged and followed along; he planned to make a point of bumping into that delectable nymphet. But he was luckier than that; it turned out that Sarah had a girlfriend and that girl friend was the nubile young thing that had caught his eye. The two of them stood in the doorway of the dressing room while introductions were made.

Hornby: This is my little Sarah. Sarah, this is the guy I was telling you about, Peter.
Sarah: Omigod! You’re the one who finds all those playmates. I’d love to be in Playboy.
Hornby: Sarah, forget about it.

The other girl stood quietly, an ironic smile on her face; she had seen Sarah and her sugar daddy in action before. Peter approached her, and held out his hand, saying softly, “I’m Peter and I was quite impressed with your dancing tonight.”

The girl rolled her eyes, brushing off the compliment. “It was OK.” She took his hand and Peter noted that hers was warm and moist as she held his tightly and she held it for quite a long time. “I’m Sandra Johnson; everybody calls me Sandy.”

“Well, Sandy, I’d like to invite you and Sarah out for a drink by way of saying thank you for a lovely performance.”

She was still holding his hand and still wearing that sly smile; she looked mighty cute in that straw skimmer. “It will take us hours to get changed; the dressing room is packed with girls getting ready for their numbers.”

Peter pulled her forward and towards the door. “You know what, you two look fine just the way you are. I noticed a café next door. Just one drink.” He led her out and Hornby and Sarah, still bickering followed behind them.

The café was packed but instinctively, with that universal radar servers have when a big tipper is around, the waiters rushed to arrange a table for Peter and his company. The two girls still in their sexy outfits attracted plenty of attention, especially Sandy whose lively smile lit up the room.  After a while the waiter returned. “We’ve found seats but it will be awfully crowded,” he apologized.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Peter reassured him; a large bill passed from his hand to the waiter’s. “Please have someone take our order right away.”

Sandy, who missed nothing, including the firm grip he kept around her waist, noted the quiet commanding presence of the man and gave him a scrutinizing look. He was easily ten or fifteen years older she decided, maybe old enough to be her father, but he was mighty attractive, even virile and powerful. Her waist was bare and his hand felt warm and strong over her belly, even comforting. She wasn’t sure why she did it but she twisted in his arms to face him and without warning, stood on tip toe and kissed him: a demonstrative and eager kiss, open mouthed and daring, but playful and innocent too. Her mouth was fresh and delicious in its moist warm freshness and Peter held her close, enjoying the squeeze of her big ripe breasts against his chest. His hand slipped down over her rear, the nylon tights electric under his touch; her ass was juicy and round, better than perfect he resolved once again.

The kiss lingered long and loving; in that kiss Peter promised to take her, to possess her absolutely and Sandy’s promised that she would surrender to him willingly. She didn’t want a drink; she wanted him to take her home and tear off her clothes and love her from top to bottom, to make her a woman. All too soon though, the waiter returned to escort them to their table.
“I just had an urge, you know,” she said by way of explanation. She felt his fingers splay over her bare belly and she liked it.
“Urges are good,” he agreed. She glanced into his face, checking to see if she was being teased; instead she felt his magnetic gaze on her and the gaze was challenging her to given in to her carnal urges. The inexperienced Sandy gulped and tried to think of a clever response but all she could think about was letting him rip her clothes off; fortunately she was relieved of the need to say more as they had to now negotiate the seating.
They had a booth that would have been small for just two people. Hornby and Sarah, ignoring everybody else, were still bickering; it seemed that Sarah really, really wanted to be a playmate. Peter was ignoring her though. The arguing couple pushed past him and, sitting across from each other, flopped into the booth. Sarah was thin enough for her side but Hornby’s overweight body took over the entire seat so the booth only had room for one more person. Peter shrugged and sat next to Sarah, pulling the buxom Sandy into his lap. Life was good.

Sandy snuggled down and her plump ass wriggled over his lap and caused sparks between them.  He placed his hand over her bare belly, his thumb tracing the strands of the knot holding her skimpy blouse closed as if he was studying a complex geometry, the knot in a perpetual state of being about to unfurl.

The flimsy tights covering her shapely legs and luscious derriere caressed over his lap, the fabric of his slacks and the fabric of these tights flickering with anxious electricity: the tension between being an extension of the erotic promise in her succulent body and surpassing it.

She put her hands on his face and gave him another probing and hungry kiss. The space between them felt confining, breathtaking, claustrophobic. The air had an odor, sweet as spring, rich with the possibilities of sex. The kiss lingered on-- a promise of the sweeter treats she would surrender to him soon. The waiter coughed for attention. “May I take your order?” he asked, avoiding looking directly at the sexy Sandy.

The attention that Peter was giving Sandy was not lost on Sarah and she was almost a cliché of cartoon fury. Before anybody could order drinks she piped up in an unctuous voice. “Don’t forget, Sandy, all you can have is a coke.”

Peter’s spine visibly stiffened. He looked at the young girl in his lap and her blush told him everything he needed to know. He made some rapid calculations in his head and concluded that maybe this oil deal wasn’t meant to be. He wanted to get out of here now. He slid out from under Sandy, depositing her into the booth as he stood. She looked forlornly at the table as he tossed a couple of bills down. “Listen, I have to take care of some things, so I need to go. Have a drink on me please.” He bowed slightly. “Good night ladies.” Hornby’s blustering objections were spoken to Peter’s back already disappearing out the door. Unappeasable Sandy sulked; you could see her point, -- her trying to put things over, to seduce the elegant and desirable Peter spoiled by her girlfriend’s catty remark. She sulked beautifully and sexily but the object of her yearning was long gone.

Peter glanced at the clock on his dashboard as he started his car, plenty of time to make it that club where a girls’ beach volleyball team was waiting, anxious to show him that they had what it takes to be playmates.
Back at the café the mortified Sandy rose and slowly returned to the theater for her clothes.

Until she had met Peter Sandy had not given much thought to Playboy but now she was really curious about all the fuss. She finally got the courage to peek at an issue at a newsstand. Even the cover was provocative; the cartoon rabbit figure looking suave and seductive and pictures of naked ladies in frames around him, beautiful naked ladies. The kind of women Peter must like, the young girl decided. Inside the centerfold was almost frightening in its glamour.
The stately woman in the photograph gazed out at Sandy, daring her to disapprove. Marilyn Cole was brazen in her nakedness, reveling in the glory of complete nudity and complete freedom. She was naked and vulnerable but completely in control. This was an utterly natural woman - all of her. There was nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing that needed to hidden.
 
Sandy thought of Peter again, remembering the taste of him; she recalled his power, the way he controlled the universe around him. His world was glamorous like the woman in the photograph; this is what he liked so this is what Sandy wanted to be. She remembered his hands cupping her ass and her body tingled as if he were still touching her. She wanted him to touch her again, to touch her everywhere. She wanted to be a playmate, not for other men, but to please Peter. If he would only see her again, then she wouldn’t need to pose for other men. She closed her eyes and remembered Peter’s hands on her rear and she wondered what it would be like to feel his hands on her bare bottom. She swooned and, in her reverie, dropped the magazine.

A few weeks later Peter got a letter forwarded to him from his New York office; he was in Paris and not planning to return for at least a month but the message pleased him: “Dear Peter, I don’t know if you remember me but I hope this picture reminds you of me. You were so nice at our dance recital and after. I think of you a lot (in her little girl handwriting she had underlined ‘a lot’ three times and drew little hearts around ‘you’ making Peter smile at her girlishness) and I wonder if you think of me. What I want you to know is that my birthday is on July seventh and I will be all grown up and READY if you know what I mean (with the phrase ‘if you know what I mean’ underlined in three different colors of ink.)  I would love to celebrate my birthday with you” (more hearts.) The closing featured a dozen x and o characters alternating in an orgy of hugs and kisses and the signature was ornate with decorative curlicues. But the girl could not end without a postscript: “Is it true that you are the man who takes the pictures for Playboy? I saw Miss January and she made me jealous that she could be with you.” And, of course, after that yet another postscript: “I really mean it when I say I’m ready. I’m ready for you- to give myself to you. ALL the way. I’m saving my virginity just for you. Xxxooo (I wish there was a symbol for making love)”

The letter made him smile and he briefly wondered how she managed to get his address in New York. He looked at the picture, first admiring the yearning in the eyes of the pretty young thing, then her playful smile. Her back was to the camera and her back was bare and even in black and white her skin glowed with vivacious warmth. She wore the delightful tights and if possible they revealed even more now, as though the almost sheer fabric was merely an idea more than a covering. Every delicious curve of her ass was offered up to him. She bent forward on the cane, lifting herself on her toes so her bottom was high and tight. The skimmer tilted jauntily on her head.

He gazed at her photograph for a long time and only the waiter standing over his shoulder broke his reverie. Peter could tell that he had been studying the picture too. He held it up to him. “She’s very nice, isn’t she?” Peter said in flawless French.

“Indeed,” the waiter agreed. “You are a lucky man.”

“Indeed I am.” Peter slipped the letter and photograph back in the envelope and in his head began composing a telegram to his secretary back in the states. “Paris business going well. Will stop NYC before LA. Book a suite Hotel Shangri-La Santa Monica. Entire month July.”  He was interrupted by his date returning to the table. Peter discretely pocketed the envelope as Miss January sat down.

“Good news from home?” Marilyn Cole’s brows arched in curiosity. “I could see you from across the street.” She gestured toward the window of the store where she’d been shopping. “I thought you were going to devour that photograph.”

“Actually it was about you,” he smiled, “Seems you have a fan.”

“Ooooh, “ Marilyn cooed voraciously, “Let me see.”

“Later, right now I feel inspired. I want to take you back to our room.” He rose and tossed some bills on the table.

Marilyn practically leapt out of her seat and grabbed his arm and hustled him back to the Ritz. She knew that when Peter felt inspired that she would be enjoying a sensational time in bed. “Well,” she purred, “Let’s see just how inspired you can be.”

***
“Hello, this is New York calling for Miss Sandra Johnson.”
“That’s me, I’m Sandy.”
“Yes. Sandy…that’s right. I am calling from the Melville Group…”
“Peter!!!”
“Yes, that’s correct. Peter. He asked me to arrange…”
“He wants to see me!”
“Yes, quite. Are you available on July seventh…”
“My birthday!”
“I’m sure. Are you available to…”
“I don’t need a playmate test. All I want is to see him again!”
“Yes, I’m sure. Can we make an appointment for the seventh….?”
“Yes, yes, yes!!”
“I’m sure he will be pleased. He has some specific instructions…”

Even in the raincoat Sandy Johnson turned heads at the Hotel Shangri-La. She smiled sweetly at every leer and wolf-whistle and tipped her cute straw skimmer like a politician in a parade. She probably would have been stopped by hotel security but Peter had called ahead, anticipating the playful girl’s antics. But Sandy was impressed too by all the marble and brass and rich carpet and fine furnishing; she felt slightly overwhelmed by all the luxury and thrilled by it too.

The elevator whisked her up to highest floor and when she stepped out onto the long corridor she saw the door of Peter’s suite open and there he was in the doorway waiting for her. She hadn’t seen him since that first night and now here he was. Her heart thumped in her chest and she suppressed the urge to run down the hall. Instead she giggled lightly and began to strut like a vaudevillian, twirling the cane and taking twirls herself as she got closer and closer. With her ripe shape and restless giddiness, the young beauty seemed ready for harvest. She had a quality that made him think of a young animal coming into its own, like a gauche young filly, soon to become a graceful thoroughbred. There was a kind of aura about her, the spirit of adolescence emerging into the sensitive young woman.

The closer she came the harder it was to control her urge to run to him. She marveled that he could stand so still, his face so calm. Didn’t he want her? Then she saw his smile appear, just the slightest upturn of his mouth; she burst into a run and leapt into his arms, wrapping herself around him and smothering his face with excited licks and pecks. Her lips eagerly pressed over his face; her lively tongue, warm and moist teased over his skin like a zealous schoolgirl tasting sin for the first time.

“Wait, wait, let me look at you,” he laughed and lowered her to the ground. She looked up at him and raised her head and stood on her toes and kissed him; this time the kiss was studied and deliberate, demonstrating the preparation and imagination she had devoted to this tryst with man she wanted for her lover, the man who was going to fuck her virginity away. The kiss was sweet and urgent; every kiss from Sandy was like a first kiss he realized with pleasure. She threw herself completely into pleasing him with that kiss. Her tongue was a fervent dancer and her murmurs and moans were sensual, softly arousing music. She tasted of honey and flowers and even sugar and spice. She kissed with her entire body, her lush breasts pressing against him and heaving with sighs, her hips thrusting up into him, and her hands caressing over his face and torso. In one kiss she was wild and passionate and at the same time delicate and shy. She kissed him to tell him he could have her completely, in totality and in every way. She could keep back nothing.
When the kiss broke she batted her eyes shyly, catching her breath and looking fetching. Then, as if the reality of her situation: the soon-to-be surrender of her maidenhead, suddenly occurred to her she whooped with laughter. “When your secretary called from New York I thought it was a dream.” She squeezed his arms. “You’re really here.”
She gave him a quick schoolgirl peck on the cheek and said breathlessly, “And on my birthday.”

“On your birthday.” He agreed calmly, watching her carefully, gauging her reaction, as if the reality that in a little while he would be stripping her naked and taking her maidenhead had just occurred to him.
Her voice was suddenly solemn. “Yes, my birthday.”

She peered at him anxiously. Close in on his reaction. She hadn’t forgotten that tonight was the night.

She smiled again brightly. “Are we going to stay in the hall?” she teased.

He smiled too and he gestured down the corridor to where she had dropped her hat and cane. “You’ll be needing those.”

She giggled and skipped back to get them, giving him the pleasure of watching her bend from the waist twice to pick up each piece. As she bent the raincoat pulled up and he had a peek at that marvelous ass covered only by that glorious tight leotard. Good girl, he thought; she remembered.

She skipped back down the hall and like an impatient child on Christmas pushed past him into the suite. The room glittered and the naïve girl gasped. Everywhere she looked she saw rich fabric and wood; gold, brass and crystal gleamed everywhere.  Then she saw the tripod and camera and a man busying himself with camera equipment. She turned back to Peter, a look of concern on her animated face.

“This is Dan,” Peter explained. “He helps with the photography sometimes.”

“But I told your secretary that I didn’t want to be in Playboy.”

Peter glanced at Dan as if to say “Isn’t she incredible?” He gently explained to the young girl, “These pictures are for me, Sandy.”

“Oh,” she said seriously. She smiled shyly at Dan and continued to look around the suite; the door was open to the bedroom and there were lights and a tripod set up there too. Peter and Dan both studied her as she took in the details of the set-up, the massive bed, satin sheets, the bright lights that would warm her skin as the camera captured the moment his cock… She blushed a sweet scarlet as her eyes widened and her mouth spread out in a lusty grin. “Oh,” she giggled again and looked at Peter.

“It is your birthday,” he said softly and portentously.

“It’s my birthday,” she said to herself, fully understanding what that meant. Her cheeks colored again as he met her gaze; they colored in embarrassment and in pleasure too, as though her insight had been confirmed in a way that satisfied her sense of her own impending fate. Tonight was the night. Absolutely.

“Let me take your coat,” he said and she trembled as he drew closer. She watched his fingers slip each button loose and he slid the coat smoothly off her shoulders and handed it to Dan. Her eyes were downcast but she could feel his eyes admiring her body. She wore the tights and the tight white blouse, but this time the knot on the blouse was higher, covering nothing more than the luscious curves of her succulent breasts and the tights were impossibly tight and almost translucent so that the soft curls of her bush were visible.
She looked up at him and smiled shyly. She fingered the knot on the blouse. “Should I…”
“Let me,” he said bluntly. Her sharp gasp paused him for a moment but her eyes sparkled in invitation.
With one hand between her shoulder blades he guided her deeper into the room. She floated in, as if she were dreaming. His other hand lightly caressed over the soft linen over her warm, quivering breasts. “You have a lovely body, Sandy,” he rumbled smoothly.

“I hope I can make you happy,” she breathed out; she leaned back into the hand between her shoulders and jutted her magnificent chest into his probing fingers.

He chuckled and murmured soothingly, “It your birthday. I’m supposed to make you happy.”

“Oh, you do,” she gushed and he rewarded her with a firm squeeze over the ripe flesh of her breast. “You will…” she added thoughtfully, contemplating what would be happening in the bed.

“And how will I make the birthday girl happy?” he teased and she squirmed as he fondled her more aggressively. She watched the hand mauling her breasts. “How can I make the birthday girl happy?” he insisted.

Still watching the hand on her beast she finally averred, “We’re going to make love…you’re going to do me.”

“Good girl,” he growled as he traced under the breasts until he came to the knotted fabric holding the tight sheer blouse closed. “You’re going to be such a good girl for me, Sandy.” He pulled the end of the knot and the white fabric whispered away from her breasts. She dropped her arms and with the hand on her back he pulled the blouse off and dropped it to the floor. She stood, trembling, resisting the urge to cover herself. She cocked her head to one side. Anxious and adoring but shy and unsure.  She felt the strange exhilaration of the explorer crossing into an unknown land; she felt frightened and emboldened.

He had expected her breasts to be magnificent but he hadn’t been prepared for just how glorious they were. The large and round clouds of delectable flesh quivered in offering before him, the nipples hard and firm and the orbs smooth and soft; but it was the trembling of her entire body as she dared to bare herself to him that made the man want to swoop her up and devour her. He stood still and stared at her beauty as she quavered with anticipation. In the end she came to him rising on tip toe for a kiss: another first kiss, all fire and lust and tongues and teeth, a furious kiss, fierce in its contradictions; she surrendered while she resisted and she was innocent while she was lustful. He cupped her bare breasts and she sobbed with pleasure at the first touch and she moaned with ecstasy when he massaged her nipples.

Her fingers caressed over his head and she swooned, leaning back against a wall as he fondled her flesh. Tugging his ears she turned his face to hers. “Peter, do you want to kiss my breasts?” Her voice was tremulous and low. “I want you to,” she begged as she moved his mouth over a rock hard nipple.

His teeth clamped down and she moaned in surrender. His greedy maw sucked ravenously onto her honey-tinged flesh. Wriggling and writhing against the wall she fed him her innocence as her hands roamed over him. She squeezed the muscles of his arms, she squeezed his ass, then her fingers slowly slid over his hips to his crotch.

She could feel his cock throbbing under his trousers and she looked down to where it pressed against her; the size of the bulge stunned her, thrilled her, terrified her. Pulling her face up close to his ear she whispered, “Can I touch it?”
“It’s yours,” he growled and he guided her tiny hand toward the massive shaft.
“For my birthday,” she giggled.
“For your birthday.”
“All for me? All my own? Your cock.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of the bulge. “You’ll…You’ll…put it inside me. And…and…come inside me.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Oh God!”
“Are you afraid, Sandy?”
“No…yes…I want you to do me.”
“Touch it, Sandy.”
“Oh my,” she purred, her palm flat against the cock, “It’s so hard.” Her hand was delicate but excited. “Can I see it?” She was not asking permission; she was already unzipping him. “I’ve never really seen one before,” she said meekly and she knelt to finish undoing the trousers. “I mean, I sort have, you know, seen a peek or too. She now blushed guiltily, “And I kinda watched some X-rated videos to, um, get ready? You know, for tonight.” As she spoke, she kneeled before him, an eager nymphet’s pose of submission. Her fingers were nervously nimble in their pursuit of his cock and she giggled in fright at the size of it when she finally got it out in front of her face. “Can I kiss it?” she pleaded mildly. She held the cock reverently in her hands, a gentle sheath to encompass the throbbing weapon.
“For your birthday.”

“For my birthday,” she agreed and extended her pink tongue out to touch gingerly the hot surface of the shaft. The tip of her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock and she tittered anxiously. “Do I put it in my mouth now?”
“You’re doing everything right.”
She gave a long lick along the length of the shaft; up and down her delicate tongue danced over the throbbing cock while her sprightly body wriggled into a limbo position with his thighs straddling her pretty head and her big creamy breasts rocking in front of him as she wriggled. Her mouth opened wide and with a greedy gulp she and sucked his balls into her mouth as she nuzzled her sweet face into him. Her dexterous fingers stroked up and down the length of his cock, the pace of the strokes increasing as she sucked more eagerly on his balls.

Her sweet mouth never left his crotch as she wriggled back into a kneeling position. Still sucking and licking, she slavered love over his cock as she licked up to the tip and with prideful boldness she wrapped her lips around the head and began to push her face over the cock, gagging and moaning but sucking with enthusiasm; her pillowy lips, mobile and soft, worked hungrily while patiently caressing every inch of his shaft.
This was too good; he knew Dan was using his camera but the lens was focused on the rosy cheeks of the eager girl, the soft cheeks puffed out as she sucked exuberantly. Her sucking and lip smacking noised were punctuated by rapid snaps of the camera shutter.
She was too good to be true and he didn’t want to come yet; he wanted everything. Everything in time, he had waited this long so he wanted to savor his victory. She resisted releasing him, nuzzling her face into his crotch like a girl refusing to give up a lollipop, and she pouted as he raised her to her feet. Sandy’s pout was radiantly cute and irresistible.
Almost regretting the move, he held her blouse out to her. “I want Dan to take some pictures.” She looked skeptical, her brows arched in a comic version of solemnity; she was too vivacious to make it work. “For your birthday,” he said, holding the blouse so she could slide it on.
She wriggled into the garment and turned to let Peter tie it. His fingers caressed over the warm flesh of her trembling breasts and the nipples popped up eagerly. He pulled the fabric tight and snug and lovingly tied a knot below her breasts. She turned to Dan and grinned; the camera flash kissed her and Peter handed her the skimmer and cane and the camera kissed her again. She mugged and danced, letting music play in her head with a rhythm interposed by the clicks of the camera; each snap of the shutter was a tick of the metronome inside her pretty head and with each click she snapped her tight round ass in crisp sexy ticks, first left then right. Her bottom snapped back and forth in a jazzily seductive dance. Standing in front of a mirror she smiled gleefully at her reflection; she saw Peter in the mirror too and she saw his look of approval as he eyed her excellent ass and the camera captured her joy.
Peter stepped into the frame, watching her eyes in the mirror. One hand was flat on her bare belly. The other hand caressed over her bare spine, fingers splayed to tease under the tight blouse and along the elastic band of the tights.
Both hands hovered over her, pressing her while her belly tightened in anticipation. Firm fingers teased over the taut line of fabric where the elastic squeezed over her soft skin; an electric charge rushed through her as one finger lifted the edge, releasing her flesh from the pressure but capturing the flesh too with the warm press of his fingertip and nail. She gasped and watched as one hand slid under the elastic stretching the fabric to almost complete transparency; in the mirror she watched the fingers tease over the curls of her thick deep bush. She felt the other hand slip into the leotard and caress over her ass; she trembled helplessly and suppressed a groan of pleasure. Physically afraid of the body so close to her but anxious for it to be closer she had crossed into new and dangerous territory. She was a flower, a fresh blooming bud. The camera saw it all.
A finger snaked through the bush closer and closer to the magnificently moist slit; Sandy trembled more violently and her knees began to buckle. The cane dropped from her hand and her palms smacked against the mirror in an effort to support her melting body. Her mouth was an O of surprise and O of pleasure, a silent ecstasy even before the finger slid over the lips of the hot wet volcano. Her ass tightened under his touch and she swayed, electric lust rushing from the tips of her toes to the tip of her nose. Her eyes glowed with excitement. Then the finger, still pressed by the tight leotard, slipped between those eager lips; a sharp burst of thrill escaped her mouth and she trembled some more. She drew a deep, moaning breath then whispered, “Oh Peter…” The three groaning syllables portended so much that she couldn’t express in words; the soft groan was a plea for him to take her, to possess her completely.
He could feel the heat from her pussy on his fingertip and he could feel the tension from her ass on his palm. He hesitated, knowing she would explode if his hands moved at all now. The urgency was delicious between them; her eyes pleaded for release, his demanded submission. Like a wave gliding back before smashing into the shore his hand slipped away. Shifting his weight and releasing her, he stepped back and, like a slave obeying her master, she turned to follow.
The bed was an arena, a ring, a court for a struggle and a tussle. She blinked into the lights as he guided her body down onto the sheets. The camera framed it all but all she could see was the lust in his eyes.
Here’s the scene: In the brightly lit bedroom they are kissing passionately and desperately. He’s grunting with excitement and she’s making little whimpers, clearly trying to hide her anxieties. We’re acutely aware of her age and of her virginity. She pulls the knot on the blouse herself, almost offering her succulent flesh to him but rolling away before her glorious mounds are revealed. She’s on her belly and she cooperates, shifting her arms so he can tug the blouse down her spine. She’s topless, her naked back is smooth and warm, the leotard translucent, warm skin blushing underneath the sheer silken fabric.  Urged by a nudge from his hands, she moves again rolling over onto her back and there they are: her perfectly wonderful breasts quivering before him. And now he gorges greedily; she’s his completely. His head at her breast, his teeth, tongue and lips working, the nipple impossibly huge in his astonished mouth. She sobs apprehensively, the virgin’s cry of resistance and submission. She begins to writhe, uncertain if she is pulling away or pressing more of her glorious breast into his mouth. He sucks furiously, sucking her in deeply, tasting her soul. She sobs again, innocent and helpless. His hands maul her body, crushing her mouthwatering flesh into his face. Then they move down her belly and he raises his head. She sobs as he traces a line along the edge of the leotard, nudging it down. She hooks two thumbs into the elastic and lifts her rear off the bed; in a graceful push the leotard gathers around her knees. She lifts her legs and he tugs the sheer fabric off completely. She’s completely naked on the bed, completely helpless, entirely his to take at will…
Innocence and lust rushed through the virginal girl and she trembled under his touch. Everything was in slow motion, scored by a low lamenting saxophone moaning in her head. She couldn’t make sense of anything except her desires. When he shifted his body she mewed softly but he tenderly turned her face to the camera; leaning close to her ear he whispered, “Show Dan what you can do.” He slipped away from the lights as the luscious nymphet giggled to the camera. The sultry looks she gave the lens were not poses; she was aroused to misty-eyed distraction and she wanted to be taken. The camera flashed and she moved, displaying her heaving breasts and glistening pussy. She could sense Peter close and she could sense heat rising. Somehow she was certain he would be naked now and ready for her.
Dan took dozens and dozens of shot of the vivacious virgin celebrating her sexuality, one exuberant pose after another. She writhed through a sexy dance, grinning fetchingly sometimes, sometimes pouting like a naughty schoolgirl. She arched her supple body in poses that would make a yoga master jealous.  Finally the photographer nodded his approval. Sandy, kneeling on the satin sheets, froze in place; her eyes glinted in anticipation, as her heaving chest, bare and moist, seemed to thrust forward in yearning.

Peter knelt in front of her, leaning in to kiss her once more; her eyes widened with delight but she didn’t dare look down at what she knew was there for her, for her birthday. She kissed ferociously and voraciously, open mouthed and wild. Her hands roamed over his chest and back but didn’t dare go below. His hands squeezed her breasts and she writhed into his touch.
“Oh, Peter,” she squealed girlishly; then his hands slowly glided down over her soft belly. “Ooooo, Peter,” she murmured gently as his fingers swirled over her cute little navel and then sank down towards that precious triangle and she whimpered as his hand brushed over the curls over her pussy, then the finger once again teased inside. One delicate touch spread her open slightly, slowly easing into her innocence. “Ooooooo, Peter,” she mewed like a sex kitten warming in the sun. She gasped and he pushed in deeper. She gasped again.
The young girl’s breathing became shallow and frantic and she gasped for words. “For my birthday, OK?” she pleaded meekly. The breathless words were disrupted by a sharp grasp for breath as the probing finger touched a secret spot inside her, releasing a flood of nectar and throbbing.
“You’re so sweet, Sandy,” he purred, soothing her into submission, “So sexy.” She gasped again as his finger vibrated inside her, probing and manipulating.
In desperation her hands wandered over his body, caressing his muscles, then, drawn like a helpless bird lured to a snake, one hand began to softly stroke his cock, the delicate fingers marveling at the length and girth and stiffness; she shuddered to think that this huge…thing would be pressing deep into her body but she continued to stroke it, as if to memorize every contour. Somewhere her brain made an association between the finger probing inside her and the massive cock in her hand. The torturing finger inside her probed for all her sensual secrets, releasing shock waves of pleasure with every masterful stroke. Her tiny soft hand worked vigorously over the length of his shaft and the throbs of his massive cock in her palm colliding with the throbs inside her tight little snatch released a lightning bolt of bliss inside her skull and she suddenly dreaded the impalement yet to come. With a sharp yelp, she pushed the cock away; her heart was pounding in panic.
“I’m scared,” she sobbed but she held his wrist and drew him in deeper.
“Shhh,” he soothed. “Look at the camera baby; you’re so good, so sexy.” He thought she never looked more beautiful; she looked luscious-- petite and sexy and brave. Frightened too, doing it to prove herself to him. She was trembling.
“Are we gonna do it now?” she whined, half panicky and half hopefully.
“Shhh,” he insisted again. Whimpering softly, the pliant virgin allowed him to slide out his finger and take hold of her hips. She whimpered a bit more as he turned her on her knees until her back was on his chest and her sultry eyes were locked onto the lens of the camera. “Good girl, so good,” he purred, stretching her arms out until she was on her hands and knees, her luscious breasts dangling like delectable fruit. Her delicious dancer’s body molded easily to the commands of his lust.

“I want you so bad,” she whispered solemnly but with a glint of eagerness in her large brown eyes. He snarled in wordless reply and kneeled between her legs; with one hand gripping her shoulder, he pressed the other hand over her belly, his arm tightening around her slender waist. “Oooo, Peter,” she prayed softly. “Shhhhhh, be a good girl, Sandy.”
With some shifts of his crotch, he slid his shaft between her thighs and guided her body into a gentle rocking motion so that her soft moist thighs caressed over his cock. Her supple body danced into the rocking rhythms of his hips. His firm grip on her shoulder and around her waist thrilled her into submission. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and looked over back at him. Her gaze misted into tears as his finger eased between the silken lips of her virgin sex. “Ooh,” she groaned as his finger probed; “Ooooo,” she purred as his finger pulsated inside her. Slipping into helpless surrender she dipped her head down, dropping her chestnut hair over the satin sheets. His finger probed tenderly but resolutely. She gasped, bit down on her lower lip as her fingers knotted the satin sheets. Bobbing her head up and down three times in rapid succession she sent her hair flying; she bucked and throbbed like a wild beast as his finger wriggled deep inside her heat, then the sweet sheath of her sex squeezed over his finger and she took a deep sensual breath. An orgasmic tremor shook her from the white knuckles pressed deep into the satin sheets, to the quiver of her slender arms as she tried to hold herself up; the tremor rocketed from the top of her head and down her spine and from her toes to her thighs and the tremors all collided deep inside her virgin sex. Again she lifted her pretty head and looked back at him, her eyes burning with adulation. “I want you inside me,” she gasped desperately.

Peter grunted and, still holding her shoulder, leaned back to release his cock from the caress of her thighs. It rose behind her like a missile. She saw it and froze, saw his cock, hard and long and wide and poised over the gates of her sex. She moaned and clenched her body, afraid to receive the massive shaft.
The finger slid out slowly but there was pressure behind it, the head of his cock about to push into her. His hands held her hips and he bent forward. “Sandy,” he groaned and pushed in, just slightly but enough to make her flush with desire and sob with fear. Her pussy was tight and soft and wet, kissing over the rock hard power of his shaft. She let out a low plaintive groan, surrendering to the agony as her nubile body quivered and her tight moist sweetness engulfed the head of his shaft.
Struggling on her hands and knees to keep herself upright she pushed back and his cock pushed into her. She winced into the pain while dreading the greater pain to come. “Peter,” she gasped in a frantic plea for mercy. In reply, pressing his lips together in determination, he gripped her hips and pushed some more, filling her tight delicious body. Her body panicked and began to thrash and shriek, wriggling in a pathetic attempt to escape her fate. Peter’s cock fought to stay nestled between the honey-sweet lips of her pussy. He held her hips in place and let her thrashing consume her resistance. She looked back at him, her eyes blazing with outrage; his grip over her hips was firm and his cock’s claim on her virginity was insistent but the young girl continued to struggle. He watched her fight and writhe over his cock and slowly the girl’s agony gave way to pleasure. Her panting murmurs of “No, no, no” slowly elided into sweet purrs of “Oh, oh, oh” as excruciating ecstasy began to warm her. She glanced toward the camera, then to his face. “Look at the camera,” he demanded. Her face stared straight ahead, the lens capturing the sweet anguish on her face. He pushed some more and she rocked back and froze; there it was: the sacred barrier, the tender tissue of her virginity. “Oh Peter,” she sobbed meekly and he paused, savoring the delicious tightness of the trembling virgin surrendering to his cock.
She trembled like a fawn and he bent forward and growled into her ear, “Happy Birthday, Sandy.” With one firm thrust forward he fucked her virginity into oblivion.
She screamed melodiously and completely, the high pitch trill of dread harmonizing into a squeal of delight; her body bucked and bounced and he fucked her in a pounding tumult. Dripping with sweat she slipped on the sheets and fell on her face; he fell with her, bearing down hard on her loving virginal treasure and as his weight bore down on her he pulled her hips back so her thighs were over her calves, giving himself plenty of leverage to plunge his cock deeply and thoroughly into the moaning nymph. The poor girl howled, kicking and pounding the sheets, but tightening her glorious sex around his cock. Wriggling her nubile sex over the ceaseless pounding of the pulsing mass, she sputtered in wordless worship of the throbbing power deep inside her. “Ooo, oooo, oooo,” she pleaded in seductive agony. He rammed in harder and she screamed into the sheets, “I can’t, no, no, please,” she wailed; still her moist hot sex caressed lovingly over the brutal mass thrusting into her.
Pausing, he bent forward to softly to kiss her bare back. God her pussy was tight. “I…I…I…” she wailed in pain.
Soothing her babble of protest he whispered gently, “You’re so good, Sandy, so pretty. You’re my pretty little playmate.” She mewed in submission and he had to have her. He pumped hard, once, twice, three times with furious determination.
He was firm and fierce in his unfaltering fucking, slowly steadying the writhing and struggling girl into sweet submission; her agony waned and pleasure waxed with each stroke and soon he was plunging rapidly and happily into her juicy body, plying her nubile muscles with masterly rhythms, varying the beat of the thrusts so each push into her exploding body was a surprise, a shock, a celebration of her delectable sexuality. The sweet girl giggled now with delight and managed to right herself on her knees and elbows, the better to receive the full thrust of his long thick cock. She mewed girlishly each time he plunged into pay dirt, filling her completely. “Ooooo, this is nice,” she squealed after one long and expert stroke deep inside her virgin sex. The camera saw it all, from the shimmer of her flowing hair as she rocked in rhythm to the sexy curling of her tiny toes with each thrust.
He grunted his agreement and fucked her harder. Her pussy was a masterpiece of Nature at work; soft, warm, and wet, she responded to every stroke with frenetic zeal, now tightening, now writhing and twisting, always urgently seeking more of him inside her. The beauty of this masterpiece of feminine pulchritude was enhanced by the gleam of the girl’s nectar on the huge cock pumping in and out of her depths. He lunged in hard and firm and she screamed; he glided back caressing her insides with his shaft and she gasped. Over and over, lunging and gliding, scream after scream of ecstasy filled the room.
Now he really fucked her; he fucked her softly for a long luscious while, slowly elevating her bliss to new heights, pushing into her lovingly and letting his cock head kiss every tender spot inside her sweet pussy. This went on seemingly forever but without warning he began drilling with a force and speed that threatened to split her in two; again it was endless, this fast and furious balling. In their heightened attentiveness they felt every nuance of every stroke into her scrumptiousness. Sensing her orgasm about to burst he grunted and, without warning, he rammed hard and fierce into her with a velocity that sent her face first into the pillows. Her arms and legs thrashed over the sheets as he fucked her. She could feel his cock throbbing in her and felt overwhelming sensations flood over her, an orgasm mixing with the transfiguration of her virginity, the best and most amazing orgasm of her young life. She came in waves, twisting her head back and forth in shock and came again as he blasted into her. She came in colors, a rainbow of youthful vitality exploding into a magnificent chaos of light and sound: crystalline sharp one second, then warm and delicate as dew on a morning glory. She came in explosions piled on earthquakes piled on quasars. She arched her back and raised her head, howling uncontrollably in the throes of agonizing bliss. Her girlish voice spiraled into arias of ecstasy and pain mixed with prayers for mercy and revenge.
The heat of his seed spread through her young body and she was crazed with a frenzied energy. Gushing white gold into her glowing body, he pumped again and again: once, twice, three times- over and over shooting and pumping- eighteen deep thrusts into her softness to mark her surrender, and again and again she sobbed and clenched him gratefully with her young tender sex until he filled her completely.
In her childlike vitality she was giddy and tearful, a dynamo of erotic energy. She throbbed with joy and giggles and her sweat-drenched body, still in its virginal glow, squirmed out from under him and with girlish ardor she began to lick and kiss and fondle him entirely. Her tongue, sweet and pink, was everywhere licking; her teeth, pearly and playful, were nibbling. Her lips, rosy and warm, were kissing giddily. Her fingers fondled and pinched and squeezed every inch of him; she eagerly caressed him with her toes and she hungrily cuddled him with her entire body.
“This is my best birthday ever,” she gushed girlishly. “I want to do this forever!”
She continued to squirm and wriggle and assail him with playful lust. Soon he was hard enough again and she spread her legs, drawing him over her, crushing her breasts against his chest as he guided his cock back into her sweet sweet pussy. She kissed his face and twirled her tongue into his mouth letting the writhing of her body urge him on to fuck her some more.
She was impossibly tight; her sheath rippling with magic over his throbbing cock.  His body stroked in slow deliberate motion, the strokes of a lover caressing her depths. They went slow at first, making their plans with each stroke and knowing they would be fucking for a long time. This was her birthday party; now it was time for fun. She giggled with pleasure and he balled her with the cavalier energy of callow youth; they were teens behind the stands at the stadium and she was the girl giving her cherry happily. Now he fucked her hard and furious; she squealed with surprise and it was a midnight rape, a dark alley and an overpowering brute robbing her innocence and she threw herself at him with zeal. They rolled over the bed in a tangle of sheets and skin, screwing into each other with their limbs wrapped in impossible positions; they were porn stars screwing insanely and showing off their lust; then she was the ingénue, the teenage star bonking on camera. He rammed in hard, a pirate ravishing a princess bride; and he rammed in again, 007 claiming his Bond girl trophy. Finally he did her in measured, lugubrious strokes, a lazy, easy balling into a tender trembling girl; she mewed softly as he balled in rolling waves, an ocean rolling in over her, slow and easy but strong and deadly. She mewed some more, her nubile body quivering with bliss; she bent her chin to her chest and looked down at her body and her eyes sparkled in an awed trance as they watched his cock slide in and out of the glistening curls of her pussy. “I love you Peter,” she purred reverently. In and out the shaft plunged through her moist warm innocence; she rocked her torso in unison with each thrust but as her ecstasy swelled she ground hips against him, driving the pace into an ever-hastening sprint to the finish, urging him to fuck her harder.
He cracked and so did the laws of the universe; their bodies writhed and slammed together, a juggernaut of twisting groping limbs thrashed over the sheets, her hair flying, her succulent breasts thrusting into the air, her juicy ass bouncing and rocking. Time stood still as they fucked franticly like champion gladiators. In and out of her delicious virginal body he plunged, over and over, in and out of her sweetness; then she squealed, one sharp cry from a wounded fawn. He froze, his cock throbbed, coming once- a thick storm of white fire flooding into her soft virginity, “Wow,” she gasped and his cock jerked and was coming again- sharp staccato bursts blasting the throbbing girl into orgasm; she came in floods of nectar streaming over his cock and tears streaming down her cheeks and she giggled and she came feeding her succulent breasts into his mouth. She came with howls and then finally the pace slowed and he tenderly made love to his innocent lamb, his sweet little birthday girl. Her sweaty flesh glided over the sheets as he drove in and out, in and out over and over, her sexy sheath tight and wet around him. Her fingers were butterflies fluttering over his back as he lovingly possessed her virginal body. She came in a rosy blush of pride and sweet chiming giggles; then he came in a low roar and a huge sweep of heat over her entire body, and she came again, slow and soft, her lips parting in murmurs of affection, her brown eyes burning behind her tears.
Dan’s camera captured everything and when the lovers parted briefly, so luscious Sandy could get a drink of water and recover herself, the photographer snapped some delicious candids of the blissed-out girl prancing naked through the hotel suite.
Back in bed Sandy took charge. Seating Peter on the edge of the bed she knelt before him and announced, “I am going to suck on your cock!” She was already stoking it with gentle loving fingers and caressing it over her cheek. “I watched a movie? And this girl made her man so happy by sucking on his cock.” She eagerly licked up and down the throbbing shaft. “And then, he…ohmygod it was amazing… he came right on her face.” She grinned up at her lover, her master, then she licked and kissed over the cock again. “Will you come on my face?” She kissed the shaft fervently. “Please, Peter, please; come on my face.” Her lips engulfed him and she slurped and sucked zealously, bobbing her head up and down and making up with enthusiasm what she lacked in experience. It wasn’t long before the cock was blasting a rapid volley of white cream into her glowing face. She giggled through it all before scampering to the bathroom as she licked him off her lips.
She came back showered and perfumed and frantic for more sex. Peter happily obliged the imaginative girl.

They were still fucking when Dan packed up his gear and silently left the room. Many hours passed after some sleepy fucking, followed by pleasant dreams filled with blissful serenity, then some early morning drilling with Peter’s cock hammering brutally into the bucking thrashing girl. Sandy howled joyously and sobbed ecstatically; “I love it when you come inside me. Never let it stop,” the precious girl purred in the midst of another mind-blowing orgasm. He responded by rolling her over and preparing her juicy bottom for his assault.
Peter stuck to his plan and the entire month of July was dedicated to sex with the nubile and eager Sandy. He worked during the day, returning in the evening to dinner with the delicious Sandy, followed by an night of passionate sex from an eager nymphet. Every night the flexible girl dazzled him with new tricks she invented for their sexual adventures. Every morning he suggested she become a playmate but she demurred for months, instead keeping him company in his bed and giving him cosmic sex whenever possible. August found him heading off to Chicago for business and more playmate scouting. But for a long time after, Peter always made time when he was in LA for the lively chestnut haired dancer who was so passionate in bed.

It was almost a year later that the publisher, finally seeing the photos of the delightful girl demanded that she be made a playmate.

Sandy could not say no.

 


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