As old farts go, George Wall was a pretty nice guy… for an asshole--at least, that's what Lucy, the last of his three wives, had to say of him.
"George," she said, blonde hair tied in a bun and her curvy body bound by a constricting, dark, but smart-looking business suit. They were at the lawyer's office for the final mediation session of their divorce. "You're smart, and you're as loyal as a dog to his master, and your cock is as long and as thick as a baseball bat. But you're an unrelenting motherfucker in bed. My pussy, my mouth, and my sorry torn-up asshole are allergic to your monster cock." Right after she said this, Lucy pouted.
George remembered how cute her ruby red lips looked turned down and out, a bit like a child after having a lollipop taken away from her before she'd finished sucking on it. Three years gone, and he stilled missed those pouty red lips. "Georgie dear," she said, laughing. "I can't take it any more. I'm joining that club, that special sorority of women whose pussies you have worn out with too much fucking. Shoot man, I have to divorce you because I need a rest!
You and your dick, I'm either going to become a nun, or I'm going to become a lesbian." He chuckled remembering this. George surveyed the restaurant. The place was well established, and the food was good. The menu was just expensive enough to keep out the riff-raff: teenagers, or families with squealing kids. The walls were paneled with dark mahogany, the tables had plenty of space between them, the carpets were plush and rich-looking.
The waiters knew George and respected him. They gave him a good table every time he ate there, which was usually at night for dinner. Today was different.
He'd closed a good deal that morning, and so gave himself the day off and decided to have a late lunch at his favorite restaurant in town. The place was quiet. Only a few patrons were in the dining room, strategically placed far apart so that each could have a private space to eat, work, snooze, have a drink. George didn't recognized anyone in the room. No surprise, really, since this wasn't the hour of the day when he was usually there. He sipped his Bourbon and surveyed the room.
And across the room, against the far corner, George saw what appeared to be a woman of amazing beauty and sexuality. She was in her fifties (but George could tell that she was in very good shape).
She was blonde (but he thought, not a natural blonde). She wore a red sundress that displayed a proud bust line and exposed the clean soft skin of her shoulders (not a wrinkle on her skin, he thought). The woman was busy studying the contents of a black leather portfolio, and every so often she would use a pen to make a notation on one of the pages. She's got a head for business, he thought.
She's focused on that portfolio and completely unaware of the rest of us in this room.
That made him smile, and his sat back comfortably in his chair to admire the view. She wouldn't look up for a long time, he knew. He could look at her, admire her body and face and long hair, and she wouldn't know for a long time. So he started to wonder about her breasts. They were round and full, and they pushed hard against the cotton fabric of her sundress.
Faintly, her nipples pimpled the cloth that wrapped her breasts and formed delicious shapes that made George think of creamy, cherry-filled chocolates. He would like to have her as dessert, he thought.
His cock, which till now lay limply between his legs, pulsed slightly and started to thicken. The thought of making love to this gorgeously shaped woman broadened his smile, and George began to laugh gently. When George Wall laughed, the pleasure of his laughter started deep inside his body and welled up like a fresh fountain of sparkling champagne. He exuded pleasure and joy and an incredible animalism that drew women to him the way magnets attract steel.
It was the sound of his splendid laughter that caused the woman to look up at him. KoKo Latte to raise her steel-gray eyes up from the script she was reading in the portfolio to see just who could be making such a joyful sound, and why. She decided that joyful was the right word to describe what she heard--and what that sound caused her to feel.
And there he was, this man big bodied, about fifty or so, with slightly graying hair and a clean, smooth-shaven face, was boldly studying her and gently laughing with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. It was slightly disconcerting.
But only slightly. Because it was also pleasant. KoKo Latte was an experienced and skeptical -- business woman with a hide hardened by nearly thirty years of producing, writing, directing, and starring in pornographic feature films. Koko Latte, whose real name was Sarah Evangeline Morris (and she hated that name, God-damn her mother for branding her with it!) had developed a reputation as the hardest-working, porno queen in the industry.
She wisely exploited her reputation, too, marketing herself on her website and in her movies as 'The Greatest Female Entrepreneur in the Porn Industry." Her fans loved it.
Her business partners loved it too, because the films that started Koko made them thousands of dollars a year.
As you can imagine, Koko after having her pussy probed every which way by cocks and cameras of every size and shape was a tough customer. She came to this restaurant every afternoon for a late lunch to work diligently without interruption on whatever her current project was at the time. Today, it was the script for the next movie she was to direct. She had written it. It had a political theme: The madam of a whorehouse is running for President of the United States, and garners campaign contributions from the CEOs of global corporations by giving the men ball-bursting blowjobs.
There was one female CEO in the mix, too, which gave Koko an opportunity to film a girl-girl scene. She was working on this part of the script, trying to figure out who would make the best female co-star, when she became aware of George's deep and pleasant laughter. What little humor KoKo had, she kept locked up in a tiny room deep in her heart, where no one could possibly get at it, destroy it, or take it away from her. But this man … there was something about him.
Electric, animalistic sensations began to prick at her skin. Her heart raced just a little faster, and she felt her cheeks blush and grow warm as her blood pulsed warmly in her veins. Much to her surprise, her pussy began to feel a warm wetness. Looking at George's brown eyes and hairy arms, his thickening middle and strong limbs began to unlock the door to that secret, deeply guarded secret room inside her heart. This man had kindled a flame, and he was stirring the fires of passion!
She put down her pen, placed the portfolio closed on the table. "What's so funny?" she asked. She smiled. Her expression was frank, open, non-confrontational, and welcomed conversation. George beamed. He accepted her apparent invitation, smiling broadly to show his white teeth and red tongue. "I'm not laughing because something is funny. I am laughing because I feel good. I feel very good looking at you. You're the reason why I feel so happy," he said.
Koko gave the man a professional appraisal. Was this fellow star material that is, porno flick star material? Hhm, she wondered. It would depend upon two factors: His dick, and his stamina. He needed both to be long … well, she thought. There's only one way to find out. Koko stood up. That in itself was a major statement of carnality.
Her breasts swelled, her thin waist accentuated the upper and lower contours of her amazing figure. Her long legs smooth, unhampered with stockings of any kind, strong, muscle toned, brown with sun and sea. Well, she said to George. Let's see just how happy I can make you.
She provocatively strode across the restaurant to his table. Care to come, she asked, and started out the door. And then she stopped, and turned to him again.
You do know how to come, don't you? * * * As she walked away from his table through the restaurant, George felt a pronounced pressure in his undershorts. He pulled out his wallet, threw a few bills on the table, and hurried after her.
They didn't have far to go. At the entrance to the restaurant, there was a narrow, steep staircase. George hadn't ever given it much thought before. But here at the foot of these dark-stained wooden stairs this amazing goddess was waiting for him. As he approached her, she turned and climbed the stairs … and George followed close behind her bountiful behind.
Was it possible, he wondered, that he was going to get a piece of that amazingly beautiful ass, wrapped in a conservative business skirt, and propelled in all sorts of amazing directions by those strong, slender, lickable legs?
The staircase was long and narrow as the two climbed to the second story. George had a long time to watch this woman's ass checks rise and fall under her tight-fitting skirt as she led him through to a dimly lit hall to a conservative-looking business office with a sign on the door, Aphrodite Productions.
The woman led George into the office, shut the door, and locked it. My name is Koko, she said. What's yours? George, and he was about to say that he thought her an incredibily beautiful woman … but before he could say another word, Koko started to take her clothes off.
After she'd freed both breasts and stood with only her panties on, she looked at him quizzically.
"And you, do you plan to fuck me with your pants on or off?" George yanked at his clothes, pulling off buttons and jamming the zipper in his haste. Koko lost no time. She looked at him critically, examining his erect penis and muscular legs, arms and chest, the flat iron hard stomach. Yes, she said to him. One of out two. "Huh?" "Never mind, you'll find out." In five minutes Koko was licking her way up the muscles of his inner thigh.
George thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Koko had breasts that won't quit. In fact, she had nothing that would quit. Everything was moving around like crazy. George wrestled her up off his cock … just in time … and went to work, diving his mouth in between those round, smooth thighs to take a big, big juicy mouthful of curly, soft, warm, wet woman.
He began gently, teasingly, just touching the labia and her rigid button-like clitoris with little light licks. She smelled like a warm honey drenched lamb chop served on a summer terrace in the Aegean Sea.
Koko was murmuring something entirely unintelligible. Then George started to dig in, started to eat that sweet pussy alive. Koko was sighing and squealing. She was singing and filling that little fur cup with pink champagne.
That round ass was bumping and jumping. It was time. George wasn't gentle with her. He placed his big cock, set himself, and drove the meat full into her. All the way.
She took it with a groan. And when he slammed it into her again, she shouted something and clamped her teeth into his shoulder. He could feel the juice running out of her pussy each time shoved it in. Those large beautiful eyes were staring up at him in shock.
The marines had landed! The Yanks were here! The cavalry was coming … and so was Koko Latte. She came with a grunt and a heave that almost threw George off the desk. But then he started pumping, and pumping, and pumping into her until he was dizzy with the effort. She was laughing and yelling, scratching his ass, and kicking like a colt.
Those giant breasts were bouncing around like soccer balls. This was one of the best, thought George, as he spurted a warm, pulsing gusher of his man juice inside of her. This is one of the very best! Koko lay shuttering beneath him. Her eyes were glazed and rolling around in their sockets, and for a time she had that dopey look of a woman who'd eaten too many magic mushrooms. When she came to, she looked up at him and smiled.
Two of two, she said. You'll do a damn fine job.
How would you like me to make you into a porn star? she asked him.