As old farts go, George II Wall was a moderately nice guy… for an asshole -- at least, that 's what Lucy, the finish of his three wife, had to say of him.

'' George, '' she said, blonde hair tied in a bun and her curvy eubstance bound by a constricting, dark, but smart-looking commercial enterprise suit. They were at the attorney 's place for the final exam mediation sitting of their divorce.

'' You 're chic, and you 're as patriotic as a dog to his master, and your putz is as long and as midst as a baseball game bat. But you 're an unrelenting motherfucker in bed. My puss, my lip, and my sorry torn-up son of a bitch are hypersensitive to your monster cock. ''

Right after she said this, Lucy pouted. George VI remembered how cute her deep red 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 ca n't exact it any more. I 'm joining that club, that special sorority of women whose slit you have worn out with too much fuck. Shoot man, I have to disjoint you because I need a relief ! You and your dick, I 'm either going to go a nun, or I 'm going to go a sapphic. ``

He chuckled remembering this.

George surveyed the restaurant. The situation was well established, and the nutrient was upright. The computer menu was just expensive enough to hold on out the riff-raff : teenagers, or families with squealing kids. The rampart were paneled with dark mahogany, the tables had plenty of space between them, the carpet were plushy and rich-looking.

The waiters knew George and respected him. They gave him a good table every sentence he ate there, which was usually at night for dinner. Today was different. He'd closed a proficient deal that morning, and so gave himself the day off and decided to have a former luncheon at his dearie restaurant in town. The stead was quiet down. Only a few patrons were in the dining way, strategically placed far apart so that each could give a common soldier space to eat, workplace, cat sleep, have a boozing.

George V 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 turning point, George saw what appeared to be a woman of amazing stunner and gender. She was in her fifties ( but George II could differentiate that she was in very ripe shape ). She was blonde ( but he thought, not a natural blonde ). She wore a red sundress that displayed a gallant female chest line and exposed the clean soft skin of her shoulders ( not a crinkle on her cutis, he thought ).

The woman was busybodied studying the capacity of a black leather portfolio, and every so often she would use a pen to draw a note on one of the Thomas Nelson Page. She's got a head for job, he thought. She's focused on that portfolio and completely unaware of the rest of us in this way. That made him smile, and his sat back comfortably in his chair to look up to the panorama. She wouldn't look up for a tenacious time, he knew. He could front 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 knocker. They were stave and full, and they pushed hard against the cotton fiber material of her sundress. Faintly, her teat pimpled the cloth that wrapped her chest and formed toothsome shapes that made Saint George think of creamy, cherry-filled chocolates.

He would like to ingest her as dessert, he thought. His turncock, which till now lay limply between his legs, pulsed slightly and started to inspissate.

The thought of making honey to this gorgeously wrought woman broadened his smile, and George began to laugh gently.

When George Wall laughed, the delight of his laugh started deep inside his body and welled up like a fresh fountain of sparkling Champagne-Ardenne. He exuded delight and joy and an incredible animalism that drew women to him the way magnets attract steel.

It was the auditory sensation of his splendid laughter that caused the woman to take care up at him.


KoKo latte to raise her steel-gray heart 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 properly Book to draw what she heard -- and what that sound caused her to sense.

And there he was, this man - big bodied, about fifty or so, with slightly graying tomentum and a cleanse, smooth-shaven cheek, was boldly studying her and gently laughing with what appeared to be echt 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 geezerhood of producing, writing, directing, and starring in adult feature flick. Koko latte, whose very name was Sarah Evangeline Esther Morris ( and she hated that name, God-damn her female parent for branding her with it ! ) had developed a reputation as the hardest-working, porno pansy in the industry. She wisely exploited her reputation, too, marketing herself on her internet site and in her pic as 'The Greatest Female enterpriser in the Porn manufacture. ''

Her fans loved it. Her business partner loved it too, because the plastic film that started Koko made them G of dollar bill a year.

As you can reckon, Koko - after having her pussy probed every which way by cocks and television camera of every size and physical body - was a tough customer. She came to this restaurant every afternoon for a late tiffin to work diligently without interruption on whatever her electric current projection was at the fourth dimension. Today, it was the script for the next pic she was to maneuver. She had written it. It had a political subject : The ma'am of a sporting house is running for President of the United States, and garners effort contributions from the CEOs of ball-shaped 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 image out who would make the effective female co-star, when she became aware of George's deep and pleasant laughter.

What little wittiness KoKo had, she kept locked up in a bantam way deep in her bosom, 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 impudence blush and grow warm as her profligate pulsed warmly in her vein. Much to her surprise, her slit began to feel a warm wetness.

Looking at George 's brown eyes and hairy limb, his thickening middle and strong limbs began to unlock the door to that secret, deeply guarded hush-hush room inside her heart. This man had kindled a fire, and he was stirring the attack of passion !

She put down her pen, placed the portfolio closed on the table."What's so funny ?"she asked. She smiled. Her formula was frank, open, non-confrontational, and welcomed conversation.

Saint George beamed. He accepted her apparent invitation, smiling broadly to show his tweed teeth and red tongue.

"I'm not laughing because something is funny remark. I am laughing because I feel just. I feel very serious looking at you. You're the cause why I feel so glad,"he said.

Koko gave the man a professional appraisal. Was this confrere star material - that is, porn flick star material ? Hhm, she wondered. It would calculate upon two constituent : His dick, and his toughness. 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 John R. Major statement of carnality. Her breasts swelled, her melt off waist accentuated the amphetamine and lower contours of her vex figure. Her long peg - smooth, unhindered with stockings of any sort, impregnable, muscle toned, brown with sun and sea.

well, she said to St. George. Let's see just how felicitous I can make you. She provocatively strode across the eating house to his table. Care to come, she asked, and started out the door. And then she stopped, and turned to him again. You do fuck how to arrive, don't you ?

* * *

As she walked away from his mesa through the restaurant, George VI felt a pronounced pressure in his
undershorts. He pulled out his wallet, threw a few vizor on the table, and hurried after her. They didn't have far to go. At the entrance to the restaurant, there was a specialize, steep staircase. George hadn't ever given it a lot thought before. But here at the foundation of these dark-stained wooden step this amazing goddess was waiting for him. As he approached her, she turned and climbed the stairs … and George followed closely behind her bountiful hind end. Was it possible, he wondered, that he was going to get a piece of that amazingly beautiful ass, wrapped in a cautious business sector skirt, and propelled in all form of astonish instruction by those strong, slender, lickable legs ?

The stairway was long and narrow as the two climbed to the second story. George had a tenacious time to keep an eye on this cleaning lady's ass substantiation emanation and fall under her tight-fitting chick as she led him through to a dimly lit hall to a conservative-looking business enterprise bureau with a sign on the room access, Aphrodite Productions.

The woman led George IV into the office, shut the threshold, and locked it.

My epithet is Koko, she said. What's yours ?

George III, and he was about to say that he thought her an incredibily beautiful womanhood … but before he could say another word, Koko started to film her dress off.

After she'd freed both bosom and stood with only her panty on, she looked at him quizzically."And you, do you plan to have it off me with your pant on or off ?"

George yanked at his clothes, pulling off push button and jamming the zipper in his haste.

Koko lost no time. She looked at him critically, examining his erect penis and muscular branch, arms and pectus, the matt branding iron voiceless abdomen. 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 internal 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 nutcase. George wrestled her up off his cock … just in clock time … and went to make, diving his oral cavity in between those round, smooth thighs to lease a big, big juicy mouthful of curly, voiced, warmly, wet woman. He began gently, teasingly, just touching the labia and her strict button-like clitoris with little unaccented salt lick. She smelled like a ardent honey drenched dear chop served on a summertime 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 minuscule fur cup with pinko bubbly. 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 center 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 berm. He could find the succus running out of her pussy each clock time shoved it in. Those large beautiful eyes were staring up at him in impact.

The leatherneck had landed !

The Northerner were here !

The cavalry was coming … and so was Koko Latte.

She came with a oink and a heave that almost threw George IV off the desk. But then he started pumping, and pumping, and pumping into her until he was dizzy with the cause. She was laughing and yelling, scratching his ass, and kicking like a colt. Those colossus breasts were bouncing around like association football clump.
This was one of the best, thought George III, as he spurted a warm, pulsing gusher of his man succus inside of her. This is one of the very honest !

Koko lay shuttering beneath him. Her oculus were glazed and rolling around in their sockets, and for a time she had that dopy look of a fair sex who'd eaten too many sorcerous mushrooms. When she came to, she looked up at him and smiled. Two of two, she said. You'll do a darn fine job.

How would you like me to make up you into a porno whiz ? she asked him .