Some years ago when I was Director of Music at a junior college on Long Island, I was leading a tour of some of the smaller towns in New England with our 30 piece orchestra. We traveled in one large bus and stayed with host families in the towns where we played our church hall concerts.
One hot evening, after a long ride up the I-95, we arrived in Watervale, Maine, and made our way to the back of the treeless parking lot of the Redlington Funeral Home. At the appointed hour, the kind folk of Watervale arrived in their cars and picked up the various members of the orchestra, and one by one, took them back to their homes for the night. With everyone safely checked off my list, I was the only one left unclaimed, trying to keep cool in the shade of the bus.
Suddenly, a red convertible came screeching around the corner from Elm Street, raced up Park Road and skidded to a halt by the sidewalk. The door flew open and a leg came out. It was a long, tapered leg that started in a high heel and ended in God’s own country, somewhere under a skirt that was hiked up around the wearer’s waist as she hoisted herself out of the car and moved towards the bus.
The other leg spoke well for itself too, and together they knew how to walk. It was a strut, a swish and a large part wiggle. If only she had parked further away I would have had more time to enjoy the spectacle. I didn’t want to shift my eyes away from those legs, but I knew I had to take in the whole body and even her face before she got too close and my staring would have lacked the courtesy expected in small town, New England.
Unwillingly I dragged my eyes upwards, but I was not disappointed. The woman had an extraordinary figure; an amazingly narrow waist above those swivel hips, and above that a Barbie-proportioned bosom that swung in counterbalance to the movement below.
It was obvious that her chest was not constricted by any unnatural support, and as she bounced forward towards me I could clearly make out the shape of her nipples through a rather tight silky white blouse.
By now, she was so close that I had to look away.
“Are you Derek?”
“Yes! Are you Mrs. Worthy?”
“Ramona. Sorry I’m so late; I fell asleep under the tanning lamp.”
“Oh,” I gulped.
“You see, I trying to get rid of my bikini line. Look, you can hardly see it any more.”
She grabbed one side of her blouse and pulled it away from her shoulder giving me a tantalizing glimpse of a very bronzed bosom. It was true, there was no white line to be seen.
As we walked towards her Mustang, I got a chance to study her face. She was blond, very blond, and extremely pretty. She had wide set eyes and a large mouth. She was overly made up, and her lips were a brilliant red that matched her car. She seemed so out of place here, looking basically like a high priced whore. As we climbed into the car, I became mesmerized by her lips. She had a sort of Marilyn Monroe pout, and I missed most of what she was saying because my mind was on a trip of it’s own, traveling wildly through a day dream that involved what I’d like to see between those lips.
Unwillingly again I snapped back to the present when I heard her ask me a question.
“Would that be all right, Derek?”
“Ah, sorry, I missed that.... what did you say?”
“I said, would it be OK with you if you slept on the couch tonight. You see, we forgot we had invited this other couple over tonight and they’ll be in the guest bedroom.”
“Oh sure! No problem!”
My mind took off on another vast leap into fantasy land, but it returned in a rush when I looked across and saw her lift the front of her skirt off her lap and start flapping it.
“So humid, isn’t it? I can’t stand this weather.”
She dropped her skirt high on her thighs.
“Look, no bikini line,” she said as she lifted it higher on one side.
I didn’t see any bikini line. But then again, I wasn’t looking for bikini lines. I was looking for panties. There weren’t any!
Invited to look, I tried to see if she were a true blond, but no luck, she dropped her skirt again and drove on. I had a hard time deciding where to cast my eyes... at her long blond tresses billowing forwards as we sped up Main Street... at her sensual mouth... her gorgeous legs... or just to keep staring at the outline of her nipples.
My better side finally won out. I decided to play it safe and just watch the road instead. A good guest pays attention to what the host wife is saying.
“That’s the fire station. My husband works there. Now, don’t you pay too much attention to my Jerry. He’s an old chauvinist pig and he’s blunt as hell.”
She was right. As soon as we arrived at their modest house on Ridge Road, I was introduced to him and the first thing he said was true to form.
“You a musician or something?”
“That’s right,” I replied, “I direct a school orchestra.”
“Are you a homosexual like all them others?”
“No sir! I’m a practicing heterosexual.”
“Well, that’s good. Now Ramona, you go cook us some dinner; I got something I want to show Derek here.”
Ramona gave me a secret wink that meant, ‘I told you so,’ and left for the kitchen. Jerry disappeared into his den and reappeared with a fistful of old girlie magazines. He laid them on the coffee table and paged through, pointing out his favorite woman, and I realized my reactions were being monitored. I played the really butch guy, enthusiastically admiring his top choices.
“What do think? Natural or not?”
“I guess natural.”
“Yup, you’re right. I don’t like them fake ones. Now come here.”
Jerry took me into his den. It was completely wallpapered with centerfolds. I stood there, slowly turning and taking it all in, enjoying every ‘come hither’ look on the airbrushed beauties.
I could tell that Jerry was pleased with my reaction because he rewarded me with his big trophy. Behind the door he had a framed, life-sized poster. It showed a gorgeous, naked woman with incredible legs that seemed to go on for ever. There were small triangular patches of white skin that had been left untanned on her tits. Her face was mostly hidden by a mop of blond hair.
I realized at once who it was just as Jerry proudly announced, “That’s my Ramona! Penthouse’s Pet of the Month, August 1987!”
“Wow!” was all I could muster up. Somehow the picture was even sexier than it might have been because I knew the woman herself. She was posed in a luxurious bedroom, legs wide apart, very high heels, hands on her hips, her pouting lips half hidden behind her hair. Her tits were full and round and her nipples and aureolas were much larger than any of the others in the room.
Her genitals were clearly showing and it took me a moment to realize why - she was clean shaven! Back in those days, this was not a common practice. Now I understood why I hadn’t been able to ascertain if she was a natural blond or not. No pubic hair!
“Gets you right there, don’t it!” Jerry commented, grabbing his balls.
It was true. My balls were definitely tingling.
Dinner was an exercise in self control. I forced my eyes to stay at eye level. The conversation revolved around Ramona’s modeling career, how Jerry had discovered her working in a strip joint and had become her manager. Now he was trying to get her into Hollywood movies and her Penthouse spread had attracted a lot of attention.
“How’s your tan coming, Honey?”
“What about the bikini line?”
“Even that bit on your ass?”
“I find that hard to believe. Show me.”
Dutifully Ramona stood up, turned around and lifted her skirt, showing off her ass. It was naked and gloriously tanned.
“Derek, she don’t believe me. What about you; can you see a bikini line there? Honey, step over here. See if Derek can find a bikini line.”
Ramona came around the side of the table and stood next to me. She lifted her skirt and modeled her ass for me. It was utterly smooth but had a peach skin fuzz of blond hair on it. There was clearly still a patch of paler skin where her bikini had been.
“Derek! Show her where it is. She never takes my word on anything. Go on. Put your finger on it.”
I did as I was told and my balls vibrated again as I touched her ass. I had trouble swallowing the rest of my dinner.
“You do the clean up, Honey. I have a couple of things to show Derek.”
Jerry led me away to their living room and we sat in front of a TV set.
“I think you’re the kind of man who might like this,” he told me as he selected a video and started it going. It was a compilation of stills and movies that Jerry had put together himself, starring his wife.
At first she appeared posing awkwardly with her 8 x 10 photo on the billboard outside the Pink Poodle where she was the featured stripper. Then there came shots of her taken at the modeling agency, followed by pictures of her shaking hands with someone just after signing a contract. Jerry had it all documented.
Next there was footage of them getting married at a small wedding chapel somewhere, and more stills and movies of them both at a Holiday Inn pool. I recognized the bikini from its particular triangular design and the angle at which it cut across her backside.
The interesting thing was that Jerry always took pictures - not only of his gorgeous wife - but of the people who were sitting around enjoying her obvious charms. Even now, he was still keenly observing my reactions to every scene and I was getting less and less inhibited about sharing my lustful appreciation.
The honeymoon photos moved on to a private Jacuzzi somewhere in the mountains, and now Ramona didn’t bother with a bathing suit at all, and the effect was stunning. There were several shots of her jumping half way out of the water with her breasts flying upwards and her hair streaming backwards, flinging out a graceful arc of water.
There were shots of her doing somersaults in the water and the only part of her that you could see was her perfect ass with the white bikini marks on it. One shot clearly showed a shock of black hair between her legs which answered my question. OK, the blond came out of a bottle!
“When did she begin to shave?” I ventured to ask.
“The Penthouse deal,” he responded. “That’s what clinched it. They gave us an extra 5,000 bucks to shave it off on camera for their videos.”
The next few pictures showed them both outside the Penthouse offices, and then a brief moment of the actual Penthouse video itself being filmed until a hand appeared and blocked the lens.
“They wouldn’t let me film in there,” Jerry explained as the video ended. “They’re gonna send me a complimentary copy when they done editing.”
We both sat quietly for a few moments, rerunning some of the scenes in our minds. Jerry wasn’t that great with the camera, but his model certainly made up for it.
“You’re pretty handy with that camera, Jerry.”
“Thanks! Did you ever use one of ’em?”
“Yeah. Not as fancy as your’s. That’s a video camera, right? Mine takes little movies. It’s a Super 8.”
We lapsed into silence again, but I could tell that Jerry wanted to say something more.
At last he came out with it.
“You know, we’ve invited this couple over tonight--”
“Yea, I know. Ramona told me. It’s OK. I’m fine on the couch.”
No, it’s not that. It’s John and Karen. She used to be a dancer at the Folies Bergère. I was going to ask John, but he’s about 40 years older than she is and I know he’s useless with equipment.”
Another pause and then he went on, “You know, we’re not swingers.”
I didn’t say anything.
He turned to me and made it even more clear. “We’re definitely not swingers. I guess you could say we’re more like exhibitionists. Last month we went over to their place and he got her to show us her old act. Ooooh! I’m telling you! Tonight’s our turn.”
I was all ears as he went on. “I thought I’d get out my camera, and I was .... ah..... wondering....” He ran out of words.
“You’d like me to film it?” I suggested, trying to help him out, but not wanting to appear too eager.
“Yea!” he replied, grateful that he didn’t have to explain any more. “I’ll owe you big time. Just don’t forget to include John and Karen while they’re watching.”
“I think I could do that. I’ll try to keep out of the way.”
The guests were not due until 8 o’clock, so I had a little time to get used to the controls on his camera. To make it into more of a complete documentary, I thought I’d film some of the backstage action as well as the performance. I also wanted Ramona to get comfy with me filming her, so I went to look for her. She was washing dishes at the kitchen sink. I had the camera rolling as I approached her. She looked up, surprised.
“Oh, do you know how that thing works?”
“Yea, I’m just getting used to it. Mine’s a little different.”
“Oh. Did Jerry ask... um..... ask you if.... um...”
“Yes, he did.”
“Oh good,” she sighed, “I wasn’t sure if we could ask you. You know, we’re terrible show offs. We could probably get arrested as flashers,” she added as she proved her point by lifting her skirt and mooning the camera.
“Did he warn you that it might be a little X rated?”
“Ah, yes, I sort of gathered it might be.”
I was rapidly growing in confidence, knowing that both of them were OK with me doing it.
“Ramona, I’d like to make a little documentary.... you know, some shots backstage before the event.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!”
“Would you mind getting a little wet?”
“No, I’d love it. It’s so muggy today.”
“OK, good. Keep doing the dishes, but turn on the water very hard and see if it’ll splash you.”
“Oh, I get it! A wet T shirt contest! Great!”
I started to film. She was a natural. Like a Marilyn Monroe, she made love to the camera. The water flew everywhere and little by little her blouse got wetter and wetter, more and more transparent, and her nipples started to appear, pushing against the tightness. They truly were unusually big and I felt that exciting tingle again in my groin.
“I’ve got to get ready for our guests,” said Ramona, excusing herself, but I wasn’t happy to end the documentary part quite yet.
“Could I film you getting ready?” I boldly asked her.
“Oh, OK, that’s rather kinky! I like it,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye.
She led the way upstairs and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Excuse me one second.”
She closed the door. Soon I heard the toilet flush and the door opened.
“Come on in!”
She was already naked, bending over, turning on the bath water. I quickly pressed the camera’s ‘on’ button. Taken from behind, all I could see was her legs and ass with her tight pussy peeking between.
A room full of steam soon stopped the filming, but Ramona didn’t know that and kept up the act. She stepped into the bath and lay down under the bubbles, rising up enough to show off her island titties.
“All natural! No silicone,” she boasted as she stood up, and placing a towel on the far edge of the tub, sat down with her legs apart.
“Can you reach the shaving cream?”
I saw it on the sink and gave it to her. She shook it vigorously which made her tits jiggle delightfully, opened her legs even wider and sprayed herself liberally where her pubic hair should have been.
“Getting a bit stubbly,” she explained. “Jerry likes me completely smooth.”
I quickly started the video again. She took a razor and did an expert job of shaving. She had done this before. She rinsed off back in the tub once again and stepped out, wrapping herself in a terry cloth robe just as the doorbell rang.
I ran half way down the stairs, leaned over the banister and filmed Jerry letting his guests into the house.
Introductions were made, and Jerry explained what I would be doing.
“Oh I wish we’d thought of doing that last month,” Karen moaned, “I’m not sure how many more times I can kick the chandelier!”
Karen was a classic showgirl, one of the stately English girls that so often become dancers at the Folies in Paris. John was a lot older but his presence reeked of money.
After a few minutes making small talk, Jerry turned off the lights at one end of the room, and turned them all up at the other. The two guests settled into an overstuffed sofa and Jerry called up the stairs to Ramona.
“Honey, you ready?”
“Just a minute, dear.”
We all waited in high anticipation.
At last, from the top of the stairs came a voice.
“I’m ready! Music!” Jerry jumped up and turned on the phonograph. It was a romantic Sinatra ballad.
The falling leaves
Drift by the window
The autumn leaves
Of red and gold
Onto the top stair came one elegant high heeled shoe, and one of those wonderful legs. It swayed in time to the song.
I see your lips
The summer kisses
The sunburned hands
I used to hold
Now we could all see a long evening gown with a high slit up the side. Her sunburned hands sensually slid down the length of her thigh.
Since you went away
The days grow long
And soon I’ll hear
Old winter’s song
The way she sashayed down the stairs brought immediate applause from John and Karen who watched spellbound as Ramona danced to the music, as sedately as you might have expected from someone in such a gown; but we all knew she was a stripper and there would be something much more bewitching ahead.
But I miss you most of all
Unzipping the side of her dress higher and higher, and slipping its straps off her shoulders, lower and lower, she was practically out of the dress altogether by the time the music came to an end. She stepped back out of the living room into the kitchen and a moment later a long arm reached around the door and dropped the whole dress on the floor, just as the lyrics suggested.
When autumn leaves
Start to fall
We all started to breathe again and clapped enthusiastically. There was a short break, and then Jerry started the next song playing.
I was like, good gracious ass is bodacious
Uh, flirtatious, tryin’ to show patience
Lookin’ for the right time to shoot my steam
Waitin’ for the right time to flash them keys
Ramona made her entrance, this time almost entirely hidden behind two large ostrich feather fans. She was a vision in pink.
Give that man what he askin’ for
Cuz I feel like bustin’ loose and I feel like touchin’ you
Its gettin’ hot in here
So take off all your clothes
She manipulated the fans like a pro, leading her audience into thinking that she was about to drop her guard, but she never quite did; she teased us again and again.
I am gettin’ so hot, I wanna take my clothes off
She moved extremely gracefully and the movements of the feathers were timed to perfection as she spun, always protecting herself from being seen from the front, but leaving no doubt that she was totally on view from behind.
Why you at the bar if you ain’t poppin’ the bottles
What good is all the fame if you ain’t fuckin’ the models
The song put into words what our minds were thinking. I could tell that all four of us badly wanted to fuck her.
Warm, sweatin’ its hot up in this joint
I’d never seen anyone tease as well as she did. She lowered one fan and you were sure you’d see her body, but beautifully timing it, the other fan always took its place at the last second.
Stop pacin’, time wastin’
Girl, baby make it ah, ah , oh
The song ended, she paused, gazing seductively at each one of us until the next one began.
I wanna kiss you in Paris
I wanna hold your hand in Rome
I wanna run naked in a rainstorm
Make love in a train cross-country
Now Ramona seemed to get careless, and her audience started to catch glimpses of her body that we had not been permitted to see before.
For you to justify my love
Slowly we began to realize that she was wearing tasseled pasties and a beaded G string. I particularly liked the way the G string set off her ass. There were three strands of beads that caressed each cheek horizontally. They clicked each time they swung out and swung back to slap her fanny.
What are you gonna do?
What are you gonna do?
Talk to me -- tell me your dreams
Am I in them?
Soon her feathers were hiding nothing and she set them aside. She stopped dancing and began to show us another of her talents; she had total control of her tits. She could twiddle the tassels all ways: clockwise, anti-clockwise, separately in opposite directions - any combination you could imagine. At last she stepped forward and asked John and Karen to do the honors and pull off the tassels. With two little ‘plops’ off they came revealing her outstanding aureoles with their magnificent nipples. Again, more wild applause.
Now with her tits hanging freely, her style of dancing changed. Her legs, which had been demurely held together until now, started to part, and the circular movements of her hips started to move back and forth instead, simulating the basic fucking movement.
As the music rose to its climax, she swiveled round, and bending over, stuck her ass out towards the onlookers and really cranked it. The beads jumped furiously and the audience was left sweating as much as she was.
The music came to an end and Jerry jumped up.
“Blackout! That’s where her public act always ended. But now,” he went on, “for our private audience ----”
He turned the phonograph up again and a sultry sounding saxophone tore at our emotions. Ramona unhooked the clasp on her G string and slowly pulled it through her legs before throwing it aside. There was a gasp from John and Karen when they saw she was clean shaven, and then the usual enthusiastic applause.
Ramona writhed over to a book shelf and picked up something. She moved back to the centre of the floor and continued the gyrations she had done before while still wearing her G string. Now they could see her pussy from the front, and then, when she turned around, from the back as well. Suddenly a hand came into view between her legs and a long, bright red vibrator appeared. She turned it on and eased it, rhythmically, into her pussy, and I suddenly realized I had stopped breathing altogether.
Now Ramona lay on the floor and wrestled with the phallus making it look as if it were raping her, resisting it, yet wanting it. I noticed John doing some serious adjusting through his pants pocket and Karen’s one hand was tucked under her dress moving jerkily.
Ramona was growing wilder by the moment. She started grunting and her audience could not take their eyes off her shaved pussy and tight little ass hole. Timing it perfectly, the music ended as she screamed orgasmically and collapsed motionless on the floor.
“Bravo, Honey, that was better than ever!”
More cheers from the group.
“You deserve a reward, Honey. Come here, gimme a kiss.”
Ramona got up, still panting, wrapped herself around her husband and gave him a loud, sloppy, open mouthed kiss. From my angle with the camera I saw her slide her right hand down his chest and squeeze his package through his pants. He groaned as she expertly unzipped him and pulled out his cock, and he made no effort to stop her.
She fell to her knees and quickly sucked him into her mouth. I managed to get John and Karen on camera as they let out screams of shocked delight. This was the part that I had fantasized about when I had first seen Ramona’s mouth. The bright red lipstick and the pouting lips. And there was a cock sliding back and forth between those lips. It wasn’t my cock, but looking at it through the zoom lens felt practically as good. Jerry’s member was now fully upright and his face was contorted in ecstasy. John and Karen were glued to the scene, unconsciously licking their lips in response, each with a hand working on themselves. I got the shot that I knew Jerry wanted.
Now Ramona was kneeling over her husband, pumping away at his cock with her mouth. I moved behind to get a nice low angle. In the foreground was her ass. Her legs were parted, and right past her bald pussy you could see her tits swinging, and beyond that her mouth hard at work on Jerry’s erection. It was a magnificent sight and I felt the pressure building up in my pants again.
At last the oral sex was over and Ramona lay back to receive Jerry. I got a close up of the moment of penetration and what Ramona yelled out heightened the experience.
“Karen! Look at it going into my pussy! How does it look?”
Karen jumped up and stepped closer to see. I could see her lifting her dress and sliding her hand inside her panties. Her voice came out in jerks as she rubbed herself up and down.
“Oh yes, Ramona, I can see it. Oh God, it’s going all the way in!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of John also moving forward to get a better view. I trained my camera on him and caught him unzipping and pulling out his already stiff manhood and start working it hard.
“Go on Jerry,” he urged, “give it to her.”
It was a symphony of moans, all four of them heading down the straight-away. Ramona led the field, bucking up and down, matching every thrust that Jerry made.
Suddenly she pulled back, spun around and lifted her ass high in the air.
“Fuck me from behind!”
“Oh yes, do it doggy style,” panted Karen who was close to coming herself.
Jerry plunged into Ramona from the back and I kept the camera rolling. This was going to be some video! Ramona’s body, glistening with sweat, shimmered in the light and her constant movements kept the excitement high. Jerry pounded away while she kept begging him to fuck her deeper and deeper.
Surprisingly, it was John who came first and I caught the money shot as squirts of his cum fell to the floor. Karen came shortly afterwards, falling back onto the sofa. Ramona and Jerry kept going at a furious pace, their panting getting louder and louder until at last Ramona shouted out,”Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh yes, I feel you cumming!”
A hoarse grunt from Jerry, his face contorted, his body shuddered and he pulled out like a porn star, spewing his cum all over the last remaining white spot on her ass.
The party was over. The four of them were spent. Karen cleaned up Ramona with a tissue. I put the camera down, and feeling the pressure in my groin, excused myself and headed off towards the bathroom to jerk off. Jerry called me back.
“Derek, how can we ever thank you?”
“Oh it was nothing, any time,” I replied with difficulty because my mouth was full of saliva.
“No, I mean it, what would you like? You want Ramona to give you a blow job?”
I blushed furiously and it was obvious to Jerry that he’d found his answer. Without waiting for a prompt, Ramona jumped up, still stark naked, and knelt down in front of me and placed her hands on my swelling.
“Oh please let me do it,” she begged.
“Do it!” ordered Jerry before I could protest.
Ramona quickly had my pants around my ankles and those sensual, bright red lips sucked in my cock all the way to the base. I don’t know where she put it all, but the sight of those pouting, brilliant red lips pushing and pulling, slurping and sucking on me was a dream come true. When the command came from behind to open my legs and bend forward and Karen began caressing my balls and licking my asshole, I came in great gobs right into Ramona’s mouth.
“That’s a wrap!”
It was over. Luckily, the memory lingers on.....
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