Carol (Carol Schmidt Series) (2 page)

“Me neither,” he told her, his voice dripping with understanding.

She squeezed his hand tighter, lowering it until it rested on her
leg. She was wearing a knee-length skirt, but it had ridden a little way up her
thigh. He felt her flesh against his fingers as she pushed his hand down.

“No,” she said, “what I mean is, I don’t want to ruin this, but I
think I’m going to. I haven’t been with a man for a year, Brad. I need you now.
It’s ridiculous. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

She moved his hand slowly up her thigh, sighing as if this was the
last thing in the world she wanted to do.

Instinctively he spread his fingers, making sure they went under the
skirt.

She exhaled, one long but very controlled breath. It seemed that a
year’s sexual frustration had suddenly been released, leaving her liberated,
and desperate for gratification.

“Touch me, please,” she said, guiding his hand, pushing it between
her legs. The tips of his fingers moved along her thighs, finding them cool and
soft, and slightly parted.

She leaned into him, her arm resting on his shoulder, her mouth
touching his ear.

“If you touch me, I’ll come.”

She inched her legs apart as his fingers found the edge of her panties.

“This has never happened before,” she said, breathing hard into his
ear. “I’ve never done anything like this, I promise you...”

“Shhh,” he said, running the tip of his finger around in little
circling movements, feeling the outline of her sex, but making sure he did no
more than tickle its very edges.

She squirmed as he touched her, trying not to make it too obvious to
onlookers. But the two of them were pretty unobtrusive, there in their own
booth with the lights down low, and no one was looking. Unless you counted
several thousand Bad Daddy fans who had by now logged onto their favorite reality-sex
site and discovered that today’s show was a little bit different...

“Touch me,” she whispered again, trying not to move her pelvis,
letting him take the lead.

He pushed his hand further down, caressing her through the thin
fabric of her panties, as lightly as possible. Then, with the caution of a
surgeon, the tip of his index finger sought out the lowest point of her sex and
followed it upward, creeping so slowly that his hand hardly seemed to move,
apart from the tiniest vibrations, which made her gulp with pleasure.

His hand was still outside her panties, but she could feel herself
getting damp. Shit, this is some perk of the job! she told herself, closing her
eyes and letting him bring her on, knowing that the camera was catching her
every expression.

His finger hovered there for what seemed like an eternity. All the
time she was getting hornier, and she felt herself swell beneath the gentle
touch of his single fingertip. In the end she couldn’t stop her ass from making
little involuntary jumps, and she was begging him to finger her harder, to pull
down her panties and feel the full warmth of her sex.

But he didn’t. He didn’t even touch her clitoris, other than the
faintest of strokes as he withdrew his hand, knowing she was just moments away
from the inevitable.

“I’m at the Omni, just down the street,” he said.

She dropped a hand into his lap as if to steady herself, and felt
his rigid penis down one side of his trousers.

She squeezed it hard against his leg, making it clear how desperate
she was.

“Bring me off here,” she said, taking his hand and forcing it back
up her skirt. “Please. I’m begging you.”

So he did. He put two fingers inside her panties and let them slide
into her pussy, which was gloriously warm, the lips pronounced and slippery
against each other. It took no more than a few seconds. He took her clitoris
between his fingers, nudging its little hood back as he teased it out of its
hiding place, his hand already wet with her juices.

She gave a muted whelp, her legs snapping suddenly together,
gripping his hand hard, her face contorted in beautiful agony that she hardly
seemed to understand.

The setup in his
hotel room was simple but effective. There were two concealed cameras high up
on either side of the back wall, one for wide shots of the whole room, the
other taking in only the king-sized bed. A third camera, hidden in a lamp in
the center of the same wall, opposite the bed, would provide close-ups. Brad
knew exactly what section of the bed would yield the best shots, and experience
had taught him how to shift his victims effortlessly into the optimum position.

But today the setup was a little different than normal. In the next
room, the Cardinal had already redirected all three video feeds. Even now,
before Bad Daddy arrived with his pickup of the day, they were being streamed
live onto BAD-DADDY-PICKUP.COM. As he waited patiently for the show to begin,
the Cardinal checked the user stats for the site. Twenty-eight thousand people
had already discovered that something weird was happening on the site. The
Cardinal just hoped they’d stay tuned.

Gaining access to Brad’s room had been simple enough. The hotel’s
key cards were a laughable technology; they might as well have left the doors
open. Once inside, it had merely been a matter of establishing a small,
unobtrusive wireless feed from Bad Daddy’s laptop.

Everything was ready. Then the Cardinal heard voices. He sat back
and watched as Brad and Carol appeared on the screen, walking together into the
room next door.

There was no need for preliminaries, but neither did they rush it.
Both of them had hidden motives, but so what? Carol certainly wasn’t going to
play it according to the Cardinal’s script; he always wanted her to take things
too fast, to get to the final act. But not tonight. Brad might be an asshole,
the biggest asshole in the world, but he was cute and she was horny for him.
The Cardinal could wait. Tonight she was going to get everything she wanted.
Then justice could be done.

They remained by the door, pushing up against each other. His hands
were on her ass, palms sitting softly on her buttocks, just hard enough to take
in the perfection of her rear end. He could feel the outline of her panties,
which were sensible, not skimpy, the daytime underwear of a professional woman.
He loved that. He always loved it when a girl didn’t have to try. Lacy thongs? Suspenders?
Not necessary with a body like this.

She kissed the side of his head, and her tongue played with the lobe
of his ear.

“You’re gonna get fucked tonight,” she said, again and again, their
bodies grinding against each other. Next door, even the Cardinal had to smile
at that one.

She felt his cock against her belly. She’d seen him naked on the
website plenty, and she’d been dreaming about what she would do with him once
they were up in the hotel room. That was the beauty of her job tonight. It had
to be good. That was the point.

His hands cupped her buttocks more firmly. She wanted to tell him to
go on, to yank her skirt off and explore her. But she forced herself not to.
She wanted this to last.

They kissed, so hard that she thought her tongue was going to
disappear down his throat. His mouth tasted of bourbon, and she could smell his
cologne, peppery and expensive and not too strong. Her hand was inside the
front of his shirt, his chest soft and smooth, his nipples hardening when she
touched them.

“I want you to do something for me,” she said, their mouths so close
that she seemed to be speaking directly into his. “Let me look at you.”

He paused, hardly understanding her.

“Please,” she said, with a sudden touch of shyness. “I want to see
you. All of you.”

“Sit on the bed,” he told her.

She didn’t need asking twice. She went over to the bed, kicking off
her shoes and dropping her jacket on the floor. She knelt on the bed, right in
the middle, and pulled her skirt up to reveal her thighs.

Meanwhile, he stood at the foot of the bed, looking right at her. He
removed his tie, letting it fall to the ground, then began unbuttoning his
shirt. His cock was cramped, pushing awkwardly upwards inside his pants,
straining against the zipper. He ran his hand over the bulge, the rest of his
body utterly still as he traced the outline of his erection, loving every
second of it.

Then he took off his shirt. His torso was lithe and lightly muscled,
his nipples intensely dark, like chocolate drops on his pale skin. Running both
hands over his chest, he circled in on those taught little nipples, rubbing
them hard and squeezing them, his eyes closing as he winced silently. His head
was rolling on his neck, and a gush of sensual release flowed through his body.
He clearly loved himself, and he was absolutely
loving
this.

For the longest time he didn’t touch his prick, losing himself in an
inner fantasy, playing with himself as if he had breasts, as if he didn’t need
anything else to bring himself off.

When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she had a hand up her
skirt. Her panties were pale blue, and from where he stood he could see a fine
dark line where her wetness had soaked through. She ran a finger carefully up
and down the line as she watched him show off his body.

He unbuckled his belt, but left his trousers fastened, inching them
down until the end of his penis peeped out. It was shiny, that lovely purple
color, and the tiny slit at its tip glistened with a single drop of clear
juice. He licked an index finger and started to rub it around the glans of his
cock, the same gentle touch he’d used back in the bar when he’d tickled her
sex, taking it dead slow.

He stood there and worked on himself. He seemed deliciously
vulnerable, yet content, letting his self-love spill out unashamedly, and
looking right at her, peering into her eyes.

She spread her thighs for him, letting him see how the damp patch
between her legs was getting bigger, her panties beginning to stick to her
there, forming a soft groove that she plied with her fingers. As she did so,
her eyes never left his. But all she was thinking about was her own needs, and
how she was going to satisfy them tonight.

She gripped the top of her panties and pulled them up until they
rode hard into her crotch, splitting her sex and forcing the lips out a little on
both sides of the gusset. Placing a finger right at the center, she pushed into
herself.

It was enough. Something snapped inside him. Within seconds his
pants were around his ankles, and his black shorts halfway down his thighs.
Meanwhile, his hand was clutching his penis.

“Slowly,” she whispered.

His cock was so stiff it pointed upwards, way past horizontal. He
was uncut, but the foreskin was most of the way back. He moved his hand up and
down the shaft, hardly touching it, as if any harder and he’d come. With the
other hand he reached down and stroked his balls, which were tight and hard in
their smooth sack, the scrotum dark and hairless, as if it had been sculpted
there, close in to the root of his penis.

He shifted his legs further apart and began jerking himself with
slow, careful strokes, the other hand holding his balls, then pushing his
fingers into the flesh behind the scrotum where the base of the cock extended
up into the ass.

“You want me to do that?” she said.

Without a word he moved to the bed, one leg kneeling on the end of it,
the other foot on the floor. She leant forward, her skirt now around her waist,
the blue panties so tight up into her crotch they hurt.

She placed a finger on the tip of his penis. Just that contact made
him shiver. He raised both arms, cupping the back of his head with his hands in
uninhibited joy. She let the finger stay there a moment, just enough pressure
to see the little slit in the glans open up a fraction as more clear juice
seeped out.

Then she worked the juice around until the entire head was wet,
using all her fingers now, following the contours of its curved ridge, and
running her nail up and down the taught line of skin at the back of the helmet,
which made him buck in little jolts of silent pleasure.

Her hand ran along the shaft, following the blue veins on each side,
and feeling its gristly texture beneath. This guy was an asshole, but she loved
his cock. She adored his whole body. Contradiction? No; not in the least. This
was her job, and she knew exactly how to do it. This didn’t change anything.
Plus, she had her needs too, especially now.

She didn’t tug. She let her fingers run on, down as far as the
scrotum, which she touched with infinite delicacy, before moving even further down,
just like he’d done to himself, digging into the hidden root of the cock down
close to his butt. His skin was smooth and hot down there, and his knees bent
slightly as she moved her fingers back and forth, delving into the flesh,
feeling the outline of where his penis began, then following the shaft upwards
again, pushing the balls a little way along as she went, trying to feel as much
of his length as possible.

Her mouth was hovering over him. He smelled salty and fresh, and
another drop of clear juice had gathered at the tip. She put her tongue to it.
It tasted like the liquid inside an oyster, only warm and slightly sticky.

His cock was almost too perfect. She wanted to gaze at it forever,
resting her lips on the thick purple head and letting it get hotter and hotter
there. With her other hand she reached down and found her pussy, sliding her
panties down and letting her thumb ease its way inside, squatting on her hand.

As she guided his penis into her mouth she heard him sigh, almost a
cry, like a kid when you dab a grazed knee with iodine. He was mumbling something,
but she didn’t hear what. She rocked her hips and felt her sex push hard
against her hand. She wanted him to fuck her, but she loved the taste of him in
her mouth so much that she couldn’t bring herself to stop sucking.

She squeezed his shaft as firmly as she could, giving it short
pulls, each one accompanied by a wince from him. He was so hard it was like a
rod of steel in her mouth, and her saliva was frothy and salty. She could have
finished him there and then, given him the orgasm of his life. But that wasn’t
in the script. She would let him come, but it would only be the beginning.
There was more for him to enjoy, much more.

Slipping her panties right off, she held them up to his mouth,
letting him taste the juice on the sodden crotch. He took them in his hand,
inhaling hard and licking them like a greedy animal. She sucked faster, and his
pelvis began to jerk, his belly hitting her forehead and his cock pushing hard
against the back of her mouth. With her other hand she was now rubbing herself,
long, hard strokes that went right down into her sex, then all the way up to
the clit. Her body was shaking and it felt as if her knees were going to give
way.

A sudden wave of pain broke out somewhere deep within her,
transforming instantly into a shaky, ragged orgasm, one of those that comes in
a series of tiny explosions and leaves your pussy aching, as if it’s been
slapped or pinched.

He was forcing his cock in and out of her mouth now. It banged into
her teeth as he lost control of his body, and she gripped it harder still,
pulling it out and looking right down its tip, then wrapping her lips tight
around the glans again, her tongue running hard up and down the tiny slit,
making his body buckle and jump.

It seemed to get even darker as it gorged with blood. She sucked
harder still, and her hand went faster and faster, yanking his foreskin back so
far that the helmet was pulled way out of shape with every stoke.

His cries intensified, and he was getting to the point where he
couldn’t control himself, grabbing her hair and moaning as his pelvis jerked
and writhed. Then she got her fingers around the base of the penis and gripped
it hard, and at the same time used her mouth to give one final, intense suck,
enough to draw the poison from a wasp sting.

She felt the semen course along the shaft, and yanked him from her
mouth just in time to watch it shoot out across the floor, one, two, three
massive spasms as he doubled over, gasping for breath.

She milked him, the last dribbles trickling down his shaft and onto
her hand. It was almost pure white against the red-purple of his inflamed cock.
She kept him in her hand, and he continued to wince and groan as the final
shivers of delicious pain worked their way through him.

Then they both flopped down on the bed. He was still muttering to
himself, spread out on his back. She continued to work his penis, more gently
now. It was sticky with come and had lost some of its stiffness. But he was
getting little flushes of ecstasy as she used both hands to massage the last drops
of pleasure out of it.

They lay there, listening to their own breathing as it slowed down.
Carol’s needs were not remotely satisfied, though. The fluttering sensation in
her had receded, but she was dripping wet, the wispy pubic hair on each side of
her sex plastered to the skin, as if it had been drawn there with a fine ink
pen.

She sat up, opening her legs and admiring the sight. It was
beautiful, the vulva spread like the wings of a butterfly, their dark lips
glistening and enticing. She let two fingers push gently into her soft center,
then brought them up to her mouth and tasted herself. God, who
wouldn’t
want to eat her? She’d have given herself head all day long if she could.