“Well, I was raised right,” Bob said. He was beginning to feel more at ease.
“I’m sure you were. I’m Dorottya, by the way.”
“Yeah, the bartender told me. I’m Bob.”
“Glad to meet you, Bob. I bet you go to school somewhere in the city?”
“You’d win that bet.”
“And you look so athletic … as though you play sports.”
“I’m on the soccer team. I’m one of its stars,” Bob bragged, shamelessly. “See? You’d win that bet, too. And of course I lift weights. I’m into physical culture—you know?”
“Oh, I know all about that,” Dorottya said, salaciously. “You’re quite a healthy-looking, strapping young man, aren’t you? You must be very physically fit. Exceptionally so, I’d guess. Oh, I do like to see that in a young man.” She had already polished off her second drink. “How about another round?” she asked, opening her purse.
“Two is really my limit,” he said. “But I really ought to buy you your next one, to pay you back.”
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” she purred.
“And then I really have to get going.”
“Why? Do you have a curfew … or a set bedtime?” she asked, in an amused tone of voice.
“Something like that.”
Dorottya laughed, in a slightly bawdy way. “Well, we mustn’t keep you up too late,” she teased Bob. “Do you have a car, Bob?”
“Sure. It’s parked right outside.”
“If you really have to go soon—maybe you’d be willing to give a girl a ride home. It’s not far from here.”
“I’d be glad to.”
“And if you’re not in too much of a hurry to get home, yourself,” she added, “maybe I can talk you into coming in for a nightcap. I’ve got plenty of booze at my place.”
He almost asked her why, if her home was so well stocked, she did her drinking in a bar; but he knew the question might be considered impolite.
He helped her off her stool and led her toward the door. There was a knowing smirk on the bartender’s face when he bade them goodnight, as though he was in on some secret.
He thinks I let her pick me up, Bob realized. Well—I guess she has, in a way! But it doesn’t mean anything. All I’m doing is giving her a ride.
“Turn here,” Dorottya said, suddenly, after Bob had driven a few blocks. “We’re almost there.”
“Oh, you live this close to the bar?” he remarked, as he made the turn.
“Yeah. It’s a convenience. But don’t worry. Like I said, I’ve got plenty of liquor at home. I just hate to drink alone, that’s all. Let’s face it—most things aren’t much fun to do alone.”
“I guess we can agree on that.”
She directed him to a two-story apartment building. The exterior was composed of cement block, and it was unprepossessing. Each apartment appeared to have large sliding glass windows, looking out onto the parking lot on the ground floor, opening onto narrow balconies on the second story. Bob pulled into a parking space.
Dorottya lived upstairs.
Her apartment was immaculately clean, but her taste in décor struck him as peculiar. The basic styles, he supposed, were French Provincial and English Country, mixed indiscriminately together. Gilt, marble, and flowered chintz were everywhere, as were porcelain figurines and other knick-knacks. The walls were papered, also in a floral pattern, and hung with reproductions of famous French Impressionist paintings in ornate, oversized frames.
“This is a nice apartment,” he felt obligated to say.
“It ought to be. My ex is paying for it. I’ve been married and divorced three times, and when it came time to negotiate the divorce settlements, I took every one of those bastards to the cleaners.”
“Oh, did you? Congratulations—I guess.”
“I found out long ago that an old man is good for paying alimony … but a young guy is better for sex. A guy like you, in fact.”
“Like me?”
“Just like you, honey. You’re the manly type that always turns me on.”
“Am I?”
She leered at him. “There’s no need for you to be shy. I’m not going to bite you, you know! Not unless you’re into that sort of thing. Some guys are.”
Bob assumed she was joking. At least, he hoped so!
“Now, about that drink,” Dorottya said, in a businesslike manner. “What’ll you have?”
“I’ll stick to beer, if you’ve got any. Please.”
“Coming right up. Do you want a glass?”
“No, thanks. Don’t bother. I’ll just drink it right from the bottle.”
“Um, you are the masculine type, aren’t you?” she purred.
“You bet I am,” he responded, with forced bravado.
“I intend to find out,” she called out. She’d gone into the kitchen. A moment later, she returned. She handed Bob an open bottle of beer. Her own drink, he noticed, was a generously-sized glass tumbler, filled to the brim with a dark amber-colored liquid. He suspected it was whiskey, and that she was taking it undiluted.
“Sit down,” she invited him.
Bob seated himself, a bit gingerly, on the sofa, which had a carved fruitwood frame and particularly garish floral-patterned upholstery. On the coffee table, a plump ceramic cherub held up a bowl containing several pieces of wax fruit. Next to the cherub was an old-fashioned smoking set, consisting of an ashtray, a lighter, and a box for cigarettes, all made from heavy pink glass.
“Have a smoke if you want to,” Dorottya invited him. “There’re cigarettes in that box.”
“I don’t smoke. I’m on the soccer team at school, remember? My coach would kill me if I had a cigarette.”
Dorottya smiled. “I bet he wouldn’t be too thrilled if he knew you were here with me, drinking, either.”
“No, he wouldn’t be,” Bob admitted. “But I’m not perfect. I have to break some of the rules, some of the time.”
“Yes, you have to have some fun.”
He’d taken only a few sips of his beer, but he saw that she’d already drained her glass. She set it down on the coffee table—and she moved to join him on the sofa. One of her carefully manicured hands, with its bright red fingernail polish, reached up and tousled his hair.
“You’re cute,” she said.
Nervously, he grinned at her.
This seemed to be all the encouragement Dorottya needed. She pulled him into her arms and ground her mouth down fiercely against his. Her lips parted eagerly, wetly, and she sucked his tongue deeply into her mouth. Afraid he might spill his beer, Bob managed to set the bottle down safely on the coffee table, beside the cherub.
“Oh, you are sweet,” Dorottya murmured, breathily, after finally breaking the long, open-mouthed kiss. “How about another drink, honey?” she asked. “Don’t you think we ought to get to know each other a little better?”
“We are going to get to know each other,” Bob gasped. “You can count on that!”
He kissed her again, taking the initiative this time. As he did so, he slid his hand up her side to the fullness of one breast. His fingertips gave it an exploratory squeeze, and he felt a little shudder pass through her body.
She certainly wasn’t doing anything to discourage his advances, and he interpreted her acquiescence, correctly, as permission to proceed.
He pushed his hand around to her back, where he plunged his fingers downward and squeezed her buttocks. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, inhaling her strong, musky perfume, trying to work himself into the mood. His hand explored the softness of her thighs. She didn’t object, or offer him any resistance. On the contrary, she encouraged him.
“That’s right,” she whispered. “Feel me up, lover. Oh, I like it when you touch me like that.”
She’s going to know I haven’t done it before, he thought, anxiously. She’s going to be able to tell, somehow.
Determined to hide that fact from Dorottya, Bob touched her more aggressively. As he fondled her, using
both of his hands to explore the contours of her body through her dress, she let out a low, prolonged, sensual moan of contentment. The sound told him that she liked to be touched … to be caressed … to be made love to by a man.
But he wasn’t a man, not yet. He was still an inexperienced boy.
Dorottya, however, took decisive action, to rectify that.
Grasping him firmly by the hand, she led, or rather pulled him, into the bedroom.
There, she turned on a small lamp on a dressing table. The low-wattage bulb shone through a pleated pink silk shade. It provided very little illumination. Bob could see, however, that the bedroom was as frilly and fussy as the living room. The bed, an ornate affair with the inevitable carved and gilded wood frame, looked like something an eighteenth-century courtesan might use in which to entertain her clients.
“Let’s get these clothes off,” Dorottya whispered.
She reached behind herself for the zipper of her dress, pulled it down toward her waist, and slid out of the garment, which she tossed over the back of the dressing table’s chair. Bob kept his eyes glued to her body, trying to make out its details in the shadows.
He couldn’t believe this was happening. A woman was undressing in front of him. And she was doing so in preparation for having sex with him. He was about to get laid. At last!
Dorottya took off her shoes and stockings, and she stood in front of him clad only in a lacy black brassiere and matching panties. Despite the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, her movements were quick and efficient as she reached behind herself to undo the clasp of her brassiere.
Her bared breasts looked huge to Bob … two large, round, pale mounds of smooth flesh, with deep brown circles at their tips.
“Not bad, huh?” she said, fingering her own flesh, proudly. “You can touch them, if you want to. They’re all yours, honey. Come and get it.”
Bob pointed to her panties. “Take those off, first,” he gasped. “I want to see you naked!”
“Sure thing, lover. Whatever you want.” She hooked her thumbs under the elastic waistband of the panties and guided the undergarment down over her hips. “Do you like what you see?”
“Yeah,” he said, barely audibly, so short was he of breath.
“Now it’s your turn,” she insisted. “Let me see what you’ve got, baby. Let me see everything you’ve got!”
With fumbling fingers, Bob began to strip. As an athlete, he wasn’t particularly modest, or uncomfortable with nudity. He was accustomed to being naked around the other guys, in the locker room and in the showers. But this situation was different. There was an erotic charge to it. He had a hard-on, and he was so stiff, in fact, that he had difficulty freeing himself from his boxer shorts.
When he was naked, Dorottya, staring at him in the gloom, let out a little moan.
“Oh, you’re big and hard—all over—aren’t you?” she whispered. “I like my men to be big and hard. Don’t move,” she added, excitedly. “Just stay there for a minute, like you are. I want to—!”
She broke off, not specifying exactly what she wanted. But she didn’t leave Bob guessing for long. She fell to her knees on the carpeted floor in front of him, and she took his cock in her hand. Quickly, expertly, she guided it to her mouth. Her rouged lips opened wide, as though she was yawning—and then Bob tensed and shuddered as she engulfed his rigid penis with her mouth.
“Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed, in disbelief.
Her mouth was warm and wet, and it seemed to mold itself around the contours of his erection, creating a firm, airtight fit. Simply having her mouth on his prick felt incredibly, indescribably good. Bob was afraid he was going to ejaculate right away. But then Dorottya began to move her mouth on him, sliding those flexible, caressing lips of hers back and forth around his bloated and hotly pulsating cockshaft. She was sucking him, he realized, in shock. She was actually sucking his cock! So this was what it felt like. Even better than jerking off!
“Blow me,” Bob gasped; but his outburst was redundant. She was already doing just that; and, despite his inexperience, he knew she was doing it extremely well. Being sucked by her like this felt as good, if not better than, the most satisfying jerkoff session to which he’d ever treated himself.
He whimpered with disappointment when she abruptly removed her lips from his dick. But once again she didn’t leave him in sexual suspense.
She got up, and her dimpled buttocks and full breasts jiggled as she crossed the room.
Dorottya got onto the bed. She slid over the mattress, smoothed the sheet, and rolled onto her back.
“Come on, baby. I’m ready for you.” She stretched her arms toward him.
Bob forced himself to climb on top of her and stretch his body out at full length, rubbing slowly back and forth. He seemed to be resting on a cushion of plush, yielding flesh, which massaged his hard-muscled young body. Aggressively, Dorottya pulled him more tightly against her.
“Come on, honey,” she urged, shoving her hips up at him, rocking her body restlessly back and forth. “Put it in me. Then let me have it, good and hard. Let’s have ourselves a real ball. Show me what a stud you are.” She reached for the nape of his neck and brought his mouth down onto her nipple. “Use your tongue, baby doll,” she groaned. “Kiss me … kiss me all over! My cunt … kiss my cunt!”
Bob stared into her pussy, which was the first one he had seen close up, and it frightened him a little—but it excited him much more. The edges of her slit were pink and wet between the rows of soft hairs that lined each side of it. Dorottya wriggled forward on the bed and opened her pussy even wider, displaying the dark red flesh tucked away inside the outer lips. She took Bob’s head between her hands and shoved his face down between her thighs.
“Lick me!” she cried, when he hesitated, unsure of what he should do. “Find my hard little love bump and lick it. Then get your tongue right in there, all the way up inside my hot, juicy pussy. Lick it and suck it. Fuck it with your tongue!”
Bob got his tongue inside her, and he began to lick her juiced-up cunt. He found the tip of her clit, protruding from its tiny sheath of protective flesh. He tickled it with his tongue. It was an experiment on his part; he was operating by sheer instinct. But the results were dramatic. Dorottya’s body shook wildly. She tossed her head from side to side. She kicked her legs high in the air. All the while, she held the boy’s head trapped between her thighs and his mouth glued to her cunt.
“Suck me!” she screamed.
He did his best to please her, kissing and licking her genitals. Now that he knew how responsive her clit was, he paid special attention to that little blade of flesh, teasing it with his lips and tongue.
She came, all but flying off the bed as the orgasm hit her, and she knew that Bob must be getting a good, long taste of her freely flowing juices. When she finally let him lift his head, he looked glassy-eyed, his lips dripping with her fluids.
Breathing hard, but smiling contentedly, she asked, “Did you like that?”
He, too, was fighting for breath as he wiped her honey from his face.
“It was all right,” he mumbled.
She had to laugh. “Just all right? Is that all?”
“Well, when you sucked my cock—that felt great,” Bob admitted, artlessly. “I really liked that.”
“I knew you would,” she boasted. “Most men do.’
“But I don’t know if I liked licking your pussy so much. You just about smothered me, and it was all over so fast.”
“You’ll get used to it—and you’ll learn to like it,” she predicted.
“Plus, I was expecting … I was sort of counting on … that we’d have real sex. That we’d fuck,” he confessed, awkwardly.
She laughed. She slid against him and she pressed his face against her breasts. Then she kissed him on the mouth, using her tongue to probe its interior and tasting her own vaginal fluids there. He moaned against her lips.
“I guess I mustn’t disappoint you,” she said, after breaking
the kiss. “You can fuck me if you want to, baby. Sure. Come to Mama, she’ll take real good care of you, you pretty boy. But first—” She rolled over on the bed, toward the nightstand. Sliding open the top drawer, she took out a small cardboard box.
“We’d better use a rubber,” she suggested. “All of those slutty coeds you’ve banged … we don’t know what some of them might have picked up. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Bob bit his lip. He wanted to tell her that he’d never banged anyone, including any coeds. That this would be his very first time. But, dutifully, he put on the rubber. Now that Dorottya had brought up the subject, he realized that he had no way of knowing what she might have picked up, from the other guys she’d screwed.
“Use some of this, too,” Dorottya urged him, pressing a tube of lubricant into his hand. “Not too much, though. I like to feel it going in and out of me.”
“I guess I’m ready,” he said, laconically, after applying the lube to his latex-sheathed hard-on. If he was experiencing a moment of stage fright in general, it mercifully seemed to be having no effect whatsoever on his penis, which was still fully and painfully erect. Whatever misgivings he may have been harboring about his ability to perform to Dorottya’s satisfaction, that part of his body was ready to take the plunge!
“Then do it. Fuck me!” she demanded.
He got into position, on top of her. He jabbed blindly at her body with his cock, and he quickly realized that he needed to use his hand to guide himself to the right spot.
Bob adjusted his cock, working her pussy lips apart around its tip, and then he nudged himself between the slick labia, forcing them wider open. When he shoved more forcefully, Dorottya’s cunt lips parted wider yet, and she gasped in surprise—and in pain!
“Oh! You’re big,” she exclaimed. “You’re really big!”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” was Bob’s naïve response. “You like it, huh?”
She was about to tell him that, although she did like it, maybe he’d better go slow and easy, and be careful when he penetrated her. But before she could say the words, it was already too late. Bob pushed harder, dilating her resisting cunt mouth. Dorottya let out a muffled squeal of protest. The head of his ruthlessly penetrating prick slid inside her. Dorottya sucked in her breath. This college boy was hung, all right. His cock bored ever deeper into her vagina, inch by thick, inflexible inch, while she writhed and groaned beneath the weight of his hard-muscled young body.
Bisexual Bodybuilders Vol 1 Page 5