Lust on the Loose

by Noel Amos

  'Oh, ma'am—' but Sophie's protest was terminated by the firm application of a pair of lips to her own. The kiss was prolonged. Ambrosia Spicer tasted faintly of Martini and cigarettes but as the slippery, knowing tongue invaded her mouth Sophie trembled with pleasure.

  Chapter 9

  Billy was adrift on a sea of pink and gold, his face nuzzling into the slender neck of Tracy Pert, damp blonde tendrils in his mouth, his oh-so-relaxed body buoyed up by the pneumatic perfection spread out beneath him. As his cock reluctantly melted in the warmth of her honeypot, he was already contemplating the myriad carnal delights ahead once batteries were recharged and sap rose anew.

  'Oh Tracy,' he moaned, kissing the delectable porcelain-fine skin of her throat, 'you are adorable.'

  'And you're a bloody imposter,' she replied in less-than-loving tones. 'What do you mean, pretending to be Maurice? Writing all those notes and things - you've got a bleeding nerve. And you're bloody heavy.' A small sharp fist whacked into his ribs. 'Get off.'

  'Tracy, darling, moments like this shouldn't be spoiled by contemplation of the mundane...'

  'I'll spoil your face if you don't let me up.'

  Billy retreated to one side of the bed, taken aback by her sudden change of mood.

  'I suppose I do owe you some sort of explanation,' he said, desperately trying to think of one. 'I'm here on behalf of Orlando Verdi.' It wasn't that far from the truth.

  'Who?' said Tracy, sitting up and fixing him with a beady suspicious stare.

  'The Italian film producer.'

  'Never heard of him.' She continued to glare at Billy, her outsize breasts wobbling deliciously.

  'He made Dino the Dolphin.'

  'Really?' The fierce expression on her pretty face suddenly froze. 'So who are you?'

  'Billy Dazzle, freelance film consultant and all-round factotum to visiting dignitaries.' This was better, Billy was on home ground. He gave her his warmest smile and moved a little closer. 'I'm a Mr Fix-it. I get things done.'

  'Well, that's true.' She was visibly softening now and her eyes had strayed down his body to his groin, where Billy's big tool, briefly refreshed and inspired anew by her presence, was now perceptibly lengthening across his stomach.

  'Since I badly needed to see you and we didn't have an appointment I just seized my opportunity.'

  'In more ways than one,' she said.

  'Can you blame me? Every man in the country would kill to be lying here with you.'

  'You're a bloody big fibber, Billy Razzle.'

  'Dazzle, please.'

  She was laughing now, her lovely titties shaking just inches from his face. He leaned over and sucked a long pink nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his pursed lips. She did not object, indeed she slid one hand round his neck and pulled him closer; the other hand coming to rest in the tangle of hairs on his chest. But the interrogation was not over.

  'So what does this film director want me for?'

  Billy had no doubt what that fat lecher would want from a delectable young woman like Tracy but he was certainly not going to tell her.

  He placed his hand just above her knee and idly began to trace patterns on her satin-smooth skin.

  'Is he going to offer me a part?'

  'Of course.'

  His lazy fingers dabbled upwards to the baby-soft flesh of her inner thigh.

  'What part?'

  Biting back the urge to say 'a nymphomaniac with big tits and no lines', which Billy secretly supposed to be the truth, he began to improvise a scenario which would at least ensure that he got the chance to fuck her again.

  'Shakespeare,' he said, insinuating a finger into the soft blonde curls that covered the plump mound of her pussy.

  'Shakespeare,' she repeated, her voice tinged with awe and puzzlement, at the same time spreading her legs to allow ease of entry to his prying hand.

  'Actually, Shakespeare's daughter. It's a historical drama set in seventeenth-century England.' His index finger was swimming knuckle-deep inside her now, her moist flesh engulfing it like a hungry anemone.

  'It's not strictly historically accurate, of course, but you know what Italian film directors are like. You play Shakespeare's unknown daughter who inherits her father's talent but who is persecuted because women weren't supposed to do that sort of thing then.'

  'Blimey,' was her verbal response, her physical one was to wriggle her loins rhythmically as Billy introduced two more fingers into her cunt. She had also, seemingly unconsciously, grasped hold of his prick and was frotting it gently up and down.

  Billy continued his narrative. 'You see, your character writes all these plays but no one will put them on because you're a woman. There's only one thing for you to do - you form your own company composed entirely of women, which was taboo in those days because females didn't even get a look-in on stage.'

  'Hasn't changed much, I bet they only let birds on in the first place so they could look up their skirts.' Billy kissed her hastily before she could expand on her theme. She kissed him back enthusiastically, sucking on his tongue and prolonging the contact till they both ran out of breath.

  Her legs were spread wide now and the juice was flowing as he diddled her hard, waggling all four fingers deep inside her, working on her stiff little clit with his thumb. The cock-frotting ceased as she bucked her hips up and down in an ever-increasing tempo, her incredible bosom shaking like a jelly, her breath coming in short hard pants.

  'Don't stop,' she cried, 'don't stop, don't stop, DON'T STOP!'

  Billy didn't stop. It would have been most ungentlemanly, but by the time she had finished coming he felt as if he had sprained his wrist.

  She lay back on the bed, her big titties still shuddering in time with her ragged breaths, her blue eyes aglow. She smiled at him smokily.

  'What's she called?' she asked.

  'Er—' for a moment Billy was lost, right now there was only one thing on his mind and that was sinking his enormous hard-on into some portion of her glorious anatomy.

  'What's my character called in the film?' Tracy repeated.

  'Juliet,' said Billy hastily, 'Juliet Shakespeare - romantic, eh?'

  'Oh yeah, that's great. I could really get into a part like that. When do I get to meet the Italian guy?'

  'Tomorrow morning. In the meantime...' he gestured towards his neglected tool.

  'Where?'

  'Well—' this was tricky, he couldn't spill the beans about Imogen just yet, at least not before his immediate physical needs had been attended to. 'I've got to make a phone call. Tracy, do you think you could...?'

  'Make the call now,' she was grinning from ear to ear.

  'I can't get hold of him right now. Tracy...'

  'You know, I rather enjoy watching you squirm around with that big boner.'

  'Tracy, please.'

  'I suppose you want to fuck my tits.'

  'Um...'

  'All guys want to fuck my tits. They act nonchalant for a bit, do the missionary, go down on me, all the usual. Then it's, "Would you mind, Trace, if I put my chopper between your knockers just once?" and then every bloody time after that they're spunking over my charlies while my fanny is dying of neglect!'

  Billy's heart sank as he saw her getting steamed up again. She certainly had a chip on her chest and there only seemed to be one way to stop her losing her rag. He pounced. She screamed. He smothered and kissed her. She kicked and pummelled him. They rolled over and over on the bed. They hit the floor with her on top and, by accident, design or bloody miracle, the mouth of her pussy landed smack on the helmet of his upstanding cock and slotted over it like a warm and friendly glove. She stopped fighting at once and began to kiss him with furious passion, gripping his thighs between hers and grinding down with serious intent. Billy met her thrusts happily, this was more like it.

  And then the doorbell rang.

  Chapter 10

  Ambrosia Spicer's cunt was very like her mouth; enigmatic and expressive by turns, full in the lip and cur
ling from a smile of menace into an open kissable pout. She kept it smooth-shaven the length of her slit, from the hood of her clit to the pretty puckered star of her anus; above, her groin was furred with soft perfumed curls, a shade darker than the hair that framed the commanding beauty of her face.

  Sophie, on her knees, contemplated the glory of the naked loins fully exposed to her gaze beneath Ambrosia's now-upturned skirt. Her heart was beating fast and a tick of nervous excitement pulsed in her belly, the shameless exhibitionism of her own orgasm had simply whetted her appetite. For once it was she who was being sexually coerced and she loved it.

  'Well, Sophie, what do you think? Do I appeal to you at all?'

  'Oh ma'am. I think you are beautiful.'

  Ambrosia chuckled, a low throaty gurgle that swelled into full-blown laughter. 'Don't you know, Sophie,' she said eventually, 'that you should drop the formalities along with your knickers? In these special circumstances you can call me Ambrosia.' And she shifted position slightly so that the mound of her pussy was thrust further into prominence, the light from the table lamp falling on the glistening wisp of pubic fur and the twin furled lips of her labia. The vertical smile was mesmerising to Sophie and she leaned closer to lay her head on the pale thighs thrust towards her in a welcoming vee.

  'May I kiss you, please, Ambrosia?' she said, sliding one hand over the fleshy curve of the other's hip, lifting the irrelevancy of DCI Spicer's skirt out of the way to expose more of the smooth skin of her stomach dipping down into that entrancing, bewitching sexual junction.

  'Oh do, please. Be my guest. In fact, that's an order. Starkers.'

  One that Sophie had already anticipated, placing trembling lip to trembling lip, tentatively tickling with her tongue between the delicate folds, insinuating it gently into the hot musky mouth of Ambrosia Spicer's sex. The taste of Ambrosia was subtle and complex, at first briny and tart then rich and resonant, like full-bodied wine, as she probed deeper with her tongue and sucked keenly at the other's juices. The genital embrace was now urgent and open-mouthed and Sophie circled Ambrosia's hips with her arms, grasping the firm rounds of her buttocks in her hands and hugging the cup of Ambrosia's cunt to her lips as she drank deeply.

  As she did so a groan rose from Ambrosia's throat and burst like a bubble into the silence of the room. And somewhere in Sophie's head the thought occurred that this was the first sound she had heard Ambrosia utter that was not tainted by sarcasm, cynicism or anger. She liked that and clasped the other woman feverishly, eliciting further moans of unadulterated passion.

  Sophie drew back momentarily to flicker her tongue over the hard nub of the clitoris and felt the shock wave of her caress ripple through Ambrosia's loins.

  'Oh yes,' she cried. And she groaned louder this time. 'Oh yes, Sophie. Please, oh please.'

  Sophie was playing with her now, teasing round the clit, sucking open-mouthed and rolling the long lips between hers before plunging her tongue deep into the bubbling honeypot between Ambrosia's legs. And now the pot was about to boil over as Ambrosia's loins bucked hopelessly out of control and her small strong hands, both buried in Sophie's hair, pulled her head urgently into her crotch.

  'Oh yes, eat me,' she yelled, 'eat me, suck me, lick me out, you gorgeous cunt-sucker... OH!' And the stream of obscenities melted into an incoherent howl of sexual release as she came spectacularly in Sophie's face.

  'The funny thing is, Starkers,' she said a few moments later as she stroked Sophie's dishevelled mass of hair, 'that was only meant to be an examination of your technique.'

  Sophie lifted her head from the other's lap, her eyes huge and glistening in the dim light. 'What do you mean, Ambrosia? Were you testing me out?'

  'Of course, my darling. You passed with flying colours.'

  'But why? Have I got to go to bed with a woman?'

  'Probably. If you want to track down Danny Fretwork you may have to fuck more than one.' She laughed ruefully. 'Lucky bitches.'

  Chapter 11

  At first Billy didn't realise quite what was going on. There was a funny bonging noise and, more seriously, Tracy had frozen in the act of humping gleefully on top of his straining cock.

  'Oh shit,' she said forcefully.

  'What's up?'

  'It's someone at the door.'

  'So? Let them come back later. We're busy.' And Billy squeezed the pliant buttock in his grasp, urging her to continue what she had been doing so deliciously well.

  But Tracy wasn't listening to him, she was already untwining her delectable limbs from his.

  'I think I know who it is and she won't go away. If I don't answer she'll get the manager to let her in, I know it.'

  'Well, get rid of her, Tracy, tell whoever it is they're interrupting a very important meeting, which they are. Apart from anything else we're discussing your movie career.'

  This last remark was born of desperation as Billy watched the big-titted nymph pull on a robe and tuck those gorgeous knockers out of view. His cock seemed a yard long and made of solid steel. He gestured at it pathetically as he wailed, 'For God's sake, Tracy, you can't leave me like this!'

  She turned to him from the door and hissed, 'Shut up, you berk - she mustn't know you're here. I'll try and keep her out but if she comes in this room she mustn't see any sign of you. Or that's the last poke you'll get out of me.'

  Then she was gone, shutting the bedroom door behind her and Billy heard her call out, 'Coming!' as she rushed to answer the insistent ring.

  'Wish I bloody was,' he muttered to himself as he pulled himself to his feet and padded disconsolately to the bedroom door. He could already hear voices on the other side.

  'Pandora - what are you doing here?' said Tracy. Pandora - the silly witch who had rung up while he was being drowned in Tracy's bath. He might have guessed.

  'Darling, are you all right? What did that bastard do to you?'

  That must be her, Maurice's pal and obviously a wild hysteric. She sounded like one, all cut-glass vowels with no pauses for breath.

  'I was so worried. When Maurice told me he couldn't make it and you said there was a man in your bathroom I felt this stab in my guts. I felt so responsible. I just dropped everything and you know how difficult it is at the moment—'

  'Pandy—'

  'So what happened? Who was he? How did you get rid of the swine? You've got to tell me everything.'

  'There's nothing to tell. He was just a fan and I let him in by mistake—'

  'Darling, I knew it. I wish I'd been here, I shouldn't have left you.'

  'It's OK.'

  'No, it isn't. Have you reported it to the management? Did you call the police?'

  'There's no need—'

  'Well, I'm going to do it right now.'

  'No, Pandy, No!'

  Just the thickness of a door panel separated Billy from this conversation and he was a fascinated though somewhat perturbed audience. Short of a miracle there was no way Tracy was going to get rid of this busybody in a hurry. The chances of him resuming his delightful acquaintance with the multi-talented Ms Pert were shrinking as fast as his recently rampant cock.

  There was now silence in the other room. Billy was puzzled. Obviously Tracy had found some way of shutting the silly cow up and he wondered what it was. There was a keyhole in the door. Billy dropped to his knees and applied a curious eye.

  The view was not brilliant but it was good enough to reveal Tracy's means of shutting Pandy's mouth. She was kissing it.

  Billy's mind was boggled and his eye was glued fast to the hole which afforded a view of the large chintz sofa on the other side of the suite. Sprawling across it was a tall slender woman dressed in flat shoes, a denim skirt and a floppy white shirt that gave no indication of her superstructure. Her dark hair was tied back off her face which, from what he could see of it, was oval-shaped with a long nose and big black eyes. But it was hard to make out what she really looked like through the small but energetic form of Tracy who was kissing her with the kind of zeal tha
t Billy had recently become addicted to.

  This, as they say, was something of a turn-up. Billy could see the headlines in his mind's eye: 'Nation's Number One Sex Symbol Is A Dyke', 'Topless Tracy Digs Girls', 'Britain's Bustiest Beauty Swings Both Ways'. The Daily Dog would have a field day.

  The embrace was continuing even as Billy's mind raced with the implications of the scene. Tracy had now removed the other girl's big round spectacles and they were settling in for a comfortable snog. Pandy had her hand inside Tracy's dressing gown and, in a trice, those heavy free-swinging boobs were out in the open again and being squeezed and hefted and pawed over once more, this time by female hands. Evidently neither man nor woman could resist them. It could just be, thought Billy, that Tracy's tits were the answer to all her problems. Evidently Pandy had been sufficiently mollified by them to prevent her calling the police.

  'If only I hadn't got this special assignment,' she was saying between alternate kisses, left then right, on the uptilted tips of Tracy's boobs. 'But you know how important it is to my career. I'm not supposed to leave that woman for a moment, otherwise I'd be here to look after you.'

  'You mustn't worry,' replied Tracy, 'I'm fine. I can look after myself better than you. He was a harmless sod and I got rid of him with no problems.'

  'But Tracy, suppose he'd attacked you! I bet he wanted to. I can't stand the way those men look at you, stripping you naked in their heads, polluting your body in their minds. I bet he wanted to sully and ransack every inch of your beautiful body!' She accompanied these remarks by redoubling her assault on Tracy's luscious form, pulling the dressing gown wide open and feverishly thrusting a hand between Tracy's perfectly proportioned thighs.

  Tracy sprung back as if scalded, pulling the robe tightly around her as she did so. Pandy looked anguished. Billy knew just how she felt.

  'Oy, Pandy, layoff. There's no time for any of that now. Haven't you got to get back to work?'

  'I've got a couple of hours, actually. To be honest she's rather a nice woman. She's promised to keep her head down till I get back. So why don't we go to bed, darling? I've got time.'