Crook Takes Pawn Part 70

They had a ball together. Julie took up her mother's upbringing and was a mellow child. Greg placed her upon his shoulders and they walked around the back yard. At the crest of the hill, Greg meandered around, with Julie holding onto his ears. From her new vantage point, she grasped at the lower leaves of their elm tree, which stood to the side of their property line. Taking her off his shoulders, Greg tossed her up and caught her repeatedly. Julie screamed with mirth, but was never scared. Like her mother, Julie trusted him.
    She pointed over to the swing-set, and Greg abided her. Lifting her into the leather strap complete with foot holes, Greg began to push her. The swing was a child seat, and resembled a big sumo diaper on Julie. Her legs kicked, but she had yet to develop the proper motion to propel herself. She was catching on, though. It was getting warmer, but Greg didn't mind. Sweat meant physical exertion, and he needed to burn some fat.
    There was a small trampoline amidst Julie's toys. Greg held her hands as she stood on the canvas and hopped ineffectually. She put forth a lot of effort, but it amounted to little more than bounding on her feet. Greg pulled her arms a little, to give a sensation of jumping. He also kept her from falling and smacking her toothies on the springs or frame.
    Greg heard the pattering of liquid dripping on the tarp of the trampoline. He looked down and saw a stream of pee draining from Julie's pants.
"Oh, shit, Julie!!!" Greg says with alarm, "you're making a mess!!"
    Julie is frightened by the raising of his voice. Her jumping stops, and the crying starts. She knew she made a mistake. He had asked her if she needed to go potty before they went outside. She had shaken her head no. All the playing must've been a strain on her tiny bladder. Greg feels a pang of regret at having upset her. She was just a kid, she didn't know any better.
    Unmindful of her urine-soaked pants, Greg picked up and cradled the sobbing girl while going back inside. The sun was almost completely set by that time anyway. They had killed a few hours outside.
    Greg soothed her, stating it was not her fault. He went straight to her room upstairs, and dug through her chest of drawers. Finding a clean pair of shorts, and panties, Greg took her into the bathroom. He pulls off her soiled jeans and undies, and pauses for a second.
    "Do you have to go poopy, too?" Greg asks in a childish way. Julie still looks somewhat upset, but nods. Greg finds the toilet trainer and lowers her on top of it. He leaves, but stands by the open door, to give a semblance of privacy. Greg smiles as he hears Ju-Ju grunt and squeeze. A puff of flatulence comes out her tiny butt and Greg laughs. Overhearing his chuckle, Julie joins in as well.
    "Stinky!!" Greg says, pinching his nose. Entering the bathroom, Greg tips Julie forward and examines her excrement. It's a small rabbit turd, but it's big in terms of her development cycles. Greg was glad she was out of diapers now. It showed Julie wasn't permanently scarred by the shooting, and could function normally. Greg wipes her brown eye and flushes the tissue down the toilet.
    Dinner time. Greg microwaved some mashed potatoes that Rebecca had made, and cut up pieces of a chicken breast cooked alongside the pork chops. Julie munched happily on the moist, soft slices of chicken. She ate everything, including the peas that Greg mixed in with her taters. She polished off half of a large breast before calling it quits.
    Greg slipped a DVD into the sophisticated player. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to switch over inputs, then there was no sound. He managed to get the audio through the TV, but not through the 5 surround speakers. He quit while he was ahead, and settled for the stereo version of the film. Greg heated up one of the porkchops and ate while they watched the movie. This viewing session, both parties fell asleep. Greg had laid back on the couch, and Julie clambered onto his belly. She could almost walk by herself, but used objects to pull herself up.
    Greg awoke when Rebecca turned the key in the front lock. Julie was spread out on his gullet, sleeping soundly. Rebecca caught sight of this and smiled adoringly. She snapped a quick pic from her cell phone. She told Greg to close his eyes again, which he did, although it felt fake and foolish. The picture taken, Greg lifted up Julie and carried her to her princess bed. The soft sheets supported her head, which drifted with gentle dreams.
"How did it go?" Greg asks, descending the staircase.
"I got the job," Rebecca says. Greg's mouth drops open and he hugs her tightly.
"Good job, babe!!" he congratulates, "I'm so happy for you!!"
    She doesn't look satisfied. In fact, she looks melancholy.
"Did Julie use the potty?" she asks aimlessly.
"yeah, she took a dump." Greg says.
"Did you take a picture?"
"Of poop? why? so you can post it on Facebook?"
    Rebecca shrugs. She is not her usual jovial self. She slumps in the dining room chair, looking miserable. Greg slings an arm around her delicate waist.
"Whatsa matter?" he asks, "what job did you apply for, anyway?"
"Oh, it was an office manager job," Rebecca says distractedly, "But I don't know if I'm gonna take it."
    Greg is stupefied. "So, why did you even apply then?"
"I don't know," Rebecca says shortly, "I kinda want to start a career, and the job looked good."
"so, I don't understand. Why don't you take it?"
    Rebecca sighs heavily and crosses her toned legs. "I wasn't even qualified for the position. He started reading off all the education and skills that were required, and I didn't have any of them. I thought it was a waste of time, but then he asked me when I could start. I couldn't believe it. Then, I noticed he kept looking at my boobs constantly, and was only talking about himself."
"From the sounds of it, the guy's a self-centered creep," Greg says, "and it also sounds like a place you don't wanna work."
"I don't want people to decide my merit based on my bra-size," Rebecca says coldly, "he just wanted some eye candy at the office. I don't want to be some ditzy office bitch, who fucks her way up the ladder."
    Greg shakes his head vehemently. "C'mon, don't say that shit. you know you're not like that."
"I'm just getting by on my looks, man." Rebecca says desperately.
"I don't think it's so bad to have that kind of advantage," Greg says, inconsiderately, "I wish I could get out of parking tickets by flashing some cleavage."
    "okay, just go ahead and joke, Greg. I'm trying to have a serious conversation here."
"What, Rebecca? I'm not gonna feel sorry for you because you're gorgeous. That's crazy talk. And if you ask me, don't work for this joker. If he's not gonna hire someone based on skill, he'll be out of business in no time."
    His brusque way of putting things was needed. Rebecca, like some women, was passive and indecisive at times. Greg drove home the logical points that she hadn't considered. It was settled. She didn't need to work for some lame dick-wad.
"I just hope this isn't because of what I said about your money situation. That's not it, is it?" Greg asks.
    Rebecca says no, but she won't look him in the eye. He's figured her out. She wasn't the only one privy to reasons. Two could play at this game.
"I'm sorry I belittled your life, Rebecca," Greg says sorrowfully, "I have no right to talk. Who am I to point fingers? You shouldn't be ashamed to live off alimony. You and your ex both made a vow, and he didn't live up to the bargain. I wish I had your situation, to tell the truth. You are provided for, and you get to be with a sexy, strapping man like me."
    Rebecca snorts with laughter. She literally slaps her knee in hilarity.
"Why's that so funny?" Greg says affably, "I'm starting to think I can do better than you, doll."
"Oh, is that a fact?" rebecca says mockingly, "Please don't go, mister. I'm so lonely."
    As she talks, her hands limply paw at her clothes. One hand pulls up the skirt, the other drapes her breast. Greg loves it when she gets into these cooky roles. Call NASA, this ladies brain had permanent cosmonaut status.
"I got all dressed up for nothing," she says glumly, tossing her blazer onto the kitchen table. Greg sees the faint outlines of her black bra through the semi-transparent blouse. the garter strap trails up her thigh, slipping from view behind the skirt. No wonder she was hired. Greg would pay to see that everyday too. But he was getting it for free.
    Greg walks over to her and runs his fingers along the garter straps. His hands push the skirt up till in bunches around her hips.
"Did you buy new panties today?" he asks softly, gazing down to answer his own question. Her legs swing open to accommodate his view. Lacy black, the panties form a triangle of coverage, hiding her genitals.
"Let me see your ass." Greg asks bluntly.
    Rebecca obediently turns on the stool so her back is facing him, and unzips her skirt. It falls in a rumpled pile onto her feet. Bending over, Greg can now see part of the garter belt cinched around her midsection. 
"Do I get the job, boss?" she asks seductively.
    The term whale tail was an emerging description of women's underwear viewed from behind, and Greg found it an appropriate adjective. Unzipping his pants, Greg brandishes his cock, and rubs it across that whale tail. The panties are soft and velvety. He hardens quickly as the material grazes the head of his penis. Reaching around, he slips a hand down her waistband. He can feel her fur beneath his fingertips, but she pulls his hand back.
"you can't, I'm still bleeding down there." Rebecca sadly relays.
Not again. Another love fest that would go nowhere.
"I've never had a flow this heavy before," Rebecca says, as Greg heatedly tucks his thing away, "I guess my body's reacting to you, or something'."
"Makes it sound like you're allergic to me," Greg says crossly. HIs blood was up, and not only in his dick, either.
    "don't be mad," Rebecca whimpers, "I'm not trying to drive you crazy. It makes me feel great that you want me so much. Its just that my cycle is all messed up. I haven't been with a dude in a little while. My body is overdoing it. you know, ovulation, and all that bullshit."
    "you're giving me blue balls, lady," Greg says with utmost seriousness. Rebecca bites her lip and crosses her arms, the blouse trailing slightly above her panties.
"Let's go upstairs," she beseeches.

    Rebecca made sure Julie's door was shut tight and locked. They retired to her bedroom, where she clicked on the radio to muffle their sounds. Greg slips his hands between the garter belt and her creamy skin. He can feel the tiny threads stitched up the length of the belt. He grinds against her, his dick still partially erect from earlier. Her panties are bikini style, not revealing all her butt, but just enough to make it interesting. Before long, he's pitched another tent.
"Get on the bed," She instructs, snapping the elastic on her stockings randily. Greg does as he is told. Rebecca would be the one to determine how far things would go, seeing as how she was on her period. Unbuttoning her blouse, the opulent bra was exposed. She made to unhook the brazier when Greg cut in.
"Leave it on. Please? I really like that bra. Your tits look fucking amazing."
    She ceases her unhooking, and Greg cups her boobs with both hands. On sudden impulse, he buries his head in her cleavage and wiggles his nose back and forth quickly. She laughs, feeling tickled. His head raises from her bosom.
"Give me a motorboat, Reb." He requests.
    She shimmies her shoulders to and fro, clobbering his face with her large breasts. Both adults break free from each other, with huge guffaws of laughter.
"That'll be a dollar," Rebecca says, holding her hand out. Greg gives her a slap, palm-to-palm.
"There's five for ya," he says.
She slaps his butt with both hands. "Move over, bitch!!" she says authoritatively. Greg scoots his buns.
    Rebecca climbs onto the bedside. As one knee pushes into the covers, she is a glossy lioness prowling for her mate. Her hands go straight to his fly and pull down his zipper. She parts the flaps on the front of his boxers, revealing his cock. The veins wrap his shaft like large vines on a tree. Near the opening of the "dong latch" of the boxers, she holds it at the base and his dick thrums at her touch. As she leans forward on her knees, her breasts droop excellently in the cups of her bra. Her mouth encloses on his cock. The sudden wet warmth makes his body go limp. His head bangs on the oak headboard, but he is oblivious. Sucking the tip, her saliva drips down the sides of his penis. He feebly grabs for her breast, but his hands feel numb and uncooperative. He was putty in her hands, and also her mouth. Had she not been on her mences, he would've told her to just sit on his face. 69ing had been seldom in the marriage with Diane, because of her ballooning weight over the years. Greg was willing to try it again, with a lighter partner this time.
    Her head dips down, engulfing half of his member. Slowly, she rises, her lips painting his rod with wetness. A slight smear of her lipstick shows through the clear spit. A pre-cum spasm wracks his penis, and she pulls off of him. The cold air hits his wang and threatens to end everything. Greg fights the rush of fluid, clenching his urethra closed. A scintilla of semen beads on the tip of his schlong's head like an alien raindrop. It was like trying to slow urination, it was doable, but very difficult.
"Jeez, Greg," she says, "you have no cock control."
"We're still in business," he says weakly, "Oh man, you are so fine. Keep doin' what you're doin', just go easy-like."
    Maintaining eye contact with him, her tongue sticks out and licks the white drop from his little head. Darting around, that slippery texture went up and down, back and forth. Greg found that even thoughts of baseball may not be enough to stem the tide of his climax. The World Series ain't got nothing on blowjobs.
    But Rebecca was patient. The more she could draw this out, the more she felt like a beguiling virago. She enjoyed watching him squirm. This was payback for the immolation he underwent. He gripped her hair, preventing the strands from getting in her face. the follicles bunched out from between Greg's knuckles like the top leaves of a pineapple. Greg's face was dark red, his eyes glazed. She kept pacing him, backing off when he was getting close. Eventually, his constitution grew stronger and she could go at him in little bursts of mouth-play. This stalling went on for almost 45 minutes. She was training him well, putting him through the motions. His sexual tolerance must improve, and she was determined to assist him in doing so.
    On their first date, Greg had asked her in the dance club if she could deepthroat. Now, the answer was apparent. Let's just say, if Rebecca worked at the circus, her profession would be sword-swallower.
    Rebecca gave new meaning to the phrase "giving a hummer". She made a warbling sound in her throat, her vocal cords vibrating her mouth and tongue. Greg's cock felt like a sort of doweling rod, picking up her pleasurable vibes. It was too much. Her deep hums set him off. He had just grown acclimated to her technique when this knew sensation overdid it. He could fight it no longer.
    "I'm cumming," Greg proclaims in a wavering voice. It had been awhile since Greg had studied sex 101, but it seemed like proper etiquette to give the gal a clear warning. Rather than pulling off of him, Rebecca's bobbing motion speeded up. Wet slurping and smacking sounds sent him over the edge, ensuring that he will finish. Greg felt the sensation rushing upwards through his legs, swelling, then shuddering throughout his member.
    It was all worth it. The gunshot, the bleeding, the surgery, the stitches, and dying in the ambulance, only to be resurrected. All worth it. He ejaculated into her open mouth. Without realizing it, Greg had forced her head downward onto his shaft. The tip of his head plunged down her airway and she gagged at first. Tears blur her eyes and she pulls away. Tipping her head back from him, she clears her esophagus.
    "Oh baby, I love you so fucking much," Greg whines in a breathless voice, as he discharges his seed. He felt like his heart was gonna burst as he ejected the last few torrents of jizz. He squeezed his cock of all remaining sperm, maniacally pumping his spit-slick dick. The tip protruded from her mouth as he wanked. With a contraction of her cheeks and tongue, she swallows deeply.
    A grimace crosses her face as the aftertaste hits her.
"Uggh," she groans, "there's a flavor of ice cream they won't add to the list."
    Greg can't speak. His eyes are screwed up tight, and he breathes in short gasps. His shirt has dark pools of sweat under his arms, and collar. No way this just happened. No girl has ever done that for him before. It's conclusively unpleasant for her. If smell is taste, Greg knew how revolting it must be; he occasionally caught whiff of his own semen after unloading into kleenex time after time. Having taken the "Big Gulp", Rebecca has conveyed her emotions through physical means. HIs own pronouncement was divulged to her now.
"Oh my god, I love you, Rebecca," Greg says between huffs and puffs.
"I love you too, Greg."
    SHe leans in to kiss him and Greg shies away in horror.
"Don't. Not until you brush your teeth, anyway," he says.
    She laughs a crude, juvenile way. She was far past experimentation. Her skills at fellatio showed she was no mere novice, but a professional cocksucker. Her dabbling in erotic methods was a bit intimidating to Greg, in all honesty. Not that he was complaining. It would just take same adjusting to her aphrodisiacal ways. He was living the dream, existing in the fantasy. It was like a cheesy Penthouse forum story, something from a disturbed and abnormal mind.
    She did brush, and rinsed thoroughly with mouthwash. Greg would never tell anyone about this, not even the guys. It was a secret between companions. Besides, they wouldn't believe him anyway.
    Coming to bed, she kept the ebony ensemble on. She was a minx, curled up next to him all casual and sleepy. Greg drifted off while running his hand up and down her thigh, and fiddling with the garter straps.


Uploaded 05/09/2012
  • 0 Favorites
  • Flag
  • Stumble
  • Pin It