Chapter 1 It was a small party of ten couples and a few unattached men and women and it was, to Helga Cooper's mind, rather a stuffy affair. Everyone seemed to be standing in little clusters, talking inanely of topics typical to cocktail parties: local and national politics, current fads and fashions, the Elections, The hostess, a tall, statuesque blonde whose name was Luci Danton, circulated amongst the guests with a tray of various preferential drinks and her long-side burned husband, Tim, sat next to a slim redhead on one of the living room's two couches, putting his hand on her knee almost possessively when he thought his wife wasn't looking.
Helga stifled an involuntary yawn, knowing that Tom and her should never have accepted the Danton's invitation. Tom had quit his job three weeks ago, and everyone knew why; as a consequence, of his actions like Tim Danton thought it socially impressive to invite Tom Cooper and his wife to their drab little parties. Yes, that was certainly the reason they had been invited; but they'd accepted anyway, knowing this, just to get out of their own house, to see some other faces, to talk with someone besides one another.
They had stayed home every night since Tom's resignation they'd turned down two other invitations to social functions because Tom was trying desperately to get his novel started, working twelve to fifteen hours every day, writing fifteen or twenty pages but throwing most of them away in anger and frustration.
It simply wasn't going right, he had told her; the words wouldn't jell. The reason for that was a combination of things: the Department of Public Works was putting in a new sewer main on their street, and the noise of jackhammers and heavy machinery and large trucks was deafening at times; the phone seemed to ring continuously with calls from friends, well-wishers, dogs barking, power lawn mowers whining destroyed whatever moments of silence were left. He'd given it up this morning, calling the whole idea an abortion, saying that he wouldn't couldn't write another line in that house; he had to get away, he'd said, somewhere where he could be alone, in peace and quiet, to collect his thoughts and coordinate his ideas into the cohesive format of the projected novel.
And he had to do it damned soon, too; he'd already sold the book to a major New York hard-cover publisher on the basis of an outline alone, had been given a large advance (most of which was already spent on old bills and incidentals), and he had less than eight months in which to deliver the completed manuscript.
It was to be a major, lengthy work, and if he was to meet that deadline he couldn't afford to lose any more time getting started. When the Danton's telephoned invitation had come that morning, just after Tom's objections, he had told Helga to go ahead and accept what the hell; they might as well get out of the house since it was no use in trying to continue the novel.
Luci Danton came around to where Helga and Tom were standing near the large field stone fireplace and asked them if they would care for another drink. Tom declined politely, and she moved off again. He said to Helga, "I'm beginning to wonder if we shouldn't have stayed home tonight.
I could've stared at the typewriter and you could've stared at me. "She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him wanly. "I think we'd have had just as good a time." "I hate parties like this," Tom said. "They're so damned pretentious." "I know." "I haven't heard an honestly intelligent statement all night." "Spoken like a true novelist," Helga said in a gently chiding voice.
"Mr. Hemingway, I presume?" "Ouch!" Tom said, recoiling in mock pain. "Your barbed wit cuts deep. "She touched the long, silky strands of her dark brown hair in that unconsciously vain way women affect. "I was just teasing, honey." "I know you were," Tom sighed. "How much longer do we have to remain at this abysmal affair, do you suppose? When can we leave without destroying our image?" "Very shortly," Helga said. "Can you take another half hour of this?" "Must I?" "You must." "This is a far, far better thing I do, as Hamlet said." Tom muttered, taking a moody swallow from his double martini.
Just then, one of the couples whom they had been introduced to upon arriving at the party Luke and Angela Miller made their way over to where the Suttons were standing.
Luke Miller was Tall and muscular, with a salt-and-pepper crew-cut and dark, intelligent gray eyes. He gave the impression of having once been an athlete he was broad shouldered and thick-chested, and the material of his Madras jacket was stretched taut across his pectorals.
Looking at him, Tom Cooper thought that he probably worked out regularly in one of the local gymnasiums or health clubs. He had a broad, friendly, contagious smile and an easy-going manner. He was carrying, oddly enough, a glass of dark beer in one huge hand.
His wife, Angela, was tall and thin with brownish-yellow hair and huge, luminescent green eyes with tiny yellow flecks in the irises and rather large breasts.
She wore a clinging blue dress which hugged every inch and caressed her slender, huge breasted body, accentuating the easy, natural sway of her tight-mooned buttocks. She was holding onto Miller's arm and smiling warmly as they approached.
"Hello there, Cooper," Miller said heartily as they came up. "Lousy party, isn't it?" "Shall I be honest about it?" Tom asked. "Sure." "Yes. It's a lousy party. "Miller laughed deeply, with good-natured, infectious amusement.
He said to his wife, "I told you I was going to like this, didn't I, Angela? He's a man after my own heart honest and frank and totally lacking in the phony social graces." "Thanks I think," Tom said. Miller laughed again. His eyes shifted to Helga, moving easily over her beautifully compact, perfectly symmetrical body in a way which was complimentary to Helga not lecherous, but openly admiring.
"How about you, Helga? What's your opinion of this little affair? "The familiar use of her first name didn't bother Helga at all; she found herself rather liking this large man." The same as my husband's," she answered ruefully. "Don't really know why we came," Miller said.
"Something to do on a Friday night, I guess." "Same here," Tom said. They had established a common bond and he, too, found himself liking Miller. And Angela, even though she hadn't spoken as yet, struck him as being an intelligent, carefree soul like her husband. On top of that, she was damned attractive, Tom had to admit; very damned attractive. They fell easily then into conversation. As both Tom and Helga had surmised, the Millers were witty, intelligent people, interesting to talk to.
It developed that Luke was an electronics salesman for a large national company, extremely successful; so much so, in fact, that he was now semi-retired, working when he felt like it. Angela, in addition to being a housewife, dabbled in oil painting in her spare time.
She was very modest about that, but Miller insisted that she was a tremendous talent, witness the fact that she had sold two of her seascapes for five hundred dollars each just last month. The topic of conversation shifted, naturally, to the novel Tom was writing. The Millers had heard of it from the Danton's (no surprise there, Tom thought a little sardonically), and Luke was extremely interested in it.
He asked, "What's the book about? That is, if you don't mind revealing same." "No, I don't mind," Tom said. " well it's about a couple that seemed to lose the way with each other after a few years of marriage then find each other. "I have a few ideas on that subject myself," Miller said. "But it sounds like a hell of a book, if you can pull it off. I don't mean that at all derogatorily, you understand." Tom grinned wryly.
"Well, I'm not sure I can pull it off." "Oh? Why?" "I can't seem to get started on the thing. The first couple of chapters are extremely important, and I can't get them flowing. I must have written seventy-five pages in the past three weeks, of which I've salvaged maybe four or five." "What seems to be the problem?" Miller asked with genuine concern. Tom told him about the Department of Public Works, and the telephone ringing and the power lawn mowers whining. Miller clucked his tongue sympathetically.
"Sounds like you need to get off in the wilds somewhere for a few weeks." "That's just what I need," Tom answered. "Trouble is, Helga and I aren't exactly the richest people in Rosella at the present time. Most of the publishers advance is gone, and we have a home to maintain. I just can't afford to rent, much less buy, a mountain retreat for the length of time I'm going to need." "Then what will you do, Tom?" Angela asked in her musically soft voice.
"Grin and bear it, I guess," he replied. "Maybe, one of these days soon, I'll be able to get into the book; if that happens, all the goddamned noise in the world won't affect my work." "You will, dear," Helga told him. Tom grinned his wry grin. "Wifely faith, is what would we creative geniuses do without it?" Miller laughed.
"Behind every great man, there's a great woman," he said. "And vice versa," Angela put in. They all laughed, and the rapport between the two couples was fully established. They spent the next hour and a half discussing a various and sundry number of things, losing all track of time, each enjoying the company of the others.
When midnight came, the party began to break up. Tom reluctantly looked at his watch, saying, "Hell, I didn't figure it to be this late. I've got to be up with the roosters tomorrow for another shot at the typewriter." "I thought you were going to let it simmer for a couple of days, honey?" Helga said teasingly.
"Do you believe everything I say?" "Of course." Tom shook his head in feigned wonder. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" "I've wondered about that myself." Miller's hearty laugh punctuated their conversation. "Listen," he said, taking Tom's hand, "talking with the two of you had made a pleasant evening out of what started out to be a huge bore." "Same here," Tom told him. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Luke. And," he added gallantly, "you're most lovely wife." "That goes for me, too," Miller said, his eyes moving over Helga again in that admiring way until she blushed lightly with pleasure.
"What say we get together one of these days?" "Sounds delightful," Helga said enthusiastically. "Do you play cards?" "Yes, we do." "Fine! We're a couple of tenacious players, Angela and I, but we don't play for blood. We'll make it a foursome one of these evenings soon, if you're amenable." "That we are," Tom said.
"Are you listed in the book?" "No," Helga responded. "What with all the calls we've been getting, we had our number changed to an unlisted one." "If you'd rather not give it out" "Oh no, not at all," Helga said quickly, looking at Tom. He nodded.
She gave the number to Angela, who wrote it down in small, red leatherette notebook from her purse. "Just don't call between seven and noon," Tom warned. "Helga just picks up the receiver and puts it back down.
Cardinal rule: no talking of any kind between seven and noon. "Miller chuckled. "Right." They got their coats and bid one another good night at the door. Tim Danton, more than a little drunk by this time, pumped Tom's hand enthusiastically, urges him to be sure to give "me and the missus" an autographed copy of his book when it was published. Tom said that he would, and Helga and he went quickly to where their car was parked in front.
The Millers, with Luke driving the dark green Lincoln Continental, waved as they pulled away from the curve. As Tom helped her into their two year old Ford, Helga said, "Aren't the Millers the nicest people?" "Yes," Tom agreed.
"They certainly are." "I'm going to fuck Helga Cooper," Luke Miller said, "And you, my dear, are going to help me do it." Angela smiled, stretching languorously on the front seat of the Lincoln. "Of course, darling," she answered. "After all, Tom Cooper is a handsome and desirable man. I'm going to enjoy getting laid by him just as much as you're going to enjoy fucking the lovely Mrs. Cooper." "Goddamn, but you're the hottest woman I know," Miller said with some pride. "You just love cock, don't you, baby?" "Just like you love pussy, sweetheart." Miller took one hand from the steering wheel and put it on her firm, soft thigh, just at the point where the blue shift rode high on her lap.
He began to stroke the feathery surface lightly. She slid over next to him and, without preamble, laid the palm of her slim hand on the crotch of his sports slacks. His prick hardened instantly at her touch through the material, and Angela said, "Mmmmmmmm, daddy's ready, isn't he?" in a teasing voice. "Daddy's always ready," Miller said. "Just like mommy." Angela began to stroke his cock lightly with her palm while his hand moved higher along her thigh.
She breathed into his ear hotly, saying, "How do you propose to get next to the nice Cooper couple, lover? They don't exactly strike me as swingers, so the direct approach would seem to be out." "True," Miller said.
"But I've got a plan." "What is it?" "I'll tell you when we get home." "Tell me now, lover," Angela said. Deftly, her fingers found the zipper of his fly and worked it down quickly. The throbbing length of his huge rod pushed the thin folds of his underpants out through the fly opening, straining for escape.
But Angela kept it imprisoned inside, stroking the rigid tool with knowledgeable fingers; she knew how to torment a man in many ways: by touch, by word, by manipulation of her own body. Miller was breathing faster under her agile ministrations, and Angela shivered anticipatory. Oh, she was going to give him a ride when they got home, all right she really was! She could feel her cunt begin to seep warm, moist fluid, soaking the thin silk of her panty briefs, and she ground her smooth formed buttocks down against the pliant leather of the seat.
"Tell me the plan, lover," she repeated. "We're . ohhhh . almost home," Miller panted. And then, "Damn you!" as her hand rubbed more tantalizingly over his prick, using the material of his underpants to taunt and rub the blood-engorged glands into near-explosion.
His own hand went higher along her thigh and his fingers found the dampness of her crotch. He wiggled a finger inside the leg band, dipping the tip into the secret juices of her warm, slightly throbbing vagina, causing a low, soft moan of sheer animalistic pleasure to escape her throat. "How do you like that, you little prick-teaser?" he hissed breathlessly."Ohhhh, lover!" His forefinger found the quivering miniature phallus of her aroused clitoris, moved with provocative slowness back and forth across its sensitive surface until his wife was grinding her hips faster and faster down against the seat, her loins surging upward against his finger as if trying to beckon it to plunge deep inside her vaginal cavity.
Miller whispered, "You'll wait until we get home, won't you, baby?" "Aaaggghhhh, hhmmmmmmmm!" she groaned. "Yesssss, I'll waitttttt!" Miller grinned triumphantly, and eased his finger away from her clitoris, took it out from beneath her panties and let his hand rest on her thigh.
She allowed her fingers to remain on his still-hardened cock, but they weren't moving now; her eyes were closed and she leaned against him, letting the sensations his probing, questing finger had caused ripple through her deliciously. The Lincoln's headlights picked up the large, Colonial-style home which they owned.
Miller brought the large luxury automobile into the driveway and upward into the spacious two-car garage next to Angela's canary yellow Triumph TR-6, shut off the engine and the lights.
He stepped out, zipping himself up, feeling the blood still pounding in his erect cock. Tease him like that in the car, would she? Well, just wait until they got inside! He'd do a little teasing of his own! He went around to open the door for Angela, helped her out, and they went into the sprawling, maple-furnished house.
Miller switched on the indirect lights in the knotty pine-paneled living room and went to the impressive, well-stocked bar at one end, near the avocado-draped front window. "How about a drink, baby?" he called to Angela. "Hmm, all right." "Scotch?" "No ice, lover," she nodded. He poured two scotches and brought her one. "Let's go into the bedroom," he smiled teasingly, wrapping his big arm about her slim waist. She pressed against him. "Will you tell me the plan then?" "We'll see." They entered the bedroom and Miller took off his Madras jacket, throwing it over one of the maple chairs near the dresser.
Angela undid the two buttons on the front of the shift and slowly, seductively, using her palms and undulating her body rhythmically, she slid the garment down along her body until it lay puddled at her feet. Her eyes were heavily lidded, smoky, and she watched his face as she undressed. She stood there, dressed now only in bra and panties.
Tantalizingly, like an exotic dancer practicing her art expertly, she reached behind her and unhooked the bra fastenings, pulling it away from her firm white breasts slowly, making sure that the aroused, berry-sized nipples were the last to meet his hot, hungry eyes. She dropped the bra on top of the shift and then raised her hands to cup her full, rich mounds, kneading them like a lover would. Finally, she dropped her fingers to her panties and slowly worked them down over her long, tapering legs until she was standing before him completely nude.
"Like, lover?" she asked throatily. "Christ, you're like a goddamned whore when you get in the bedroom!" Miller said, but he wasn't castigating her for it. Hell, he wouldn't have had it any other way. His eyes roamed over her well-tanned body, at the fleecy, light brown down framing the wet, pink folds of her cunt.
She was something else, all right; in the six years they had been married, he had never had a woman who pleased him any more than she did whether it be suck or fuck; a few had come close to approximating her prowess in the rack, but none had ever surpassed her. That was one hell of a compliment, considering the number of women Luke Miller had had in those six years of marriage.
Angela reveled in his lustful gaze for a long moment, and then she stepped over to the king-sized, satin-spread double bed and lay down on it, spreading her legs wide in a wanton, inviting position, exposing to his eyes the full, wet, palpitating opening of her cuntal passage.
She rotated her hips lewdly on the satin spread, arching them up and lowering them again in a measured, intoxicating way. "Aren't you going to get naked, lover?" she asked in a husky voice."Goddamn right I am!" Miller said.
Quickly, he undressed, throwing his trousers and shirt and tie over the jacket on the chair, pulling his underpants down. He stood there with his great, trembling cock standing out from his groin like some impossibly huge instrument of torture, the unseeing eye in the glans oozing thin, clear droplets of aroused lubrication.
Angela stared at it, moistening her lips with her tongue as if tasting the seeping fluid already swirling around in the warm sucking caverns of her mouth.
"Come on," Angela urged. "Lie down beside mommy." "And what's mommy going to do then?" "Mommy's going to take that big lovely cock of yours and suck every last little drop of hot cum right out of it," Angela whispered up at him.
Damn! Miller thought. She really knew how to get a guy heated up, talking that way, using words like she used her body, fucking you verbally if such a thing were possible. His prick quivered and throbbed in anticipation.
But he owed her a little teasing for what she had done to him in the car on the way home first, before he took her up on her offer. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her, close enough to allow her hand to snake out and encircle his prick, to begin to stroke and then to massage the turgid length, rubbing the skin back and forth and then to slip her hand underneath and cup and caress his balls, cradling their softness in her palm.
Miller stifled a small groan of pleasure, and then reached down and removed her hand. "First things first," he said. "What do you mean, lover"' "You wanted to hear my plan, didn't you?" "Oh, daddy! You can tell me the plan afterwards!" "No, I'm going to tell you now.
You were anxious enough to hear about it earlier." She returned her hand to his penis and testicles, rubbing, caressing. "Please, daddy," she crooned. "I'm hot now, and I want to suck you. Come on, let mommy suck you now and then you can tell me all about your plan." "No," Miller said. He moved down to the foot of the bed, looking up at her, watching her undulate her hips, her tongue still flicking along her lips, her eyes resting hotly on the huge, granite-hard expanse of his weapon, at the wrinkled sac of his bloating balls.
"Now the way I figure it, Tom is the one to work on first. He's a man, and therefore he's more susceptible than Helga." "So you plan to get to Helga through Tom," Angela said.
She stretched out her leg, frowning a little petulantly, and began to stroke his thigh with her toes, waggling her big toe upward to touch the rigid flesh of his cock until he reluctantly pushed it away and continued."That's right. Now I think we've got the answer on how to do it from what Tom said tonight. About not being able to work on his novel because of all the interruptions." Angela lowered her hand and began to stroke her belly lightly with her fingertips, teasing the softness of her pubic mound, then trailing lower down between her legs so that she was rubbing in slow, even tempo the moistness of her cuntal mouth, teasing her clit.
Watching her, Luke became even more aroused she knew that he really enjoyed watching her play with herself, and she was so hot for his hard pulsating cock now that she was pulling out all stops to get him to stop talking.
Luke opened his mouth to continue, but he swallowed hard at the sight of his wife manipulating her genitals, darting her middle finger in and out of her soft, hair-lined vagina with deft strokes in the attitude of copulation.
As she did so, she pushed her buttocks down farther on the bed, coming nearer to him, and this time he didn't pull away. Her hand seized his cock again, began to stroke it then, before he was able to fend her off, she rose up and pressed her body against his, forcing him back into a prone position across the width of the bed.
"Damn it, Angela, I'm trying to tell you about" Miller began, but then he stopped as his wife began to trail her soft, moist lips along the side of his neck, into the hollow of his throat, down along his hirsute chest.
She nuzzled the rigid buds of his nipples, rolling her tongue back and forth across one, and then let her mouth roam down across the girth of his large, protruding, but well-muscled belly. He groaned at the stimulation her expert lips were sending through his body, thrust his hips down hard against the satin spread. Her fingernails scratched lightly over his cock now, over his testicles, reaching under his body to probe briefly at the puckered ring of his anus, retracing their path back to his quivering penis.
"The plan ." Miller began weakly. "You can tell me what it is afterward, lover," she crooned. "Just relax now, daddy, and let mommy take care of you." Damn it, she'd won again, Miller thought fuzzily, giving himself over to the prurient sensations of her lips and fingers.
She always won, always got her way sexually if not in other matters; here in the bedroom, she seemed to be lord and master instead of the other way around.
Not that he minded, hell, she was so damned good in bed that it didn't offend his masculine pride at all to have her get her way because her way was invariably the best way. Angela was poised on all fours now, kneeling between his widespread thighs, her head lowered almost to the tip of his up thrust cock, stroking the palpitating flesh lightly with first one hand, then the other, then rubbing it gently between the palms of both hands, further arousing him until moans of joy rendered from his lips.
"Goddamn it, hurry up, baby, hurry up!" he groaned. "Suck it, suck it, suck it!" His hips thrust upward, but she pulled her head back out of reach, chuckling softly, still stroking and manipulating his cock and balls.
He reached up and entangled his hands tightly in her hair, trying to guide her head down to meet his forward-leaping manhood. His head was lifted off the bed, so that he could watch the lust-contorted features of her beautiful face, poised there above his loins, and his brain reeled with the mental image of his thick, pulsating cock burrowing in and out of her oval lips; he was excited beyond all recall now, he had to have her suck him off!
He could feel the semen beginning to boil in his testicles, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it would come spewing out of his shaft like a flow of hot molten lava. "Hurry, hurry!" he begged. "Suck it, baby, suck it!" Suddenly, as if in abeyance, Angela plunged her head forward and down. Miller felt the incredible, hot moist softness of her lips close over the sensitive head of his cock, felt her firebrand tongue lick circles of liquid fire around and around it, flicking into the glands opening, drinking up the lubricating fluid oozing there.
His hands in her hair tightened and he thrust his loins upward, driving the length of his massive prick deep into the soft, warm folds of her mouth, feeling it slam against the back of her throat. "Ummmmmmmmmmm!" Angela mewled around her husband's hardened rod of flesh. "Aaggggghhhhh!" Miller cried in lust-crazed agreement. Angela drew back slightly, so that she was able to taste the moist stickiness of the glands again, twirling her tongue maddeningly faster around the blood-inflated head.
Then she began to suck him rhythmically, with all the practiced expertise of the accomplished female lover. He watched her convoluted lips working on his cock, watched the soft wet skin of her mouth pucker outward and then back in again as she sawed her mouth the full length of his rigid tool.
The sight of her sucking him never ceased to increase his arousal, and his loins tensed and jerked upward into her face, all the fleshy expanse disappearing with each hard forward thrust, so that only a small stretch of it showed white and glistening with saliva wetness between her lips.
Her tongue, with a nerve-shattering lick on the out stroke, was like a separate entity, a thing gone wild with lust, making the head jerk and convulse as though it, too, were a thing alive with a mind of its own. She sucked hungrily, her mind caught up in the task of what she was doing, her concentration as full and complete as that of a scientist applying mathematical equations. Her breasts danced wildly below her pumping head, adding to the lust-inciting picture he was viewing.
"Suck it, suck it, suck it!" Miller urged her on, dropping his head back on the bed heavily, closing his eyes and pretending for a brief moment that it was Helga Cooper sucking him, that it was Helga Copper's round, lipstick-rimmed little mouth around his huge cock.
Well, it would be, all right, soon enough; he'd fuck her one of these days, he was confident of that, and with the fucking went the sucking; that was irrefutable. He'd shoot his load of boiling cum deep into her throat and into her belly, and she'd be begging him for more . Angela slaved below, her body glistening from pustules of lust-sweat.
The pressure grew and grew in Miller's balls, and he shoved his loins up hard against her face, hearing her protesting mumble, not heeding it in his desire for the final release of the maddening buildup of semen in his scrotum. And then, all at once, he felt the eruption take place, felt the first stream of white-hot fire leap along the passage of his plunging cock.
He gasped, his lips pulling back across his teeth as though he were in agony.
His cock began a sudden wild, convulsive jerking that flooded without advance warning Angela's madly sucking mouth with rush after rush of burning semen, bloating her cheeks outward with each spurt until she was forced to swallow wildly to keep from choking, mewling and crooning and tickling his balls with the tips of her fingernails. "Keep . sucking!" Miller cried. "Lover, keep sucking, keep suckingggggg!" His hands were working spasmodically in her hair now, ramming her head down harder on his burgeoning cock, burying it deep in her throat.
And then, with one last mighty groan as his wife crazily sucked at the juices of his lust, he emptied the final drops of his sperm into her mouth. Angela continued to nibble gently at the fleshy instrument, milking every last drop of his load, until the satiated penis began to gradually deflate in her mouth.
Miller flung his arms outward on the bed in exhaustion, a great sigh of absolute fulfillment emitting from his lips. His wife lay for a long moment between his outstretched legs, her head on his thigh, still nibbling gently at the limp cock settling down into the cradle of his balls. Finally, she crawled up and kissed him full on the mouth. He accepted her tongue hungrily as she thrust it into his mouth, even though droplets of his white sticky cum were drooling down in thin rivulets from the corners of her glistening lips.
"How did you like that, lover?" she whispered. "As good as always!" he enthused. "Hell, better!" She kissed him again, and then said, "Now I'm ready to hear your plan of action regarding the Cooper's. After which," she added, smiling down at him with her eyes sparkling hotly, "you may return the favor of my sucking you by eating my pussy until I cum as well as you did.
Sound good?" "Sounds goddamned good!" "But first the plan." "Well," Miller said, "it's simple enough. Like I started to say before, Tom was complaining about not being able to work on his novel because of all the interruptions.
What he wanted to do, he said, was get away somewhere, alone, where he could really get to work. Remember?" "Uh-huh." "Suppose we provide him with that retreat he mentioned?" "You mean - our cabin on the coast?" "Exactly," Miller told her.
"It's perfect." "Do you think he'll accept the offer of the cabin?" "Hell, why shouldn't he? He can't afford not to accept, can he?" "Lover," Angela said admiringly, "I do believe you're a genius. But suppose Helga wants to go along with him?" "I doubt that," Miller said.
"When he said he wanted to be alone, I think he meant just that. Completely alone, without even his wife. I'll call him tomorrow and put the idea to him, and we'll see if I'm right." "And if he does accept, then I take over?" "You take over," Miller said. "I'll tell him you'll meet him up there, show him where everything is and so on. Then you're on your own." He grinned.
"I have no doubt what'll happen then." "And you'll be doing what?" "Dropping over to see Mrs. Cooper," he answered. "I'll suggest that she and I take a ride up to the cabin, so that she can see what it's like.
I'll say it'll be a surprise, that we'll all have dinner together. We'll drive up there" "and just happen to catch sight of Tom Cooper and me doing' what comes naturally," Angela finished. "Right. Of course, you'll have to make sure the two of you keep at it for a long time. No telling how long it'll be before I get his wife up there." "No problem, lover," she chuckled.
"You know me." "Hell yes, I do," Miller said. "You just love cock, Mommy, like I said before." "And you love pussy," Angela told him. She began to push his head down long her body, moving her hips on the bed, letting her own fires rekindle hotly.
"Now let's see you prove that I'm right, lover!" Miller proved it without the slightest doubt