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
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
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