And Mr. Jones just chuckled again, not even bothering to hide his amusement, his eyes fixed on my vag, his dick lengthening, growing so hard, so big that it strained against his waistband before popping a bit over the fabric, the pink fleshy helmet gleaming wetly in the low light.
“Little girl,” he said, “I think you forgot something.”
And I looked down and gasped, horrified. Because the swimsuit wasn’t doing its job at all. The leg holes had pulled so high, so tight, so that the nylon was basically a string between my pussy lips, bisecting the plump, swollen flesh.
“Oh god!” I squealed, trying with hasty hands to adjust the towel again. But I just made things worse. I was so clumsy, so awkward that somehow the towel got tangled up over my head and crept up even more, baring more of my exquisite cunt, the lips wet and glistening.
“Fuuuck,” growled Mr. Jones hoarsely, holding out a hand to stop my thrashing. “Still little girl, still.”
And like a skittish mare sensing its owner, I calmed under his reassuring touch, the way his big hand was so calm, so dominant.
“I gotcha,” he murmured again, slowly pulling the towel way entirely, disentangling it from my body, the soft terrycloth dropping away to reveal my lush curves in their full glory. “Fuck Lindy,” he breathed again. “How did you get so beautiful?”
And I blushed once more, this time a full body blush, the pink spreading from my chest all the way down to my cunt, every part of me slightly rosy from hairline to toes. And I had nowhere to hide from his gaze, there was nowhere to go although truth be told, I didn’t want to hide anymore, his eyes felt so warm on me, so delicious, leaving tingles wherever they landed.
“Mis-Mister Jones,” I stuttered softly. “What’s going on? I-I need my towel back.”
He flicked an eyebrow at me.
“But maybe I want to see more,” he drawled.
And I shivered inside, my nips jutting out like rocks now, one boob literally popping out from the top of my swimsuit. Fuck, I was barely clothed, lying back on the lounger with one huge tit out for his gaze, the other straining to break free, my pussy shielded only by a string.
“Mr. Jones,” I whispered, my eyes begging as I met his. “Please.”
But the big man ignored me, instead shifting his board shorts a bit so that about three inches of dick stuck out over the waistband and oh god, but he was leaking from the tip, the deep purple head swollen so big and glossy that I could see a vein beating along the bottom, painfully throbbing. Immediately my lips parted slightly, my mouth opened as if in anticipation of a deep suck, knowing where that man meat belonged.
And Mr. Jones just chuckled deep in his throat then, his eyes on fire now, the blue so hot that it practically threw flames where it landed. He shifted his big body once more to make sure we couldn’t be seen. I guess from over by the food table, it probably looked like we were having a normal conversation, Mr. Jones’s broad back blocking any visual of me other than my legs sticking out. But still, this was so wrong and fucked up and dangerous … and I loved it. My parents were only twenty feet away chatting with friends, with no idea what their baby girl was doing with the boss man.
And gulping, my heart beating a million miles a minute, I tried again, eyes wide.#p#分页标题#e#
“Mr. Jones,” I whispered softly. “I need my towel. I can’t get up from this lounger without that towel, give it back.”
The big man chuckled, his fingers tightening into a fist around the soft terry.
“That’s what you get for wearing that fuck-me swimsuit,” he growled, his eyes running up and down my curves. I colored. This was a modest one-piece, I’d just grown out of it and had no opportunity to shop. But before I could interrupt, the big man continued. “Tell you what, little girl,” he rumbled smoothly. “I’ll give this back to you if you do something for me first.”
My cheeks colored and I whispered, “What is it? I’ll do anything, please Mr. Jones.”
And the dark slashes across his cheeks heightened, his chest and abs growing tight, the pre-cum leaking in a stream from his dick now.
“Play with your tits,” he commanded. “Rub and stroke yourself without making a sound so your folks don’t hear. And then take that thing,” he said nodding at the Coke bottle, “and put it in your pussy.”
I gasped. What the? That was the most depraved idea I’d ever heard of. I mean, I was being blackmailed right under my parents’ nose, Mom and Dad standing not twenty feet away, forced to show my body otherwise the rest of the guests were going to see my nudity. Plus, we were at my house! Chris was a guest here and yet he held all the cards. How in the world had this happened?