It shot in wads from the tip of his prick. It flowed over her belly and abdomen. It made their bellies slip and slide erotically together, and she wondered what it would have felt like inside her pussy if all that sperm had gone there.
"Ohhhhh," he moaned after a long moment. "Oh, honey – I can't believe how damn lucky I am to be in love with you! Monica, you've got to tell him. You've got to make him understand that you're grown up, now, that you need to be free and in charge of yourself!"
"Tell who, Burke? Sweet Burke," she said, running her hands over his naked back and through his hair, feeling the tickle of his warm sperm running down the sides of her waist from the puddle on her belly.
"Your grandfather, Monica. You've got to make him understand that we love each other and that I can be good for you, even though I'm just a nobody."
"Oh, Burke – you're not a nobody. Not to me! Yes, I'll tell him. I'll do what Whit did, and I'll make him let me out of that luxurious prison."
They hugged tightly and kissed. Monica's heart soared. She'd never felt so happy or at peace in her whole life. Burke was good. He could have raped her just then, and he hadn't. He loved her and didn't want to hurt her, and she knew that now. She knew she could trust him. She knew she would have to make her grandfather see that she'd be all right with Burke.
CHAPTER TWO
Monica paced about in her big bedroom, still thinking. She hadn't had a chance to talk to her grandfather yet. There'd been two men come to the house about business, and he'd been with them in the den downstairs.
She shut off the bedroom light and looked through her window onto the Gulf. The moon was straight overhead, half-full, and it made the waves cresting on the beach glimmer whitely.
She took deep breaths of the fresh air and felt her body tingle all over again. It seemed she couldn't make it stop tingling, ever since Burke had boosted her back up the wall and waved to her and made his way through the growth to his pickup.
She'd eaten dinner with Christine tonight, because her grandfather had been talking business over the big table with his guests. Several times, Christine had looked at her oddly, and she was afraid there was a physical mark on her now that would tell the whole world that she had had her pussy rubbed by a cock until she'd come, but Christine didn't question her.
Whit hadn't come home yet, either. He was supposed to be back at sundown. Maybe he'd known their grandfather would be busy and might not notice that he wasn't home on time, and he'd taken advantage of it. It would be just like Whit to do that.
In a moment of satiny sensation, Monica let out a small cry and stripped naked in the dimness of her bedroom. She stood in front of the window and let the breeze play over her skin until there were little bumps all over it.
She hugged her sensitive tits with her arms and shivered. She ran her hands softly down her belly. She felt the dried flakes of Burke's cum on her skin, and she nearly swooned when she remembered the sight and the feel of his spurting prick against her pussy.
She curled her fingers around her naked twat and clamped her thighs tightly, squeezing and fondling her soft lips. She felt them swell as the sensations began again.
She twisted and fell gently onto her back on the bed and let her fingertips roam up and down the slippery gap between her lips, moaning and remembering.
Experimentally, she pressed the tip of her finger into the soft, slippery folds of her pussy mouth and let it slip just inside. She felt the thin barrier of her cherry, and a quick stab went through her, reminding her of the pain there must be in fucking.
She wished fucking didn't hurt. It would have to be wonderful. It would have to be the most wonderful thing in the world, to feel a big cock go inside her body and jerk and spurt wads of sperm there.
She heard a sound out in the hallway. She lifted her head and listened, her hand clamped protectively around her pussy. It had sounded a little like a giggle. A feminine giggle.
She listened harder. That would be impossible. The only other woman in the house was Christine, and she wouldn't be in the upstairs at this time of night.
She rolled silently from the bed and slipped back into her clothing, a pair of dark stretch pants and a jersey pullover. She went to her door in the darkness and put her ear to it, still listening.
There was a clump. It sounded as if it had come from Whit's bedroom, down the hall. Then the talking and laughing of the men downstairs blotted out any other sound there might have been as they got ready to leave.
"Chester, see that these gentlemen get through the gate," she heard her grandfather say, his deep, strong voice coming up the stairwell to her.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Sanderhoff."
"Good night, Galt, and thank you for the excellent dinner. That woman's a marvel in the kitchen, I swear she is."