DOTS AND DASHES OF COLOR Chapter Two

WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further! 

This story is for entertainment only.  It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction.  The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact.  I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here.  The characters in the story are entirely fictional.  You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.

* * * * * * * * * * 

This is the second chapter of a story that follows "Pretty As A Picture."

For those of you anxious to experience my further adventures with the Cocksworth twins, I ask you to be patient while my story takes a slight detour.  There's the pending matter of my daughter's art contest prize, which needs to be resolved before I revisit the twins.  So, hang (well) in there.  

In this tale of forced intimacy, I find relief with another admirer in my growing fan club.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Stuck In The Metal With You

I staggered up the walk and reached into my pocket for the key.  Just the slight pressure of my hand in my pocket made me wince.  God, was my dick ever sore!  And it was still erect!  What had those devils done to me?  I aimed my key at the lock, and the door swung open.  Damn!  Annie didn't shut it again.  One of these days, we'd get robbed, and she'd cry, "I'm so sorry" while we sat on bare rugs with all of our possessions stolen.

I crept up the stairs, and heard giggling coming from Annie's room.  The door was open a crack.  I peeked in.  Annie had her back to me, standing at a sketchpad on an easel.  Sitting on the edge of her bed was some young lady.  Oh yeah.  Randi, or was it Brandi, told me Annie was meeting another art student.

Annie had rough sketched the young girl's face - hair pulled back into a ponytail, wide-set eyes, a pert nose, thick lips, and a chin that pointed slightly.  She wore a white blouse and a plaid skirt.  Given the outfit, she was probably a Catholic schoolgirl, not one of Annie's classmates.

I wasn't close enough, and Annie wasn't talking loud enough for me to hear.  All I saw was the girl's reaction, getting red in the face.  Annie moved from behind the easel to in front of the girl, blocking my view.  When Annie returned to the easel, I slipped away from the door to avoid being detected.  I counted to ten, then returned to my voyeur position.  My reward was witnessing the young girl unbuttoning the fourth button of her blouse.  Soon, her task was complete, and she shyly slipped the garment from her shoulders.  Annie's hand waved.  The girl reached around behind, straining her breasts forward.  The white bra slid down as she returned her hands to her lap.  Her tits were round like half grapefruits, with small nubs in the precise middle.  If my erection had subsided, and I wasn't sure it had, this view prevented any further retreat.  I guessed that Annie was doing another erotic drawing for Ms. Bourgeois, her horny art teacher.  Annie said something else, and the girl bunched her shirt into her lap.  Her legs were nice, her thighs a bit thick, but muscular.  The girl was some kind of athlete.  She stood briefly, to slide white panties down to her ankles, then stepped through them and sat down.   The skirt hid the treasure at the junction of the girl's thighs.

I couldn't stand the pain any more.  I crept down the hall into my bedroom, pushed the door almost shut and laid on the bed.  I unzipped and scooted my pants and underwear down, letting my engorged penis wave like a palm tree in a stiff wind.  I tried to grasp it, thinking that perhaps if I came, it would shrink to normal size.  I inhaled sharply.  It hurt just to touch it.  What was I going to do?

Annie's voice came from the doorway.  "Daddy?"  She walked in grinning, staring at my prick at attention. 

She must have seen the look on my face. "What's the matter, daddy?"  Her expression turned to one of concern.

"I'm hurting, sweetheart."

"What happened?"

"Randi needed to be persuaded to take her medicine."

Annie sat on the bed next to me.  "You didn't?"  

"And, it was her birthday.  Actually, both of their birthdays, since they're twins."

"Did you give them both a birthday present?  She touched my groin.

"Ooh, don't. My penis is raw.  It really hurts."

"Anna?  Where did you go?"  An unfamiliar voice came into the room.  "Holy shit!  Your cock is a monster!  Is it always that red?"  The topless Catholic approached my prone position.

"Dad, this is Patrice.  She won second place in the art contest."

I didn't stand up.  My prick was standing up enough for the rest of me.  "Nice to meet you."

"Can I kiss it and make it better?"  Annie leaned forward, bracing herself on my chest and thigh.

"Don't!  Even I couldn't touch it."  I knew Annie.  She's start out kissing it, then take the head in her mouth and suck.   Pretty soon, I'd be fucking her throat like a maniac.  No, I was way too raw for anything like that.

Patrice stood, jaw open, eyes wide.  She was in a trance, twitching her head with every jerk of my erection.

My voice was a whine.  "It won't go down.  This has never happened to me before."

Annie straightened up and pulled her hands back.  My dick twitched as her hand slid from my thigh.  "You weren't this big the last time I saw it."

Patrice broke from her reverie.  "Last time?  You've seen this before?"

I answered for Annie.  "Once."  I lied.  "Didn't you see Annie's picture, the one that won the contest?"

"No," said Patrice.  "She never showed it to anyone but the Black Bitch."

Ms. Bourgeois?  She wasn't African-American.

didn't believe Annie's drawing.

"Hey, wait.  Ms. Bourgeois verified every entry.  She came to my house to see my little brother."  Evidently, he was the subject of Patrice's entry.  "Bourgeois saw this?"

I nodded.

Patrice sat on the bed next to Annie.  She fell silent again, utterly consumed by my engorged organ.

"How about Vaseline?" asked Annie.

"That will just make it slick."  Patrice licked her lips.  Being so close to her exposed breasts was doing nothing to help.  "I need something for the pain."

Annie jumped off the bed. "I've got it!"  She ran from the room, ass wiggling.  My dick jerked.  Patrice's eyes never wandered as she slid closer, taking Annie's place.  

On Annie's return, it was her breasts that bounced.  Was she getting even bigger on top?  I hadn't had the pleasure of seeing my daughter naked in a while.  Annie was holding a small silver tube with a white label.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Anesthetic gel, from when I had braces.  Remember, you used to rub it on my gums after my orthodontist appointments?"

I remembered Annie's orthodontist as a sadist and a shylock.  Everything was a hidden charge.

Annie opened the tube.  "Move over."  

Patrice glanced up.  "Let me do it."  She jerked her head back to my pulsing prick.  "Please.  I'll never get the chance to touch a huge dick like this one."

After having the twins describe my penis as dinky, Patrice's words stroked my ego.  I was looking forward to strokes of the physical kind.

Annie looked at me, and I nodded.  She handed Patrice the tube and stood with her hands on her hips.  Patrice squeezed a thin line of translucent gel from the tube onto two fingers.

"Gently," I said.

Patrice touched the head of my penis with her fingers.  The gel melted with the heat of my skin.  Dollops slid down my erection.  Patrice lifted the errant medicine with the tip of her finger and applied it to all sides.  I barely felt her touch.  

I sighed as most of the pain subsided. "It feels better."

"It sure does."  Patrice's hand now caressed my erection, running up and down the full length.  At the head, she tightened her fingers, then relaxed them as she stroked down.

With the loss of sensitivity, Patrice's hand job was feeling really good.  Too good.  But, maybe that's precisely what I needed.  After all, I hadn't cum with Randi or Brandi.  That's it!  After cumming, my erection would dissipate.

"Daddy, are you all right?"

My hips cooperated with Patrice's massage.  "Oh, yes.  Never felt better.  That's it.  Oh, keep it up."

Patrice needed no cheerleading from me.  She was pumping me now, a bit harder than I would have liked.  But, the mild sensitivity was bringing me closer to a long awaited ejaculation.

My hips bounced on the bed.  "That's it.  Good girl.  Don't stop."  I was close to blasting all over Patrice's hand, her round tits, her small pert nipples -

A door slammed downstairs.  Harriett's voice echoed in the hall.  "Hello?"

"Damn it!"  Annie pulled Patrice up from the bed.  Patrice tried to maintain her grip of my dick but the lubricant was too slippery.  Her hand slid up my dick one last time.  "Button up.  Mom can't see you like this.  And go wash your hands."

The two young ladies jogged out, leaving me with a full-lubricated erection and no release.  I sat up, pulled my dick to my belly, and sealed up my pants.  If Harriett didn't look too close, she wouldn't see that my fly wasn't laying flat.

"We're up here," I shouted back.

"Are you and Anna ready?  We shouldn't be late."

"For what?" I asked.

Annie's head popped out of her room as Patrice exited the bathroom.  "We've got the exhibit tonight."

I don't know what we'd do without Harriett's perfect memory.  Part of Annie's prize for winning the drawing contest was to meet a famous artist whose work was on tour. Ms. Bourgeois had arranged a private showing.  I looked down, hoping my privates weren't showing.

We all convened at the bottom of the stairs.

"Mommy, this is Patrice.  She's in my art class, and got second place.  I invited her to come with."

I'd almost cum with Patrice.

Harriett nodded, an envelope in her hand.  "We'll have to take two cars.  I have to drop off these documents on the way to the center.  The same place Anna took her classes, remember?"

Who could forget Ms. Bourgeois, painting a canvas using my prick as her brush, and then pretending to get stuck, as an excuse to get me to fuck her?  "Where is it?"  I smiled.

"You take the girls.  I'll be there as soon as I can.  Maybe this time Madeline won't talk a blue streak."  She departed through the front door.

I led Annie and Patrice out through the garage.  Harriett had taken my coupe, so I was stuck with the family sedan.  We all piled in the front bench seat.  Patrice pushed past Annie to get the middle position.  Throughout the short drive, Patrice's hand lingered on my thigh.  This girl was determined to resume where we left off.

A familiar Chrysler convertible was already in the lot when we pulled in.  Annie led us from the car into the building.  

Ms. Bourgeois was waiting in the foyer.  "Mr. Marcus.  So nice of you to join us this evening.  And your lovely wife?  Will she be with us as well?"

"She'll be here soon."

Annie was practically jumping for joy.  "Is he here?  Can I meet him?"

Was Annie wearing a bra?  Her breasts were bobbling much too freely under her blouse.

"I'm so sorry my dear," said her teacher.  "There were circumstances -"

Annie's chin dropped, her shoulders slumped. 

Ms. Bourgeois put her arm around Annie.  "In his place, he sent something special.  A painting that will be shown for the first time this weekend.  But, you will have the chance to view it before anyone else, even the professional critics."

Ms. Bourgeois and Annie walked down the hall, arms around each other's waists.  Patrice pulled my arm around her, and we mimicked them.  Twice, Patrice's hand slipped down and squeezed my buttock.  The head of my penis throbbed behind my belt buckle.

Ms. Bourgeois led us into the classroom, on the way to Annie's surprise.  "That's odd.  I don't remember leaving the light on in the studio."  A man in overalls with his back to us stood in the well-lit room.  "Oh, it is Charles, from Maintenance.  Good evening, Charles."

The man turned.  He was holding a medium painting in a fine mahogany frame in one hand, an open knife in the other.

"You're not Charles!" screamed Ms. Bourgeois.

"Damn right I'm not.  I'm taking this."

"No, not that one.  Take any other one.  We won't call the authorities."  Ms. Bourgeois crossed herself.  Was she particularly religious?  She shouted "oh God" when I was fucking her.

"I can't have you ratting me out after I split."  He eyed the room, finally focusing on a series of tall metal storage closets along one wall."

"You," he motioned to Ms. Bourgeois, "Open up them first two."

Patrice clung to me like a wet shirt.  I held her close, to allay her fear.

Ms. Bourgeois opened the two cabinets.  The bottom were cluttered with folded easel stands, stretched canvasses, and other assorted art supplies.  Each had a top shelf with tubes and bottles of paint."

"Clear 'em out," the thief shouted.  "Help her."  He waved his knife at Annie.  Her first step was towards him.  "Don't be stupid.  I'll slash this, and then you, if you don't behave."

Annie and Ms. Bourgeois grabbed the contents of the cabinets and threw them on the floor.

"Good girls.  Now, you two get inside."  He motioned for Annie and her teacher to occupy the first cabinet.  They stood inside, holding onto each other. Ms. Bourgeois stroked Annie's head.  He flicked a padlock off the door handle, shut the door, then locked it tight.  "You two lovebirds are next."  

He meant us.  Patrice and I slinked towards the storage cabinet.  My head grazed the top shelf as I stepped in.  Patrice faced me as the thief slammed the door.  The click of another padlock verified our fate.  The quarters were tight, our bodies jammed against each other.

"I'm scared, Mr. Marcus," whimpered Patrice.  She plastered herself against me, which wasn't difficult given the available space.

"Wait a second.  Harriett is on her way here," I whispered.

As if on cue, I heard her voice.  "Hello?  Anybody here?"

There was a scream, the sound of art supplies being thrown, and the slam of a metal door.

"Harriett?" I asked.

"Harvey?  Where's Anna?  Is she all right?"

"I'm fine, Mommy. Ms. Bourgeois and I are locked in together."

"Is someone in there with you, Harvey?"

"yes, Patrice, Annie's friend."

"Are you all right, Anna?" shouted Harriett.

"A little cramped, but okay."

Ms. Bourgeois spoke up, "We will all be fine.  There is a security check later this evening.  They will find us and let us out.  The best thing now is for all of us to relax and be calm."

"How about you, Patrice?  Are you okay?"

Patrice was shaking, rubbing against my body.  If the threat had shrunk my penis back to normal, the young lady pressed against me had me on the rise again.  She repositioned herself, so I was between her legs.

Patrice's hand snaked across my thigh and took my dick in hand.  We couldn't be doing this, not here, not locked in a storage cabinet with my wife in the next one.  "Stop it!"

"What's the matter?" asked Harriett.

Patrice began to moan.  Her other hand was moving under her skirt.  Shit, she was fingering herself while she played with my dick.  I said the first plausible lie that came to mind.  "She's, uh, claustrophobic."

"Don't holler at her, for Christ's sake.  Comfort the girl," Harriett ordered.

"Comfort me," whispered Patrice.

"Put your arms around her, Harvey."

We were already physically adjacent, so I raised my arms around her back.  The squeezed was merely for show.

"Isn't that better, honey?" asked Harriett.

"A little," Patrice whimpered.

"Your job, Harvey, is to make the girl feel safe.  Comfort her."

"Comfort my ass," purred Patrice.  I ran my hands down and cupped her ass.  It was bare!  She'd never put her panties back on!  "Comfort my tits."  I brought my hands up to her blouse and cupped her breasts.  No bra either.

"Do you know what they call me at school?" Patrice whispered.  I shook my head.  "Pussy Lipski."  Patrice "Pussy" Lipski, as I live and breath.

Her hands went to my belt and zipper. "Get it out," said Patrice. 

"What was that?" asked Harriett.

"She said 'Get me out.'" I replied. My erection wormed its way into the open, dancing across the plaid skirt of my partner.

Patrice grasped my prick and tugged gently.  "It's so hard!"

"Is she finding it hard to breathe?  The ventilation in these closets is abysmal.  Why, I feel short of breath."  Harriett made sucking sounds.  "Give her mouth to mouth.  Don't let the poor girl suffer."

I brought my face down.  She sucked at my lips, and flitted her tongue against mine.  I savored the attention.  In this proximity, with my hard-on sticking out against the belly of a nubile young woman wearing no panties, I knew where this was headed.  How could I do this, with my wife just inches away, listening to every sound?

Patrice grabbed the shelf above us, to move higher against my body.  She was attempting to position herself for penetration.  Art supplies struck me in the head as they fell.

"Ouch!"

"I'm cooped up in here, barely alive."  Harriett's voice was stuttered and high pitched.  "What's wrong with you?"  Her concern had faded with the confinement.

"Something fell and hit me in the head."

"Well, rub it so it doesn't swell up," Harriett commanded.

"Hmm, rub the head."  Patrice stroked my erection, her hand dawdling at the tip.  "Too late for the swelling."

"Don't be frightened," Harriett said.  "Maybe someone will hear if I bang on the door."

"Ooh, it's time to bang."  Patrice went up on her tippy toes, hanging from the overhead shelf.

Pounding erupted through the wall, a series of muffled thuds.  "I'm climbing the walls in here."  Harriett was losing her patience.

Patrice spread her legs around my hips, climbed aboard and sunk down onto my hard prick.  She cried out and moaned.  I clamped my mouth over hers to muffle her shouts so my wife wouldn't hear.

I heard Harriett's words in between the beats.  "I - can't - stand - being - crammed - into - such - a - small - space!"

Patrice put her face to my ear.  "Cram it into my small space."

There had been no blockage, and getting deep into Patrice had been relatively smooth.  At least I wasn't taking her cherry under these awkward circumstances.

Harriett's voice was getting louder, and she was vocalizing non-stop, with an occasional pound on the metal door to accentuate her frustration.  "The streets were all jammed up, or I would have been here on time."

"Jam it," Patrice whispered, raising and lowering herself.  I assisted as best I could, but raising my elbows for better leverage was out of the question.  I hung onto Patrice's sweet ass and prayed.

"It was hard driving.  I should have called -"

"Oh, you're so hard," Patrice hissed.  "Drive your prick into me, fill me up."

I took my hands off her butt for a moment, to unbutton her blouse and get another look at her breasts.  Well, not just a look.  My mouth sampled one nipple, then the other.  Patrice kept on humping, leveraging her legs against my hips.

"Stupid me!  What was I thinking?  I've got my cell phone.  I'll just call the police."

Patrice worked her pelvis back and forth, at least as well as the cramped quarters would allow.  We were fucking real good, and I was looking forward to relief, after walking around most of the day with an erection.

"There, I called.  I wish they'd come already."

"Cum, cum, cum," Patrice chanted.  Couldn't Harriett have said 'arrive' or 'show up'?

"If I bang, do you think they'll will come quicker?"

"Bang me.  Cum in me," Patrice urged.  

I didn't need any additional encouragement.  Maybe I wasn't as large as the big dick Randi and Brandi were preparing for, but I was plenty fat enough to give Patrice a ride she'd never forget.  I jabbed my hips up to meet her, over and over.  I was afraid our movement would topple the cabinet.  Were they bolted together?  Could Harriett feel us rocking back and forth?

Three thuds on the metal door startled us.  We stopped in mid fuck.  "It's the police.  Are you all right in there?"

"Oh, thank god," shouted Harriett.

Annie's breathless voice drifted in from the other side.  "We're fine."  What had Annie and Ms. Bourgeois been doing all this time?

"Be patient," said the deep masculine voice.  "We're looking for a tool to get this lock off."

"Get your rocks off," said Patrice.  

She made a series of quick bounces, but the presence of police just outside erased my enthusiasm.  "The jig is up, my dear."  I lifted her off, my penis bouncing between her thighs.  "We can't be caught like this."  I buttoned her blouse.

The glare of light brought my arm to my face.  The warmth of Patrice's body departed.  I stumbled as I stepped out of the cabinet.

"Harvey!  Oh my God!" shrieked Harriett.  "What were you two doing in there?"

How did she know?  Had I left my penis hanging out of my pants?  No, I'd stuffed it back and zipped up.  When my eyes acclimated, Patrice stood there with red paint stains on the back of her skirt and on her blouse.  Splatters of blue decorated her face.  I couldn't see my face, but I was red handed.  Patrice's hands were green, as was the crotch area of my pants.  If anyone in the crowd remembered the game of Twister, we were in big trouble.

"It's going to expensive, shipping your artwork to showing across the country."  Annie giggled.  Others, including Harriett, laughed out loud.  

One of the policemen broke a smile.  The other's eyes slid, back and forth, first to me, then to Patrice.  Was he matching up the colors?  This kind of thing should be circumstantial evidence.

I looked back at the cabinet Patrice and I had shared.  The inside was awash with waves and swirls of color that documented our vigorous coupling.  Open tubes and bottles were still dripping from the bent shelf.

"See, you do have a talent," said Ms. Bourgeois.  She winked at me.  She knew.  She'd been there.

Annie and Ms. Bourgeois stood near each other, their clothes in disarray.  Looked like they had their own private celebration in their cabinet.  

"I'll need your statements," said the smiling cop.  "A description of the thief and the stolen goods.  Then you'll be free to leave."

I stepped forward, leaving a trail of rainbow footprints.

"If you would be so kind as to remove your shoes," said Ms. Bourgeois.  "Charles probably won't be cleaning up tonight, and there's already sufficient mess.  You should clean up before the paint dries any further."

"We'll take their statements first," said shifty-eyed cop.

Smiley cop escorted me to a student desk. Ms. Bourgeois handed me a paint rag, which I placed on the chair before I sat down.  Patrice was preparing to sit in another chair, smoothing her skirt as she lowered.  There, on her upper thighs, were two red handprints.  The shifty-eyed cop was facing her, already seated.  Dodged a bullet there.

I told the officer everything I remembered about the fake janitor, and the painting he held.  

"Thanks for your co-operation," he said.

I stood, waiting for Ms. Bourgeois, Harriett and Annie to give their statements.  Patrice and I stood at opposite sides of the room.  Finally, everyone had been interviewed and the police left, but not before shifty-eyed cop looked back at me over his shoulder in the doorway.  I pretended not to notice.

"I'm so terribly sorry for what you went through this evening.  It was supposed to be a celebration, and instead -" Ms. Bourgeois choked and dabbed her eyes with a crumpled hankie.

I patted her shoulder, and then walked over to Harriett.  "Let's go home."

She put her hands on her wide hips.  "You're not getting in either of our cars like that.  Anna and I will go home, it's not far.  You two clean up and we'll bring back fresh clothes."

Ms. Bourgeois heard my wife's demand.  Folks within a block probably did, too.  "I have plenty of clean-up to do here.  The boys' and girls' locker rooms are down the next hallway.  I can show you."

Patrice and I walked behind Ms. Bourgeois, whose hips refused not to shimmy despite her emotional state.  "There should be towels inside.  I'll let you know when your wife arrives with the fresh clothing."

Patrice hopped over to the door marked GIRLS, her stained skirt swaying.  I tried to picture her naked ass as I entered the BOYS facility.  It had been decades since I was in a locker room like this.  Everything looked smaller - the lockers, the height of the mirrors.  I had to bend over to see my face.  The blue splatters matched Patrice, including the smears around our lips.  I stripped off my paint-stained pants, shirt and socks.  Some of the paint had soaked through to my underwear.  I stole a garbage bag off one of the larger trashcans and threw everything in.

The shower room had eight heads and an ice-cold tile floor.  Turning the first water control yielded a dribble of freezing liquid.  Goosebumps formed all over, including the painted areas.  The trickle increased, sputtering to a full flow.  The temperature warmed enough for me to enter the stream.  I wet my hands and pushed at the tiny metal knob that disbursed liquid soap.  After twenty punches, I had a tablespoon of slippery pink goop.  At this rate, I'd never get clean.

"Hey there!"  Patrice stood at the threshold of the shower area, naked and clean.

"How did you get the paint off so quickly?"

She held up a frilly mass.  "Somebody left this loofa behind.  It scrubbed the paint off in no time.  Need some help?"

My penis needed no help in reacting to the lovely nude body in front of me.  I was stiff and throbbing before she could join me under the spray.

"We never did finish, you know."  Her hands worked the blob of pink into handfuls of lather.  "Stand still so I can wash your face."  She stood as tall as she could, reaching the loofa towards my face.  She was so close that my prick bumped against her belly.  "Lift me up."

I squatted.  She put her legs around my torso, and I held her ass.  When I stood, she passed the foamy cloth over my face.  "There, much better.  Now, rinse."

I faced the stream, soaking Patrice's backside.  She was getting slippery, as the suds washed down over her back.  I hefted her up higher, putting my erection dangerously close to her pussy.  Pussy lips-ki, to be precise.

"One of her hands reached down and guided me back in.  She was more slippery now, either from soap or self-stimulation.  I let her slide down, until our groins were united and her weight was all on my pubic area.

"You are one horny dude," she said.

"Takes one to know one," I replied.

"In the Bible, 'knowing' someone means you've had sex with them."  Patrice was an expert, going to Catholic school and all.  "So, are you going to get to know me better, or what?"

I moved forward, pinning Patrice against the wall.  I needed leverage if I was going to deliver a standing fuck to this young lady.  And, was I ever!  My balls were demanding a release, and Patrice was my vehicle.  So much better than my hand, which was my plan before she surprised me.  After too many lifts and thrusts, my arms and legs were fatigued.  I lowered Patrice to the tile floor.  "All fours, darlin'."  Patrice turned over and shook her butt at me.  I positioned myself between her thighs and reentered.  As a bonus, I reached around and took her breasts in my hands.  

Ms. Bourgeois's voice drifted into the Boys' locker room.  "How are you doing in there?"

"It's hard to get the paint off," I replied, increasing my pace and the pressure on Patrice's nipples.

"Yes, very hard," said Patrice.

"Your wife and daughter have returned, and I need to go home.  Come out soon."

"Cum, come on, cum," Patrice urged.

My balls compressed as I pulled from Patrice's cunt.  She swiveled and took the tip of my dick in her mouth as I shot once, twice, I don't know how many times.  

Patrice let the water wash off the unswallowed residue.  As we headed for the benches and towels, Ms. Bourgeois stepped out from behind a row of lockers.  In her hand, a rough sketch of the two of us, intertwined.

"Don't worry," Ms. Bourgeois said, "It's our little secret."  She glanced down at my still-inflated penis.  "Well, perhaps not so little."

(To be continued)

###

An Original H M Tale 

I'm always interested in reader feedback.  Tell me what you think at harveymarcus@comcast.net

Copyright (c) 2005, HarveyMarcus.  All Rights Reserved.

