"Would you like to see the house?"
Phillipa was some distant relative of the Earl of Wherever, our host for the weekend. The Earl was managing director of what was billed as a public relations firm, but was really just a conduit for matchmaking between American and European companies. "Willy", as the Earl seemed to universally be known, casually knew everybody worth knowing, it seemed.
I did not need to know Willy's full name, nor did I really need to be at the party. I was the "quant", the analyst in tow with his American guests. My work was done in plain jane hotel rooms, exchanging data with the prospects, preparing charts and graphs to translate the numbers into concepts for my bosses and their investors. Since I was part of the group, I got swept into a limo headed to the Earl's estate for the weekend of boozing, shooting and salesmanship. My job was to be the one who stayed sober and kept my bosses from agreeing to anything too stupid while drunk.
Bruno had the tougher job. He was our director of security, and his job was to make sure there were no "honey traps"- opportunities for sex related blackmail. No one much cared if I was photographed in a compromising position however. I had no real influence, was entirely single, and could be disavowed easily enough. So, I figured, even if Phillipa WAS the bait for a trap, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Heck, even if I lost this job, another would come along. Not many people make numbers dance the way that I do.
In my admittedly limited experience, not many people swung their hips the way that Phillipa did. I had noticed her earlier. No Victoria's Secret model, she was a bubbly curvy redhead, all freckles and pleasant voluptuousness. No teenager, but still with a fresh bloom about her, her cheeks were rosy over porcelain flesh. She wore a modest cotton print dress that both hid and displayed her curves. If she were a painting, she might be "English Country Spinster" by Rubens.
Someone had introduced us, but her invitation was as surprising as the feel of her ample breast pressed beside my arm as she guided me away without waiting for an answer.
"I could tell you're as much of a fish out of water at these things as I am," she confided as we went up the massive sweeping staircase to the second floor.
I wanted to say something witty about how a voluptuous vision like Phillipa must fit in wherever she swam, but my mouth was full of cotton.
"This is the library," she explained, steering me into a musty dusty room stacked floor to ceiling with moldy tomes, the dreary English afternoon lacking enough sun to penetrate the moth eaten holes in the tapestry drapes.
She did not seem to pause to close the door, yet it was closed and we were in the room, alone save for words and dust motes.
"Do you want me?" she breathed against my lips as she pushed me back against the shelves.
My head spun. I had never known what that meant until I met Phillipa. Maybe it was the rush of blood from my brain to my groin, but I was dizzy. To keep my balance, I grabbed her ample hips. It was not clear whether I pulled her against my body, or if she pressed forward of her own accord, but it was clear that she was no spinster.
She kissed me and then my hands started moving over her body, rubbing her buttocks until she squirmed against my growing erection, and then sliding up her torso to cup those magnificent tits, hefting them gently at first. Her breath sighed into my mouth.
"That feels so good," she said as she paused to catch her breath, before kissing me more deeply, one hand ruffling my hair.
Since she seemed to enjoy it so much, I continued to play with her tits some more. After awhile, maybe while I fiddled with the buttons on the bodice of that dress, she slid her hand down my pants and rubbed my shaft. She undid my pants as I freed her bosom from her lacy bra.
"Suck my nipples," she directed as she stroked my fully erect shaft.
In the dull light it was hard to make out the shade of her nipples, but I imagined them to be pink like bubble gum, a match to her freckled paleness. First one nubbin, and then the other, surged to full hardness between my lips.
"It's okay to use your teeth, gently."
The way her rubbery appendage squished as I bit made my cock throb more intensely. I pulled back slowly, Phillipa groaning as the sensations travelled through nerve endings that must have been connected directly to her clit. That pearl already was bobbling at the tip of my finger.
Her grasp in my hair stiffened as she pulled my mouth off her boob. The soft "plop" echoed in that vast empty library. The only other sounds were our breathing.
My fingers easily slid inside her wet slit. My fingers danced inside her moistness, thumb flicking her clit until she buried her face against my chest to muffle the sound of her climax. I pressed my lips to her ear and then nibbled her earlobe until her spasms subsided.
Silently, Phillipa dropped to her knees, her face level with my rigid member. Her wild violet eyes danced above her flushed cheeks as she looked up at me, one hand stroking my shaft, the other kneading my scrotum.
"I'm going to suck your cock," she said, like she was talking about having porridge for breakfast. "It is a very nice cock. Just right. Not too large, not too small."
First, Phillipa simply licked the slit, tasting my precum, and then looked up at me again, smiling, her lips coated with my fluid.
Then her tongue poked out past those lips and she leaned forward, exploring the whole head of my cock with her tongue. She spent extra time licking the rim where the helmet met the shaft and then continued licking down my length with her flattened tongue.
My body shook with excitement as Phillipa proceeded to swallow my cock, her tongue continuing to dance around my shaft as her lips closed around the flesh. She reached my pubes and then drew her head back, allowing her lips to pull off my tip. Almost immediately though, she resumed licking the underside, running her tongue slowly along until she bobbled each of my balls with it. Her dainty fingers fondled wherever her tongue had last licked.
The warmth and wetness of her mouth and the sight of her was too much to stand for long. I could feel my balls churning, ready to exploded, and wondered whether I should warn her. There really was no place to come other than inside her mouth. I did not dare soil this ancient library, and a stain on her party dress would tell a sordid tale.
"Take me in your mouth," I moaned.
Phillipa seemed to understand what she needed to do. Slowly she began to take all of my cock into her throat and then started bobbing her head. With each stroke, she seemed to stroke me harder than before. My cock was soaked by her saliva. The only sound was her slurping.
