The Model Home

Saturdays with Bob out of town always made Billie's restlessness worse, and lately it had been almost unbearable at any time. She couldn't understand it. Things really couldn't be better. Bob was a wonderful husband; they had many things in common. Oh sure, their sex life could be better, but who's couldn't? And besides, sex was only a minor part of marriage...so what if Bob could stand to be a little more imaginative, a little more...well...a little more forceful? She shook herself. She had to stop thinking this way. It just increased the restless feeling. It was sex, she knew that, but felt ashamed to admit it, even to herself. Somehow, she thought, she had to get up the nerve to talk to Bob about it. It was surely as much her fault as his, but he seemed perfectly happy. If he was unaware of the problem, there was no way she could solve it by herself.

Oh to hell with it! She got up from the breakfast table and hurried into the bedroom. She had to get out of this empty house, had to see people, someone...anyone. She dressed hurriedly, putting on a racer back, blue tank sweater with a white, stretch twill mini-skirt. She didn't wear a bra, choosing only a tiny pair of bikini panties for her underclothes; she even decided against any hose, feeling deliciously wicked as she backed the car out of the garage. With no real goal in mind, just driving, she headed toward the beach on Santa Monica Boulevard, and then turned north toward Malibu. When she got there she didn't stop, but turned back inland. At about one o'clock she was in the Hollywood Hills, driving aimlessly. She passed a sign announcing the opening of a new home development and on impulse she decided to tour the models.

She stopped in the sales office for directions and a map, and then drove into the development. The first model was a three bedroom home and a tall, well-built black man was just coming out as she reached the door. He smiled at her and stepped back, holding the door for her. She returned the smile and thanked him.

A young couple was standing in the living room talking, so Billie moved quickly into the kitchen. She glanced around for a few moments, and then wandered through a too-formal dining room and back into the living room. The young couple was gone, but the black man had returned. He was an older man, probably around fifty she decided. He was staring at her, not smiling now. She stared back, her body suddenly alive.

"A very nice house, don't you think?" he said.

"Yes, very beautiful."

She remained standing in the doorway leading to the dining room, her eyes following him as he moved around the room. She was surprised to find herself trembling.

"You must see the bedrooms," He said, "especially the master bedroom."

Their eyes met as he spoke and she felt as though he had pierced her brain. His gaze was like a physical grip, an insistent caress that sent her heart pounding in her breast. When his eyes released her, he nodded toward the hallway leading, she assumed, to the bedrooms. She turned without speaking and walked down the hall, tiny pricks of heat dancing over her body. The master bedroom was at the end of the hall, a large open room, but with a slanting open-beam ceiling that gave it a rustic, cozy look. The raised king-sized bed seemed like a throne, or a stage. She moved across the room, acutely aware of the wetness of her crotch. Her temples throbbed painfully and she could hear the blood rushing in her veins.

She heard him coming down the hall and she moved as far away from the door as she could. When he came in, she was standing before the large picture window, looking out it at the city below. The sun was shining directly into the window and she suddenly realized that he would be able to see through her dress, to see her body silhouetted in the light. It was too late to do anything about it now. Trembling violently, she sensed him move up behind her. A soft moan escaped her at his touch. He clasped her hips and pushed himself against her. She shivered, whimpering as he moved his hands up her sides, under her sweater. His touch seared her flesh, igniting flames that burned into her senses destroying all resistance before it was born. Helpless beneath his caress, she cried out in passion as he cupped her naked breasts in his hands. Weak, dizzy with lust, she sagged weakly back into his arms, feeling his erection pressing into her buttocks.

"Please," she moaned, forcing the word through her passion clogged throat.

"Get on the bed," he hissed.

She turned, stumbling, falling; sprawling wildly across the bed. He dragged her to the edge on her belly, pushing her skirt up over her hips and tearing the skimpy panties from her drenched crotch. He leaned over her, holding her down with one hand in the small of her back. Writhing in a mad sexual frenzy she was unconscious of anything but her terrible need, until his palm smacked against the left cheek of her ass. She jerked, arching her body at the sudden pain, then relaxing, groaning into the bedspread as he hit her again, and again. The sharp, loud noises mingled with the burning pain and she bit at the spread to muffle her screams of agonized excitement while her cunt drooled onto the bedclothes between her legs.

Suddenly he threw himself on her reddened ass, knocking the breath from her body as he slammed into her. The thick head of his raging cock rammed easily past the dripping outer lips of her hole and slammed up into her pussy sheath as if vacuumed.

"Oh Jesus...fuck me. Oh God, fuck me, fuck me. Shit, oh shit, piss, fuck...fuck...fuck me....rip me..." She ranted on, filth spewing from her lips as she fucked insanely up at his driving hips. She could only grunt the words, her inner forces so constricting her body that she could hardly breathe.

His cock was throbbing against her vaginal walls as it drove in and out, alternately stretching and constricting the oozing membranes of her cunt. His breath was harsh, exciting in her ear. And then, without warning, she came, the sensation rolling like an avalanche over her body. It was searing, intense, blinding, all-consuming, and heavy animal sounds began cascading from Billie's throat as she fought to match his thrusts with her own driven hips.

He came with her, his hot semen providing the trigger that made Billie a total sexual being for a one entrancing instant. They lay spent then, their bodies searching for each other without moving, and they were totally together for that brief moment. Then Billie heard a car go by on the street outside and her mind caught at the danger factor. Astonishingly, her hips began to fuck at him again and she felt the build-up of orgasm. Her movement brought the man back to reality and he reached up, twisting his fingers in her hair and pushing her face into the bed. With a surge of excitement she realized she had aroused him again. He was getting harder within her and she beat her hips up against him, straining to impale herself deeper on his renewed virility. He dragged her closer to the edge of the bed, dragging her belly through the wetness of their mingled spendings, until he could stand up. He began to slap her ass then, whipping the fleshy cheeks as he fucked her. A never-ending cum roared out from her loins, ripping down to her toes and reverberating to the top of her head and her ears roared with the intensity of it. He didn't come in her this time, pulling out at the last second and shooting his hot juice over her thighs and her ass and she thrilled to the feel of his hot cum on her heated flesh.

He stepped back away from her then and she rolled over, slipping off the bed onto the floor at his feet. Her head was on a level with his cock and she leaned her head forward, gently sucking the dripping tool into her mouth. She looked up at him as she licked his cock, slurping up their mingled juices, then she let the limp meat slip from her lips as she lowered her mouth, twisting her head until she could reach his balls with her searching tongue. When he was clean, she carefully pushed his soft penis back in his pants and zipped him up.

Only then did she stand up, and as she did so they heard the front door of the model open. Voices floated down the hall. Hurriedly she straightened her skirt, brushing futilely at the tell-tale wet spots. She bent, starting to try to smooth out the rumpled bed covers, but he stopped her.

"Leave it," he said.

Her panties had been kicked half under the bed, but now, as she heard footsteps coming down the hall, he bent down and retrieved them, tossing them casually into the middle of the bed, their blackness stark against the white, cum- stained bedspread.

A woman, about twenty-five was the first one through the door, followed by a man. "Oh, hello," she said, smiling.

Another couple came in. They all seemed to realize at once what had happened. The first woman saw the panties on the bed, tried to ignore them, giggled, choked and turned away, her shoulders shaking. There were a few moments of embarrassed silence, and then Billie, shaking with shame and excitement, felt her recent lover's hand on her ass. He guided her towards the bathroom, stopping her just inside and leaning over her shoulder, as though they were examining the room. His hand was still on her ass and she knew the foursome were watching as the black man began to stroke her. His hand rubbed over her butt and she made small noises in her throat. His finger pressed into her ass crack, pressed deep, forcing the material of her skirt into the crack. It stayed there when he removed his hand.

She stayed in place for a moment, waiting for his touch again, and then turned. He was gone. Her face burned as she freed her skirt from her ass crack and ran from the room. The sound of giggles echoed down the hallway behind her.

The man was nowhere in sight when she emerged from the house, but there was a card on her windshield. She looked at it. There was nothing but a telephone number, and an obviously hurriedly scrawled note, "Call me." Billie slipped the card in her purse and drove off quickly, not wanting to be there when the foursome came out.