Mrs Kendall

"Devonshire's. Good afternoon."

"Oscar, it's Wendy Kendall."

"Mrs. Kendall! How nice to hear from you."

"Do you have any time for me today?"

"I always have time for you, Mrs. Kendall. Let me check the book. How much time were you looking for?"

"Oh, shit. I'm running on fumes these days. Two hours?"

"Oh, my. Two hours, two hours. Hmm. Anything special, today, Mrs. K?"

"Oh, yes. Who's on today?"

"I have someone new I think you'll like. Please leave everything to me. Two hours? Well, I'm going to have to move someone."

"Fine. What time?"

"How's 1:30?"

"See you then."

At twenty minutes past one, the car pulled up to the curb and the doorman opened the rear door, implied a bow and offered his arm to the passenger with one motion. A graceful hand, still elegant after so many years, accepted his expected offer and swung her impossibly long legs to the curb. They exchanged half-smiles and she glided through the frosted-glass door held open for her. It was a wonder anyone allowed her feet to touch the ground.

Oscar was waiting for her, looking for signs of what level of ingratiation she required today. "Mrs. Kendall. How lovely you look today."

"Oh, Oscar, not today. Just get me a drink."

"What would you like?"

"Something strong and cold." A chilled glass arrived on a silver tray, and she drained it in one. "Another, please."

"I'll bring it to your room. Let me take that for you."

She relieved herself of her bag and started to unbutton her Italian silk blouse as she walked through the curtained archway and down the silent hall. Murmuring noises were noticeable behind closed doors, but she had the discretion not to listen. She closed the door to her room behind her, settled into the club chair and kicked off her shoes. A new drink arrived, her shoes were whisked away and she was offered a Dunhill and a light, both of which she accepted. She took a deep drag, pick up her drink and allowed her carefully blonded head to fall back. Finishing her drink, slowly this time, she peeled off her blouse, slid off her skirt, removed her skinny lingerie and sheer stockings, and briefly enjoyed her nakedness. She left her clothes in a heap, knowing they would be looked after.

Wendy Kendall stood to remove the plush white robe from the hook and caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. At five foot, eleven inches tall, she had left behind her modeling career at its apogee, deciding correctly that she was at the peak of her considerable powers, that the time to begin her second career as a trophy wife had arrived at the age of twenty-seven, and that she would give herself to Charles, then at the age of forty-eight. The arrangement had served them both within the boundaries they had defined for the past two decades. Now forty-eight herself, she still looked spectacular, through the combination of an enviable gene pool, the miracle of the surgical arts and the expenditure of untold sums of money.

The word that came to mind was "elegant," but it was so insufficient to do her justice, with a neck like a pedestal for her unendurably regal face, crystal blue eyes and cheekbones that belonged on Mt. Rushmore. Her shoulders were sharply carved, her long slender arms descending to slim wrists and long, manicured fingers, which rested on tight hips bisecting her horizontally: above, her natural bosom was small but beautifully shaped and alert, with small areolas and fierce nipples. Her stomach was not just flat, but muscled, with a surgically-defined navel winking back at her; below, her pubic hair was neatly trimmed for tiny bikini bottoms that barely contained her firm brown ass cheeks. Her legs were unspeakably long and unspeakably shapely, with firm, silken thighs that were the source of her modeling success and untold numbers of vicious and envious commentary muttered under the breath of her so-called friends. When she wrapped her thighs around Charles' head their first night together, she had him.

She had taken many lovers since then, of course, but they could be such a fucking pain in the ass when she was done with them. There had been some unpleasantness, but her lawyers had taken care of everything, and Charles was understanding without acknowledging that there was anything to be understanding about. But at the beginning, especially when she was younger, they were so thrilling and exciting, especially, she admitted to herself, the Latin boys with the hard bodies and the freakishly-sized cocks. She loved to take them in her mouth and even, sometimes, to swallow their copious cum or just let it dribble down her chin and onto her grateful tits. All her boys were strong and attentive, with extreme staying power that she would ride until she took her last orgasm and collapsed onto their chests in a heap, sweating like a mule and gasping for breath.

As she approached forty, her energy but not her desire dissipated, so she became more judicious in her trysts and cut back on their athleticism. Charles had never been any good in the sack, but that had never mattered, and she accommodated him whenever he pressed his hard-on against her, knowing that he also had any number of mistresses to relieve her of the burden of satisfying all of his sexual needs. Their arrangement was mutually satisfactory, and she made the effort to thank him when they fucked. One time he pressed the tip of his modest prick against her asshole, and she promptly rose up on all fours on the bed and spread her ass cheeks with both hands to accept him anally. He treated her gently until he could no longer restrain herself, and she endured the pain with deep and grateful noises from her throat. She even managed to entreat him aloud, in a high-pitched and reedy voice, "Oh, God, Charles, keep fucking my ass with your hard fucking cock!" He had never cum so hard in his life, and they both knew it as a shared appreciation for everything that had brought them to this point in their sumptuous lives. Afterward, she was sore for a day or two, but the creamy fluid leaking from her backside was an investment that had provided above-market returns for years to come. He would never abandon her.

But now with the accumulating maturity of her years, she was more attentive to the special contours of her own desires. She still liked to fuck and be fucked hard and long, but not quite so hard and not quite so long as before. She didn't see the point of extended intercourse any more, and preferred to get to the point of convulsive orgasm (or two or three) as directly as possible without rushing things. Having indulged so many times in the exquisite pleasure of being riven by a massive and mighty cock at full throttle, battering her pelvis against her lover's pubis, digging her fingernails into toned flesh, and behaving every bit the sweaty slut, she now appreciated a more gentle assault, no less ardent, but sweeter and sharply intense.

For the last hour, she'd been buffed, peeled, lotioned, massaged, mani- and pedicured, styled, primped, facialed, coiffed, and treated like the royalty she was. She was restored and ready when the soft knock on the door came.

"Mrs. Kendall? Hi, I'm Amanda. It's so nice to meet you." It was obvious the girl knew who she was, even, she suspected, without Oscar telling her. She was on the short side, blond and fit, in a crisp white outfit that set off her pervasive coffee-colored tan and her impossibly white teeth. Her skin and hair radiated vitamins and healthy upbringing. Her expansive chest filled her tight polo. She had hands like small birds.

"My God, Amanda, aren't you lovely?" Mrs. Kendall looked her over and liked what she saw with quiet appreciation. Amanda blushed.

"Oh, thank you. You're so sweet." She blushed some more.

"Are you in college?"

"I just graduated."

"And this is your first job?"

"It is and I'm having such a great time! Everyone's been so nice."

"I'm sure they have." She felt her temperature rise steadily.

Amanda blushed crimson and fumbled for words. "Here, Mrs. Kendall, let me help you out of your robe."

"Thank you, dear." She turned her back and allowed Amanda to pull the robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Oh, God, Ms. Kendall! You are so hot!"

"For an old married lady, you mean. Come here. May I call you Mandy?"

Amanda started to answer, but it was too late. Wendy knotted her fingers into the girl's straight blond hair and pulled their mouths together, burying her tongue in the dark cavity of her mouth. Her nipples became erect, and nearly shattered when Amanda brushed them lightly with her fingers. They both made appreciate sounds.

The tall former model took the petite Amanda into her full embrace, and the girl's arms enfolded her in return. They concentrated on the kissing, deepening their penetration but not their speed, lapping their tongues together, and exchanging the angles of their heads, first this way, then that, then back again and again. Only Wendy was naked and Amanda opened her hands wide to grab both ass checks and pull their pelvises together. Wendy squeezed her tighter, and bore down on Mandy's open mouth from the advantage of her height and her superior station in life. Wendy whimpered submissively. God, this one is good, Wendy thought to herself.

Wendy pushed away Mandy's shoulders and pulled the girl's mouth to her breast. Mandy did as she was instructed. Her full, sweet lips opened and encircled the nipple, and pulled it gently into her mouth. Wendy felt electricity, as her head fell back and Mandy seized control of her other breast, before bringing her mouth over to lick the hardening bud. Wendy pulled Mandy's head in closer and made the girl treat her more roughly. Mandy understood immediately, and gently closed her teeth, making a shallow impression on her areola, as Wendy breathed a quiet "fuck" into her ear. Mandy pushed Wendy down into the chair behind her and renewed the assault.

Now the beautiful girl was eating her tits like a meal, squeezing them hard and sucking each nipple with gentle urgency, releasing the tip from her mouth with a tiny pop. Wendy took Mandy's much larger breasts in her own hands and squeezed for all she was worth. Mandy breathed her own "fuck" before remembering who she was with.

"Oh, Mrs. Kendall, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have said that."

Wendy was annoyed by the interruption and looked hard at Mandy, with her beautiful head in both hands. "Yes, you fucking should have, dear, and you better keep saying it." The older woman slipped her hands under her younger lover's shirt, and scooped it off roughly. "Turn around!" she ordered, and tore off the restraining bra, before forcing her back to the front and spreading her fingers across Mandy's generous chest. "Oh, Mandy, your breasts are gorgeous," and she dove in to taste them. They were diamond-hard, and Wendy pinched them so roughly it made Mandy wince.

"Oh, fuck! Do that again." Wendy took a mouthful of Mandy's breast, and sunk her teeth into flesh and meat. "Oh! Shit! Ow! No, Mrs. Kendall, please don't stop!" Wendy obliged her, before forcing her tongue back into Mandy's mouth, Mandy reciprocating hungrily and appreciatively. Wendy grabbed Mandy's hand and pressed it against her wet vagina; the girl did not need to be told twice. She lifted the older woman out of the chair and pinned her back against the wall by her bare shoulders, buried her face into the deep cavity of her graceful neck, and slid her middle finger gently inside the slickened pussy Wendy opened to her, as she grabbed two handfuls of Mandy's hair. Their naked chests mashed together and Mandy reached behind her mistress to clutch the meat of her still-tight ass. Wendy swooned a bit, barked a sharp noise from deep in her throat, and pressed Mandy's hand harder into the heat of her cunt. Mandy bit an offered nipple harder than she should have, and shoved a second finger into Wendy.

"Oh, God!" Neither of them knew who'd said that, but they forged on. Wendy was losing the ability to stand as Mandy began to piston her two stiff fingers in and out of the deep cunt, slow at first and then intolerably fast. Mandy felt herself losing her balance and pulled away long enough to leverage her client's back onto the massage table without removing her fingers, a feat in which she was aided by the death grip in which Wendy held Mandy's wrist. She squeezed tighter until the twenty-something inserted a third finger.

"Mrs. Kendall," Mandy gasped for breath. "You're falling off the table." Together, they heaved her ass up so that her entire graceful frame was more or less horizontal, back on the table, curled toes pressing against the edge, knees splayed wide apart to make room for the invasion. Wendy pulled her down to an angry and deep kiss, while her lover churned her pussy like a machine. Mrs. Kendall took both of Mandy's full breasts into her open hands to feel their weight, before pinching both nipples hard enough to extract a pleading noise from Mandy's covered mouth. She did not relent until a fourth finger forced its way in, as her feet rose into the air. Mandy's fingers kneeded Wendy's cunt like thick bread dough, and Wendy's head lolled off the end of the table. After several long minutes of delicious mistreatment, Wendy grabbed Mandy's wrist again and pulled herself up to place her mouth next to Mandy's ear. After numerous husky exhales and slurping her ear with her swollen tongue, Mrs. Kendall whispered two words:

"Eat me."

Now Mandy brought her mouth to Wendy's ear and pressed her own tongue deep inside, covering the delicate shell with saliva. "You want me to eat your pussy, Ms. Kendall? You want me to lick your cunt? Is that what you want? My tongue in your fucking cunt?"

Wendy grunted something in ostensible reply and held onto the girl's wrist for dear life, pushing the last digit – her delicate thumb – inside the crowded place. Wendy gasped and grabbed her own breast fiercely. Mandy's wrist was buried inside her and clawing at every supple surface it encountered over and over and over again. Her wrist was imprisoned in Wendy's firm grip, so she put the splayed fingers of her other hand on the taught abdomen of her benefactor and allowed her mouth to hover just above the exposed clitoris, covering it in her warm breath. Mrs. Kendall couldn't tolerate the anticipation, and pushed Mandy's face onto her opening, mashing her tongue onto the sensitive button, as the young lover continued to fist her like a longshoreman.

Things were starting to get out of control. Wendy neither knew nor cared where the hell she was, and her noise began to rise with purpose. Mandy had explored her cunt lips and clit gently at first, but now she was matching the intensity of her licking with the driving of her buried hand. She clenched her first and increased the speed of her frantic tongue. There was warm liquid everywhere in and around Wendy's crotch, and a swirling sensation was growing from somewhere deep inside. She held Mandy's face full against her clit and helped Mandy grind her tongue more deeply against her, as she pulled at the girl's slim wrist to hammer her balled fist harder against the walls of her enveloping pussy. She softly growled two words:

"My asshole."

Mandy wasn't sure if she'd heard right, and she tried to lift her head, but Wendy refused to release her. "My asshole," she repeated.

Mandy forcefully extricated her mouth enough to squeeze out some words. "Mrs. Kendall, I have a strap-on ..."

Wendy shoved her head back in place. "No! No plastic! Use your fucking fingers." Wendy grabbed Mandy's free hand and slobbered warm saliva from her open mouth onto the girl's slender fingers. Then she pushed Mandy's hand back to her ass, grabbed her middle finger, and pushed it into her tight rectum. Her sphincter slammed shut, but Mandy forced her way through, forcing Wendy to cry out and spread her ass checks by opening her legs as wide as they would go. Mandy responded with a second finger, extracting a "Jesus fucking Christ!" from Wendy. Mandy's tongue worked harder at the business at hand, and her fist inside Wendy's cunt twisted clockwise, then counterclockwise in rapid alternation. Her client squirmed and jerked violently, and took a third finger up her ass.

They both knew where this was going, but they prolonged the agony with a combination of patience and renewed assault. Mandy's own pussy had soaked through her cotton panties and white jeans, but she licked and prodded and grabbed at her beautiful sponsor with intense devotion. Wendy was starting to come undone, with her spine arched up well off the table, her head fallen back off the end, her legs spread as far apart as they could extend, toes curled, cunt clenching Mandy's fist, asshole bursting with stiffened fingers, a flat swollen tongue lapping her clit hard and fist.

She accepted Mandy's last two fingers, as the little hand filled her ass cavity to completion, just as the other hand worked deep inside her vagina. The idea of double-fisting had never occurred to her before, and it did not occur to her now; in fact, nothing occurred to her now. She was light years beyond thought at this point, filled with tight physical energy that compressed her body into the space below her navel and above her thighs. The pressure was become too intense to bear, but at the same time she understood that was the point, and welcomed the accumulating wave she could feel building inside her.

For her part, Mandy had the good sense to take her time and let Mrs. Kendall direct her ministrations. Her client was starting to writhe with something that was exquisite and intolerable, and Mrs. Kendall's long, beautiful body would tighten and relax, arch and fall back, while Mandy kept at it with her embedded hands buried in wetness and muscle, sensitive to every quiver, her tongue working purposefully on the lady's rigid clitoris, hard as a piece of delicious candy. Mandy, too, started to lose track of time and place, wallowing instead in the filthy mess pouring out of Mrs. Kendall's holes, from the squishing sounds and the tight dark places, Mandy pressed on, drove her face deeper into Mrs. Kendall's glorious pussy, drinking her fluid, eating her forcefully and unrelentingly, listening to the yelps and the gasps and the half-words, and driving deeper and harder and faster and stiffer until finally, at long last, the dam broke, and Mrs. Kendall bucked and wrenched her pelvis, twisting her torso from side to side with real ferocity, uncontrollable, all but falling off the table, letting out a series of sharp and piercing un-lady-like screams that Oscar surely heard, the ex-model's impossibly long legs spread even wider now, to let the cum pour out of her snatch and onto Mandy's hand, onto the table, Mandy not relenting one bit, absorbing the spray and the ride all at once, eating as much of the cunt as she could get at, fucking Mrs. Kendall's spasming sphincter with her closed fist in the more constricted space of her gripping rectum and the pulsing enclosure of her vagina, while Mrs. Kendall pulled and pinched and stroked her compact breasts for all she was worth, opening herself wider to let the sensation out, to revel in her filled asshole, her filled cunt, her fucked clit, her owned mashed tits, the noise, the mess, the motion, and the girl, all at once, waiting for subsidence, and letting each spasm go, one molecule at a time, one breath, one more whimper, one more release ...

After what seemed like a very long time, Mrs. Kendall recomposed herself, kissed Mandy's sloppy face deeply, and took a long, hot shower. She climbed in to her freshly laundered outfit, somehow managing to maintain her balance, renewed herself with an invigorating spray of perfume, and stepped into her shows. Before she went into the hall, Mrs. Kendall took a moment to refocus herself, to stop her head from spinning and prepared to re-engage with Oscar.