The Pleasuring Of Peggy Sanford

A translucent garment, one sheltering yet showing so much, is more erotic, then bold, in your face nudity. Proving the point, Peggy Sanford wore a red gauzy confection that rode over her breasts as transparent film, veiled her pert ass in diaphanous drapery, her pussy, its gash smooth as a baby's cheek intrepidly puckering under gossamer threads. The material, spider web transparent, soap bubble fragile, accentuated the nipples of her breasts, focused one's attention on the delta between her legs, highlighted the cleavage of her ass.

On her feet, she wore red four inch high heels, a classic cum fuck me pump if there ever was one. Her feet precariously inclined at the highest possible angle slid down in the shoes, corded her legs; I would have shot my load reveling in the sight of her luscious gams nothing more.

Lying in the hotel bed, naked under the clean, soft sheets, I watched her model the garment, turn and spin, let me see her nearly transparent nakedness from every angle. Using her index and middle finger, she probed the juncture between her legs, a native familiar with her own geography. My fingers slid up and down my cock, showing an easy familiarity with my own.

I imagined her tottering, these heels on her splendid little feet, wearing this little piece of nothing, pushing a silver cart down a narrow airplane aisle, serving coffee and drinks, sucking certain cocks along the way. Stroking my member, I saw this sexy woman wearing this short red shift, modeling it on a polished runway as men pulled at their cocks, women played with their pussies, all their heads turned up, resembling religious zealots save for the flames of lust shooting from their eyes. Showing a rambling abode worthy of reverent coverage in the glossy pages of Architectural Digest, Peggy wore this garb strolling from room to room, pointing at this, making a comment about that. A prospective male buyer trails behind her taking in the slender columns of her legs, the slim ankles, the pleasure of her firm thighs, and the slit of shadow in the crack of lovely, sculpted ass. Pausing at the breakfast bar, he leans her against the cool surface, bends her down and without a word, jabs his dick into the depths of her womb, fucks her hard and fast. Peggy tallying the damage to a wrecked vehicle, strolling about the scraped and dented and severely crumpled car, finding room in the back seat, she sprawls on the bench between two sprung doors, drops her clipboard, the worried looking man drops his pants and fucks her, finds his way under the sheer sleeve of fabric, she lifts her long legs, wraps them around his fleshy neck.

"Oh yes, fuck me hard and fast."

Before she entered the bathroom to slip into this little number, she did two things. First, she removed the light bulb from the lamp sitting next to the old style clock radio on the nightstand, one with numbers flipping over not a start of the art digital one. She reached into her purse, removed a 60 watt red bulb, and screwed it into the lamp's socket. Wearing a double strapped scoop line bra topped yellow dress with matching yellow heels and a lemon wedge of purse; she unzipped my pants, deftly moved my cock out into the open, and took me in her mouth in one gulp.

Such lavish sucking I had seldom experienced. I felt my cock in the back of her throat; her cheeks settled around my hardness, busily got down to work.

Momentarily, she let me escape from her mouth.

"My husband thinks I am the best cocksucker around. Actually, he says, the best little cocksucker which to me sounds a bit patronizing. He gets off watching me suck another man's cock while he sits in his easy chair in front of the fireplace stroking his cock. Do you like the way I suck cock?"

"Yes, my God, yes. I love fucking your hot, little mouth. I want to come in your mouth, see my semen dripping from your lips. I love to see my semen all over your face. I will not say you are the best 'little' accent on the little cocksucker either."

"This is just an example of things to come tonight, lover boy."

Without letting me find release, she stood, took my hand and drew it under the yellow dress, painted her pussy with the brush of my digits, their flat sides, the locale of fingerprint and fine touching. They touched her warm wetness seeping from her.

"Darling, I feel so wicked, so naughty. I want to fuck and be fucked like a whore, to be your slut slobbering all over your cock."

Looking up at Ms Peggy Sanford, Mrs. Peggy Sanford, wife, soccer Mom, model, flight attendant, claims adjuster until now a black and white print above a blurb of erotic verbiage. In the picture she wears a jacket; something like a realtor might wear, naked beneath it, a body and its delights patiently awaiting someone's attention. Bare legs angled nearly flat on the bed to her left side, her feet in high heels and even in repose I see how perfect they are, me a man with the finest appreciation of a woman's legs. A wavy dark cloud of hair floats down to her shoulders, curls down over her forehead. Her expression conveys innocence, need and a promise of pleasure.

Now in the privacy of this hotel room, a place where they turn down the sheets, place mints on the pillows, we, two hypersexual beings, ready ourselves to fuck with total abandon.

Peggy Sanford has no inhibitions, no self-imposed restraint governing her body in seeking satiation of her needs. She lives to fuck, she fucks to live. The eroticism of a sultan's seraglio, the bawdy actions of a whore, the sleek lines of an ecdysiast striping down to skin all these things I see in her heavenly body, it drives me mad with lust.

Peggy has taken cock into all three of her orifices at one same time; let each one spill its seed nearly simultaneously. Semen has dribbled down her face, ran like syrup down the slope of her breasts, flooded from between her legs and rained down her thighs.

This soccer Mom standing on the sidelines in tight shorts and high heels, watching her tyke's kicks, then later taking kicks herself fucking the soccer coach, a fine young man enraptured and encapsulated by her salacious mouth.

Peggy loves other women as she loves to fuck men.

She eats them with knowledge of her own hunger sated by supping on another woman's meat. Peggy licks and loves their tender petals with such refinement, serious attention and unbounded pleasure. To watch her at work is to see such a natural expertise, a woman poised against this other woman doing great good work to drive her partner to the outer boundaries of pleasure. Such beauty of the flesh even beyond the skill of Michelangelo, any great painter stroking a canvas, chipping away at marble as Peggy delves between this lover's legs. Then it all turns around and she is the one being pleasured between her legs, across the hard caps of her tits, their mouths kissing one another. I crave to see her again doing another woman, me watching from a chair, furiously stroking my cock. All over the bed they travel, mouth against mouth, cunt against cunt, tit touching another tit. Eating each other, dining on two Y's they are oblivious to my set of male eyes.

Soon, Peggy's ass thrusting up and out, her head down between this other lady's legs in a prayer mode but not bended toward Mecca but the opposite direction.

Lover flat on her back, legs spread so wide, moaning in the brightly lit room, Peggy laps away at the twat pushed up toward her soft lips covered in gloss.

Rising from my chair, my cock as stiff as battering ram, wishing to be part of this tableau, I move to the bed, take Peggy's butt between my hands, and my cock slides in, me the dog fucking his overheated bitch. Peggy pushes back against my member, shakes her booty against my shaft.

Always, I am amazed by the tightness of her twat. It retains its close grasp in total disregard of the hefty number of cocks pleasuring her there.

She moves from bedroom to bath in the yellow garment, sexy on its own accord the way it shows a bit of cleavage, does not drop below her knees, covers her hips, cloaks her slender waist. The high heels too, worn by a woman at work after she arrives there in sandals or sneakers. I see her sitting down in an office chair, unlacing the sneakers, unbuckling the sandals, letting them drop to the floor. She opens the bottom drawer on the left, removes the pumps next to spare turquoise panties kept there in case she needs them because Joe in accounting or Mike at his messy desk over there needs a raucous fuck in the supply closet at lunch. One after the other she lifts a leg and makes a production out of changing her shoes. Every man in the office treasures the moment Peggy changes her shoes, the show of her legs lifted up and out, perfect for a cheesecake photographer to snap a shot. Do they see her naked pussy? They hope so. Her legs are so sexy and snappy looking as she patrols the room, every man hot to fuck her.

At one time or another she has fucked them all. She even fucked Chester Dudley, the bald headed man in the wheelchair who twiddled his fingers all the time and was forever chomping down on Wrigley's spearmint gum.

She closes the door of the bathroom. In the tiny purse is the red garment, the shoes are in a paper bag next to the bed. Even though she is gone a few minutes, I am impatient to see her, to fuck her, to feel her sucking my cock.

Peggy, barefoot, wears nothing but the short red gossamer gown, the scent of lavender, steps out of the bathroom and smiles at me smiling at her. She approaches the bag for the final touch, the high of heels. Deftly slips into them.

Peggy's smile is a soccer Mom's proud grin, the sunny expression of a model tricked out in designer garb, the gentle beam of a part time claims adjustor commiserating with an injured party.

I get to fuck this woman under the garish red light, a whore's color, the red tint washes over Peggy and me. Her pink flesh is more pink, the red translucent barely there cloak is charged with even more crimson.

"Honey, come over here and let me eat your pussy first. I may not eat cunt with your skill but I want to anyway."

"Sounds like a plan," says Peggy as she crawls across the bed.

Under the percale sheets fresh from some industrial laundry, I move between the Sanford legs. My tongue trembles as it makes contact. Musk, the odor of a woman wishing to be properly fucked meets my nostrils; I inhale the rich and heady sweet scent. Reaching down with my left hand, I touch one of her red high heels; feel her soft ankle above the shoe's mouth. My own mouth perches on the mouth between her legs; my hot tongue delves in, pushes toward her clit, a stalk of imposing girth and limberness.

Peggy spreads her legs under our tent of sheets, pushes against the back of my head, and draws me toward the gash between her legs. My face is awash from plunging into her wet vault.

"I do love eating pussy," I mumble from between her wide dispersal of silky legs.

Peggy pushes back the sheets. Across the way, another towering building filled with more hotel rooms of another chain nearly abuts our hotel room.

The window is clear of any curtains, unshielded by any blinds. It is an open field letting in light and the eyes of any voyeur across the way. Peggy loves to be naked in front of people, turned on, her pussy quite sodden sucking up the appreciative leers of hard cocked men and soft cunted women, to know she is being watched as she fucks and gets fucked is her greatest joy.

We once fucked on a park's wooden bench while three men wearing aloha shirts watched. Then she sucked each one off in turn. What a delicious woman this Peggy Sanford is.

Her husband and teen aged children are somewhere else. She is here thank God, this stylish and sexy woman who can look so demure, so innately ladylike and then in a blink of an eye, the shutter speed of fast film she is a veritable fuck monster.

A warm and comforting mother who treasures and treats her children with such goodness, they are splendid overachievers, the finest kind of humankind. If they saw her now, the ravenous hunger, the relentless quest for cock, treats freely given by a woman this Mom of theirs, he has no doubt they would see her in entirely different light. Has she fantasized sucking her 18 year old son's tender young cock? Does she remember doing an uncle once or maybe a good looking make cousin? She does not say. A woman has to have some mystery, he supposes.

Eating her with relish, she churns about my mouth.

"Fuck me Steve, put your cock in and fuck me."

Moving over top of her, my penis drops in, slides down, engages her, my balls slap against her.

On a balcony in the other building I see two men drinking beers as they watch the two of us fuck. I know that each man wishes the other man was not there. Then being solo he can stand in the room hidden by the drapes, jack his cock taking in this live sex show.

Peggy, a frequent flier and a seasoned traveler has fucked all over. Now she fucks me in the Emerald City not too far from the Space Needle, the two ball fields, Pike Street's fish market.

Peggy, her hair blanketing the pillow draws me in. She wraps her feet around my waist. Her left heel dislodged when I was eating her. I love the feel of her naked foot, the dainty curve of her toes, it makes her more naked.

We ate dinner in an upscale diner down the street. While she swallowed a morsel of food, my fingers touched the camel toe shaved hump under her yellow dress, taking the greatest delight in its satin texture, the smooth shape of its mount. Later, during coffee, my finger shot inside her as she sipped a lukewarm latte. To anyone looking our way we were nothing but two business associates sharing a meal. Someone looking closer, studying us in detail could pick up on the heat we gave off, the intimacy of our proximity to one another, knew we had fucked, we fucked or we where going to fuck, that we had intercourse in all three tenses. Around our table a miasma of lust invisible to the naked eye but to our allied senses we both picked up on it.

Peggy leaned over, whispered in my ear.

"I have the tiniest piece of red cloth in this little purse." She touched the flat side of a bag not much bigger then a business sized envelope.

"A very tiny piece of see through fabric. Let's go somewhere and I will model it for you."

I thought my cock might at any moment start butting its head against the underside of the table. Diners around us might think we were discussing insurance claims or modeling schedules or if they really had imagination, the possibility we be talking about a new soccer league or her days as a flight attendant jetting from here to there. No, in her sexy subdued voice, she told me of getting gang banged by 21 men of various colors and eventually quite contented cocks.

Seeing this sexy sexual woman, reminded me of Mrs. Robinson thrusting out her stocking covered leg as Benjamin, The Graduate, looked on in anticipation. I see me as Tom Jones from the 18th century. Peggy as Mrs. Walters, half her tits hanging out of her low cut dress, our faces so close swallowing juicy fruit, Peggy sucking down a peach. A peach's clear juice drips down her neck, drops down on her nearly unfettered breasts. Fruit liquid preceding my prick shooting strands of pearl colored semen to the same place is what I see in the peach's place. In Peggy, I see buxom Ann Margaret sucking off a creepy Jack Nicholson. She is Lady Chatterley; I am the man fucking her behind her husband's back. Peggy is all those porno queens drenched in semen, begging for the next man's cock, a woman's pudenda. Mrs. Sanford is the lady in the tiny tunic, black hair drifting about her shoulders, long legs balancing in high heels, the picture she sent me burned into my brain's circuitry.

Now after one savory meal we savor each other in this hotel room's king sized bed. This is our fuck pad launching us into earthy and earthly delights. The red light charging from under the lampshade baths our bodies in a garish crimson glow. Sunlight fills the room, the several men across the way watching us fornicate and I am thrilled by the realization that this is not the first or last time.

My cock is in her, she is under me and we are the proverbial two backed beast fucking our brains out.