Hubris of Youth Pt. 02byilikeithot6308©
Several readers asked for more, so here it is.
"Oh, my god, Nick! Where did you learn that?!" Savannah gasped. A smile of wonder covered her face. I rolled off her, pulling my rubber-clad cock out of her with a 'pop'.
"It's a secret," I replied, settling back. "Can I trust you?"
"I never reveal a source," she giggled.
"Okay," I nodded. "It's part ex-girlfriend, part instructional videos."
"Instructional videos, huh?" she smiled, still breathing hard. "Maybe we can watch a few of those together."
My eyes naturally fell on her heaving breasts. I was really enjoying them. I'd always been a boob fancier, often choosing my 'instructional video' based on the actress's rack, but hadn't ever dreamt of being with a woman so bountifully endowed.
Okay. That's not true. I had dreamt of it, but never actually thought it would come to fruition. Now that it had, I was in heaven. When we had talked about her augmentation, she told me her philosophy on it.
"I figured if I was going to do it, I might as well do it right," she had said. "Go big, or go home. I always wanted to be bigger, and now I am."
Of that there was no doubt. So deliciously big, full and round. I still marvel that her jogging bra could contain all that magnificence.
We had been an item for only a few days, and she had a birthday coming up in a few more, so I was hoping to get her something nice. Unfortunately, the only things I really knew about her, other than our first conversation, revolved around her bedroom. I had no idea what gift I could give that might touch her heart, so I was going to start with a nice dinner out. Maybe a movie. Hopefully, I would figure something out before her birthday.
Until then, we would just continue to explore each other physically. With that in mind, I laid back and let her climb aboard. She reached under herself, and guided my cock back inside her.
"Mmmmm, Nick, that's the way I like it," she smiled, undulating her hips to settle onto my stiff shaft. Once fully impaled, she leaned forward, resting her boobs on me, and eyeing me from close range. "Would you like to come down to the studio, today?" she asked, tracing my nose with her fingertip. "You might find it interesting, the whole 'behind the scenes' routine of a TV show. You can meet some of my co-workers, watch the broadcast from the set, that sort of thing. Then we can go to dinner."
"I'd like that," I whispered, accepting her soft kisses. "It sounds like fun."
"You know," she smiled, this one with a naughty curl to her lips, "I have a private dressing room." She let the comment stand on its own, for me to take any way I wanted.
"Why Savannah Lynch? You bad girl! Just how many innocent men have fallen into your clutches, and visited your dressing room?" I laughed, patting her rump playfully.
She sat up, slowly fucking herself on my cock.
"Hmmm, let's see," she purred, "How many men? Plenty, although I'm not sure any of them were innocent. Certainly, not after I was done with them. As for how many have visited my dressing room?... Well, that is a list of one. Just you."
I looked up at her, peering into those fabulous blue eyes of hers. Just me? I suppose that's a sign, isn't it? I started this with the thought that I wanted more than just a roll in the hay, and a story for my buddies to banter about, and now I had the first indication that she felt the same way.
I reached up, and pulled her back down, meeting her lips with my own. This was a kiss of escalating passion, and within seconds we were pawing each other in desperate need. More than just the physical act, we had both let down an internal wall of protection, and were allowing our emotions to mix on a deeper level.
Savannah was still grinding her cunt on my cock, and I was thrusting up into her, all while we maintained the kiss. She wrapped her body tight to mine, and rolled us over, then pulled away for an instant.
"Fuck me, honey," she urged, in a voice dripping with desire. Her legs were lifted higher, and she crossed them behind my back. "Fuck my pussy deep."
I was feeling the same way. There was something different about this. Something somehow more intimate. Fuck you? Absolutely.
I kissed her throat, and drilled into her receptive vagina, reveling in the heat and wetness of the tight opening. She was my dream girl, even if she passed the 'girl' stage years ago.
"Unff! Unff! Unff! Yes! God yes! You're so good for me, baby!" she moaned, as I continued to pound her pussy. She held me tight, absorbing the thrusts with little puffs and grunts, while I nibbled on her neck and collarbone. She was obviously enjoying it, as was I.
I felt her perfectly manicured nails digging into my ass, along with her heels. Spurred on by those requests, I upped the pace, slamming my cock into her harder and harder. Her vocalizations grew louder, and more direct.
"YES! OH GOD YESSSS! FUCK ME HARDER!" she screamed.
In order to do that, I needed to rise up on my arms, and she reluctantly let me establish my perch. Now I could really drive my hips home, and answered her requests.
"AIIIIEEE! AIIIIEEE! AIIIIEEE!" she yelped, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. "YESSSS! LIKE THAT! POUND MY CUNT! FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG COCK! I LOVE IT! I'M CUMMING, BABY! I'M CUMMING!"
I watched her face as she came, twisting her body in movements of agonized bliss, while I kept hammering into her. Of course, in this position, her face wasn't my only focal point, and I found my gaze falling to her huge, swinging breasts, which were doing their own dance of joy. Her nipples were standing tall, and puckered tight, and a pink flush grew on her neck and chest. Yep, she was cumming alright, and I was going to be close behind her.
She stopped arching and twisting, as her body went limp, allowing her legs to drop away with a 'thud' to the mattress. I thought she might have passed out, but she was smiling, and muttering sweet nothings.
"Oh god, so good," she whispered, among other things.
With the knowledge that I hadn't killed her, I set to my own, selfish task, and stroked into her juicy cunt eagerly. Seconds later, I exploded, filling the condom with hot semen. She moaned, and wrapped her arms around me.
We lay like this for a few minutes, panting and sweating in a tangle of limbs. I tried to keep most of my weight on elbows and knees, but eventually she needed me to move. I rolled off. She turned on her side to face me.
"Um, wow," she giggled, dragging her nails across my sweaty chest. "I mean, wow, a girl could get used to that kind of treatment. That was just... Wow."
"A professional journalist, reduced to 'wow'? Is that a compliment, or do you just need your teleprompter?" I laughed.
"Wouldn't help anyway," she responded quickly. "After that orgasm, I couldn't read it." She patted my chest. "Wow."
That started us laughing, and the bedroom filled with happy sounds. Happy enough to attract the attention of someone else. A small face and two paws appeared at the edge of the bed.
"Sox! How are you, little one?" Savannah smiled, reaching down to scoop the small dog onto the bed. "Daddy and I are done having fun," she giggled, glancing at me, "for now, at least. Hello, little girl!"
Sox immediately did what beagles do best, sniffing everything in sight, and licking whatever smelled good. Savannah covered her pussy with a hand, blocking Sox's access.
"I think your dog is a lesbian," Savannah laughed, as she tried to protect her nipples as well. "This is not the threesome I envisioned."
"Sox. Off please," I said, causing a pause and a tilted head from her. "Off, please," I repeated, and pointed. She reluctantly jumped down, and wandered out of the bedroom.
"So..." I smiled, turning to face her, "... tell me about this threesome thing, as you envisioned it."
Savannah Lynch, co-anchor of the six o'clock news, was quite clear, detailed and eloquent as she described the aforementioned threesome, as though it was a real event. It was, um, wow, and resulted in my cock rising once again to the occasion, but I suppose that was the idea.
Good thing she had lots of rubbers in her bedside cabinet.
Later that afternoon, I went home with Sox to get changed, and drop he dog at home. My mother was there to greet me with a wry, knowing smile.
It was, to say the least, strange to have Mom know about Savannah and me. It was made even stranger by Mom's repeated messages to my new lady.
"Tell Savannah she's lucky," she had said. "Say hi to Savannah for me," another time. Similar platitudes were dispatched, every time I went to meet her. It was weird.
Today, I dressed nice, and waited for her to arrive. She was picking me up any minute now.
I heard the crunching of tires on gravel, and a distant beep, which signalled her presence. I gave Sox a treat, and made my way out, locking the door behind me.
In our brief time together, I had driven my car to meet her at the studio on our first real date. Every other meeting had been on foot, at her place, so I had no idea what vehicle would be waiting for me in the driveway. As I turned the corner around the garage and walked into view, she surprised me again.
I was expecting... I don't know... maybe a Beamer, or a little Mercedes. Something elegant, but sporty. What I was not expecting was a muscle car, or for her to be standing beside it, with the passenger door open, and one foot inside.
"Savannah! What's this?!" I laughed, walking around to her side. She didn't say anything, just looked at me expectantly. "Oh, right. First things first. Hi, honey. You look fabulous," I back-peddled, and leaned in for a kiss. The car door kept me from hugging her properly, but I made an effort.
"That's better," she giggled. "Hi baby."
"Now, what's this?" I repeated, stepping back to take in the whole view. "You could have told me. After all... You've seen mine."
I was intending to reference the fact that she had seen my car; My 1967 Mustang, which I had resurrected from the auto graveyard with my own two hands. What came out was a blatant and clumsy sexual reference. She laughed.
"Yes," she smiled, when she finished chuckling. "Yes, I have, and you've seen mine." She adjusted her bra theatrically, to return the flirt. "Now you've seen my car, too. What do you think, mister mechanic?"
"Hmmmm," I smiled, looking at the grill. "2015 Dodge Challenger. Very nice." I pointed to the badge on the hood. "Hemi 392. That's a lot of power, for such an elegant lady. Love the colour."
"Me, too," she giggled. "Jazz blue pearl, they call it. Really pops in the sunlight. You drive. You know the way."
I walked around to the driver's side, and slipped behind the wheel. The door closed with a satisfying 'thud', and when I turned the key, that monster Hemi engine rumbled to life.
"Oooooooooo," I smiled.
"Ooooo, indeed," she smiled back. "It makes me wet. Love that sound."
I pulled out of the driveway, and off we went for the half-hour drive to her studio. Along the way, she said little, comfortable with the silence.
I found the whole situation amusing. Consider this; I was in a relationship with an older woman, and I drove an older classic car. Appropriate. That older woman had been surgically updated for the modern world, and her choice in cars?... well, an updated version of an older classic, of course. God must have a sense of humour.
Pulling into the studio parking lot, Savannah pointed me to her spot. There, on the curb, was a marker. 'Reserved S. Lynch' it said, with a little star beside it. Seeing the studio for the first time in the daylight, I wasn't overly impressed. There was little to indicate what was inside the plain, concrete and brick structure, at least on this side. Maybe the front entrance was more impressive?
Savannah took my arm, and walked me in, through the back door and down a plain hallway, which led to the front lobby. At last, we arrived at the public entrance.
"Hi, Marcy," she smiled, as we stopped in front of the large reception desk.
The petite brunette behind the desk looked up, and smiled in response.
"Ms. Lynch! Nice to see you. What can I do for you?"
"I was hoping you had a Visitor's badge back there, for my friend. He's going to watch from the background tonight," Savannah replied.
"Of course," Marcy grinned, opening a drawer and coming out with a card on a lanyard. "Can't have security tossing you out, can we? If you need anything else, please let me know." I assumed the last bit was meant for Savannah, but Marcy was looking at me when she said it.
With the pass around my neck, Savannah led me through a set of double doors, into the studio area. Now I understood why the outside of the building was so plain and featureless, with so few windows. There was a whole other building inside.
Just as your stainless-steel coffee mug has inner and outer walls to stop the transfer of heat, the studio was actually a room inside a room, inside a room, inside the building. The multiple layers insulated the broadcast area from extraneous, outside noise, as well as the sounds of other areas of the building. Between layers were storage and office spaces, as well as the dressing rooms and control booths. At last, another set of doors opened, and we were inside the set.
It was surprisingly small and cramped, with one side of the room filled with cameras, boom microphones, and other technical equipment. At least the rest of the area looked familiar.
"Ah. The desk," I laughed. "It looks a little more frail in person. Does the camera add ten pounds to the desk, too?"
"Ha ha, smartass!" she giggled, taking her usual place standing behind the glass top. "It's not built for strength."
"I'll say. It looks like it would collapse about thirty seconds in," I grinned mischievously.
"Thirty seconds? What?" she asked, before the lightbulb went off. "Oh! Ooooo, aren't you being bad! No, I don't think it would hold up either, but I do have a nice little couch in my dressing room that has never been christened," she winked. "Besides, too many cameras in here. I'm not looking for that much publicity. The name's Lynch, not Kardashian." She stepped over to me, and kissed me softly.
"Ahem," a gruff, disembodied voice said from above. It echoed through the silence. "I can see you."
"Is that God, or Santa Claus?" I asked.
"Neither," she laughed, and tipped her head back. "It's my director, Ken. Hi, Ken."
"Good afternoon, Savannah," the voice answered. "Going to introduce me to your friend?"
"Ken, meet Nick," she complied. "Nick, meet Ken's voice."
"Hi, Ken," I smiled. "Nice to, um, hear you."
"You, too," the voice said. "We'll meet properly, later."
"That's great, Ken. Do you have anything important to say, or were you just spying on us?" Savannah said, in the general direction of no one.
"Nope. Just thought I'd let you know you weren't alone. Next time, I'll wait until it gets more interesting," the voice laughed.
"Bye Ken," she giggled, and snuggled into my chest. Isolated from the outside world, it was so quiet in here every little sound seemed to echo. Breathing, the swish of hands on fabric, and even our combined heartbeats pierced the vacuum. "Wanna try that couch?" she whispered.
I nodded, and she took my hand, leading me out of the studio. Along the way, we were met by numerous other staff members, both male and female, who greeted Savannah with smiles while giving me a quick inspection. Their expressions leaned towards surprise, but also acceptance. We finally stopped in front of a door, emblazoned with her name. This star was bigger than the one on the curb.
"My humble abode," she smiled, then pointed down the hallway. "Braxton is down there, but I seriously doubt he's here yet. We're quite early... For reasons I'll leave you to guess... and he always rolls in at the last moment."
I watched as she opened the door, unveiling the dressing room for my eyes. A mischievous grin was on her face as she reached in and produced a 'do not disturb' sign for the doorknob. We stepped in, and she closed the door behind us.
About the size of a large bedroom, Savannah's dressing room was more of a one room apartment. Well, two rooms if you count the attached, private bathroom, complete with shower. Racks of clothing covered one wall. A dressing table and makeup chair occupied the opposite one, and in the corner, was a small sectional sofa, coffee table and lamps. The lighting was soft and relaxing, but could obviously be ramped up for certain tasks.
"Sometimes, I do my run in a straight shot, right to here, so I need a shower when I arrive," she explained. "My room is bigger than Braxton's. I've got more clothes. He could wear the same suit every day, for a year, and no one would notice. If I wear the same thing twice in a month, we get letters. That's proof enough that people aren't really tuning in for information, isn't it?"
"I guess so," I nodded. "I meant to ask you... How did the viewers react to the new you? I mean, they had to notice, right?"
"Well, it was all timed for me to return after a long summer vacation, so as to minimize the comparison, but yeah, you could say they noticed," she giggled, cupping her breasts suggestively. "Pretty hard to hide these. The response was mostly positive. Not all, of course. You can't please everyone, but the complainers were far outweighed by the supporters. Male viewership went up ten points!"
"Purely for the news, I'm sure," I laughed, taking her in my arms. We kissed again, and she moaned softly.
"If we're going to, um, you know, use the sofa... we'd better get to it. People will be looking for me soon enough," she whispered.
Savannah pulled me across the room, and sat me down in the corner of the couch. Once I was settled, she straddled me, and took her place in my embrace again. Her lips resumed the kiss, while I held her close.
She was dressed about as casual as I had ever seen her, workout gear excluded. A white silk blouse draped her fabulous curves, and felt wonderful under my hands, which were taking full advantage of our privacy. Her dress slacks were classic black, and equally smooth to the touch. We made out in the silence, trading soft moans of happiness.
She didn't even pull away from my lips as she unbuttoned her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders. Even when she deftly reached behind her back, and unfastened her lacey white bra, her mouth stayed on mine, tongue probing wetly. With nothing between my hands and her breasts, I naturally caressed those huge globes reverently. She finally broke away, and watched me fondling her for a few seconds.
"Don't keep me waiting, baby," she moaned, pressing closer. "You know what I want, and I know you want it, too."
I smiled and kissed the full upper curves of her breasts, while she pulled my head lower. With one breast in each hand, I lifted them, and kissed her nipples. Her wide areolas puckered at my touch, pulling tighter, and rising into tall spires in the centre. I flicked my tongue across the rubbery nubs, and she moaned her appreciation.
"Mmmmm hmmm, that's it, honey," she purred, tracing her fingers through my hair. "Suck my tits. It gets me so hot, and wet."
I was latched firmly onto her right breast, suckling dutifully, while I twanged her erect left nipple with a fingertip. For her part, Savannah was mewling contentedly, while rubbing her crotch over the burgeoning lump in my pants.
"It feels like you're enjoying it, too, honey," she giggled softly, undulating her hips more. "I think I'm going to have to have another taste."
This morning, at her place, we had sampled each other thoroughly, but if she wanted some more, who was I to say no. I watched her stand, retrieving her blouse from the floor, and hanging it over the dressing chair. Her slacks followed, leaving her only with a very sexy little thong, and a hungry expression. She was soon on her knees, tugging my pants and underwear off. She licked her lips, and dropped her mouth over the head of my stiff cock.