My Only Talent Ch. 43

I fell back into my old habit: tease before you please. I tentatively touched her ass, like a teenage second date where you were not sure if the girl would let your hand stay there or not. When she didn't protest, I began to gently caress and cup her buttock. She pushed back against me, encouraging me to roam further. Both hands found both buttocks. They were wonderful. She leaned a little farther toward the wall and spread her legs a little wider. Who needs a Suzie signal?

I unbuttoned those designer jeans, barely noticing the big silver and turquoise buttons, and was then facing some charming light blue silk panties. Tease then please. I paused with my nose just over the wonderful little valley that plunged on down below the top of those low rider panties and took in a deep breath. A very light perfume smell, not overdone. Lavender and musk if I had to guess, with a wonderful wet pussy smell moving up on the outside rail. The race was on.

A little nip, biting that perfect ass flesh just above the panties to add a little roughness to the tease. Who am I kidding? I just wanted to bite it. A rushing intake of breath, as both ass cheeks tightened reflexively. Then, things got even better, and she relaxed and moved back against me suggestively. There is perhaps no more wondrous thing in this world than the smell of a clean, non-smoking woman who is just beginning to get truly wet. Pheromones poured from her skin, and into my lizard brain. My father was right. No drink or smoke or dope can get you higher and make you feel better than this.

The tease is over. I just want please. Myself. I pull the panties down to just behind her knees, then grab them twist them like little ropes holding her legs. She bends her knees and spreads them apart a little more, opening herself up like a dream come true. I lick the perfect pink clam, gently, my tongue fluttering like butterfly wings. She groans.

I can't wait anymore. The tiny butterfly turns into a big heavy moth, plunging its tongue into that pungent backside pussy. The taste is galvanic. The smoothness of her skin, the smell and taste merge into one overwhelming sensorium. Then my lizard brain craves penetration. Fingers first. One finger and she squirms. Two fingers in and she begins to twerk. I am lost in her. My tongue finds her little rosebud while my fingers press onward. She makes a funny noise and then pushes back towards me.

Two fingers working enthusiastically and one tongue plunging spastically. Her body moves as if she were swimming like a dolphin. I am on autopilot. I vaguely remember this is her first time, like Janet. But it is only an aside, not a caution, and I move her over to the couch, flipping her over on her back. I slap my straining erection against her face, and she looks at me wild-eyed. I hook my arms under her knees and spread them wide, making it perfectly clear what is about to happen.

"Ohhh?" she says. It that "Oh its good" or "Oh no"? I push into her, feeling that little pinch just like with Janet. She stops moving for a second. I do not. I move slowly forward, savoring the slow penetration and looking forward to a full thrust.

"Ohhh" she says. Is that "Oh I like it" or "Oh I don't"? I slowly move on into her, feeling that lovely slippery path accommodate me. I stop short of full depth and pull slowly back, prepping for another plunge.

"Ohhhh" she says. Is that "Oh yes" or "Oh no"? I'm not sure.

I move into her a second time, determined to go further.

"Ohhhhhhh!" she says. That one sounded quite positive to me. I think she approves. Her hands grabbing my buttocks offer silent confirmation. I move slightly to improve my angle, kiss her deeply on the lips, and then plunge in all the way.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh" she moans. Cue John Henry, the pile drivin' man. I start slow, but keep deep, then speed up. Her hands begin to pinch my buttocks in time with my thrusts. I put less weight on my knees and rest more on her hips. She seems to like that. I push a little harder, shaking the couch, which moves a little bit on the floor, like an imbalanced washing machine.

She begins to get really wet. I can feel her juices flowing between our bodies. She breaks our kiss and sucks on my neck. Hard. She shakes a bit, then relaxes. Did she come? I can't tell.

John Henry the pile drivin' man tells me "fuck on" and I do. She moves her head from side to side and talks gibberish, then groans again. I think she came that time. I'd sure like to know, but no Suzie to help. I suppose I could just ask. Would that spoil the mood?

No time to consider it now, because I am about to come. I forgot all about pleasing her and just use her pussy to get myself off. She seems to like it hard and fast. I know I do. Inspiration strikes me at the last instant, and I pull out and spray her breasts and belly with one of my more voluminous efforts. She giggles and rubs it all over herself. I think that went well.

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Steven was very uncomfortable with his new assignment. First, this target was rife with danger - one slipup with her and he would be toast. Second, his mission was poorly defined, and subject to lots on Monday morning quarterbacking by her father, no less, a very VIP who would be second guessing everything he did. Finally, he hated the timeline because there wasn't one. He was in the 'dangle' phase. Like a lamb staked out for slaughter. He was used to a specific plan to be at a certain IP at a certain time, proceed to a defined objective within a defined window of time, etc. Not this time. He was to just 'act normal' until his target noticed him.

His legend was as a Political Management student at GWU, recent ex-military, trying to get his master's degree ticket punched before nabbing a lucrative private sector defense contractor job. Only his legend bio now reflected not his real special forces 18 tag, but that of a 36 finance puke, with some thick fake glasses, and he had been subjected to some intensive acting lessons to learn very specific behaviors he was to exhibit around the target. He wandered around the campus for three days before he even saw her, even though his routes had been carefully planned to intersect as much as possible with her daily routine.

But even 50 feet down the hallway, he instantly saw that she was far hotter than all the pictures he had studied could possibly convey. She was petite as described, but she walked like a female jaguar, sauntering powerfully along tossing her shining black hair and with her dark brown eyes taking in everything around her. She jiggled just enough, exuding burning hot sexuality even while very conservatively dressed. His heart thundered in his chest even as he tried to calm himself down. She was the snake; he was the mouse.

It was three more days before she noticed him, her eyes lingering on him for just a moment before she looked away. He remembered to look down instead of making eye contact, so he didn't see her funny smile. He couldn't wait another three days - he was going crazy with inaction. He tried walking in front of her in the hallway so she would have to look at his backside. He sat on a bench in the courtyard near her office and watched her leaving for the afternoon, but he couldn't tell if she noticed him or not. Finally, he decided to take a risk, and the next day he showed up for her posted office hours.

"Professor Pliskin, I wonder if I might ask your advice about what classes to register for next semester?"

She looked up from her desk and fixed him with her gaze, slowly looking him up and down. He felt like a hormonal teenager again, and he responded just like one. She noticed and flashed a tight little smile. He realized he wasn't acting.

"I might be able to help you. What is your name?"

He remembered his training. Brief eye contact, then look down. "Steven. Steven Byers."

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Debbie Delaney did not recognize the number that was ringing her cell. Area code 214. She had crisscross directory software on her phone, as she found it quite useful in tracking down her prey. A landline on Crooked Creek in Dallas. Very ritzy area - old money. She took the call.

Very businesslike and in her cover character. "Charlotte Devoy."

"Hello, Charlotte. This is Rosalinde Hunt. Might you have a moment to talk?"

Debbie was quick on the uptake. The horse-faced Mrs. Hunt was almost certainly old Dallas money, and probably a major Kincaid insider. "Of course, Rosalinde. So nice to hear from you."

"We are having a little dinner party for the inner circle of Kincaid supporters. I hope we can count on your commitment."

Charlotte was putting the arm on Debbie. Another big donation was obviously expected. Perhaps this was her chance to hook Jay Kincaid and complete her assignment, but she needed to get more data for her plan.

"I'm flattered you thought of me, Rosalinde. I'd like to meet for lunch and discuss the arrangements." She worked the map app on her phone. "How about the Hillstone on Preston?"

Rosalinde had committed to Jay's campaign manager to line up 6 big donors, and she was feeling the pressure to perform, but Charlotte Devoy had the look of money, and the other prospective donors might be impressed by her. It wouldn't hurt to be seen lunching with someone as fetching as Charlotte, either. She decided to pursue it. "Why that would be delightful! How about Thursday?"

"Perfect! I'll make reservations for one o-clock." The wheels were turning in Debbie's head. Could she manage to take good video in a location she couldn't control or access early? Would the donor dinner be at the Hunt's home? Would Jay even be there? She had to hold out the prospect of a big donation but demand personal and private access to Jay before coming across with it. It was time to do some extensive research into Rosalinde Hunt.

She fired up her desktop and began searching deeper. Tax appraisal map. Who were the Rosalinde's neighbors? Cross reference news stories. Interesting. Just a couple blocks from where Bush 43 lives now. Big law firm partners, bank chairman, oil guys, developers. Lots of pictures of Rosalinde at social events: women's clubs, charity events, hospital dedications. No pics of her husband so far. Rosalinde on a mayoral committee, the board of a children's hospital, and the board of private school not far from her house. Oh. There is her husband standing by a polo pony. He does NOT look good in shorts. Wonder if Rosalind likes men who do look good in shorts? Wonder if Rosalinde likes women?

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Chrissy went into to the bathroom and used a washcloth and a towel to tidy up after my little geyser. Then she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom and kissed me. "I've heard that's good for my skin. Sort like a warm oil treatment?" She giggled again.

I returned her kiss enthusiastically. "If your skin gets any better, I won't be able to leave you alone."

"You better not leave me alone for very long. I have heard there are ways to restart your engine." She took my dick gently in her hand and began to play with it. "My grandmother says a way to man's heart is through his stomach, but my cousin Nina says it's blowjobs!"

"Well there is truth to both approaches. I suspect you already know how to cook pretty well."

She smiled shyly. "Well, I do have some experience with cooking. But all the blowjobs I have given are so far hypothetical. "

I smiled a very genuine smile. Duty calls.

I had some time to think while Chrissy gave her first and very tentative blowjob. She had a long way to go as a fellatrix, but there was genuine enthusiasm and great promise. She also responded very well to suggestions, and truly relished finishing me off and staying with me all the way. That's something you can't teach.

She had certainly earned some more pussy and ass worship, and then my engine truly was restarted and revving up again. Let's race. It suddenly occurred to me that not being able to read her Suzie was not really a problem. I could just tell her things, or ask her, or just try things and watch her reaction carefully. Daddy never told me that.

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All of Debbie Delaney's hard work was about to pay off. The lunch with Rosalinde had gone very well, and she was going to an intimate diner for six big donors at the Hunt's house. She even managed to wrangle an invite to visit a few days before the event and did some very good location casting work. She couldn't plant any fixed cameras, but she could plan her shots and scout the lighting. She noted her likely parking place, and was confident that she would have a good wireless signal to the hotspot in her car, so all the footage she shot went off to the cloud for safekeeping, not just the femto SD cards in the three hidden cameras secreted in her outfit. What Debbie didn't know was that her reporter sponsors Binkie and Ashley were tapping the cloud account they had provided for her - they were monitoring and recording all the audio and video. Jay's people had embarrassed them and potentially derailed their careers, and they were looking for payback. Their network wouldn't do it, but they were prepared to put the video on the web on a semi-anonymous site and send out an email blast to every political reporter they could find to publicize it. They even had a set of trolls and bots prepared to link it to other websites.

Debbie prepped for her arrival like a hunter on safari. Her outfit was her trusty tried and true killer basic black dress, with a low neckline to accommodate a big necklace that was really a bodycam. Her bra was really a halter top that pushed up her bare nipples against the sheer fabric of the dress, and they always said "look at me" to anyone that was interested. She put her hair up short to maximize the exposure of her neck and took extra care with her makeup. She always went commando for a final shot, as it made her feel more attractive. She was ready to bag the big game.

She was pleased to find that Jay Kincaid was there early to greet the arriving prospects, but unfortunately his wife Millie was there too. She had never seen Millie in person before. She was hotter than her pictures, and her eyes really lit up when she looked at Jay. Debbie could see there was real chemistry there, which made her job tougher. Jay's face also softened when he looked at Millie, not a good sign for Debbie's purpose. Jay had that politician's skill of focusing on each person he was introduced to. He showed respect to the men, but flirted with the women, and they all liked it.

Jay's handers were at his side to help, but he seemed to know everyone's name without being prompted as he approached them. Most of the women were obviously charmed by Jay. He looked them in the eye, but also looked appreciatively at their bodies, and made sure they noticed him looking. Based on their body language, they enjoyed the attention.

One of the prospective donors was a thin man in his thirties with a very flashy light blue silk suit who was checking out Jay's body in the same way that Jay looked at the women. A male groupie, then. He seemed to be very tight with one of Jay's handlers, too. She observed the pattern of who stayed with Jay and who moved around to the donors, looking for her best chance to talk to Jay one on one.

Jay drank only Perrier water, but everyone else was liberally served. Millie did not stay at Jay's side; she worked the room separately and seemed to be charming everyone she spoke too. Suddenly Jay was right in front of Debbie, and his genuine smile warmed her unexpectedly. It would not be hard to play the role of the groupie hoping for a tryst with this man.

"Charlotte, it's good to see you again! Rosalinde made a special point to tell me about your being here." She had been in the room with Jay at the Rosement, but they had not been introduced. But she felt Jay's focus on her, and she liked it.

Debbie gave him her best dimpled grin and moved a step closer, hunching her shoulders and flashing her low neckline at him. "I'm excited about your candidacy, Jay, and hope to have chance to speak briefly one on one about how best to work with you."

He smiled again, and looked her in the eyes, then let his eyes roam down, then back up to meet hers. Wow. In another life, he could have successfully picked her up. She was amazed. Jay was not handsome, but he was earnest looking, authentic.

"Let's talk for a few minutes after dinner, then." Suddenly he was on to the next prospect. She wanted him to come back. Dinner was much better than the usual rubber chicken - she presumed Rosalinde had access to an excellent caterer. Rosalinde's husband was nowhere to be seen. She saw Jay's people pocket several checks, with much smiling.

Ashley and Binkie were closeted in Ashley's North Dallas apartment, not far from Rosalinde's house, monitoring the feed from Debbie's cameras and microphones. They watched avidly and hung on every word. There was nothing exciting about dinner, except that Jay didn't say anything stupid they could leak. There wasn't even anything they could take out context and criticize him for. But after dinner, the mood changed.

Debbie was seated by herself on a floral couch on what looked like a sunporch, alone. In the background, they could see Jay sitting and talking with other people one some other couches and settees. He moved through a series of one on one meetings of about five minutes each. Ashley recognized some locals - a big Metroplex car dealer, that weird guy who rain a chain of mattress stores, and new to town swell that bought a rugby franchise.

Suddenly Jay walked right into their view and greeted Debbie warmly, obviously leering at her chest in plain view of the cam in her necklace. Ashley sat up straight and paid attention. When Jay sat on the couch right next to Debbie, Ashley's reporter instincts lit up. Jay was feeling it. He was falling into the same trap that Debbie had often sprung on guys who thought they were smart, by getting them to think with the brain between their legs instead of the one between their ears. Never failed.

Ashely sent a quick text message to her bot and reporter list and pushed the live feed out to the prepared website. This was it!

Her timing seemed perfect as Jay leaned even closer and Debbie whispered throatily, "Jay, you know how much I admire you, and of course my donation is assured, but there must be more I can do for you." The syrup in Debbie's voice came thought the microphone clearly. "I want to do anything you need! Perhaps I can help you... relax?"

Jay leaned even closer and looked the camera right in the eye, mouth breathing. "What exactly to you mean, Charlotte?" Ashley's leg vibrated. It was Pulitzer time!

Debbie purred like a big cat and batted her eyes. "What would a girl have to do to spend the night in your bed, Jay?"

Ashley and Binkie high-fived each other. Got him!

Jay's eyes fixed on the camera for a moment as he stared at Debbie. He smiled. Debbie felt the triumph that was almost hers! But then Jay cut his eyes across the room, and then focused back on Debbie.

"You would have to talk my wife into a threesome. Not very likely."

Debbie, Ashley and Binkie, all three, sat frozen for several seconds.

Debbie drew a breath. Part of her wanted to try to talk Millie into it. But she was a pro. She tried again.

"I want you all to myself, Jay! Don't you want me?"

He smiled. "Only if Millie does too." Jay stood up and walked away. Debbie watched helplessly, then sat dumbfounded on that silly floral couch.

Ashley cut the video feed, but it was too late. It was all over the web in two minutes. The bots pumped out the video and audio everywhere, but it wasn't the damaging bombshell that it was supposed to be. It was even greater PR for Jay.