Liliane

(the first story I posted on Lit, the original Liliane, which was written twenty years ago or so, received a lot of very pertinent comment - the new version is an attempt to do something with it. It got a little longer in the process, I'm afraid.)

*

The lights were very hot overhead and everyone on the bed was sweating profusely. Lillian didn't really notice - she delighted in being sandwiched between two sexy, big-dicked, horny fellows who gave her all they had, long and hard, both senses, both ways! Her tiny, red-lace panties hung halfway her left leg and the man underneath had pulled her left breast from her bra. He cupped as much of it as he could hold in his hand, to feel the soft smoothness - and then you saw him caress the bottom, the dark circle round the nipple standing out - before he viciously pinched her stiff, big, swollen nipple, and she slapped him hard. He gave her a bored look. The bitch. Got ideas of her own, he wouldn't wonder.

The man on top clawed her buttocks, peachy and smooth between the straps of her garter belt and the soft tops of her stockings. When the camera zoomed in on her abdomen you could see a little of the inside of her cunt, red and shiny, lush and oozing with her juices, and the narrow strip of auburn pubic hair, sticky with sweat and come, and the gleaming shafts of her assailants, pumping back and forth like well-oiled pistons in a steam-engine. The man underneath panted like a steam-engine, too, and you could hear a wet, slapping sound as the upper guy slammed into Lillian's cunt and hit her clit, rubbing that super-sensitive spot every upstroke, and the sucking noises that her cunt made as he retracted from his orifice, as if reluctant to let him go yet.

Then the camera moved to Lillian's face, red with lust, and fanned out to include her breasts. She impatiently shoved back the other cup of the red lace nothing that served for a bra, and, pushing away the eager hand that was still clumsily caressing her tits, took over the job herself, moaning throatily, without words. The view included the three of them for a moment, and then, as Lillian slid one long-nailed hand down the upper back, returned to the centre of attention.

Lillian's red, polished nail scratched his sweating back, and then dived down to find the crack between his cheeks. Her finger easily found his wrinkled little hole, and slid into his arse. Together with this movement she slowly put up speed, and the top fellow felt her strong cunt muscles massage his prick like a soft, wet hand and groaned. Lillian threw back her head, to watch their antics in the big overhead mirror.

"Ooohh - come on! Come on, fuck me harder - yeah! deeper - deeper - deeper - unnhh - yeah - let me feel you - give it to me!" she panted, and she wiggled her wonderful bum in the bottom guy's lap, and he suddenly could not stop himself coming. He pulled his prick from her flick. The camera concentrated on his sperm squirting against the top fellow's prick and balls and Lillian's swollen cunt - too much for the other guy who half raised himself and pulled out his cock to come all over her stomach and breasts. Then he offered his tool to her, and sitting up on the other's chest, she sucked it in her warm, wet mouth to get the final drops of sperm well out, while she rubbed the surplus come all over her glistening, sweating body.

"Cut!" the director said, and the man stepped back.

"Gimme back your prick, you brute," Lillian complained.

"No," he said, "you've taken enough out of me - whore!"

"What about mine?" the director offered hopefully. Lillian was a pro alright. He didn't like her, but she had a great body, she never had any trouble making the men shoot their loads, and he wouldn't mind her mouth on him.

"Bah," Lillian said. She got up and readjusted her bra, pulled on her panties and went to her dressing room for a quick wash and to put on her closely-fitting, short woollen dress, before she went to the director for her money.

"Great work, honey," he said.

"Yeah - but I haven't even come. Get me real men next time," she grumbled. "Real men - no poofters." She slammed the door to and walked across the landing. There she waited for the elevator to come.

Jim, who worked as a civil engineer for an expensive firm, had finished a fatiguing day's work. He usually stopped at five, but this day he had been out of luck. The meeting that had been planned had been delayed because a client's plane had not been allowed to fly on schedule due to a thunderstorm. The meeting itself had been a tough one that had only resulted in anything that could be called satisfactory after hours of negotiating. Eventually the visitors had left and they had stayed on with the draft for a contract on their desk. It meant doing a lot of overtime.

They had had a meal delivered to their office, and now, eventually, he was on his way home. He pressed the button for the lift. The place would be manned for another hour, but the top floors of the building felt spooky enough now. He shivered. The indicator over the lift said 14, 16, 18... it slowed to a halt on his floor. He got in.

The lifts were a little old; they were usually alright, but sometimes they just stopped, and they had to be unblocked by the maintenance firm that was always quite reluctant to arrive, especially at night.

Jim stood looking at the indicator change floors. Home again to a lonely place - Heather, his girlfriend, had ended their relationship with a bang when she had thrown the frying pan at him in a sudden fit of rage. Fortunately it had missed... It had taken hours to get the grease off the wall and floor. He felt lonely now and then. The constant quarrelling was gone; but so were the good times that had certainly been there, too. He especially missed her at times like this, when he came home tired. During good times there had been an arm round his shoulder, or better...

"Bother," he thought when the elevator halted on the eighth floor. "Yet more delay!"

The doors slid open and a young woman came in. Jim had seldom seen such a gorgeous one: long auburn hair in supple waves, breasts he'd only seen in pictures, shown for a good deal in a low-cut, ruby dress that clung to her firm body, lovely rounded buttocks and long sexy legs in sheer black nylon and high-heeled sandals - and what a bearings! She seemed to be oozing sex from every pore, and she smelled it, too - a heady perfume, mingling with the essence of female sexuality. The doors slid close.

"Hi!" she said.

Jim swallowed and said hello. She smiled at him and ran a lovely, wet little tongue round her teeth, giving him the once over. It made him wonder what she would be like in bed, and he felt uncomfortably aroused. She lifted a leg, ostensibly to readjust the straps of her sandal, and this sent her dress up over her hips. Jim just couldn't stop himself from sneaking a peep at her crotch, encased in a very tiny pair of flimsy, red lace panties. Then he realised what he was doing. He blushed and tried to look away - which wasn't too easy in the confined space of the cabin.

She lowered her swell leg again, stroked down her dress and, yawning, stretched herself, which made her breasts almost pop out of her bra and dress. Then she smiled at Jim again. This, she thought, was something else from the guys she'd just had to fuck work-wise. Jim was in his early thirties. He had a slightly crooked nose from a traffic accident, but he looked intelligent - he was - he was not covered in tattoos or ironware and he looked humane and friendly. She'd noticed that he'd looked at her; she also sensed his discomfort. It made her smile a little. The guys she was familiar with wouldn't feel abashed, not they.

While she unceremoniously scratched her waiting, achingly hungry pussy, she pulled the emergency-brake. It so often happened that an elevator went out of order that no one was likely to bother, and it certainly wouldn't be noticed soon, there being four of them, and then she said, "Have a better look, or?" while she pulled the dress over her head in one movement.

"I'm Lillian," she said, while she slowly turned round to give him a good look at her back, and round again, pushing up her breasts and chest for his benefit, "and you?"

Jim blushed fiercely. He couldn't get out; the lift was between floors, and he couldn't reach the control panel since he would have to push the lady aside. Now what?

"Hello," he said inconsequentially. "Er, I'm Jim."

"You lovely hunk, you," she drawled in a hoarse voice that seemed directly aimed at his crotch while she clasped her arms around his neck and rubbed her breasts and belly against him.

He tried to back away - but his body reacted different from his common sense, and although he wished himself far away, he also felt intensely turned on.

"You're all stiff - you've a hard-on - you're not going to be naughty to the poor little girlie, are you?"

She expertly removed the bewildered young man's trousers and felt his prick and balls, all with her left hand - the right hand was still on his shoulder and now slipped around his neck.

"What a vicious big monster - now don't you hurt your poor, trembling little baby girl, pretty, please? Pretty, please?"

She pulled away the foreskin and rubbed the pulsating tip. Jim suddenly seemed to wake up from his anaesthetics as his body won over from his sense of propriety. He'd never ever experienced anything remotely like this before - but then he'd never chanced upon a top porn-movie actress who'd not been satisfied and who loved sex. This woman completely went to his head, perfume, titillating figure and all, and swallowing hard again he moved a hand down her buttocks to squeeze her closer, and then on into her panties to feel her wonderful bum; he found the fastening of her bra with the other and unhooked it. When his fingers met her nipple and slowly rolled it he felt it stiffen and harden and this made her go really wild.

"Oh yes - yes - yes," she growled while she rubbed closer to him. She pushed down his cock between her voluptuous thighs, and with her left hand she shoved the crotch of her panties aside from behind. She bit his lips and sucked his tongue into her mouth, and rubbing Jim's pecker from beneath with a loving hand she rode her dripping wet cuntlips over his member, moving her pelvis and hips back and forth in a maddening rhythm. She squirmed with pure joy as she rubbed her cunt against the veins on Jim's prick that stood up like cables, and she scratched her nails across the little piece of skin that connected the mouth of his cock with the shaft. Jim had never felt anything like it. He abandoned every inhibition and devoted all his energy to Lillian's breasts and bum.

"Ooh - you horny boy - don't you know you oughtn't to be fresh with unknown girls in elevators? But what a prick! What a lovely steaming pulsating piece of flesh -"

"Hhh - ouch! You're a bit wild, aren't you? Yeah - rub your breasts against my chest - yeah, that's right. Hey -"

Lillian had undone the buttons of his shirt with her free hand. She felt she was ready for him. She wrung herself loose from Jim's embrace. His cock slapped against his stomach with a wet sound that was like music to Lillian's heated appetite. She turned round, opened her legs wide, and put her hands against the side of the elevator for balance.

"Now! Go for it!" she spat at him. "Give it to me long and hard - Yeah - unhh - like this - yeah - ooo - oohhh -"

Jim slammed his cock right up Lillian's wet hole, until he felt his balls slap against her Venus mound.

"Oohh - but this feels so good!" she panted. "Yeah - rub my clit - please, yeah - oohh, unhh huh -"

Jim had found her clit and ran a finger round the swollen, hot button, while he stroked her buttocks with the other hand. He retracted until only the hot, burning tip was still between the moist invitation of her swollen cuntlips, to tease her for a moment and then to slam back in. He did this a couple of times until she started bucking back impatiently, and then fell into a slapping, pumping rhythm. "Oohhh - ouch. Oohhh - ouch," she went as he furiously gave her all he had.

Wow! She certainly knew how to fuck! She rode him like an expert rodeo-hand, and seemed to milk him, too - and then Lillian came, with complete abandon. She screamed so loudly that, had anyone been near, he'd certainly have heard, and she rocked uncontrollably in a long series of convulsions that almost made Jim lose his balance.

"Hhhh - oohhh, so good, so good -" she moaned. "Ooohhh - yes, yes, yes - hhnnnn - ahhhhh..."

When she finally regained her poise she smiled back at Jim over her shoulder and said, "Now it's your turn!"

She let his prick slip out of her sopping cunt, turned round and went down on her knees. Jim felt her long hair caress his cock and then she closed a well-manicured hand round his stem. She smiled up at him and licked her lips - to moisten them, but also in genuine anticipation.

"I love eating a good cock," she said - and she slowly closed her lips round the tip. Jim saw her red, glossy lips move slowly round it - lubricating it teasingly - lovingly... She looked up at him.

He returned her gaze and put a hand on her head. Lillian expected him to hold her head and ram his cock down her throat, the way she was used to from her shoots, but instead he just stroked her hair. He smiled at her a little nervously.

Her breasts hung free against his legs, and she rubbed her cunt against his shin. He saw her legs in their black stockings and high-heeled sandals, and became even more aroused. It seemed as if he got even harder.

"Oh, good!" Lillian growled. "Even bigger - good work!" and then she started going in earnest. She moved her hands in a maddening way, up and down the shaft, wringing the fleshy length, sucking, nibbling and licking the head, bobbing her head up and down the shaft and rolling his balls now and then.

"Hey," he panted, "I'll be coming in your mouth if you don't stop soon, er -"

She pushed a finger up his arse, and with a cry - pain and lust in equal measure - he shot his load right up her throat. He saw her swallow and swallow, and still some white come trickled down the corner of her mouth. Breathing heavily she remained silent for some time while he stroked her hair - a gesture of warmth that she had never met with before.

"Thank you very much," Jim said. "This was nice."

He put out his hands to help her to her feet. She got up and smiled at him; then they got dressed and she switched off the brake. The lift quickly went down the last few floors and Lillian hurried off without another word.

Jim left the building with his thoughts in considerable turmoil. On second thoughts he wasn't quite sure if it had really been nice. It had been satisfying; he'd not even in his wildest dreams envisaged anything like it. But it certainly had felt like being hit by a whirlwind, and he was certain it had not been about him at all; he felt used. Only the final part, when she had looked up at him, had been more or less pleasant. He wondered what Lillian - Lillian who? - had felt, and what on earth had induced her to the action he'd been part of? She'd smelled of sex when she rushed into the lift. Hmph. What with her looks, it wouldn't be inconceivable if -

He didn't think he would ever know. Even if she worked in the building the chances of his meeting her ever again were flimsy in the extreme. And what if they met? Would he want to meet her again?

He felt hot and bothered and passed a hand over his brow, and his nostrils caught the smell of Lillian's sex on his fingers. Damn.

It took Jim a long time to drive the experience from his mind. His flat seemed even emptier and he sensed its loneliness more keenly than ever. But he did not think someone like Lillian would be a good substitute for Heather - or would she? Oh well, he'd never know, he supposed.

Lillian drove home. She parked her car and went in. First she had a soak in the bath, and then she stuck a frozen meal into the microwave. She sat down with a can of beer in front of the TV, but none of the channels seemed to show anything interesting. Nothing doing there, she thought.

When the microwave indicated her food was ready she sat down at the table with it. Somehow she didn't have an appetite, and she sat sticking her fork into the bits and pieces without making any headway. No. She emptied her plate into the bin, and emptied her beer can in the sink.

She went to bed; but she couldn't get to sleep. Now what on earth had made her throw herself at that man? She had wanted to come, and her impulsive action had made that happen. She wondered what he might think about that - she hadn't really giving him a fat chance to back out. She was certain that if she hadn't forced him he would not have made any overtures. But then... She had expected the usual treatment from him when giving him a blowjob. His awkwardness, the almost tender way in which he had stroked her hair and his hesitation about coming in her mouth were quite alien. He had seemed - what? Shy? Friendly? Yes, but that was not quite what she felt. Respectful? He hadn't called her whore or bitch; he hadn't taken over when he was almost there to come over her face and he had helped her to her feet. He probably thought she was a slut - she'd definitely acted like one.

Now was she? She was often asked, and for all kinds of shoots - in pink plimsolls, white stockings and a chequered skirt, with girls or in glasses with young men - she'd never quite understood why the woman should be labelled "dirty milf" while the men were at least as dirty. It was never the other way round.

The physical aspect felt alright, but she wasn't sure if she cared for the end products. She'd certainly not have her own pictures on her walls.

After she'd completed her further education her then boyfriend had introduced her to the sex world under false pretences; it had been physically satisfying and the various directors and photographers had been enthusiastic about her. He had expected a percentage of her earnings; she had put an end to that straight away. Somehow she had hung on. She was indifferent to most men in the scene; there were a few she actively disliked. There was no one there she'd ever care to have around at her place.

She tried to imagine someone like Jim around. He had seemed to be quite nice. But if he was he'd probably not want to see her ever again, let alone talk to her. She shrugged her shoulders. Life seemed difficult.

She wondered what it would be like to find a normal job; she'd miss the money, she supposed. On the other hand, could she go on for years and years? Who'd want to look at an old woman have sex with some smooth unfeeling youngster, and what would it be like when your partner felt physically repulsed by you?

Over the next few months she found herself more and more disgruntled with her work. She tried to tell herself it was only a job, but the satisfaction she'd got out of it in the past was missing somehow.

Her feelings of dissatisfaction with her job and her life in general made her try and find a regular friend. She went to discotheques and bars and once or twice picked someone up; but she didn't have too lucky a hand in them and her attempts came to nothing. The few men she'd tried were clearly attracted by her body and when she didn't want to sleep with them straight away they backed out or became intrusive and pushy, and she had enough of that at her work; she didn't want any of it in her spare time. After the fifth attempt she gave up.

Jim went through a very busy period at work. He usually came home exhausted, and he had no time for anything but a handful of daydreams, that somehow seemed to centre around his encounter in the lift. When eventually things at work slackened a bit he went for a date with a young woman who had came to work for the same firm a couple of months earlier. He thought she seemed nice, she was funny and had a sharp tongue about a couple of colleagues they both found a little pompous. They had quite a pleasant night on the town, and when the pubs closed he asked her around for dinner at his place the next weekend.