Yesss!”Helen squealed in delight as my lips closed around the strained pebbly skin of her fully distended nipples. “Yes… yes…” her breathing...becoming more rapid. “Now use your tongue. Fuck… yes, like that. Now the other side…. Right… mmmm…. Use your fingers. Pinch me… not hard… like that… uuhhhhhh!”Helen’s mature form tensed, her breathing increased, and with my mouth still latched, she let out a long growl emanating from someplace far deeper than any sound she had made thus far. I was taken. There could never be another Marty Felder in her life, for Jessica Richards the kid grew up that night. And no man would ever pull the wool over her eyes again. Not that she had to worry with Phillip--he wasn't the sort. Wild perhaps, like all artists are, in some way or another, but sweet and warm and gentle. Not like so many men she'd met since embarking on this career. Not like the Marty Felder's of this world.Of course, there hadn't been any job offer forthcoming from that horrible Felder.. More

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