Betty Loves Oral

CHAPTER 1   He was a drummer, and a pretty good one, but the one thing he couldn't leave alone was the junk. I had always heard that a lot of musicians used drugs, but I never thought that it would afflict Jim, who seemed so eager to succeed when I first met him. We went to New Orleans finally, taking a place on Bourbon Street. It was a beautiful little apartment in a courtyard. That was one of the things that I really loved about Bourbon Street in general, the lovely courtyard effect, like some place you'd see in Paris. So we had this enchanting little apartment in this quiet courtyard, which was just a stone's throw removed from all of the activity of Bourbon Street. At first everything went beautifully, and it was really what you'd call a love nest. Jim would give me beautiful s*x, and I would appreciate every bit of it. I'll never forget those evenings in the torrid New Orleans heat, when our sweaty bodies would rise to a fever pitch and Jim would churn with his stiff c**k, grinding it ever so rapidly as he pushed it inside my tight p***y. I would fling my nimble hips back and forth, reacting to his quick, charging stabs as he relentlessly pushed himself ever closer to a surging and deliberate orgasm. The quicker that he would pump, the louder I would sigh as I moved my hips instinctively from side to side, loving each and every grinding stab that he propelled my way with his long, torrid member. A few strokes later he would unleash his juices, which would splash from the end of his tool and into my slit. In thinking back to those days, it's hard for me to believe just how much Jim finally did deteriorate. After awhile, when he really got hooked on the stuff, he would barely be able to play in the evening. When it came time for lovemaking, the poor guy just didn't have it. He couldn't get the thing up and sometimes would cry very bitterly. At first he would blame himself and apologize all over the place to me, but eventually he reached the point where he began to blame me, deciding that it was somehow my fault over the fact that he didn't find it possible to perform in bed. When the pressures really started to hit and he had trouble even holding down a job, I knew damned well it was the beginning of the end. Eventually we split up. Jim, I heard, finally went back East, grabbing a spot in a two-bit little supper club somewhere in New Jersey. Unless he can straighten himself out, he has no future at all. Naturally after I left him I had to make a decision. The question was just what I was going to do with my life. I thought about leaving Bourbon Street and going elsewhere, then decided that maybe I liked it well enough there to give the idea of getting a job a try. For one thing, I was attached to my little beautiful courtyard apartment, and so I decided I would do my best to keep it. I would go out and round up a meaningful job. Since I dropped out of school in the tenth grade, and am not really trained to do anything, I figured that the only way to really make a living was to utilize my bodily assets. Funny thing, because I'm a very well-read and intelligent girl, but since I wasn't trained in any particular job, it seemed like all I could get would be table waiting or something in that vicinity. By putting my gorgeous face and body to work, I figured I could maybe land something as a topless dancer. I had done a little dancing before anyway, having worked in a chorus line at a place in the middle West before I met Jim. So I put on my most provocative purple pantsuit, which showed off every curvaceous line of my beautiful body, then made my way down Bourbon Street. I observed a sign that advertised topless dancers. I wondered if maybe they needed a fresh face, so I wandered into the place. When I arrived it was early afternoon and everybody was just starting to wake up. That's the way it is in that neon jungle of Bourbon Street, which is like Las Vegas in that same respect. People live by night and by day they are like a bunch of hibernating bears. I looked at the sleepy-eyed bartender, seeking some information from him. "Who's the owner of this place?" I asked. "Who wants to know?" "My name's Betty. I'm looking for a job." Suddenly the bartender's eyes took keen notice of me. He appraised my gorgeous form and face, then began to speak with a whole lot more respect. "You might do just fine," he said. "Although it's certainly not my place to say. You'll have to talk to Vito about that. Vito owns this joint." "Where might I find Vito?" "The office to the rear. Just knock on the door." He pointed toward a darkened hallway. I walked down the hallway past a pay phone and, finally, I observed a door which had "Office" printed on it. I knocked on that door. "What is it?" I heard a gruff male voice call out. "My name is Betty. I'm looking for work. I was wondering if you might consider me." "I'm always looking for dancers," he said. "What do you look like?" "Since I'm standing right out here, the best thing for you to do would be to see for yourself. I'm not much on describing myself." "You'd better be stacked like a brick shithouse or I'm not gonna even take the trouble to look," he said. "Or if I do and I'm not satisfied, I'll just slam the door right in your goddamned face." "Look, you don't have to get smart about it. I'm just looking for a job." "I'm just trying to tell you that you'd better be pretty well stacked. Are you?" "I do all right." "Hang on a second." I heard footsteps moving toward the door. When it opened, I saw myself staring in the face of a huge, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man. He stared into my face, then let his eyes travel over the course of my entire body. "Yeah, you've got the physical attributes anyway," he said. "Come on in. What did you say your name was? Betty?" "That's right." "I'm Vito. Sit down." I curled into a chair across from Vito's desk. His anthracite eyes appraised me even more carefully than before. The one thing he kept staring at were my breasts. "What size bra do you wear?" he asked curiously. "A thirty-eight C." "That's good, because if you work here, you're gonna be working topless. We just put a couple of tiny little pasties on you, and the rest is nothing more than pure t**s. You do have a nice set of them. They look nice and firm, too. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's sagging t**s. I hope yours aren't sagging. I know some gals use every kind of trick imaginable to firm up in their clothes. But when you take everything off, there's no way to hide anything." "I realize that." "Before I could even remotely consider you, I've got to see it all exposed. Besides, you're gonna be almost completely naked in front of guys anyway. Strip right here." "I'm not sure I go for that," I said. "You mean, taking everything off right in front of you." "That's right. If you've got any hang-ups, baby, I want to find out right now. I don't go for hang-ups. So come on, either take off everything right in front of me, or just leave and don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. I'm a busy man. I don't stand for any bullshit." I paused for several lengthy seconds. This man came over very strong. I had no idea that he would demand that I strip in front of him, but he had done so. "So how about it?" he asked with ever mounting impatience. "I ain't got all day, baby." "Okay, I'll do it," I sighed. The only reason why I was willing to do it at that moment was that I figured my chances were very good. It was my impression that if I could just impress him with my voluptuous figure that I would have a job. From the looks of things outside, I concluded that his club was probably a very prosperous one. That being the case, I felt that I could make good money working for Vito. He might have been crude, but I decided I could string along with him at least to some extent. Not only that, but I had heard how rough some of the club owners were over on Bourbon Street. If it wasn't Vito, it would be somebody else making probably the same demands or similar ones. So I reached down and began to remove my pantsuit. My body trembled with mounting fear. I wondered just what this man would say when I completely finished stripping. His eyes remained on me, looking expressionlessly my way as I climbed out of my pantsuit. Now I was wearing nothing more than my white panties and bra, and I wondered if I'd see an excited expression on his face. I didn't. It was like he was devoid of emotion, which surprised me one hell of a lot. "Keep going," he said. "I told you that I wanted you completely stripped. That's exactly what I meant. I meant I want everything off. Come on, I mean absolutely everything. Right from head to toe, I want you naked. Completely naked. Take off your clothes. Take off every stitch of clothing." I heaved a sigh, then began to remove my bra. Now my fingers were trembling. It was as if I could take care of the other part of the stripping without any major problems, but couldn't extend it beyond that point. As I removed my bra, I let it drop down to the floor. When Vito got a good look at my fully exposed t**s, he nodded slowly. "They don't sag," he said. "That's one of the things I was really concerned about. They're nice and firm. Okay, let's finish. Just because I want to examine your breasts doesn't mean that I don't want to examine the rest. I want to see how uninhibited you are, honey. If you can't even strip completely nude in front of your boss, then it's for damned sure that you're not gonna be able to perform in front of a bunch of horny, drunken strangers. So come on, let's reach down and grab those panties. Take them off, honey. Let's remove those panties." I reached down with my trembling fingers, grabbing hold of my panties. I pulled and tugged at them, taking them off. When I stepped out of my panties, my attentive prospective boss managed a wry smile. "You've got a nice p***y bush," he said. "I like looking at you, honey. You really are gorgeous. I like those legs. Damned, but they're nice. They're nice and long, and they're lean. I mean, they're so firm. Just the kind a guy dreams of grabbing hold of or maybe sticking his head between. Now it was becoming obvious to me just why he wanted me stripped. It had a whole lot more to do with proving how uninhibited I was when it came to my undressing pattern. No, this man wanted something, and it was just a question of when, where and how. I watched as he slid his swivel chair back a few feet, then reached out with his right hand toward his crotch. It was easy to see the huge bulge in his crotch, and as he reached down and made a grab for his fly, I could see that he was going to take out his long, hard rod. "Just wait, honey," he laughed. "You're gonna see something of mine. I saw your little p***y jewel, and you're gonna see my big prick." I flinched ever so slightly as I watched Vito remove his huge, rifle-like c**k. He reached out with both hands, letting his long, smooth fingers manipulate against the full length of his hard, resounding c**k. The quicker that his fingers flung back and forth as they manipulated soothingly against his steaming organ, the more excitement that I could see was seeping through his whole body. "Just look at the size of this," he smiled. "I've got a pretty damned good c**k. I'm proud of it. Okay, now it's up to you." "What's up to me?" "Come on now. You're no virgin. If you were, you sure as hell wouldn't be looking for a job in an upholstered sewer like this goddamned place." "What's that got to do with what's expected of me now?" "It has everything to do with it," he declared impatiently. "You're gonna come right over here and drop down to your knees. You're gonna start sucking my balls, and then you're gonna suck my c**k. I like a good head job. Are you good at giving blow jobs, Betty?" "I've given a few." "All right, then you can give one more." "But what about working here? Am I gonna get a job?" "As a matter of fact, I was thinking of putting you on starting tonight," Vito grinned. "Of course, all that naturally depends upon how well you perform. You see, the audition can be very important. This is what we're having right now. An audition. I'm gonna see if you really have what it takes." "Is that supposed to be my job?" I asked. "I mean, blowing people?" "No, but this is the best way to get on the boss' good side. On top of that, I like an uninhibited girl. I'll be able to see just how uninhibited you are when you start stroking me with your tongue. Unless you can take quite a bit, I don't think you'd be very good in a job like this. You follow me?" "I think I'm beginning to see what you're talking about." "Of course you are. So let's have it, sweetheart. Start moving your tongue. Get down on your knees. Start sucking my balls. That's what I want first. I want you to move your tongue nice and thorough against my testicles. You're gonna bring me off. Then we're gonna get down to the nitty-gritty." I dropped down quickly to my knees, reaching out and making a quick grab for Vito's tantalized balls. My fingers moved quickly and responsively, grabbing at his bulging testicles. The quicker that my fingers unfurled against his warm, inflated nuts, the greater the degree of contentment that I saw surfacing on his face. I recognized instinctively just how important it was to please Vito, and if I did not c**k suck him to perfect satisfaction that he would give me my walking papers right then and there. "Come on, just grind your tongue against my nuts," he said. "I didn't mind the finger action. As a matter of fact, it felt damned good. But start sucking my nuts. Move your tongue against them. Really stroke, honey. Come on, just grind your tongue. Work it nice. Suck my balls. Come on, ohhh, suck my balls." My quick, probing tongue went to work responsively against his already electrified testicles. His ass twitched back and forth as he sat back in his swivel chair, heaving deep sighs as my tongue kept on pursuing him, working with steady electricity as it ground against his hot nuts. "That's the way to do it," he said. "I like your stroking. Come on, stroke even faster. And this time, I want you to be playing with my d**k. Move your fingers up and down my long pecker while you're sucking my balls. Come on, that's the kind of action I want. I like a girl who's not afraid to go all the way. If you can work that tongue in an uninhibited way, then we're gonna get along just fine." Every so desirous of pleasing Vito, I kept moving my tongue sharply, letting it slide spectacularly and solidly against his horny nuts. "Okay, switch your tongue action," he said. "Start grinding your tongue against my pecker. Work your tongue up and down my long d**k. You're gonna bring me off. Come on, bring it off. Bring off my hot rod. Suck my peter. Come on, honey. Up and down my long, driving c**k. I'm not gonna take no for an answer. You've got to eat my prick. Ahhh, come on, suck it." By then his whole body was sliding back and forth as he lay there in the chair, gasping as I worked my tongue against the tip of his c**k. I moved it responsively against the very tip of it for a few strokes, then began to grind it up and down the full length of his hard, throbbing spear. "Faster, come on, step it up," he said. While he grunted and gasped, he reached down and made a grab for my hair. He clutched hard against it, letting his fingers lock on top of my head as I kept on driving my quick, ever-intense tongue along the full base of his smooth, hard prick. A few strokes later he was unable to hold back any longer. The juices just had to pour from the end of his piercing peter. He heaved a deep sigh, holding onto my head even more tightly than before as I felt the first few drops of his spraying arsenal shoot from the end of his erect organ. "Here it goes," he said. "And this just the beginning. Ahhh, ohhh, it's all gonna spray out of there. Sweetheart, come on, catch it all. Go after the juices. Baby, come on, go get 'em." While my lover's whole body kept on rocking, I went to work devouring the drops of his flaming orgasmic flood tide. My fingers reached down and squeezed sharply against his hot testicles as the juices kept spraying, spilling out of his fluid-ridden peter and into my eagerly sucking mouth. "That's the way to do it," Vito grinned. "That's what I call a nice c**k suck. Honey, you've got some promise." I figured that Vito would be satisfied after I had sucked his c**k to climax, but that was not to be the case. As I caught my breath, remaining on my knees, he jumped up quickly from his swivel chair, then threw himself down on the rug. He began to overpower me, grabbing my head, then holding it tightly in his hands.