All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old
Royce Engel walked alone in a dimly lit corridor to an unknown destination. The short hairs at the base of his neck stood bristling in a field of goosebumps extending in cold ripples across his shoulders. He turned, looked, and saw nothing but blackness. Rubbing his eyes open, he came to on his back in the canopied four-poster bed in his suite at The Brown Palace.
Clementine McFee, Engel’s 18-year old ingenue ward, sat nude and cross-legged, staring at him. Her cupid’s bow mouth was pursed into an open ‘O’ and he felt a steady stream of escaping air as she blew her breath lightly in his direction. “Good Mornin’,” she greeted him, merrily, “I was wonderin’ what else I would have to do to roust you!” She giggled and held up the wet tips of her right index and middle fingers. “Looks like a little spit and a puff of air on your back was just enough!” Clementine leaned over and fell on top of the sprawled naked attorney, claiming his lips with her own. Her squashed full firm teenage breasts and soft perked nipples shredded his hard hairy chest.
Royce closed his arms around her and rolled until their positions were reversed. He returned Clementine’s avid kisses and felt his morning stiffy nose its way into her heated moist pussy as she gapped her thighs. “Mmmmm, uhnn… gimme both barrels… I NEED you SO MUCH!” She cajoled, while her heels raked the backs of Royce’s calves and then locked behind his knees. She reached down and pulled his ass forward, forcing his cock through her hungry tight os before he even had a thought.
Clementine’s kegel muscles exerted themselves promptly, tugging and toying with Engel’s fat dick. He broke their kiss with a gasp and panted, “I need a jimmy, Shortcake… you’re… closing in on… your RISKY days!” He gulped air, pulled his prick out of her pussy and rose to his knees. His greased pole waved, wondering what happened.
Clementine smiled sweetly, as if she had forgotten she was on Day Nine, only four days shy of the midpoint of her regular 26-day monthly cycle. “Oh, yes, of course,” she agreed softly. Reaching her left arm out, while still scratching Engel’s buttocks with her right fingernails, Clementine pulled a tin of Trojans from the bedside table beside Royce’s pocket watch. “Let ME do it, Royce,” she asked, holding up the red metal case.
Engel flipped the lid and retrieved the last of the three rubbers from the box. Holding it in his right hand, he carefully tore the paper with his teeth and handed the rubber back to Clementine. “Alright, kiddo… and THEN… ‘both barrels,’ I promise!”
Clementine let go of Royce’s ass, broke the retainer and pressed the center of the condom onto the glistening velvet-soft bulb of his iron-hard bone. Her stomach flipped as his dick jumped with her touch. Swiftly she unrolled the jacket as far as it would go, leaving an empty unstretched floppy pocket at his cock’s tip to catch his spunk. Returning her hands to Royce’s butt, Clementine spread his cheeks and dug in her nails. “THERE, Mr. Engel!” She declared authoritatively, “No more excuses! Get IN there and FUCK ME! I want to HOLD YOU IN!”
Royce guided his joint back to Clementine’s juicing junction and pushed through, grinning as her demanding tone changed to a drawn out satisfied sigh. She contracted her cunt around his staff while her fingers clawed tiny holes in his glutes. Her pussy was hotter faster than he had found it before. He pumped her only twice before she convulsed with a screech. “YYYIIiiiii! Ohhhhhnnnn!” Clementine wailed and lurched her back off the mattress. She clamped her teeth onto Royce’s flexed left bicep as he held her, bent forward, compressed to his chest, while he stayed, motionless and maximally lodged.
Clementine squirmed in Engel’s embrace. She worried his arm like a terrier with a sock. Her hips rolled and thrust as her cunny and fingers squeezed. Royce first moved with her, then against the tide, incrementally increasing the length of his strokes and varying his speed as he twisted and twitched within her channel. She pulled her mouth from his arm, tipped her head back and screamed again as a second orgasm broke before the fires of her first climax dissipated.
Protecting himself from another bite, Royce slid his left hand up Clementine’s spine to her head and pulled her in against his left shoulder, pinning her as he pumped. Now, feeling his own tension mount, he dropped his right hand to her bottom and pulled her in as he lunged. His eggs cracked as their pubic bones ground and her pale flaxen bush fused with his dark curly forest. Royce fired time after time and Clementine whimpered incessantly while wave upon wave flashed through her body until she hung limp on his frame. And still he spurted his seed.
Finished at last, Royce lowered the girl gently to the mattress and withdrew from her grove. The Trojan’s end was filled to bursting and hung an inch or more down, pulling at the still snug ring which had Aksaray Escort worked its way halfway along Engel’s dick. Carefully he removed the intact tube, surprised by the volume it contained. He held it over Clementine’s face and swung it before her lidded eyes as if he was a stage mesmerist. “Both barrels, Shortcake,” he intoned softly, “just like you asked.”
Clementine opened her eyes wide and grinned. “Rub it on me, like you did before… Like it was… you know, Chantilly,” she chuckled, shaking her breasts invitingly. “I like to FEEL it… come on, now GIMME your GOODNESS!”
Royce laughed aloud and inverted the balloon. He squeezed a figure-eight pattern of jism around each of Clementine’s proudly puffed halos, crisscrossing the threads between her mounds. When she was well-coated, he trailed the dripping open end over her chin and lips. She greedily took it into her mouth and sucked as she slid her fingers up the flattened condom, pushing the last gray gobs onto her tongue. As she licked her lips, Royce massaged his cream deep into Clementine’s bosom, drawing his fingers up to her peaking nipples and tugging their tacky tips.
“Nyyaahhnn,” Clementine moaned each time he tweaked her nubs. Gasping she confessed, “You’re gettin’… me… goin’ again…” She wiggled her bottom on the bed sheet and curled her calves back against her hams. “Was that really all you had?” She half-pouted. “What am I to DO? I’m all FIDGETY!”
“Nothing, but lay there and enjoy it, Shortcake,” Royce answered, leaning his head over her chest and drawing her left tit top into his mouth. Clementine felt the vacuum of his lips, tongue and palate tugging her very heart through her breast. Her pussy quivered and winked as it opened its taps and set her juices flowing. Royce buzzed her rubbery flesh as he nibbled, tracing his sticky left hand from her right globe across her belly to her mons. He smiled into Clementine’s tit as his fingers felt remaining bits of solidified semen clinging to her fine flaxen pussy hair. He pushed further and teased her stiff clit with his middle finger.
Clementine jerked at Royce’s touch and squirted. Reflexively she pushed his shoulders as she twisted her torso, breaking his seal on her aching nipple. He followed her lead with his head and replaced his finger on her bean with his slavering mouth, licking and sucking the throbbing soldier. His left hand pinched and twisted Clementine’s freed right areola while he drove the middle and ring fingers of his left hand down along her slippery slit and through her pussy’s portal.
“HYyyaannh, Rroyyyyyce!” Clementine squealed, unable to control her movements or her voice. Her cunt acted of its own accord, grasping Engel’s hand, sucking on it, while her hips thrashed and her legs flailed, finally securing themselves around his hunched back. Clementine pulled her hair as she tossed her head. “Will it never stop?” She cried in her fevered mind. “Oh PLEASE DON’T STOP!” She croaked hoarsely. Too soon, and yet just in time, the ecstasy passed and Clementine’s contorted, exhausted body again fell loose and wasted into the bedding, which was now thoroughly soaked with their combined fluids and sweat.
Royce climbed up from between Clementine’s legs and lay, half-on and half-off of the teen’s body. He stroked her lank hair as her breathing normalized, then kissed her sweetly. “Are you hungry?” He asked. “I’ll order up some breakfast while you draw us a nice bath. What do you say?”
Clementine nodded weakly and squeaked, “OK.”
At 10 a.m. the telephone rang in the main room of the GLQ suite. Royce set down his nearly empty coffee cup and walked across the carpet from the breakfast table by the window. Taking the bell from its hook, he picked up the candlestick base and spoke into it. “Hello?”
Stella Stone’s voice crackled through the receiver. Engel’s 22-year old confidential assistant, or ‘Man Friday’ as she frequently referred to herself, greeted her boss cheerfully, “Good Morning, Royce… I was up to the suite earlier, but saw the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob… Hope NOW is a good time.” Stella grinned into the phone and thought, “Though I expect you had a ‘good time’ all night long!” Continuing aloud, Stella added, “It’s 10 o’clock… If I’m going to get Clementine squared away in time to catch The Zephyr, we need to move along… You want me to come upstairs?”
“No, Stel’,” Royce answered. “We’re just about ready.” As he spoke, Clementine exited the bedroom, dressed, as yesterday, in her thin flowing scarlet dress patterned with bold black, gold and white butterflies. She buttoned her key-hole neckline as she walked over to Royce, leaving only the mid-point of her ample cleavage visible above the white lace-edged heart-shaped false bib front of her bodice. Standing beside Engel, she hung her right arm around the waist of his white flannel trousers, hooking her thumb in a belt loop and letting her small hand lay lightly against his right Aksaray Escort Bayan hip while she rested her cheek on his left shoulder and smiled dreamily. “Give us ten minutes,” he went on, “We’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Engel hung up the phone and replaced it on the writing desk. Turning within Clementine’s half-embrace, he kissed her warmly. His right hand darted inside her dress, above the lacy bib, and covered her free full right breast. She kissed him back, hard, completing her hug and scratching his back with her left hand as he slid her silk chemise across her stiffening nipple and hefted her firm tit. Breaking the kiss, Royce withdrew his hand and patted Clementine gently on her bottom. “You look like a million dollars, kiddo,” he said, grinning, “But Stella’s going to take you out and add a cpuple hundred thousand bucks to the picture… Just leave yourself in her hands… Alright?”
Clementine giggled at the thought. “Oh boy, WILL I!” She exclaimed to herself. Out loud, she replied, “Whatever you say, Royce… but, aren’t you coming along?”
“Oh, no,” Engel quickly answered. “This’ll be strictly girl stuff. I have a few other things to take care of… I’ll meet you at Union Station for the train to Chicago… We’re done with Denver.” He kissed Clementine again, lightly, and concluded, “Just wait here while I grab my jacket… I’ll walk you down to the lobby.”
In the Brown Palace Hotel atrium, Stella was passing time chatting with the florist about the ongoing, still unsuccessful, search for Amelia Earhart. She was smartly turned out in a light worsted wool eggplant business suit, with a high collared ruffle-front cream silk blouse. Her shapely calves, encased in taupe hose, tapered perfectly to her well-formed ankles, supported by mauve patent leather high-heeled pumps which complimented her handbag and wide-brimmed felt hat. When the elevator arrived with Royce and Clementine, Stella excused herself and met them with a smile. “Oh, good!” She exclaimed, “I have a cab waiting… let’s go!” She gave Clementine a quick peck on the cheek as she reached across and shook Engel’s hand. He grinned appreciatively at Stella’s professionalism and discretion.
“You two go on,” Royce said, then turning specially to Stella, he continued, “Just the bare necessities, and of course a set of Shwayder train cases, Stel’… we’ll get her fully outfitted at Marshall Fields tomorrow or the next day.” He gave Clementine’s shoulder an avuncular squeeze. “Off you go, now, kiddo… See you at the station.” Nodding a reminder to his assistant, he concluded, “No later than 3:30, Stella. We want to be settled in our compartments well in advance of departure.”
“Of course, boss,” Stella replied, matter-of-factly, “C’mon honey,” she went on, touching Clementine’s left elbow and urging her to the hotel entrance, “The meter’s running.” Over her shoulder she called to Engel, “See you in five hours!”
In the taxi, Clementine finally had a chance to satisfy her curiosity. “Where are we goin’? What’re we gonna do?”
Stella laughed and brushed her right hand through Clementine’s long pale yellow hair, pausing in the middle of her back to rub a casual circle between the teen’s shoulder blades. “Well, FIRST off, we’re going to take a whack at your HAIR… make you look more… well, MODERN!” She bunched the falling tresses and pulled them back on themselves into a pile on top of Clementine’s head. “Show off that pretty neck and your lovely shoulders, like so,” she finished, leaning close to the girl’s left ear and delivering a whispering kiss.
Clementine shivered with pleasure as electricity ran a straight line from her lobe to her left knee. She saw her reflection in the driver’s rear-view mirror but did not think the mass of yellow looked all the pretty. She remembered what Royce had told her, however, and withheld any contrary opinion. Rather, she focused on the warm fuzzy feeling she got sitting next to her girlfriend. “Oh, OK,” she replied veiling her uncertainty with a neutral tone.
“Then we’re going to a shop a friend of mine owns and get you some sweet dainties that will make Royce’s mouth water.” Stella continued, thinking to herself, “And MINE too, for that matter!” Aloud she concluded, “We’ll pack it all up and get to Union Station in time for the 4 o’clock Denver Zephyr to Chicago… You probably have never seen a train, let alone a STREAMLINER… Have you?”
Clementine shook her head. Her hair tumbled around her face, hiding her quizzical look. “No, I guess I haven’t. But EVERYTHIN’ is new to me, so that’s just somethin’ else I’m lookin’ forward to.” She turned in her seat and stared at all the people bustling along the sidewalks and driving along the street in cars or riding the trolleys as the taxi continued to Stella’s favorite salon.
Royce Engel consulted his gold pocket watch and replaced it in his suit vest. “3:18 p.m.” he remarked to himself with a satisfied smirk. He did not Escort Aksaray mind being early. In fact, he hated tardiness with extreme passion, particularly in others, since it was then always beyond his own direct control. His alligator suitcase and smaller pigskin valise rested on the terrazzo floor beside his bench in the Beaux-Arts styled Great Hall of Denver’s Union Station. He had positioned himself directly beneath the large central chandelier where he would be easily visible when his traveling companions showed up. He opened his Denver Post and began reading the day’s news while he waited.
Stella and Clementine strode briskly across the massive open waiting room. They already had retained a redcap who doggedly wheeled their luggage behind them. The women stopped at Engel’s bench. Stella coughed slightly and Clementine rattled Royce’s paper as she said, with a lilting laugh, “Hey there! How’d we do?”
“Holy Smokes!” He cried, shocked by the naif’s transformation. “Clementine! You look like Jean Harlow… BETTER than Harlow… you’re gorgeous!”
Stella laughed with pride. “Didn’t Betsy and June do a fantastic job, though?” She cupped her hand beneath the nape-length curls on Clementine’s neck. “And, her hair is naturally pale, so they didn’t have to do anything except cut and perm.”
Clementine’s cheeks blushed pink with the public praise. She had no idea who Jean Harlow was, but the context was clear and embarrassing. Meanwhile the porter, standing off to the side, enjoyed his opportunity to stare unabashedly at the sensual profile of the stunning young blonde white girl.
In answer to the original question, Engel again looked at his watch and announced, “3:29… Excellent!” He looked at the porter’s cart and said, “Add my cases to theirs. We’re on the Zephyr.” He handed the redcap his tickets, adding, “In the drawing room and neighboring compartment.”
“Yessuh!” Exclaimed the lanky old black man. He was always glad to get streamliner customers, and especially the ones well enough off to afford the upgrade to the largest accommodations. “Follow me, suh!” he declared and headed for the platform, glad for his baggy uniform pants, which hid his hard-on. “That’s one lucky fella,” he mused as he walked. “Bet he’s dickin’ th’other one, too! Unh, uhn, unh!”
At the train, while the redcap put their luggage aboard, Clementine stared, awestruck, at the double locomotive set, in front of the long shiny ten-car consist. The gleaming silver stainless steel snake seemed to stretch out forever down the platform. Her cunny got wet when she looked at the lead locomotive. She could not help herself. Its round headlight on its sleek curved nose made her think of Royce’s cock.
When the porter stepped down from the sleeper, Engel gave him three silver dollars for his efforts. As the old black man tipped his cap and ambled off searching for his next load, Royce spoke quietly but emphatically into Clementine’s ear, “It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it? Just wait until we’re moving a mile a minute!”
Clementine turned and gave Royce a blank look. “‘A mile a minute?'” She parroted, clearly not understanding the reference.
“Oh, yes, kiddo,” Engel said, wrapping his left arm around Clementine’s shoulder and pulling her into his side. “Between here and Chicago, including the whistle-stops, this train will average more than 60 miles an hour… meaning it will travel a mile in one minute.”
“I don’t believe it!” Clementine stated, tucking her chin to her neck and cocking her head with a twisting side-long glance to see if Royce was fooling her.
Stella stepped up and inserted her right arm at the waist between Clementine and Engel. “Well, it’s true, honey,” she said sincerely. “The Zephyr is just THAT fast.” She pointed down the tracks. “You see, way down there, the tail end of the train? That’s about a thousand feet from where we are standing, right here at the front of the engine. When this train is rolling, the back end would pass us before you could finish counting to ten.”
Clementine whipped her head and gaped open-mouthed at Stella’s factoid. Royce chuckled. “Tell you what, kiddo, you check it out for yourself when were moving. Come on, let’s get aboard.”
Moments later the trio was settling into their suit of rooms. Royce pointed out the beds, the private toilet annex and the adjacent connected compartment with its tucked away berths. “I’m going to reserve out dining table. You girls meet me in the Dome Car when you’re ready.” He said, exiting to the passageway through the smaller room.
Stella smiled and said, “OK,” then looked at Clementine. “Let’s sit her at the settee and watch as we pull out of the station. There won’t be anything much else to see until we’re clear of the city, anyway.”
At 9 o’clock, Stella whispered into Royce’s ear, “Give us ten minutes to change before you come down to the compartment, won’t you?”
Royce looked at his watch and the train schedule. “That reminds me… I have to set my watch to Central Time…” As he advanced the hands to 10 p.m. he continued, “We’ll be in Hastings in 20 minutes. I’ll join you when we’re leaving there. That should give you plenty of time for… whatever.” He grinned and winked as Stella nodded and stood.