Being a huge fan of the late, great American artist Bill Ward and his gorgeous girlie art, I decided to pay homage to him by interpreting a few of his suggestive cartoons onto paper.
Therefore, the following filth below is what I'd like to imagine occurred before the punchline of the cartoon. For best results, please don't skip to the end!
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Her fingers slid beneath her silky pink panties, deftly parting her wet slit, and, staring deep into his hazel eyes Heather slowly explored her dripping, hot pussy. How utterly wet she was, her fingers probing, sliding within her slick valley, dipping into her honey pot, swirling her fingertip in the pool of sweetened excitement which oozed there. In heated breaths, her free hand cupped her right breast through her tight, red blouse, feeling the taut nipple harden through the material of her matching pink bra. She moaned softly, and not for the first time did she think herself a horny slut.
"You are truly gorgeous, Heather," he said, his eyes feasting upon her from across the room. He sat facing her in an armchair, his legs crossed, dressed in a dark, matching suit and tie minus his jacket. He sipped a brandy, gazing at the masturbating Heather who slouched in the leatherette sofa, her skirt raised above her hips, her stocking legs and high heels spread, revealing her busy fingers.
"Thank you, Mr. Anderson," Heather replied, softly. She grazed off her clit, forcing her to moan aloud through closed eyes, swirling the digit across the silky wet button.
"Taste your pussy for me," he told her, and obeying willingly Heather brought her pussy-slick fingers to her red lips. She seductively licked them, imagining licking his great, big cock, before drawing two fingers into her mouth, sucking on them, tasting her honey.
"Describe it for me," he said, passively.
After a pause, Heather said, "Like heaven."
"And ..?"
"Sweet," she replied, sucking her fingers clean. "Sweet and warm ..."
"Allow me," he said, getting to his feet, placing the brandy glass down on a table next to the armchair. He approached her, feasting his eyes upon the sprawled Heather, she a picture of utter womanhood; sensuous, sexy, beautiful and very, very fuckable. Nearing her he slowly sunk to his knees, lightly placing his hands on her stocking knees, his fingertips running up the inside of her thighs. Caressing the fabric of her sheer, silk black stockings, grazing softly the creamy smooth tops of her naked thighs, she shuddered at his touch.
"Lick me, Mr. Anderson," Heather purred, feeling his fingers tug at her panties, slipping them from under her ass, down over her thighs. He left them dangling from her high heels, a captured flag flying in triumph.
Planting soft yet passionate kisses upon her warm inner flesh, he suddenly lashed out with his tongue at Heather's glistening lips. Immediately her body shook, wracked by a jolt of electric pleasure, she feeling his tongue wriggle and worm its way inside her, like a miniature wet cock, drilling its way into her sopping wet puss.
"Oh God," she moaned, lifting her hips to meet his lavish tongue, it lapping and licking her puffy wet lips, savoring the honey that seemingly pumped from her coozy puss. With one swift movement her clit was scooped into his mouth, he peeling it from behind its velvet curtain, stabbing it, jabbing it, before delicately sucking the slippery nipple. This caused Heather to release a powerful groan, she now clawing the leatherette, twisting her head back and forth like a woman possessed, her voluptuous body afire.
As Mr. Anderson sucked on the sleek, wet clit, he introduced his middle finger into her oozing cunt, slowly thrusting back and forth. Heather moaned, her stocking legs squirming together, trapping Mr. Anderson in their grip. He grunted a gurgled response, stepping up his oral attack on her puss, inserting two fingers, frigging the moaning woman, sucking, stabbing her clit that throbbed in his mouth.
