All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.
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Royce Engel sat relaxed, hands folded in his lap, in the dark back seat of a taxi, returning to the Brown Palace Hotel after a glorious Independence Day at the Denver City Park. The successful 30-year old lawyer was flanked by his 18-year old ward and client, Clementine McFee, drifting in and out of sleep with her head on his left shoulder, and Stella Stone, his striking red-headed 22-year old confidential assistant, leaning, wide-awake but quiet, upon his right shoulder.
Stella loved the piquant musky bouquet of Royce's sweat-infused white dress shirt, the more so since it was the direct result of their delicious athletic fuck twelve hours earlier. Her pussy had tingled happily all day as they strolled through the museum exhibits and among the various zoo sections. She inhaled a long deep breath and sighed as she felt her cunny moisten. Still, beyond milking Engel's dick in the rowboat for Clementine's benefit, she had not had, as she had hoped, an opportunity to further advance the youngster's sexual instruction.
Stella toyed with the center shirt button behind Royce's tie, while she tipped her head slightly and said, quietly, "Mmmmm, I really do love your manly scent. Even so, you are on the ripe side..." She kissed his neck to remove any possible insult. "Did you notice how the cabby wrinkled his nose when we got in the car?" She chortled softly deep in her throat.
Nodding agreement with the observation, Royce snorted derisively. "Maybe he's just jealous because I have two good looking skirts in tow while all he has waiting at home is a bottle of Hinds Honey and Almond cream and a cum-stained Tijuana Bible!" Laughing, he added, "Still, your point is well-taken. When we get up to the suite, maybe you can help Sleeping Beauty over here get ready for bed while I take a quick bath?"
Stella pushed her hand through the open placket of Engel's shirt and scratched his nipple with a fingernail. "Hunh!" She exclaimed, "Now, why didn't I think of that?" She kissed his jaw and lowered her face again.
Royce moved his right hand from his lap to Stella's left knee, then crept up her thigh, under her skirt, until he found her curly nest. He lightly stroked his long middle finger through the bush and parted her pliant pussy lips, already tacky with her honey. She shifted on the seat, widening her knees, and moaned into Royce's shoulder as his digit drilled deeper. Engel grinned in the dark when his tip struck oil and Stella's sap began running freely, coating him, while her kegel muscles reflexively drew him in. Adding his index and ring fingers to the party, Royce asked, sotto voce, "By the way, speaking of 'ripe,' Stel', we weren't exactly... CAUTIOUS... today." He pushed and curled his fingers. She gasped, biting into his shirt and stifling the squeal which was rising in her throat. "I assume you are... safe... without protection?" Royce plunged and pulled, slowly, rhythmically, steadily, while he enjoyed feeling her breasts rise and fall rapidly on his ribs as her breathing quickened into short bursting pants.
Stella, grunting helplessly, pinched and twisted Royce's nipple. "Nyyuhh! Hhhnnnnn!" Royce juiced her cunny like a halved grapefruit, holding his middle fingers, stiff and straight, in his assistant's tight tunnel while he pulsed his thumb and pinky outside her sensitive labia. Engel's oxford cloth shirt effectively gagged Stella as her crisis arrived and she squirted onto his cupped hand and the taxi's upholstery, while the cabbie, just four feet away, drove on unaware of the drama behind him.
Clementine, however, sensed, or felt, the motions. In her half-sleep, she touched her left hand to Royce's chest, there discovering Stella's twiddling hand rippling under Engel's shirt. Clementine moved along, trailing her small hand to Royce's lap and his stiff log, which was caught, pointing the wrong direction, along his left leg. She petted it, inside its soft flannel armor, poking its nose with her pinky's tip; pressing her thumb down where she guessed its root joined his scrotum.
"Ahem!" Royce choked, recognizing a real impending peril.
"Yessir?" Called the chauffeur through the side of his mouth, "change of plans, sir?"
"NO," Royce exclaimed quickly, huskily and more loudly than he intended. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Just clearing my throat, Driver... but tell me, how long until we reach The Brown?"
"Five minutes, give or take. Traffic's still heavy... You'd think it was a national holiday, or something!" He laughed at his own joke and fell silent.
Engel removed his right hand from under Stella's skirt and picked Clementine's little mitt off his throbbing cock with his left hand. Very quietly he said, "Sorry girls, no more play... We're almost there."