Boston Bound Ch. 08 Suite Dreams

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old

*

As soon as Stella Stone left the GLQ suite at the Brown Palace Hotel, promising to return the next day to take Royce Engel's 18-year old ward, Clementine McFee, shopping, Engel hung a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door and threw the night-chain. He did not want his ever efficient confidential assistant to let herself in with her pass key, as she had done that morning. "She can call up from the lobby," he muttered to himself, padding naked across the main room to the bedroom.

Clementine was plain tuckered out from the extreme emotional and physical toll of the pack trip from The Cavern Mine and the amazing truck ride to Golden, followed by the automobiles and streetcars and new foods she had experienced in the past 40-odd hours. She lay under the light covers of the huge four-poster canopied bed, curled up and drowsing, wearing only the long forest green silk dressing gown, with its gold piping and matching Greene, Lester and Quill monogram, which Engel had given her last night when he threw away her old drawers and seersucker sundress. She dreamt of Stella and Royce, carting her to fancy stores and showering her with clothes and fine things, just like the fairy tale princesses she had read about in some of the books her father had used to teach her to read.

Suddenly, Mitch McFee, Clementine's father and GLQ's client, appeared in the dressing room of a store where his daughter sat, rolling Parisian silk stockings up her creamy legs and snapping their tops into her suspenders. She was otherwise naked and, oddly, so was Mitch. Clementine looked up and smiled. Opening her hips and bowing her knees, she blew a kiss to the grizzled old man holding his boner in his gnarled stubby fingers. "Hi, Poppa," Clementine breathed, moistening her lips with the curling pink tip of her tongue. "Don't stand there playin' with yourself... I'm right here... fuck me... Oh, Poppa! FUCK ME, POPPA!"

Royce turned out the lights in the bedroom and walked around to his side of the bed, promising himself he would let the teen sleep unmolested and in peace. As he carefully lifted the sheet, preparing to crawl onto the thick mattress, Clementine rolled 45 degrees left, with her eyes closed, arms outstretched, and legs akimbo. Her soft lush cupid's bow lips parted and she said, as clearly as could be, "Oh, Poppa! FUCK ME, POPPA!" Immediately Engel's 30-year old cock solidified to rock and his 30-second old resolution dissolved to nothingness. He stared with renewed wonder at Clementine's partially exposed right breast. The firm teenage tit poked its puffy pink-brown halo from under the lapel of her thin robe. Her dimpled inverted nipple stood, begged a suck.

Royce paused, then turned to his bedside table and opened a red Trojan tin. Retrieving a rubber, he unwrapped the paper and removed the retaining band while he searched his memory. "What did Mitch call her?" He asked himself, "Oh yeah, 'Darling' and 'Clemmy.' Will she wake, and know it's me fucking her, if I whisper those names?" He smiled as he mused, while he unrolled the prophylactic onto his bone, leaving it loose at its end to collect his semen. "Let's just see..." he challenged himself, snapping the ring against his cock, ensuring its snugness.

Royce climbed onto the mattress, closely watching for any sign of Clementine waking. It would be dicey. He could not know anything about her dream except the five prayerful words she spoke. He reached out and lifted the covers away from the girl. She slept on. Slowly, Royce ran his left hand lightly over Clementine's forehead, under her long pale hair, sweeping it from her temple onto the pillow. The look on her sweet placid face increased the pounding of his heart. He feared its noise would wake her, but still she slept.

Clementine did not know why her father had left the dressing room, but her heart leapt into her throat when he returned, drew back the curtain and stepped through, this time so close to her she felt his warm breath. She inhaled deeply of his masculine scent and sighed, "oooh... Poppa."

When Clementine's chest rose with her deep breath, Royce peeled the silk gown away. As her bosom sank, he responded, nearly inaudibly, to her sigh. "Yes, Clemmy... Poppa's here, Darling." Engel bent his head and tested a kiss. When their lips met Clementine shifted a further 45 degrees. Her mouth opened and she murmured indistinctly. Royce buzzed her separated lips. "Poppa'll take care of you, Darling." He pulled the other lapel clear of Clementine's right breast, dropped his chin, and took its swollen areola and bud between his teeth with the most gentle of nipping tugs.

In the dressing room, Clementine leaned back, melting into the wall. She felt her pussy puddling onto the bench seat as Mitch drew her tit into his mouth and sucked with laborious love upon her aching berry. She clasped his head against her firm mound, squashing herself, and moaned her love, "mehhhh, pahhh paaaahh... I... love that... love you."

On the bed, Royce straddled the supine sleeping youth, knees astride her hips, forearms braced beside her abdomen and ribs. He released Clementine's left boob and slid down its slope, along its rising neighbor, and brought her erect right nipple and its rubbery platform into his hungry mouth. He grinned around the pliant firm flesh as he heard her moans and the wispy interrupting phrase "...love that... love you." He redoubled his sucking and teased the sensitive stiff sentry by rapidly flicking his tongue tip into its concavity. Clementine arched her back, forcing her fullness to flatten against Engel's cheeks, yet still she slept.

Mitch, still latched to his daughter's daughter's tit, slid his hands across her rib cage and pushed them under her round globes. Clementine did not know her bosom would nearly overfill a modern 'D-cup' bra, but she appreciated the massaging support she got from her father's spread palms. His webbing graded her hills while he suckled alternately on her throbbing nubs, firing electric bolts through her gut.

Royce was much encouraged by his ward's somnolent responsiveness. He kneaded, kissed and teased Clementine's breasts until they shone with his saliva and their nipples stood on her blown areolae like stems on funnels. She moved beneath him with slow undulations, seeking ever more attention. Engel slid his face to Clementine's stomach and kissed her belly button, driving his tongue to her knot, as his hands cruised to her hip points. She squirmed within his firm grip and whimpered musically.

"Mmmmm, Paaa... paaa," Clementine mewled, pushing Mitch's head further down her aching, tormented torso. She smiled upward to the ceiling, wondering why she could not see it. She twisted her tummy under her father's marvelous marauding mouth. Insistently, she pressed harder against his strong shoulders, guiding him, urging him lower and lower until, at last, she could flex her open pelvis and feel his beard scratching the apex of her cunt. Her clitoris jumped from its hood, eager to join the play.

Royce browsed southward, trailing feathery butterfly kisses in a line from Clementine's navel, across her abdomen and through her sparse pale curly blonde pubic patch. The closer he got to her pussy the richer he found the aroma of her arousal. His hands now braced her upper outer thighs as his lips approached the creamy tan sheath hiding her clit. 'Mmmmm, Paaa... paaa,' he heard her sing softly. Her strong small fingers pinched his shoulders. She lifted her bottom from the bed as her bean popped and bumped his tongue. "SOON, Darling... real soon," he whispered hoarsely, then closed his mouth and latched onto her plump button. "I hope my luck holds!" He thought excitedly. His hard fat cock and heavy balls were almost painful as they announced their neglect. "God! I hope I can keep control!" He prayed fearfully.

Clementine's cunny liquefied before her father's voracious mouth. She seized his head and squeezed it between her silk-stockinged thighs. The deeper Mitch delved into her trembling wet pussy the more she cried and clawed his scalp. "Oh WHY won't he TAKE me?" She screamed at the top of her lungs into the void of the dressing room's roof.

Royce slid his hands flat beneath Clementine's ass and pulled her to his mouth while he slipped along her slit and stabbed his tongue deep into her slick convulsing cunt. '...TAKE me...' he heard her yelp, so loud he thought she must have wakened. He raised his head and saw Clementine languorously rolling her head upon her pillow, with her eyes closed and her mouth half-open. Her tongue lolled side-to-side and she whimpered unintelligibly. "Did I imagine...?" He wondered, doubting his ears, and then, again, he heard, soft as a thought, but distinct nonetheless, '...TAKE me...' Clementine's tongue visibly touched her teeth and her lips closed for a fraction of a second as she mouthed the words before Engel's eyes. "She DID call out," Royce determined, "and, she IS asleep and ASKING for it."

Royce lifted Clementine's bottom into the air as he straightened up and scooted himself forward. His waving jacketed joint thumped her inner thighs, left and right, as he drove it hands-free toward her quivering gleaming target. The rubber bumped, stuck and then slid smoothly through her tight os as her pussy slathered it with welcoming lubrication. Royce thrust hard and deep, no longer thinking of whether Clementine was asleep, but rather focused on bringing relief to his charged nuts. He slammed them flush to her butt and reared, flexing his rod inside her channel. Retreating to her doorstep he jammed home again.

"Hyunh!" Royce chuffed as he plunged. "Huhnnn!" He groaned as he pulled back. With each thrust he hauled Clementine's hips to his, resetting them as he recoiled. "Hyunh!... Huhnnn! Hyunh!... Huhnnn!" He was on edge and on autopilot. His sack shrunk against his primed retracted balls. His temples pounded.

Clementine's vagina squeezed her father's pumping prick; pulling, grabbing, holding - fighting its every effort to back out - then, relaxing, coaxing, sucking - urging its soonest return. Her breath and heart rate sped up, her mind whirled, the dressing room lights flashed on and off as Mitch lunged and regrouped. She heard a muffled scream echoing from the walls. It was an odd mix of her own voice and another. Her father's mouth was open, but his cry was soundless.

Suddenly her world exploded. The cacophony became her, screaming "POPPA! I'm COMMMING! Oh POPPA!" Mitch's face shattered. The other voice was, in fact, Engel's roaring, 'AARRGGHH!' The face on the body between her legs, fucking her, making her come, coming in her, filling her soul, was Royce's. Clementine woke, flushed and beaded with sweat, shaking with her orgasm. She raised her arms and held Engel's muscular forearms as he pinned her pelvis to his groin and unloaded his phalanx of disarmed troops into the end of the jimmy in her twat. "Ohhhh, ROYYYCE!" she exclaimed, with a lilting laugh. "I thought you were my Poppa!"

Engel gently pushed Clementine's hips as he carefully extricated himself from her cunny, ensuring the Trojan was intact. He grinned as she fell back to the bed and flopped her arms out. "Are you disappointed?" He asked, unsure how she might react to being fucked in her sleep, and by an impersonator, at that.

"Oh, no!" Clementine quickly replied. "I guess I was just dreamin' because I love Poppa and miss him... But I LOVE YOU, too and your are RIGHT HERE!" She giggled and wiggled her fingers as she raised her arms again to Royce. "And you HAVE somethin' for ME hangin' right THERE on your cock! Don't hold back... I want your GOODNESS!" Clementine sat up and pulled the sticky sock from Royce's softening dick, treasuring the distended jism-filled jacket in her hand. "Mmmm! It's still warm... just like I like!" She leaned forward and kissed Engel's thick flaccid penis and said, "THANK you!" then tipped her head and captured the rubber's rolled rim behind her teeth. Clementine pinched the closed end with her left thumb and index finger and scissored the tube between her right middle and index fingers. Sliding her right hand along the Trojan she squeezed Royce's cum in a rolling ball into her waiting mouth. With a flourish, Clementine stretched the emptied jimmy and then opened her mouth. It snapped away and flew to Royce, where it splattered its final flecks of his grease on his chest thatch. "Gotcha!" Clementine crowed, then, bouncing onto her knees, she nuzzled her bosom against Engel's hard pecs and kissed him ardently.

Royce broke the kiss and laughed aloud. "Whew!" He said, "Are you going to be able to sleep through the night, now?"

"ME?" Clementine snorted. "Who WOKE me? And who SLEPT while she was bein' FUCKED... well, until the last minute, anyway," she chuckled and paused. "Yes, I reckon I can sleep pretty well... now that you're EMPTY." She affectionately fondled Royce's sagging equipment. "But, remember what I told you last night? Or maybe it was this mornin' but it doesn't matter when... I said, 'I'll take all you got any time you give it,' and..." She kissed Royce again, while she softly juggled his eggs in her left hand, "That's just a FACT."

Clementine let go of Engel's package and lay back down, covering herself with the sheet and blanket. Royce, stunned by the soliloquy, got silently under the covers with her. She sidled up, hugged him close, and kissed him sweetly. "Good night...rest up!" With a grin she closed her eyes.

"You too, Shortcake," Royce replied, hoping he would be able to keep up with this young dynamo.

*

Royce Engel sat in a large dark leather armchair at one end of a long mahogany table in the offices of Greene, Lester and Quill. At the opposite end of the table, the named partners beamed at him, brighter than the sunlight, which sparkled on the cut-glass edges of the crystal water decanter and tumblers on the polished chrome side table to their right, in front of the bank of tall windows in their oak paneled conference room. They praised him effusively. 'Great work, Mr. Engel,...Understand you are on top of the Clementine McFee thing,... Got everything covered six ways to Sunday, don't you, Mr. Engel,' they said. Royce began to sweat. "Do they know I am fucking the daylights out of the girl?" He wondered in a panic. "Are they mocking me? Setting me up?"

The partners' faces clouded, then faded entirely. Their voices congealed into a single, monotonous, unintelligible drone. They were before Engel but, as the the table mysteriously lengthened, they were at too great a distance to be clearly seen anymore. The table was not the only thing that was lengthening. Royce looked down and saw Stella, hunkered between his knees, petting his cock. He squinted across the table, through the filtered sunny haze. He could only make out the partners' silhouettes. "What's Stella DOING? Can they SEE? Why can't I SPEAK?"

Engel's muddle deepened as Stella unbuckled and unzipped his trousers. She spread the fly wide and silently snaked her left hand through his boxers' vent, capturing his turgid dick and stroking it to its maximum size and hardness. Royce gurgled "No! Not HERE!" but with no effect. Stella ignored, or did not hear, him and continued rubbing his log, sliding her warm soft hand its full length, overreaching and brushing his thigh as she did so.

In the GLQ suite at the Brown Palace, Clementine removed her silk dressing gown. Fully nude, she knelt carefully astride the sleeping Royce's naked chest, facing his limp penis as it lay quietly pillowed between his slightly spread legs. Its weight naturally divided Engel's loose hairy bag and pushed his replenished testicles to either side. "They sure look like they're full again," she thought with a wicked smile. She ducked her chin and peered, through her cleavage and between her legs, at Royce's expressionless face. "You're so sweet, I just have to eat you up," she whispered soundlessly into her chest. "Now lay quiet... I remember, once, I made Poppa give me his goodness and he didn't even know... of course, he was very tired... Are YOU very tired, I wonder?" She stifled a snicker and chided herself, "Be very quiet yourself, Clemmy! Don't go spoilin' the game!"

Clementine ran her left index fingertip along the top of Royce's wide soft prick, from his dark curly forest to the rim of his purple-brown helmet. It rolled cooperatively under her gentle touch and thickened as she traveled. Twice more she stroked its length. When she reached its head on her third trip, Engel's cock rose a quarter-inch from its nest to greet her. She smiled to see the first sign of pre-cum gleam in the bulb's slit. Clementine raised her right arm and looked back, under her pit, at Royce. Satisfied he remained in dreamland, she wedged her right middle and ring fingers between the mattress and Engel's fat eggs, testing their weight as she wiggled them onto her palm.

Engel was pragmatic, if nothing else. He did not know if he was facing termination or promotion, but, he thought, "By God, if Stella wants to blow me in the boardroom and thinks she can get away with it, who am I to hold her back?" He smiled across the long dark table at the three partners' vague outlines. "Yes," he croaked. "Is that really what my voice sounds like?" He wondered, aghast at its dry harshness. "Yes," he repeated to the apparitions, "Clementine is... really coming... along nicely." He widened the angle of his legs, giving Stella more room to maneuver below the tabletop. She took full advantage.

Clementine was startled when Engel shifted and spread his legs wider, bending his right knee and opening his hips in the process. She froze, fearing another move might bring him awake. The heat of his nuts in her hand made her pussy itch. She wanted to touch herself but dared not. Just thinking about her cunny made her nipples stand in sensual solidarity with her excited cunt. Royce's cock hopped beneath her finger, reminding Clementine of her goal. She slipped her finger and thumb around the neck of Engel's fully engorged dick and then curled her other fingers into a loose fist surrounding the upper stalk. She hesitated when she heard Royce say, quite clearly, "Yes, Clementine..." but, when nothing followed, she decided he was still sleeping.

While she slid her hand to the bottom of Engel's upright root, Clementine pulled it toward her descending chin. The happy plum drooled in anticipation of her kiss. Taking a deep breath and hoping for the best, Clementine lowered her mouth over the tender velvet nose and tickled its bubbling tip with her tongue. She scratched Royce's taint with her nails and gently closed and reopened her palm around his nuts. His cock struggled in her coiling hand, seeking freedom to find more love.

Stella sealed herself around Royce's plump meat and bobbed her head, taking the cock deep into her throat before pulling back and licking the glistening knob. Royce groaned. "Shit! Did the partners hear that?" He exclaimed to himself as his 22-year old confidential assistant confidentially assisted him with a second, long, salubrious slide. Her wet lips warmed his staff from tip to base. "Uhhnnnnggh!" He groaned louder. "Whatever comes comes," he thought resignedly, "so long as I COME... Come on, Stel', SUCK IT!" he urged, feeling his seed rise in his well.

Clementine rolled her face, pushing Royce's throbbing cock deep into the pockets of her cheeks. Her tongue raced along his great pulsing vein as she worked his balls with her right hand and lightly squeezed her left fist rapidly where his root joined his sack. "You're close, Royce," she cheered in her mind, "Now gimme your goodness... GIMME!" She listened carefully to Engel's drowsy groans intensify in volume and become more drawn out. Suddenly, she heard him clearly exclaim, 'SUCK IT!' before he gargled, 'Uhhnnnnggh!' and released his load in a frenzy of splashing squirts. "YES!" Clementine cried, triumphantly, as she felt and tasted the welcome warm cream. "Oh my GOODNESS! My GOODNESS, Yes!"