A Game of Age Before Beauty

"You!" Doyle pointed accusingly at Max, turning to her new position. Taking his wife back in his arms, he pointed Nancy at the door and nudged her to retreat, before turning his attention fully on Max, his stance protective. "What do you think -"

Even Max was fully and completely surprised when Jonas casually sidled up behind the other man, and poked him with a tiny black device, hardly larger than a pen. The large construction worker spasm on his feet for a moment, before being gently pushed by Jonas as he collapsed, directing his fall to Max's broken-down couch.

"D-Doyle! Doyle, Sweetie!"

"Been meaning to try this thing out for real." Jonas nudged the groaning, stiff figure's leg with his wingtip shoe.

Nancy shrieked, wide-eyed, and turned her attention to Jonas. "You monster!" And Max, "You slut! I'm gonna -"

"Uh-uh," Jonas smirked, and held his small black stun gun close to the fallen, groaning Mr. Peterson. "How good is your husband's heart? He seems okay for now, but..." He thumbed the device, and an awful electrical popping noise emanated from his hand.

"No!" Mrs. Peterson's hands flew to her mouth, and her face drained of color. All signs of fight fled from her at the threat to her husband.

"Well..." Jonas laughed. "Well. Well, that was all very unexpected." Relief tinged the powerful man's voice - relief and something darker.

Max knew enough about Jonas, the kind of person he was, to know that the Peterson's wouldn't emerge from an attack on Jonas, on his person or his ego, unscathed. They had made him worried. They, the unclean masses, had planned to **** him.

This was bad.

Straining, Jonas pulled Doyle into a proper sitting position on Max's couch, and dusting off a spot beside the paralyzed man, sat himself right beside Doyle with a big smile and his small stun gun in hand.

"And to think - a moment ago I just had one girl to play with. So kind of you to send your wife to join us, big guy."

While Mrs. Peterson whimpered, Mr. Peterson gurgled some painful, heartfelt objection, his brow furrowing in anguish.

"Oh, no!" Jonas laughed, and almost affectionately slapped the back of his hand across Doyle's chest, "Oh, god no. Believe me - I am not interested. I promise that I will not touch a hair on your wife's head. Or a hair anywhere else for that matter. I mean - look at her." The finely dressed older man snorted contemptuously.

"No, Mrs. ..." Jonas waited, looking to the miserable woman for a name.

... Waited, and finally tapped his foot.

"Peterson," Nancy caved, her voice meek.

"No, Mrs. Peterson. I'm not planning touching you at all - in front of your husband or otherwise. In fact, me and Ms. Guevara want to apologize for this whole misunderstanding. Don't we, Max?"

Oh, hell.

Again, sudden, small pops of electricity crackled through the room, flaring in Jonas's hand and just out of reach of poor Doyle.

"Whoops, finger slipped," Jonas smirked. With the comedown of adrenaline, feeling the high of danger-passed, Jonas seemed almost giddy after having assuming control again.

He looked happy. And he looked dangerous. And his threats weren't just for Mrs. Peterson. Max too was under threat - with poor well-meaning Doyle yet another hostage he had over the young woman. One that he could deliver immediate consequences to.

"... Yes." Max swallowed, "Yes, I'm sorry -"

"A real misunderstanding, this was!" Jonas exclaimed, "And Max is dying to make it up to you. Mrs. Peterson - if you'd kindly close the door, Max can begin with your husband."

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Mrs. Peterson **** the increasingly battered door to Max's apartment closed, while Jonas...

A finger beckoned Max closer.

How badly she wished she could snap Jonas's neck. She would do it, given the chance. She swore she would.

Max, naked, slit and breasts and ass on full display, positioned herself where Jonas pointed in front of the couch.

"Now, I know you jumped all over Mr. Peterson before - but I don't think he got a proper look at the goods - did you old boy?" Mr. Peterson got a warm clap to his shoulder.

"Mrs. Peterson - start undressing, please." Jonas twirled the small stun wand between his fingers. "We need a point of reference so that your husband can understand how sincerely sorry we are. Max - be a dear and show Mr. Peterson what I'm sure have been teasing him since you moved in next door."

Even though she had been naked the whole time, Max hadn't felt on... on display, until Jonas instructed her to stand in front of her neighbor. Now, though... now, standing in front of the men with no pretense of peril, the brown-skinned beauty felt sick, nervous, defiled -

"No, Max," Jonas sneered, "Come on girl, the goods! We've all seen those fine tits of yours, give us the rest. Turn around for us!"

Max opened her mouth in protest and... promptly shut it. The lithe young beauty turned her body, spun so that her face wasn't in view - just her legs and butt and -

"Bend over now! Do I have to tell you everything? Show us the good stuff!"

Hating herself, hating Jonas, even hating defenseless Mr. Peterson for barging in with his damn wife, Max felt her firm breasts shift and her hair fall as she reluctantly bent at the waist - putting her assets on full display.

"Spread your legs a bit! ...There, perfect!" A firm slap to her firm ass caused Max's hair to fly, and caused the trained soldier to grit her teeth in humiliation. With her hands still bound behind her back, only her superb balance and ten strong toes digging into the floor and kept Max from falling flat on her face. "Look at that tight, wet little pussy." Jonas's finger spread Max's sensitive little treasure wide, and the sound of female wetness parting was unfortunately unmistakable.

"Hell, look at that tiny, wrinkled asshole!"

"Mnn!" Max suppressed a despairing groan as Jonas rudely spread one of her buttcheeks with his thumb, showing off her clenched-tight brown button.

"Look at it wink! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?"

"Probably not since being married!" Jonas answered his own question with a laugh. "You can't possibly tell me that your old lady compares. Come here Mrs. Peterson."

Max looked up, and for the first tine realized that Nancy Peterson had actually undressed as instructed. Humiliation and irrational jealousy were written clearly across her face as she glared at the physically perfect young woman bent over in front of her husband. The shapeless older woman reluctantly shuffled her way over beside Max.

"Now - bend over, just like Ms. Guevara here... whew!"

Poor Mrs. Peterson bent over, hands on her wobbly knees for support, and the contrast was night and day. Dimpled pink-and-white flesh stood versus taut caramel, hairy and unkempt womanhood versus Max's girlish perfection.

"Now we can see what a treat you're getting, Mr. Peterson. Look at that hairy thing! And those flapping curtains! You've really plowed that? You're a braver man than I thought! I wouldn't touch that even if this wasn't right in front of me!"

Jonas punctuated his crude evaluation by happily slapping and kneading Max's caramel ass and thighs.

"Heck, why would anyone? Bet you wish you could move your hands - we know where they would be!"

"Please..." Nancy finally broke, and sobbed, "Please, s-st-"

"Oh, Max!" Jonas slapped his forehead mockingly, "Now look what you've done! You made poor Mrs. Peterson feel ugly and frumpy - showing off that sweet younger body in front of her husband! You ought to be ashamed!"

'Ashamed' didn't even begin to cover how Max felt. Even though it was her ass getting slapped and touched, her also being objectified display, the shaming Mrs. Peterson was receiving in front of her husband touched too many truths. And even though it wasn't her motivating it, she was allowing it, she had disarmed Nancy, and she -

Max's ass got another slap, one that actually send her stumbling out of position and wincing in pain. "Help your neighbor up!" Jonas directed, a cruel tyrant over the small group.

Help her... Max still didn't have use of her hands. Grunting, she nonetheless put her shoulder under under Mrs. Peterson's, lifting and getting uncomfortably close to the other woman despite the fact that, though slightly overweight and past her prime, the older woman could surely have straightened herself.

"P-please... please let us go," Nancy said to Max - grabbing the younger woman's shoulders, tears streaming from her eyes, and pressing far too close in her desperation.

Like it was Max that wanted to keep her there! Like Max wasn't being humiliated alongside her!

"Mrs. Peterson! Don't cry! Max - undo some if the damage you've caused. Make Mrs. Peterson feel pretty. Kiss away those tears."

Wh-what?

"I..." Max shut her eyes.

"Now, Max."

Hell. Hell, Max...

Max grimaced and started kissing Nancy's slack, surprised face. At least the tears stopped, and with little, salty pecks to her cheeks a-and chin, Max cleaned up her neighbor one unwilling kiss at a time.

"Kiss her lips next, a nice kiss, and tell Mrs. Peterson she's a fine looking woman."

It wasn't like the older woman was hideous. Just... plain, and older - worn and somewhat wrinkled... and crying... and naked... and... and a woman, dammit!

"Jonas," Max whispered, "I don't... she's a woman. I-I don't do that."

If Nancy would at least help her, Max wouldn't have to press her body so close! With her hands and shoulders behind her back, though, Max's chest stood out front. Skin crawling, she **** herself to press skin-to-skin against the half-catatonic older woman.

"You're... you're an attractive woman, Nancy. I'm sorry. I-"

Max really, really didn't want to say any more. She parted her lips and...

Nancy came alive a little bit as their lips touched. She didn't respond as a real kiss, fortunately, even when Max **** her tongue out of her mouth, and against the wife's cool lips, but her lips parted to Max's siege and a surprised hand drifted lightly over Max's hip, before withdrawing. Nancy didn't seem to know what to do with her hands - a problem that Max could only dream of having for the moment.

"Keep going... it's not going to stop until I can feel the passion."

Mrs. Peterson appeared to finally be listening, because as the **** kiss continued, Max began feeling... barely touching at first, the older woman's tongue extended to meet hers, licking and caressing Max's agile pink muscle.

"Much better. Ah - and your wife has a tongue after all! You married a bit of a slut, Mr. Peterson. That's enough girls."

Let it be over. Max knew... Jonas wasn't just there for a show, though. This was ****, and he...

"And her titties, Ms. Guevara. Aren't they fine? Compliment them, and give them a kiss."

It wasn't going to over. How far would he make the two women go?

Max avoided the answer to her thought. Feared it. She had never... would never...

"Max?" Jonas's voice held an edge, "Keep up."

.. Dammit. Max stepped back, and **** her eyes lower.

Mrs. Peterson was blushing and covered up for a moment as Max's eyes strayed, but she relinquished her meager privacy without any warnings from Jonas and let her breasts hang in full view.

... And hang they did. Nancy Peterson's breasts were decidedly influenced by gravity and time. The half-empty bags pointed firmly southward, tipped with large pink nipples that just managed to rest unflatteringly at her curvy belly. They were at best average for a woman of Nancy's age and weight, and to Max's eyes, knowing she'd have to... to touch them with her lips, just seeing them hang and wobble was enough to make her cringe.

"You have beautiful... a beautiful chest, Nancy," Max lied, and managed to wet her lips and deliver a small, kind kiss to each nipple without shuddering.

"Max..." Jonas sighed, "That was just rude. After all the damage you've done to Mrs. Peterson, get your snooty girl face back in there and do proper kiss job on those fine jugs!"

... Damn him! Max shut her eyes, and above her Ms. Peterson looked away. Without use of her hands, and with Nancy still unwilling to help, Max had to bend and maneuver her whole face under Nancy's hanging boobs. Feeling their warm weight press down on her, she... she o-opened her lips.

Max opened wide, and after a sick, dizzy wave passed, she began... she started wetly licking and sucking. Mrs. Peterson's heavy tits almost fell into her mouth. They were so soft and weighty they felt like they... they pressed their way inside as Max's tongue roamed, as she slid her face along while she sucked. The stunning young woman's tan cheeks hollowed and slowly... she slowly bathed her neighbor's breasts, one at a time with her saliva-slick lips and tongue.

"Marvelous! Much better!"

With a guilty jerk, Max broke contact, and Nancy's boobs flopped into place.

"Your wife has game Mr. Peterson! You're a lucky man after all - not every woman will put on a show for her man! Now, Max - "

It had been coming. Max knew it, but...

"Munch on that cunt like Mr. Peterson's life depends on it."

"Please." Nancy finally regrew some kind of a spine. Looking at her husband nervously, then Jonas... "Please - I'm not a lesbian. Please don't -"

"Please..." Doyle spoke for the first time in minutes, and managed to almost raise his arm.

"S-Sweetie!" Nancy cried, hand fluttering to her mouth.

"Good man! Glad to have you with us! And not to worry, Mrs. Peterson. This is just something good wives do - to help their husbands." Jonas's pleasant tone took on an edge, and his eyes lingered, before turning his attention to -

"Have you eaten cunt before, Max?"

Bastard! Max flinched and shook her head. "No..." She managed to speak while simultaneously grinding her teeth.

"But Mrs. Peterson's looks so good, turns you on so much, you just have to try it, don't you?"

Anything but. It looked intimidating and hairy and messy and just the thought of touching it felt so... so unnatural and, to Max's hyper sensitive nose...

Max wanted to pound her head straight through her floor. This was too much. She couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Yes," Max muttered, her pouty lips twisting.

"And how would you like to go about it?"

W-what?

"Tell Mrs. Peterson what you need," Jonas explained patiently.

It clicked. Jonas would leave it up to her... to say and... the sick feeling in Max's tummy grew, even as she felt the words form. Practical body mechanics demanded... with her arms tied...

"Maybe if she -"

"Uh-uh," Jonas pointed at Nancy.

Max swallowed, and started again.

"Um... Mrs. Peterson, if you could..." Fucking hell, "L-lay down, Mrs. Peterson. On your back. Please."

Feeling like scum, feeling ill and used Max watched as the larger woman gingerly complied, her knees shaking in fear Nancy lowered herself onto her rear and her back and...

Her legs were closed, protecting her privates.

Max wanted to scream in frustration. Jonas noticed of course, and chuckled in amusement.

Prick.

"Please open your legs, Nancy," Max whispered.

Nothing.

"Open them!" Max growled, louder than she intended, and Nancy's thick, pasty white thighs spread like wings in front of her.

God, Max... Max really wished they would close again. Thick auburn hair sprouted wildly around all of Mrs. Peterson's genitals, and moisture... aroused moisture had already begun, mixing with sweat to mat the center into a tangled feminine jungle. At its center, a thick labia hung, curtaining Max's neighbor's meaty hole.

Max couldn't do it. Couldn't.

The young beauty got on her knees, and shimmied closer. She hovered. She didn't have a choice. For her friends, for the goddamn Peterson's who had only been trying to do good...

Max had to do it. Tightening her stomach for balance, the young woman lowered her head to the sticky, hairy mess, pausing just above it.

She really, really wished she could use her hands for support.

Max started with a kiss.

Max kissed Mrs. Peterson's vagina, right on one of her overlarge labial lips.

The room was dead silent. At least Jonas wasn't commenting, and Nancy wasn't...

Max tried again, kissed again, and moisture connected her lips to Nancy's for the briefest moment.

Nancy broke the silence first, a quick little, "Eep!"

And then Jonas, "Good cunt eaters use their tongue, Ms. Guevara."

Dammit. Max resisted tears of her own, and began in earnest. The gorgeous girl lowered her face to the ugliest flower she had ever imagined, and licked, and kissed, and sucked.

Real wetness gathered. Creamy femininity flowed onto Max's tongue as she started to lap and suck. Instinctively she responded to where Mrs. Peterson moaned, and she found her lips making more slurping and sucking noises, little pops as she pulled on the older woman's labia until tension broke the hold if her lips, and...

"Look! All that complaining and now your wife's lifting up her legs all on her own!"

Jonas wasn't wrong. Where Max had to instruct the frumpy older woman before just to open up, Nancy had completely changed position - to the point of lifting her knees towards to her shoulders and thrusting her dimpled, pale butt high in the air.

"Are you sure you haven't eaten cunt before, Max? You sure seem to be getting a reaction."

Jonas's snide observations, intended to humiliate, were made worse by their obvious truth. Mrs. Peterson had opened her eyes and raised her head - no longer looking at the ceiling, or for support from her husband. She was biting her lip, and staring at the gorgeous young woman kissing and sucking the damp, hairy folds of her vagina.

"U-rk..." Max suppressed the urge to throw up. Going down on a woman, an unattractive older woman at that, had already been disgusting when it was impersonal. Seeing her neighbor looking... connecting and lusting and... the Latina girl quickly averted her eyes.

Too late. Max could still feel Mrs. Peterson's gaze, roaming over her features. The image of the other woman's painted pink mouth forming an 'O' of pleasure burned in her mind. Max could feel and smell and hear and see and taste... everything. Hairs on her lips, on her tongue and in her teeth... moans... the taste and smell of pussy drool, and the sound her own slurps combined into an intolerable cacophony of sensation to the ordinarily tough soldier girl.

She had to... had to end it. Suppressing her queasy stomach once more, Max stopped kissing and probing and - she went on the attack. Burying her face in hot, hairy snatch the gorgeous young woman made for Mrs. Peterson's fat, fully unhooded clit. Gently sucking it between her full lips, Max flicked her tongue over the fleshy little bean as rapidly as her considerable dexterity would allow.

"O-Oh... OH!" Nancy's reaction to Max's effort was instantaneous. Thick white thighs mashed together on either side of the brown girl's face, clamping her in place, holding her as -

"Uhhn-UHnn-Ah-AHmMm!"

... As the middle-aged wife screamed out her orgasm, cumming right in Max's distressed, smooshed face and locking her gaze on the Latina girl's wide, panicked brown eyes.

And just like that, Max was unceremoniously shoved off while a panting Mrs. Doyle curled up on her side in a ball.

Max was left with her forehead touching on the floor, dry heaving in disgust.

"Looks like your wife really needed that, Doyle," Jonas drawled. "What's the matter? Not getting enough at home?"

"I'm s-so s-sorry, muffin," Mrs. Peterson blubbered, looking up at the couch with tears rolling down her chubby cheeks.

"I might not be around, but I think it's safe to say you two can come back anytime. Together or separate... Mrs. Peterson - trust me, this girl is not going to tell a soul." Jonas patted Max's butt and winked broadly, practically glowing with pure, smug satisfaction.

"Go on. Tell them, Max."

Fighting Jonas, at this point, wasn't worth it.

"You can... come and see me anytime Mr. Peterson." Max mumbled, and... turned her head, but couldn't bring herself to face... "Mrs. Peterson..."

No reply. A moment later the broken door to Max's apartment, to her privacy, swung closed... and creaked back open.

"Well that was quite an unexpected diversion." Jonas's upbeat voice nearly made Max jump. "And - more than enough to get me in top shape for you, Ms. Guevara."

Max's still-recovering stomach lurched as she heard the unmistakable sound of Jonas unzipping his fly behind her.