Pat Savage in 'Bronze Lust' Ch. 2

Moving back into a kneeling position, smiling, Melissa carefully withdrew her hand from its velvety enclosure, all wet and covered in Pat's honey to past her wrist. "I'm glad you approved, love," she replied as she brought her hand to her face and inhaled Pat's scent deeply before extending her little pink tongue to begin lapping off the juices.

"Ummm," Melissa murmured as she cleaned her lover's wetness off her hand, "This almost makes me sorry I didn't dine on your snatch. Care for some?" she asked, extending her arm towards Pat's face.

"Why you naughty girl!" laughed Pat. "Whatever do you take me for?"

"I take you for my horny, sexy boss!"

Grabbing the offered hand, Pat began to slowly suck each of Melissa's fingers--still slick with Pat's juices--into her hungry mouth, teasing Melissa with her tongue flicking across the sensitive skin. Pat loved the taste of her own pussy. "Well I guess you're right about that," Pat admitted. "And I bet you'll never guess what this appetizer I'm tasting right now has put me in the mood for..."

Her own pussy juices gushing from having just made her lover cum, Melissa eagerly replied, "I was kind of hoping you'd feel that way!"

As both young women rose to their feet, Pat glanced at the clock in her office.

"Damn!"

"What's the matter, love?"

"The time! The workmen will be showing up in a few minutes, and they'll be looking for me in this office--I need to tell them about some additional work I want them to do."

Trying to hide the crestfallen look that had entered her eyes, Melissa glanced down. "It's alright," she said. "Really it is. I loved making you come--I'll get my turn later!"

Stepping forward, Pat--her shirt still open, lace bra resting on top of her still glistening bronze breasts, bronze hair in disarray--put her hands on the petite woman's waist.

"I promise I'll thank you thoroughly later, my darling little 'Lissa. But for now..." With a jerk, Pat lifted her young lover completely off the floor, dropping her ass down on her desk, an impressive feat of strength. "...I'll just have to give you a sample of your reward."

Melissa loved it when her lover showed off her brawn. "Just what did you have in mind?" she asked coyly, batting her long black eyelashes.

"Just watch," came the reply. Pat pushed Melissa back on the desk, then, grabbing her legs, pulled her forward so that her shapely ass, clad in dark blue panties which were drenched with Melissa's juices, rested on the edge of the desk. Pat pushed Melissa's skirt up over her waist.

Her hands wrapped around the elastic in Melissa's panties. "I'll buy you another pair later," she promised, and with a sudden wrench, ripped the soaked panties from her lover's body, revealing the pretty young muff underneath. Topped by a thatch of black fur, Melissa's delectable quim was dripping.

"I love it when you're rough, boss," commented Melissa, her nubile body squirming slightly at what she knew was coming up, loving the thought of Pat taking her, pleasuring her.

"Just shut up and cum on my tongue," commanded Pat as, kneeling on the floor, she placed a tanned leg over each shoulder and bent down, planting her mouth firmly over Melissa's hot cunt, causing Melissa to gasp loudly. "Oh yes, Pat!" she cried as she felt the wet mouth upon her pussy.

Pat loved to eat Melissa's cunt--almost as much as Melissa loved it. Normally, Pat would pursue her task leisurely, licking Melissa's thighs, teasing her with her tongue, sliding it up and down the delicious slit, moving it all around her pretty cuntlips, lapping up her love juices, until her sapphic lover begged her to go faster. Today, however, she had no time. Pat settled down to with singlemindedness to the task of bringing her lover off as quick as she could.

Warm mouth pressed against the young woman's snatch, Pat's moist pink tongue flicked out, finding Melissa's waiting clit, twirling around it. Uttering an inarticulate cry, Melissa's hands reached down and fondled Pat's head, fingers entwining themselves in the dishevelled bronze hair, pulling Pat's mouth tighter against her steaming womanhood as her muscular thighs closed and trapped Pat in place. Pat's own hands assisted, grabbing Melissa's thighs and forcing her mouth more firmly down on the waiting cunt.

"Oh god," Melissa cried out, as she felt Pat's tongue alternately sliding in and out of her and licking her clitoris, demanding that she come on her mouth. "That's it baby...eat me...eat my pussy...aaagghh!" she moaned, thrusting her hips against Pat's busy lips and tongue, feeling her climax rapidly approaching through the oral ministrations of the bronzed beauty.

Pat sucked Melissa's clit into her hot wet mouth, sucking it in and out, lashing her tongue across it rapidly, driving sharp stabs of pleasure throughout the young woman's quivering body, inhaling the sweet aroma of her lover's dampness. The swift assault was too much for the pretty young brunette.

"I'm cumming!" Melissa screamed, locking her fingers in Pat's hair, taut thighs and hands holding that wonderful tongue and lips and mouth in place as Pat ate her out. Her hips jerked wildly, shudder after shudder passing through her, as her orgasm rippled through her vibrant body, revelling in the intense sensations Pat was creating in her. Finally, giving a final quivering moan, her tense body collapsed, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands fell away from Pat's head, as the salon owner gently pushed Melissa's thighs apart and stood up, her lips and cheeks glistening from her assistant's love juices. Pat moved around the desk then bent down to kiss Melissa, running her tongue into the reclining girl's mouth, feeding her her own juices, as Pat had tasted her own before.

"That's just a sample of what I owe you, 'Lissa--and I intend to pay in full!"

"I'm not sure I'll survive," grinned Melissa. "But I'm willing to give it a shot!"

Getting to their feet, the two young women rapidly rearranged their clothes into some semblance of respectability, with Melissa's damp panties getting tucked into Pat's purse, so that, in Pat's words, "Some night when I'm horny and all alone, I can take them out. I'll inhale your scent while I'm playing with my pussy and imagine that it's your fingers, not mine, that are making me cum!"

They then wandered hand and hand into the washroom to freshen up. While in there, they could hear the rear door of the salon open.

"The workmen must be here," commented Pat. "I've got to go talk to them--there's some additional work I want them to do in the gym. See you in a few." Giving her lover one last lingering kiss, Pat left the washroom, her flowing bronze tresses once more fashionably in place. Finishing cleaning up, Melissa could hear muffled voices, as Pat apparently spoke with the workmen, which faded away as they walked upstairs to the gym.

In a lazy mood after the delicious orgasm Pat's lips and tongue had coaxed out of her, Melissa strolled out of the ladies room and plopped herself down in one of the beauty chairs, picking up a magazine through which she idly flipped while waiting for Pat to come back downstairs. After a few moments, Pat's long legs could be seen descending the stairs. A startled gasp from Pat caused Melissa to look up, seeing Pat standing on the stairs looking towards the open rear door of the salon, which had been propped open by the workmen in order to bring in supplies.

"Curlers!" cried Pat. "I brought him with me to the salon...where is he?!"

Jumping out of the chair, Melissa joined Pat in frantically looking for and calling the cat, but after a few minutes' search he was nowhere to be found.

"He must have wandered outside!" anguished Pat. "I'll kick myself if anything happens to him! 'Lissa, go out front and see if he's on Park Avenue. I'll go check the tunnel in back and the sidestreet. If he's not there, I'll swing 'round with the car and pick you up and we'll drive around looking for him."

Shouting out encouragement that they would find Pat's pet, the pretty young brunette raced out the front door, while Pat made for the rear. Halfway there, she cursed, "My keys!" and rushed back into her office, grabbing her purse, before flying back out. Rushing outside, Pat glanced out the tunnel mouth by her car. No cat. She could hear Melissa calling for Curlers out front. Looking down the tunnel, away from the sidestreet, Pat couldn't see Curlers either...but she heard a noise. She ran down the tunnel and cried with relief, "Curlers!" as she saw her cat investigating a garbage can.

Scooping him up, she scolded him. "Bad cat! Bad! You gave mommy a big scare. Shame on you!" Cradling her feline friend to her chest, she continued, "Don't you know you're not supposed to go outside? Come on, let's go tell Auntie 'Lissa that we found you."

Pat had nearly reached the mouth of the tunnel when she heard a commotion on the street. People were yelling. Came the sound of gunfire. Pat raced up the tunnel the final few yards to see a group of men piling out of the building across the street into two sedans, firing back into the building as they fled. One of the men was handcuffed and was thrown into a car by two others. With a squeal of rubber, the two cars shot away from the curb.

Pat's face broke into a wide grin. "All right! Action!" she enthused, as she fairly flew to her parked sedan, tossing Curlers in the passenger seat and hopping in. Gunning the engine, she tore away from the curb into traffic, wrenching her car around in a u-turn to follow the other two vehicles.

A massive explosion rocked the car. An invisible hand seemed to come down and smash into the pavement, lifting Pat's sedan from the road. The bronzed adventuress fought to maintain control.

Across the street, a titanic blast had rocked the building that the men had fled from. Windows shattered outward, bricks flew through the air with lethal force. The whole facade of the structure seemed to disintegrate before Pat's eyes as, with a mighty roar, the building collapsed in an enormous, billowing cloud of dust.

Debris struck Pat's car, bricks slamming into the sedan's side and windows, pounding it like an artillery barrage.

It was fortunate for Pat that Doc had loaned her one of his cars. Armored, with bulletproof windows, the sedan was a veritable tank. While other cars on the street were being totally demolished from the force of the blast and the flying wreckage, the sedan shielded Pat.

Slamming back down on the torn pavement, Pat ripped the wheel to avoid flipping the car over, barely steering clear of the larger chunks of falling debris.

Face grim, she made it past the destruction zone and punched the accelerator. The sedan leapt forward, like a giant hunting cat. Passing Park Avenue, Pat glanced over and was relieved to see Melissa standing unharmed, though with a startled expression on her face.

There was no telling how many people had died, how many others had been hurt, in that blast, but Pat would bet that those men in the cars she was following were responsible.

Like a bronzed avenger, Pat weaved through traffic, slowly closing the distance between herself and her quarry. Racing through intersections, all three vehicles broke every traffic law on the books. Pat had narrowed the gap to a couple of car lengths when the roar of a machinegun broke out and hot lead caromed off her windshield. Spotting their pursuer, the occupants of the fleeing cars had opened fire on Pat. The Man of Bronze's armor was up to the test, deflecting round after round. Bullets bounced harmlessly off solid rubber tires as Pat inched ever closer to her prey.

Though she was furious at the wanton disregard for human life which the men she was chasing had shown, inside, Pat was ecstatic. The Savage love for adventure had come to the fore and she was caught up in the thrill of the moment, red blood coursing through her veins.

"So you want to play rough?" she snarled, reaching down on the floor to grab her purse where it had fallen. Reaching in, Pat withdrew an enormous, much-worn single-action six-shooter. Rolling down a window, Pat began to bang away at the thugs ahead, seemingly not caring about the disparity in firepower.

With the speed of the three vehicles as they wove through traffic, Pat wasn't sure if she'd hit them, but there was no indication she was doing any serious damage.

Ahead of her, the rear car raced through an intersection against the light, barely avoiding hitting a truck coming through the cross-street. Passing the truck, the machinegunner turned his weapon on the truck, blowing out its tires. The driver lost control of his truck. The vehicle flipped over on its side. Crashing into a lightpole, it blocked the intersection.

Pat slammed on the brakes, saw she was going too fast to stop, and wrenched the wheel to the left. The car spun around, tires squealing. The side of her car smashed into the truck, bringing it to a sudden halt. No sooner had the vehicle stopped moving than Pat was out of the car. In her hand she gripped a gun she had taken from the glove compartment of the sedan, a supermachine pistol invented by her cousin.

Using her car as a stepping stone, Pat leapt on top of the side of the truck. The two sedans she had been chasing were rapidly receding in the distance. Aiming with both hands, she let loose with a volley at the rear car. The bullfiddle roar of the supermachine pistol filled the air. The noise was nearly deafening. Even though carrying a 66 bullet magazine, the rapidfirer's ammo was exhausted in a matter of seconds. Although the gunfire appeared to have no effect on the rear car, as both vehicles continued to race away, Pat smiled as if satisfied.

With a groan, the truck driver crawled out of the wreckage of his vehicle, bleeding from some cuts but seemingly not seriously injured.

In the distance Pat could hear the roar of police sirens. Although the Man of Bronze was known to all law enforcement officials--and indeed held an honorary commission in the New York Police Department--his beautiful cousin did not have his credentials. Deeming it prudent to be far away from her current location when the constabulary arrived there, Pat dropped back down to pavement, climbed back in the car and proceeded to make herself scarce.

As the sedan sped away from the scene, from the backseat--where he'd been thrown when the car was tossed by the blast--Curlers meowed mournfully. It was a meow which seemed to say that it was unlikely he would ever want to accompany his mistress outside of her apartment ever again.