The twin-engine Sikorsky 108 circled twice and then hovered like a huge moth in the stifling night air. The white stone mansion was on the highest of the hills overlooking Athens and from each of the long, terraced balconies it was possible to look down on the Parthenon in the distance. The helicopter landing pad was on the roof, surrounded by the garden with its illuminated fountains and wide pebbled pathways running between the most exotic and expensive plants in the world.
As the huge, black aircraft with "Hellenic Airways, painted in white letters along the "side hung in the crossbeams from the landing pad searchlights waiting for the signal to set down, the silver-haired man sitting in the mahogany-paneled office in the center of the craft was talking to London by private telephone.
"Fuck that!" he said forcefully. "And fuck them! Wildcat strikes are their problem, not mine. They signed a contract promising delivery of twenty-five supertankers by the end of the fiscal year and every day they're late-mind you, Tony, every day-it's going to cost them one million pounds sterling."
His English was heavily accented and the inflections of his native Greek was even stronger when he became excited, which was rare. He was not excited now; he was putting on an act for the man on the other end of the line. Despite the harshness of his tone he was smiling and thoroughly enjoying the enormous Monte Cristo which he was smoking. It had come from his private humidor at Dunhill's in London and it was his fortieth of the day.
"No, Tony, I'm sorry. Not two weeks, not two days, not even two hours," he said, shaking his head as if to enforce the edict. "As per contract. That's it. Now you go and tell them that and tell them they've been wasting their time and money taking you to all those imagine restaurants because nobody decides what Pericles Vassilikos does but Pericles Vassilikos. You remind them that you're just an employee, an errand boy, who does what I tell him to and that you got nothing to say about extensions and concessions. And while you're at it you better remind yourself of the same thing."
He slammed the phone down and grinned broadly to himself.
Those poor limey bastards, he thought to himself. They were so fucking hot to get that contract they didn't stop to realize they could never make the completion date. Now he had them by the balls and he was going to squeeze. All of the ass-holes they're used to dealing with are too polite. A few drinks and an expensive lunch and a phone call and sure you can have an extension and fuck the stockholders, they're the ones who'll be paying for it. Well Vassilikos Shiplines had only one stockholder who owned everything-the tankers and the airline and the real estate and all the rest-and he wasn't going to get fucked by anybody. He never had.
He felt the huge Sikorsky descend and come gently to rest on the rooftop landing pad of his estate house. As he climbed out of the helicopter and came down the carpeted staircase that had been rolled to the doorway for him, he returned the salute of the uniformed pilot and his crew members.
"Nice flight, boys," he said, nodding. They looked relieved.
He crossed the garden on his way to the upstairs gymnasium and pool, and had he cared to, he could have looked down at the grim, dimly-lit Athens slum where he was born and lived until he was twelve years old.
Maria was seventy-five and had taken care of him as a child while his mother worked. Later, when he had become a millionaire at the age of twenty, he had found her and brought her to live in his house and manage his servants. His mother was long since dead and his father was somewhere in America. He didn't care where. Since then she had looked after his children and since the death of his wife had been like a mother to them.
The old woman's wrinkled face was set and immobile but her eyes betrayed her.
"Where is she?"
"In bed. Asleep," Maria said, not looking at him.
He could hear the helicopter on the roof taking off again as he strode down the hallway toward his daughter's bedroom.
"You don't believe me!" Maria shrieked as she followed him, plucking at his elbow like an old chicken. "What a wicked man you are to think I would lie. I tell you she's in her bed. Leave her alone. You'll wake her and she needs her rest. She's only sixteen. If I wasn't so old I would box your ears."
He threw open the door despite the old woman's feeble attempts to throw herself in front of it and block him. His daughter's bed was still made-up and empty. He switched off the light and closed the door.
"It does no good to try to protect her, you old fox," he said to Maria. "Is it the same one? Nomikos?"
Maria shrugged her thin old shoulders wearily and nodded. He looked at his watch. Nearly midnight. He headed for the broad, winding staircase leading to the floor below.
"What are you going to do?" Maria asked.
"Wait for her in the study," he said. "You get to bed. If I catch you listening I'll have you put in a home for old crones where you belong. Then you can screech to your heart's content all day long."
"I don't care how old I am. It doesn't matter if I am at death's door. If you talk to me in such a manner Pericles Vassilikos I'll get a stick and give you the beating of your life," she raged at him from the landing, shaking her bony old fist. "Times have changed. Parents are more liberal with their children now and there's nothing you can do about it."
"Be quiet and go to bed!" he shouted up at her from the bottom of the stairs. He was losing patience. "I forbade her to see that penniless young bastard again."
"You were once penniless, if you'll remember," she taunted.
"At his age I had nearly a million dollars in my pocket," he said.
"If you give her a whipping you'll hear from me," she said.
"All right. So I'll hear from you!" he raged. "What do you expect me to do when she defies me like this, give her a peck on the forehead and a pat on the bottom and send her up to bed? It is time she learned that in Greece daughters obey their fathers and I don't give a shit what she reads in those French and American magazines she's forever got her nose buried in. She's going to obey me or I'll send her to a convent and she can obey a ruler across her hand!"
"Ha!" the old woman cackled. "You're in love with her yourself, you wicked man, and you're eaten up by jealousy because she dares to go out with someone her own age!"
"Will you get to bed, you toothless old serpent!" he shouted, starting back up the stairs toward her, taking the steps two at a time.
His accent was very pronounced now and his coal-black, slightly-slanting eyes were fiery with emotion.
"All right, I'm going to bed," Maria said, retreating down the hallway. "But if you hurt her I'll cut out your heart."
"I'm just going to talk to her," he shouted after the old woman, suddenly ashamed by his outburst. As he walked down the curved stairway again he took the folded white handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his brow.
He had been gone for less than a week and already things in the house were falling apart.
And with the wedding less than ten days from now.
He left the lights off in the study, mixing himself a drink by the light that came through the windows from the floodlamps outside which illuminated the vast grounds and discouraged trespassers.
From the chair by the window he could see nearly all of the winding drive which led up from the electric gate to the house.
He sat in the dark and sipped his drink and waited.
* * *
"Don't be so nervous, Stavros," Tina Vassilikos giggled. "My father's in Italy and won't be back until tomorrow."
"Who's nervous?" the black-haired boy said. "I'm not nervous."
Stavros Nomikos knew he was walking a tightrope. If he could manage to keep on seeing Tina and at the same time stay out of her father's way and avoid his wrath until she was old enough to marry, he would be a very wealthy young man in a few years and he could quit the boring job he held as a clerk in his uncle's dry goods store, giving his uncle a good kick in the pants as he walked out of the door for the last time. But his plan required extreme care and caution.
His conscience didn't bother him in the least. In his way he loved the gorgeous, black-haired, full-bodied sixteen-year-old sitting next to him in the car. As she snuggled up against him her skirt rode up over her firm, luscious thighs, exposing the velvety skin above the tops of her tinted nylon stockings. The garters that kept the nylons in place had tiny ribbons on them and the thin black straps leading up her legs and under the hem of her skirt to her garter belt were stretched taut against her silken flesh. He knew that just out of sight, in the shadowy area between her thighs, was the diaphanous crotch of her see-through bikini panties which she had allowed him to caress under the table in the dimly-lit restaurant booth they had shared at dinner. Now he was tense with anticipation at the prospect of putting his hand there again and fondling the springy black mound which the thin strip of sheer nylon barely contained. He reached out for her.
"Will you promise to stop when I tell you to!" Tina asked, holding him at arm's length.
"I promise," Stavros said huskily, sliding across the seat toward her and putting his hands under her skirt and running them deliciously up the sides of her nylons until the stockings ended. His hands continued until they were around in back of her, slipping inside the elastic of her panties and easing down over her wide, firm bottom.
"Oh, Stavros, darling," she moaned, thrusting her swelling breasts against him as he drew her closer. "I love you so much."
"And I love you, Tina," he whispered. "But we could both enjoy being together so much more, we could both love each other so much more, if you would let me fuck you."
"Oh no, Stavros. I must be a virgin when I marry, you know that. Please be patient darling, it won't be too much longer."
"But I'm a man! I must make love or I'll get sick. I've got to have relief," he said. "And you're only sixteen years old. It will be years before your father will allow you to marry. I can't wait that long."
"Who said you have to wait that long ... for relief," Tina said, smiling mysteriously as she reached down between his legs and found the zipper of his pants. "There are other things besides fucking."
He trembled and his throat felt dry as she eased the zipper open and pushed aside the fly-front of his shorts to release his stiff, throbbing cock.
"Oh look," she laughed as she began to run her soft fingers up and down the length of the rod. "It's like a flagpole and it's already sticky at the end. You must be especially horny tonight."
"I am," he whispered huskily. "For you."
Suddenly he tore out of her arms and pulled back to the other side of the car, pressing against the door on his side. Tina looked at him in astonishment until she heard the low, rumbling growl through her rolled-up window.
A brown and black German Shepherd dog had his paws up on the window and his teeth bared and was snarling through the glass, his fiery red eyes focused on the badly frightened Stavros who huddled wide-eyed and trembling behind the steering wheel.
"Oh it's only Bruno," Tina laughed, starting to roll her window down.
"No don't!" Stavros cried. "Don't roll the window down. He ... he'll kill me!"
"He won't hurt you," she laughed, reaching out and stroking the back of the huge dog's neck. "Look, he's gentle as a baby."
The animal was nuzzling her arm with his enormous snout and licking her hand as she petted him. His growls had become a panting whimper and he pawed the window sill of the car, clicking his great claws against the metal.
"He wants to get in," Tina said.
"No!" Stavros said, putting his hand on her arm to stop her from opening the door. When the dog saw him touch her his ears flattened against his head and he let out a low, warning growl. "For Christ's sake, send him away."
"He wants to go for a ride," Tina laughed.
"Tina," Stavros said with as much anger in his voice as he dared to display while the dog could hear. "Will you please tell him to go away?"
"Bruno!" she said, her voice softly commanding. The dog whined in response. "Go home boy. Go on."
Obediently the dog dropped his front paws to the ground and loped back up toward the main house.
"It must be after one," she said, rolling up the window. "I shudder to think what I'd get if my father knew I was out this late. It's all right, though. Maria will lie for me if he calls from Rome."
Even though she thought her father was not in the house Tina had made sure they parked in the one curving stretch of driveway that couldn't be seen from the house. Sometimes even Maria peeked and she didn't want to be scolded in the morning.
"Look," she laughed, "Bruno scared you so badly your thing went down."
"I wasn't frightened!" Stavros said indignantly. "I just didn't want to have to hurt the animal in case he attacked."
Even though she loved Stavros Tina felt that he took himself far too seriously. She would have to instill a sense of humor like her father had in him after they were married. Still, it was good to feel his warm, strong hands caressing the cheeks of her bottom again and she ran her hand rapidly along the length of his hardening cock as they resumed their petting.
"You can finish in my mouth, if you want to, Stavros darling," she said, leaning down and taking his nearly-stiff shaft between her lips. He kept his car immaculate and she knew how worried he was about getting the upholstery dirty. Also, she had learned to enjoy the almondy, slightly salty taste of the thick creamy fluid that shot out of him when he came, and she found that when she swallowed it she felt like she was swallowing part of him and it seemed to draw them closer together.
He felt his breath start to come in gasps as she rotated his hips and arched his back, driving his rod as far into her warm, soft, wet mouth as he could, feeling her tongue massage the throbbing length of him as her lips slid up and down the eager shaft.
Suddenly he took hold of her shoulders and lifted her up, kissing her violently, smashing his lips against hers and feeling her respond with quivering passion. His whole universe seemed to rest in the thatch of forbidden black fleece between her fleshy thighs and then he was burrowing into her crotch, forcing her legs apart with his head and working the narrow strip of nylon that covered her soaking vulva lips to one side with his probing tongue, pushing the tip into the tight wetness of her vagina as she pressed her pelvis frantically against him. He sought out the pulsating stiffness of her clitoris and as he drew the rough edge of his tongue back and forth over it he felt her shudder and moan and widen her legs so he could bore more and more deeply inside her. Her body responded with instinctive female intensity to the erotic assault despite her pleas for him to stop.
"No, Stavros. No, we mustn't," but she made no effort to push him away, clutching his hair instead and pulling him tighter against her steamy, soaking vaginal crevice.
Now he straightened up and looked directly into her eyes. They were wide and black and frightened as she realized what was going to happen. They had gone too far to stop and she could feel the insistence of his trembling rod, probing like a shaft of steel into her stomach. Even so she pleaded with him.
"Please stop, Stavros. Oh please don't. You know I've never had a man before. I'm a virgin. You'll hurt me," she whimpered as his fingers took hold of the hem of her panties and tried to pull them down over her bottom. She spread her legs and tried to push him away, using the last ounce of strength and self control in her body. Then he brought his fingers around and hooked them through the strip of thin nylon that ran between her thighs, tearing it as easily as if it was made of paper.
He could smell her fragrance now, filling the car and driving him wild with desire for her. Without the crotch of her panties to protect her she had quickly closed her legs, pressing the thighs together to prevent him from pushing in between them. Cruelly he drove one knee between the flexed muscles of her legs and opened them by sheer brute force, heaving his body against hers so that he was against her pelvis, the head of his penis frantically probing the wet hair of her pubis seeking the warmth of the opening it wanted to penetrate.
She began to whimper and then gave in completely to him and to her own driving need to have the enormous length of him deep inside her. She reached down and wrapped her hand around his steel shaft, guiding the head of it to the pulsating threshold of her pink, swollen vulva lips and holding it there for a final moment before taking him inside her.
"You'll have to marry me," she whimpered in his ear, holding him back with all her rapidly declining strength.
"Yes," he said, urgently pressing against her hand. "Yes."
"Say it!" she insisted, managing to hold off the assault of his driving rod for an instant longer.
"Yes, yes," he cried. "I'll marry you. I swear on my mother's life."
Satisfied, she eased his red, swollen knob urgently into the tight, glistening, clutching mouth of her vagina and felt the virgin lips close around the penetrating length of him as he collided with the springy membrane wall of her hymen, straining against it until it broke and the length of his shaft slid into the depths of her, impaling her like a sword.
He heard her give a sharp cry of pain as he tore through the soft, tight walls of her vaginal tunnel, but her fingernails dug into his back as she urged him further in. He could feel the warm, fresh blood from her violated maidenhead seeping out around the base of his vibrating shaft and as he drew back for a second stroke the tender muscles of her womb closed after him and tightened in anticipation of another thrust.
"Am I hurting you?" he said. "Yes," she murmured, clutching him. "But don't stop."
He could feel her thighs drawn tightly around his waist and her whole body was stiff and tense as she clung to him with the strength and erotic urgency of a young animal.
Now he held his penis between the lips of her vagina, feeling the suction as they instinctively sought to draw him back in, and as he plunged forward again she cried out and her womb muscles wrapped around his penetrating rod, clutching it like a clenched hand as it pushed between them.
Now he began to go in and out of her with rhythmic regularity, his knees on the seat cushion of the front seat with Tina wrapped around him, clinging to him, the seat of her panties barely brushing against the upholstery as she moved in time to his thrusts. Then she felt him shifting around under her and she shifted with him, twisting over on top of him until he was sitting in the passenger seat and she was on top of him, straddling him with her legs as he continued to pump up and down and his rigid shaft stroked back and forth through her velvety vaginal lips.
"Oh darling, it's heaven having you inside me. I never thought it would be so marvelous," she moaned, biting the soft flesh of his earlobe.
"I'm fucking you, Tina," he said, his voice hoarse and husky. "Do you feel me fucking you? Do you feel my hard cock moving in and out of your soft, virgin cunt?"
"Oh yes, Stavros," she purred, "you're filling me up. It's as though you're too big for me and I'm straining to take you. It's better than sucking your thing with my mouth. It's tighter and it hurts more but I love it."
"Oh my sweet," she said, thrusting against him, impaling herself, then raising her buttocks in the air and withdrawing. "I love the feeling of your big, hard, throbbing cock inside my soft, virginal cunt. I adore the feeling of you moving inside of me against the walls of my womb and I can't wait to have you spurt your hot white juice in my cunt just the way you do in my mouth."
"No, my darling," he said, excited by her words and slamming his pelvis against hers even harder than before. "I can't come inside you. You might get pregnant."
He was well aware of what Pericles Vassilikos was capable of doing to any man who impregnated his daughter, and even now, near the height of his passion Stavros had enough of a sense of self-preservation not to take so reckless a chance.
"Oh please," she said. "I want to feel you burst inside me, like a broken dam."
"No," he said, breathing so hard he could barely be heard. "Are ... are you ready to come?"
"I don't know, Stavros," she said. "I've never been fucked before."
"I ... I don't think I can wait ... for you..." he mumbled, arching against her, feeling the irresistible flood of lava-like heat building in his loins and rising.
"But, I don't know what to do," she said.
"When ... when I pull out of you, take my cock in your mouth and I'll shoot off the way I always do," he said, straining to get the words out, Ducking against her.
"But Stavros . ... " she began. She felt rushed, unsatisfied. She wanted him to stay inside of her, not to pull out and come in her mouth.
Then she felt his hands gripping her hair and his penis tearing out of her, leaving her vagina empty and unfulfilled, and he was forcing her head down between his legs, forcing his erection, wet with her virgin blood and the moisture of her womb into her mouth. She began to suck and formed her lips like a tight band around his vibrating rod but she wished he would let her go and come back inside her, penetrate her, stab her until the fire that had begun to rise in her crotch could erupt into the inferno she desired.
Now she felt him coming, felt the hot jet-like stream belch like cannon-fire from the head of his penis and cascade against the roof of her mouth and her throat. Dutifully she massaged the length of him with her tongue and drew the final drops of semen from him as she had always done, but as his rigid body relaxed and he began to gulp in air and his erection started to shrivel between her lips she felt oddly disappointed. She had lost her cherry; she was no longer a virgin; and although his first thrusting strokes had felt like a white-hot poker of searing pleasure, filling her and sending erotic flashes coursing through her body, something else, a deeper and more profound urge had been awakened and left unsatisfied.
She swallowed the milky juice he had spurted into her mouth and paused to lick and kiss his softening rod, then raised her head and pressed her mouth to his, forcing her tongue between his lips and tightening her arms around his neck.
"Oh Stavros, why didn't you come inside my cunt," she said plaintively. "I wanted to feel you flooding me."
"I couldn't, Tina. What if you had gotten pregnant? What would your father have said?" he cajoled.
"What could he say? We'd have to get married, that's all," she said simply. "Would that be so terrible?"
"Of course not, Tina, but still, your father...."
"One thing you will have to learn, Stavros, if you are going to be part of my family," she interrupted. "My father respects only those who stand up to him. That's why he and my brother have never had a meeting of the minds. My brother is a sweet, gentle boy and he is constantly trying to please my father instead of standing on his own two feet and saying what he thinks as I have always done. Believe me, it's cost me lots of whippings but now my father listens to me, sometimes anyway."
The thought of standing up to the stocky, powerfully-built, silver-haired Pericles Vassilikos sent a silent shudder through Stavros' body. No, it would be better to try to please him and to stay out of his way as much as possible, he thought to himself.
"Whenever we were to be beaten as children Nico would simply take his pants down and bend over and let my father whip him with his strap. But I would run and when my father caught me I would fight. He would simply pick me up, put me across his lap and pull my panties down himself and I would get the strapping anyway, but I think he was secretly glad that I showed some spirit and that is why I've always been his favorite," she said. "And that is what you must do. Stand up to him. Fight him."
"Still, it's better that you don't get pregnant," Stavros said. "Not now anyway."
"You're so stuffy," Tina laughed, mussing his hair affectionately. "But I love you and I'm glad I let you fuck me. But sweetheart, next time please try to wait until I come too. I feel sort of ... empty ... and nervous ... I don't know quite how to explain it but I know it can be better for me than it was."
"Tina," Stavros said, a little guilty for having failed to satisfy her. "It's late and my mother will be pounding at my door in the morning wanting me to get out of bed. You'd better go in now."
Tina felt a little hurt by his attitude. It was a special night for her, the night she stopped being a child and became a woman and now Stavros was worried about sleeping the next morning.
"All right, Stavros," she said softly. "Can you drive me up to the front door?"
He started the car and headed it up the remainder of the long driveway. He sneaked a glance at his watch. It was almost two a.m. and he was exhausted and secretly glad to be getting rid of Tina. Having been relieved sexually all he could think about was being alone in his own bed and getting some sleep.
"Good night, darling," Tina said, gently putting her arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the lips. She felt his hands move under her dress and cup the cheeks of her bottom through her torn panties. Then she got out of the car and stood on the wide marble steps as he drove back down the drive and stopped to let the electric gates open automatically.
As she stood on the steps under the clear, starry sky Tina felt an odd sense of disappointment. The red taillights of Stavros' car disappeared around a bend but she didn't feel the heightened sense of loss and longing she used to feel when he dropped her off and left. Was she getting tired of him? He hadn't even promised to call her in the morning.
She climbed the stairs and passed the row of classical marble columns which adorned the front of her father's mansion, pausing in the shadows of the entryway before going inside. She put her hand under her dress and ran her fingers through the furry crevice between her legs, feeling the edges of the torn crotch. Her vagina ached a little and she could feel the dried blood of her burst maidenhead, but aside from that she felt nothing. She wondered how it would have been if she could have had an orgasm this first time, if she could have felt the soaring, pulsating glory she had read about in some of the women's magazines she had had sent from New York and Paris.
She tiptoed through the long hallway after softly closing the massive wooden front doors. She didn't want to wake Maria, although she knew the old woman slept like a hibernating bear once she was in her bed.
She was nearly to the stairs when suddenly the door to the study was flung open and she was caught in the rectangle of light that came from it. Startled, she looked up to see the familiar figure of her father silhouetted in the open doorway, standing grimly with his short, powerful legs spread apart and his massive fists pressed against his hips.
"Tina!" he said, his voice cracking like a whip through the cavernous marble hallway. "Get in here! At once!"
"Y ... yes, sir," Tina said in a soft, trembling voice. She bowed her head and slowly entered the study, not looking up at her father as she passed him. Her mind was numb with fear and surprise and she tried to think of some way she could get out of the severe whipping she was afraid was in store for her.
She turned to face him as he slammed the door shut again and came toward her.
"Papa," she said, taking a step backward. "I'm too old for a spanking."
Her father crossed the room in short, quick steps and without breaking stride slapped her sharply across the face with his open palm.
"No, papa!" she screamed, putting her arms over her face as he raised his hand to slap her again. "I'll be marked for the wedding if you slap me."
"Well there's one part of you that won't be showing at the wedding," he said resolutely as he lowered his hand and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to a chair. He put one foot up on the seat of the chair so that his left thigh was horizontal and threw her like a rag doll across it.
"No! I'm too old for this," she cried as she felt her dress being raised in back, high above her taut bottom.
She tried to flex her buttock cheeks for the blow she thought was coming but her father didn't hit her. Instead he muttered an oath in Greek and reached down to examine the fabric of her panties.
Pericles Vassilikos felt his body go stiff as he rubbed the torn crotch of his daughter's panties between his fingers. It had been ripped apart purposely. He didn't have to be told the reason; he had done the same thing himself on more than one occasion. As he stared down at his daughter's bottom, bent across his thigh, he noticed the bits of flaking dried blood in the diaphanous material of the underpants and a closer look revealed dark brown stains against the white skin of the insides of her thighs, just below the silken black thatch of her pubic hair and the tender pink lips of her young vagina.
Her toes were barely touching the floor and her tight stockings were drawn taught over the smooth skin of her legs. His immediate temptation was to take off his thick leather belt, double it over, pull down her ruined panties and flog the ample, breathtaking roundness of her buttocks until she begged for mercy and forgiveness for the terrible thing she had done.
But he could whip her later, whip her until she bled. He would send one of the servants to the hills in the morning to collect some birch switches and he would flog her lovely behind until it smoked, until she couldn't sit down on it.
Now he had to find out exactly what happened. He reached down between her legs with two fingers and ran them between her vulva lips. He felt her body shiver with excitement as she felt the friction of his fingertips against the glistening membrane. Then he brought the fingers to his nose and sniffed them.
like a bitch in heat, he thought, looking at the sticky moisture and seeing the fresh blood mixed in with it. The little whore had lost her cherry!
He jerked her roughly to her feet and stood her in front of him, head bowed and cheeks scarlet with shame because of what her father had discovered.
"So!" he thundered.
"Oh Papa," she sobbed, still unable to look at him. "I deserve a beating, the worst one I've ever had. Shall I go and fetch your big razor strop in your bathroom? I won't resist or yell. I'll even take my own panties down. Whip me until I faint if you want to."
"I'll whip you. Tomorrow I'll have some birches cut and I'll flay the skin off of that twitching little ass of yours so that you'll think twice the next time you feel like wiggling it under some boy's nose," he said angrily. "But now I want to know how it happened. Who was it who fucked you? Was it that little bastard Nomikos?"
She nodded and began to weep, putting her hands to her face.
"Didn't I forbid you to see him again?"
"We love each other. He's going to marry me. He promised," she said.
"When did he promise? When he had his hard cock between your legs trying to get it inside you?"
Again she nodded without looking at him, astonished at the accuracy of his perception.
"Of course, the lecherous little bastard. I'll take care of him. He'll never want to take that thing out of his pants again when I'm through with him," he said. "That's one ambitious young man who will be finished before he even starts."
"No Papa," Tina wailed, grabbing him by the shoulders and thrusting her tear-stained face against his chest, clinging to him. "You mustn't harm him. I love him and he loves me."
"Love! You're still a child. You don't know anything about love!"
As furious as he was with his daughter and as much as his paternal Mediterranean blood instinctively wanted to see her punished and contrite as was the custom in Greece, still he felt a conflicting warmth and tenderness for her as she pressed her young, firm body against him.
Good God, he thought, I hadn't noticed how big her breasts were getting. They feel like melons.
She pressed against him and clung to him, her pelvis pushing against his genitals, and he felt a heat building in his loins as she wept.
"Whip me, Papa. Punish me with the birches tomorrow," she whimpered plaintively, "but don't hurt Stavros."
He felt his penis begin to harden against her stomach and he was afraid she would be able to feel it through the material of his trousers. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and forced her to her knees.
"Get down on your knees and confess, you little bitch, and I want to know everything, do you understand?" he commanded.
"Yes, Papa," she said in a little girl's voice, her hands clinging to the backs of his knees and her head bowed. He grabbed her hair and roughly jerked it backwards so her face was tilted up toward him.
"Look at me. You can never fool me when I can look at your eyes. Remember that. I'll know the instant you're telling a lie or leaving something out," he said.
It was true. Whenever he had suspected her of being naughty all he had to do was make her look at him while he questioned her and he invariably knew when she was lying to him.
"Now, where did it happen?"
"In his car. Tonight, just before I came in. We were parked in the driveway," she said.
"Impossible. I was watching the driveway."
"There's a little part you can't see, just beyond the first clump of trees."
"All right," he said, cursing himself for not realizing that before. He might have been able to save her if he had seen the bastard's car parked.
"I thought you were in Rome and so when Stavros brought me back I thought we would be safe parking for a few minutes while he kissed me goodnight."
She paused, recalling the events in the car with growing shame.
"It ... it sounds worse ... than it was, Papa. I swear it," she said, tears welling once more in her beautiful black eyes.
"Go on," he ordered. "All of it."
"Stavros kissed me and begged me to let him make love to me."
"Is that the word he used?"
"He ... he said ... he asked me to let him ... fuck me," she stammered.
"The filthy son of a whore," her father muttered.
"He said he couldn't wait until I was old enough to get married because he was a man and he needed sexual relief. So I ... " She stopped, blushing furiously. "Oh Papa, do I have to say everything?"
"Everything!"
"I opened his pants and took his hard thing in my mouth," she said, blurting the words out as fast as she could.
"His hard what? " her father demanded. "What did you call it when you were with him?"
"His cock. I took his hard cock in my mouth and licked it and sucked it and ran my lips up and down over it until I felt the big round head getting all sticky and wet, and then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled his cock out of my mouth and he forced his head between my thighs. My panties were in the way but he pushed his tongue past the little piece of material over the crotch and stuck it in my hole. I was all wet down there and it felt so wonderful to have part of him inside me, and to have his head between my legs like that. He was tonguing me and kissing the lips of my ... of my..."
"Say it," her father commanded. "If you're old enough to fuck you're old enough to talk about it."
"Yes, sir," she said meekly. "He was kissing the lips of my cunt and then he sat up again and when he looked at me I knew we'd gone too far this time. I begged him not to. I said I was afraid he'd hurt me and that I wanted to be a virgin when I got married but he put his hands inside my panties and rubbed them over my bottom and then he tried to pull my panties down but I opened my legs so he couldn't get them past my hips. Then he put his hand down between my legs and ripped out the crotch. I closed my legs and held my knees together very tightly, as tightly as I could, but he pushed his knee between mine and forced them open and got in between them and I could feel his hard cock against my stomach and then against the furry path between my legs and then he was nearly in my hole, so I took hold of his cock and held it in my hand, to guide him so he would put it in the right place and also to hold him back until ... until.. "
"Until what?" her father demanded.
"Until he promised to marry me," she said.
"And why shouldn't the greedy, scheming little bastard promise to marry you? Don't you realize I'm worth over a billion dollars?" he raged, barely able to resist slapping her and trying to knock some sense in her. But it was more than that. As he looked down at her on her knees, subservient, contrite, her face stained with tears, beautiful and dark-eyed and smooth-skinned like her mother, he felt the strength of his full erection straining against the material of his trousers just a few inches from her full, pliant, apple-red lips, the lips she had put shamelessly over the throbbing cock of Stavros Nomikos less than an hour before.
"It's not like that," she wept. "He doesn't care about your money. He loves me."
"Then he put his cock inside your cunt?" her father said, his voice tight with emotion.
"Yes. He put the tip between the lips ... I was as excited as he was ... and he broke something inside and I felt myself bleeding and I knew it was my virginity, and then he went all the way inside me and filled me. Oh Papa, it hurt and I knew I was bleeding, but it felt so warm and so good to have his cock inside my vagina like that, so deep and so hard. Then he moved so that he was sitting down and I was on top of him and I kept raising my bottom up and down and then all of a sudden he pulled it out of me, his cock I mean, and grabbed my hair and stuck it between my lips again and he came inside my mouth and ... and I swallowed his hot juice."
"And that was all?"
"Yes," she said, thinking back. "Except. . . "
"Except what?" he said, looking down at his daughter kneeling before him.
"I ... I didn't really feel anything. It happened so quickly. He asked me if I was coming and I said I didn't know because I'd never been fucked before, but he said he couldn't wait and he was afraid he'd get me pregnant so that's why he pulled his thing out and put it in my mouth. It's not that I didn't feel anything, I mean, I loved the way his cock felt inside me and the way it filled me, but I didn't ... I didn't come the way he did and my body didn't shiver all over like his dad, and ... and ... I don't know."
"Not only did the little bastard fuck you and break your cherry, he made a mess of it and came too soon," her father said, shaking his head in contempt. "But he's right. If he'd gotten you pregnant I'd have cut his throat. He still isn't safe, the stupid little prick. Just because you pull it out before you come doesn't mean the girl can't get pregnant. I knew that when I was ten years old but I can expect a punk like that to learn what he's doing before he goes around sticking his cock into virgins."
"Papa, is there something wrong with me? Because I didn't feel anything, I mean?"
"No. Of course not. It just means he's ignorant and selfish," her father growled.
Tina threw herself against her father, wrapping her arms around his thighs and hugging him, her face pressed against his crotch.
"Oh Papa, I'm so ashamed for what I've done. Please forgive me," she cried.
He could feel her soft cheek against his thick, round, hard penis, and slowly, deliberately, she began to move her head, rubbing the side of her face against his pulsating rod. Then she turned slightly, so that her lips were against the rough, expensive fabric of his trousers, and he could feel the soft contours of her mouth against his hardness and the warmth of her breath coming through the material and bringing the heat he felt in his loins to a fiery peak.
Roughly he took hold of her arms and jerked her to her feet like a rag doll. There was an odd, glazed look in her eyes now, a strange, primal feminine look of building passion.
"Are you going to whip me now, Papa?" she said, her words irregular and excited. "Are you going to take my panties down and give me the beating I deserve? Don't make me wait until tomorrow. I need it now."
She was half-whimpering, half-moaning now, and her body was arching toward him as she tried to break free from his steel grip and press her pelvis against his.
"Papa, I didn't finish. I didn't come," she said, talking in a quick, jerky rhythm. "See what he did to me. Look and see if he hurt me. Please."
Pericles Vassilikos held his daughter at arm's length and realized she was in a state of semi-shock and very nearly hysterical. The emotional trauma of losing her virginity coupled with the surprise and shame of being caught had taken its effect.
He should send her to bed and let her rest. There was time enough for punishment and recrimination the next day, although he knew he wouldn't have the heart to give her a whipping in the morning. Damn that little pig, he thought. Why couldn't he have been man enough to hold back and let her have an orgasm?
"Papa, I'm worried. I'm afraid he hurt me. Maybe there's something wrong. I think I'm still bleeding. Oh you'll know, you're a real man. You'll be able to tell. Please, Papa," she said, her voice low and throaty and plaintive.
He had never been able to deny her anything she really wanted, even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do. So he pulled her close to him, wrapping her in his arms, then with one arm gently around her shoulders he guided her over to the huge leather couch which extended along the length of one wall under row after row of leather-bound first editions.
She lay down on her back on the luxurious cushions and he very slowly and carefully raised her skirt over her thighs, past the tops of her tight-fitting nylons and the garters with the tiny bows and up over her torn bikini panties and her simple teenager's garter belt, folding the hem under the band around her waist.
"Take my panties off, Papa," she whimpered. "I want to throw them away. I never want to see them again."
He slipped his hand inside the elastic of the ripped garment and slid it down over her bottom and past her round, pliant, woman's thighs and over her knees and ankles, tossing the flimsy wisp of material into a corner.
The only light in the room came from the large lamp on his desk, several feet away. He could see the sloping triangle of curly black fur that began several inches below her navel and narrowed as it extended to the tops of her creamy-white thighs, but the soft, mysterious crevice between her legs was in shadow and the suggestion of a moist, shining pinkness was all that was descernible.
He could hear Tina's heavy, irregular breathing in the silence of the room as she lay back against the deep leather cushions, her eyes closed and the tip of her tongue protruding slightly between her small white teeth like the tongue of a female cat.
She had spread her thighs open and as he knelt down beside her he could feel the tension in her leg muscles as she gave a soft, low moan. The fragrance from between her vaginal lips seemed to fill the room and her father's hand shook as he reached over to snap on the shaded lamp on the table at the far end of the couch. The lamp was at Tina's feet and its soft glow illuminated the area between her legs now, the band of soft black fur that surrounded and nearly covered the wet vulva lips and then disappeared between the cheeks of her plump bottom. In the light the velvety black patch glistened with wetness and he saw that tiny drops of sticky moisture were oozing from her vagina and spreading over the delicious flesh of her inner thighs.
She reached down without opening her eyes and spread the shining pink vulva lips with her fingers, exposing the dark, mysterious cavern which was still caked with her virginal blood.
"Look inside, Papa. See what he did to me. See if he hurt me. Oh why didn't I come? Is there something wrong with me?" she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.
Her father lowered his head between her spread legs, silently gulping in her musky feminine odor, fascinated by the way the delicate wisps of coal black hair around the pink crevice stuck to the smooth surface of her skin. It was all he could do not to lean an inch or so further forward and gently press his lips against the open, puckered, swollen membrane at the soft red mouth of her womb.
He made an effort to steady his hand as he slid two fingers inside the small, tight orifice and ran then around in a complete circle, brushing over the trembling stiffness of her clitoris. He felt her whole body quiver and jerk and could see that she had clenched the muscles of her buttocks and he felt her pelvis pressing forward against his hand.
As he peered inside her womb, between the gleaming walls of her vulva, she opened her legs even further, as wide as she could, and the folds of wrinkled skin in the furry, cherry-colored valley smoothed out invitingly and her vagina became a lovely, tantalizing mouth, demanding to be filled. She bent her knees now and drew her stockinged heels back under the cheeks of her bottom and he could see the sweet brown shaded circle of her anus, open slightly like a morning flower.
"Oh Papa, darling...." Her voice was low and melodious, and she seemed almost to croon the words. "He ... he didn't make me come . ... "
Then suddenly his mouth was pressed urgently between her thighs and she was tightening them against his cheeks and he could feel the nylon tops of her stockings against his neck. Instead of his fingers he had his thick, strong, tongue in her vaginal tunnel now, searching, teasing, massaging, soothing in the assured and experienced manner of an older man who is in complete control of his woman's erotic instincts.
Tina gave a series of short, sharp cries of pleasure as his tongue found her clitoris, touched it, then withdrew to let it harden even more and reach out to be touched again. Back and forth, over the tip of the tiny vaginal erection, he ran the rough red surface, drawing a fresh flow of vaginal juices which erupted over his lips and cheeks and chin as her strong young hands cupped the back of his head and tried to push his mouth even more tightly against her crotch.
Now he straightened up and reached across to her hip, rolling her over on her stomach and half off the couch at the same time so that her knees were on the carpet and she was bent forward over the leather cushion with her buttocks bent and spread apart in front of him. She leaned forward, letting him do what he wanted to with her body, pressing her cheek to the warm surface of the leather where her hips had just been. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be in a trance, her body limp, malleable and unresisting.
Quickly he opened the zipper of his trousers and let his enormous erection spring out like a freshly-shot arrow quivering in a target. He put his hands between her thighs and spread them even further apart so that her vaginal crevice was accessible and open, the hot, moist lips parted, waiting for him to enter them.
"I'll satisfy you, Tina. I'll show you how a real man fucks his woman. I'm going to bury my cock deep inside your perfect little cunt and then draw it back and forth so beautifully and tenderly that you'll shoot off like a waterfall by the time I'm finished," he whispered. "Oh Tina, darling, I love you and I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."
Suddenly her head snapped up from the couch and she looked back at him with wide, frightened eyes, alert now, no longer under the hypnotic spell of her trauma.
"Papa," she said, her voice scared now. "No! You mustn't! I ... I just wanted you to ... to look...."
She began to sob and she drew her thighs together tightly to prevent him from plunging his enormous penis between her firm young legs.
"Tina, you can't deny me now," he said, panting. He was sweating and his voice was hoarse and rough with desire. "I've got to fuck you. You've let me come too far now."
"No! Oh no Papa! It's filthy for a man to fuck his daughter. It's ... it's ... unnatural!
But she could feel his thick, strong hands pressing between her thighs, parting them, and she was too weak and shaken to resist. like a child trying to protect her bottom from being swatted, she put her hands in back of her, palms out, trying to cover her vaginal opening.
He simply brushed her hands aside and she could feel the weight of him against her now, the bulge of his large, muscular stomach pushing against her buttocks and then the enormous, throbbing tip of his erection sliding down the wedge-shaped fissure between them as it frantically searched for her vulva opening.
She bucked against him but he held her fast and she could smell his sweat and the odor of tobacco on his breath as he bent forward over her, mounting her; and then she screamed as she felt the huge knob at the head of his shaft push between the lips of her womb and plunge inside her, sliding past her sleek, membranous vaginal walls and raking across the tender head of her clitoris.
The hardness of his cock filled her completely, more seemed to overflow inside her and she felt her womb begin to breathe, inhaling and exhaling, enveloping the choking shaft that impaled her.
Now he withdrew to the lips again and pushed back in, sliding and slipping like a tongue in a mouth, and she could smell the hot, heavy odor of the two of them, of sex, of his sweat and her vaginal juices as he came out and thrust in once more. Despite her fear and loathing for what was being done to her she started to respond by pure instinct, slapping her bare buttocks back against his stomach and clenching the muscles of her vaginal tunnel against him like the walls of a rubber suction cup.
"Oh Papa, what are you doing to me? I love the feeling of your cock inside me but it's sinful and we'll be punished by God for fucking this way. Oh please, for my skae, stop," she moaned, still trying feebly and weakly to break loose from his grip and free herself from his on-laught.
"No, Tina. No. You'll see. It will be the most glorious thing that ever happened to you," he moaned, plunging in and out of her now, in and out, the thickness of his rod filling her each time. "I'll show you how good it can be. I won't leave you unfulfilled the way that young idiot did."
"But Papa, it's wrong," she whimpered, responding to him with her body while her mind rebelled against him.
"It's not wrong!" he thundered, battering his pelvis against her bottom. "You let that little reptile stick his insignificant prick into you! Now you're going to learn how a real man can fuck you!"
Now he was jabbing her with quick, violent lunges each time, thrusting in to the hilt and withdrawing like a ball bouncing off a fence and thrusting in again and all at once she felt a volcanic fire igniting and building in what might have been the pit of her stomach or the tip of her womb and it fanned out in all directions, making her breasts throb and her nipples tingle and at the same time bringing a hot, searing, twitching shudder to her loins which ricocheted deep inside her and made her clenched vulva lips close even more tightly around his piston-like shaft. Then the moisture came, in a hot, steaming, rushing flow, like molten lava overflowing the walls of a volcano and her body stiffened and vibrated and shook as though it were palsied and her back arched and her buttocks spread until she thought they would split apart trying to draw the length of him even deeper inside her and then the scorching, steaming wetness burst in a series of explosions, like the explosions of festival rocket against a night blue summer sky.
She could not stop the invading pleasure which poured through her and radiated out in spasm-like shock waves until her whole body seemed to be moving, trembling, from the glory she felt between her legs.
She screamed, but not in fear or horror this time, as the waves of flame continued to form and break inside her. This time she screamed with pure, female, animal delight as the orgasms erupted, took hold of her, subsided, and erupted again, even more powerfully.
"Oh Papa, I can't stand it any more. Oh God it's ... it's ... I never thought it would be like this, so wonderful! My whole body is on fire from you!" she cried, half weeping and half laughing with joy.
"All right, my sweet," he said hoarsely, "I'm going to come . ... "
He began to enter and re-enter her in measured, violent strokes as he felt the fire rising in his loins and flooding his pelvic area and then bursting like a geyser from his plunging fountain, splashing the tender walls of her vagina and womb with wave after wave of hot, thick, sticky, syrupy moisture, filling her tight cavity until it overflowed and seeped out around the shaft of his still-plunging rod.
And then it was over and he fell forward on top of her, the weight of his thick, stocky body pinning her to the leather cushion until she had to make an effort to breathe. But she didn't mind. She didn't want him to take from her the thing that had filled her so magnificently. She had forgotten for a moment the horror and shame of the act they had just committed and was able to abandon herself to the sheer sensual eroticism of the moment. She was sorry to feel his rod deflating inside her and she clenched it even more tightly with the muscles of her vaginal tunnel, but it continued to soften and shrink until finally he lifted his weight from her back and hips and withdrew it, sliding it out with a wet, sucking sound.
Her whole body seemed to float as though she were adrift on some warm and impossibly soft tidal current which was carrying her out to sea. She was dimly aware that her father picked her up and took her in his arms, kissing her lightly on the mouth and that he carried her upstairs and put her on her bed where he undressed her. He washed her whole body with a warm wet rag, rinsing the dried blood and the sticky vaginal fluid and his own semen gently from between her supple young thighs. She was vaguely aware that he gave her a warm douche, and then repeated the process, inserting the black hard rubber nozzle slowly between her still-swollen, sensitive vulva lips and gradually squeezing the warm water into her womb, then urging her very gently to expel the liquid into a pan which he held between her thighs.
Then he put a cotton night dress over her head and guided her hands through the arm holes. It was an old one, one of her favorites, made of pale blue cotton with flowers on it and it smelled fluffy and freshly washed and she shivered with delicious pleasure as he pulled it down over her thighs, stopping to press his mouth once more to the springy black mound of fur between them before drawing it all the way down the length of her body.
When he kissed her good night it was not on the cheek or forehead as it always had been on previous nights, but on her lips and he put his arms around her and held her and kissed her breasts through the material of the nightgown and then he drew the blankets up around her chin and turned out the bed lamp and the last thing she saw before going to sleep was the silhouette of his short, thick body in the doorway as he went out and quietly shut the door.
CHAPTER TWO
Nico Vassilikos had three strict rules about flying. He refused to take a Hellenic Airways flight anywhere because his father owned the airline. He refused to fly first class because he thought it was wasteful, no matter how much money you had or were going to inherit one day to pay hundreds of dollars more for the privilege of drinking free champagne and sitting in a wider seat. And he refused to watch in-flight movies because they gave him a headache. That was why he was sitting in the last row of the tourist section of a nearly empty TWA flight to London. When the stewardesses had begun to lower the undersized screen across the aisle near the front of the compartment he had moved back to the rear and taken an aisle seat. Except for the striking looking woman in her mid-thirties who sat next to the window he was the only passenger in the rear section of the aircraft.
Nico Vassilikos was eighteen years old and the only son of Pericles Vassilikos. Soon after the death of his mother four years ago he had been packed off to school in London and had been home only infrequently since then. The past year had been spent at Harvard where he was studying International Politics and he had enrolled in summer school to pick up additional credits. The only reason he was on the Boston-London flight at all was because his father was getting married again, to the glamorous American widow of Roger Clay born, the brilliant young U.S. Senator who had been assassinated two years before while campaigning for the Democratic presidential nomination.
Nico intended to stop over in London for one night and look up some old friends before catching a flight to Athens the next day.
He kept glancing over at the beautiful auburn-haired woman who was illuminated by the overhead reading lamp above her seat. She was going through a thick manuscript making corrections and brief changes in pencil and seemed to be paying no attention to him at all.
She was certainly much older than he was, perhaps even old enough to be his mother, but each time she shifted in her seat and crossed her long, shapely legs he felt a tightening in his throat and a dryness in his mouth and he wished he could think of some clever or interesting way to begin a conversation with her without sounding hopelessly juvenile.
But she gave him no encouragement and didn't even glance over at him, concentrating instead on her work, and so he closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest of his seat and thought about Tina and Maria, the only happy things he looked forward to during his short trip home.
Dozing, he remembered the long walks he and his sister would take and the serious talks they would have. They argued a lot, especially about their father. Tina was his favorite but she blamed Nico for not standing up to him and fighting back. If he had, she theorized, his father would have more respect for him and probably more affection.
He smiled as he recalled the scrapes they had gotten in together and the long, frightening walk they would have to take to their father's study when they had been naughty and were to be punished. When Tina was to be spanked she ran around the room and their father was out of breath when he finally caught her and threw her across his lap for her dose of the strap. She would scream and wriggle while he was whipping her tight, round little buttocks and try to get off his lap. Afterwards she would scowl at her father as she brushed away her tears and pulled up her panties and rubbed her sore behind. Then she would watch as Nico meekly dropped his pants and bent over to take his punishment. Tina would cry for him more than she had for herself, begging their father to stop because Nico had been whipped enough and she would see to it that he was a good boy in the future.
He loved his sister more than anyone else in the world, certainly more than he loved his tyrannical and domineering father.
Then there was Maria who was constantly jabbering and scolding, but who was the first one there with a kiss and a hug when the world looked bleak or when one of them had hurt himself. It was Maria who always saved him an extra serving of dessert and an extra glass of milk because she thought he was too skinny and needed building up. But somehow she also managed to have the same thing for Tina, vowing it was the last time she would get such a treat until she cleaned up her room.
His reverie was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of nylon stockings rubbing together and he half opened one eye hoping to catch a glimpse of the auburn-haired woman's lovely legs being crossed.
What he saw made him catch his breath. She had hiked up the hem of her skirt well above her stocking tops and was straightening and adjusting her garters and the nylons themselves which curved deliciously and provocatively around her firm thighs, clinging tightly, like a second skin, to the lush white flesh. After pulling and smoothing the soft material and opening and re-setting the garters she reached up and took hold of the elastic hems of her panties which hugged her ample buttock cheeks. Pulling them down and easing the pressure on her crotch she began to smooth the front of the panties and to tuck in wisps of curly auburn hair which had worked their way under the strips of elastic.
Nico didn't dare make a move, pretending to be asleep and watching her through barely opened eyelids. He held his breath because he was sure if he didn't he would betray himself and she would look over at him and catch him and be furious.
Before lowering her skirt the auburn-haired beauty took a slim container from her purse and sprayed a generous stream of vaginal deodorant between her slightly spread thighs, recapping the cylindrical metal can and dropping it nonchalantly back in her purse before pulling her dress down.
She picked her manuscript up again and it appeared to Nico that she was going back to work. He swallowed hard and softly exhaled before he fainted from lack of oxygen.
"Did you enjoy watching me straighten my stockings and adjust my panties?"
Nico's eyes popped open and he sat upright in his seat.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" he said in a quavering voice.
The auburn-haired woman looked up from her manuscript and gave him a warm, dazzling smile which made him blush from his neck to his hairline but which also made him feel strangely at ease. He decided instantly that he liked her, something he rarely could determine until he had known someone for a long time.
"I was curious as to whether you were excited when you saw me adjusting my stockings and tightening my garters and fixing my panties so they weren't so uncomfortably high up on my bottom," she said. "After all, there's nothing to be ashamed of."
Her smile seemed to light up the dark airplane for him and he found himself staring at her like a tongue-tied juvenile.
"Doesn't your underwear ever ride up over the cheeks of your behind and become uncomfortable?" she asked.
"Why, uh, yes, ma'am, it does," he said, trying not to stammer.
"Well the same thing happens to women, especially with these tight bikini panties we wear. Of course it's more uncomfortable for men because you have a penis and testicles and a scrotum and when the crotch of your underwear is tight it's like a medieval torture instrument," she laughed. "But it's also very unpleasant for women. Most men don't realize that, but it's true. When the crotch of my panties presses against my vulva lips ... when it presses up against the lips of my pussy it's nearly as uncomfortable as when your jockey snorts squeeze your cock and balls."
"But how did you know I was watching you?" Nico said. "I pretended to be asleep."
She laughed, throwing back her head and tossing her lovely long hair over one shoulder.
"You've been watching me since you sat down," she said. "But I don't mind. In fact I'm flattered. After all I'm not a coed any longer and it boosts my ego to have a handsome young man look at my legs.
"But you're ... you're beautiful," Nico stammered. "I've never seen a coed as good-looking as you are. And besides that you can't be very old."
"Thanks for the compliment, but I'll be thirty-eight my next birthday which makes me about twenty or twenty-one years older than you are, I would guess."
He blushed again and hung his head.
"I'm only eighteen," he said.
"Why that's lovely," she said. "It's a wonderful age."
"Yeah, but right now I'd like to be a lot older so I ... so..." he stammered.
"So?" she said,-and once again her warm, reassuring smile disarmed him and gave him confidence.
"So you'd take me seriously," he managed to blurt out.
"But I do take you seriously, and I think that's a lovely compliment. And I want to thank you for telling me I'm more beautiful than any of your coed friends, even though I don't believe it," she said.
"But it's true. I swear it's true," he said.
"You're an absolute flatterer," she laughed. "But I like it. And handsome as you are you must have those coeds standing in lines, panting after you."
"Oh no, ma'am," he said shyly. "I don't really go out very much at all."
"Are you American?" she said.
He told her he wasn't and went on to explain who he was and who his father was and why he was on his way to London.
"But that's marvelous. That you're stopping off I mean. I'm going there to deliver a lecture tomorrow and I was dreading a dreary evening by myself with dinner brought to my room by a waiter with a starched shirt and a Cockney accent," she said, flashing her brilliant smile at him and recrossing her gorgeous legs. "If I'm not being too forward can I ask you to take me to a romantic restaurant for a dinner with candlelight and wine? I'll pay, of course."
"Gee, do you mean it? Oh gosh, I'd love to, I really would. Only you have to let me take you," he said, unable to believe his good luck.
"Now look, young man," she said, with mock severity. "I asked you to dinner so there will be no arguments about who's to pay. Remember, I am old enough to be your mother so that means I'm old enough to take you across my lap and take your pants down and give you good, old-fashioned spanking. You probably haven't had one for a long time and need one."
Nico felt himself blushing again.
"My father used to do that to me and my sister pretty regularly," he said.
"Yes I'd heard he was a pretty tough old bird. In fact I read somewhere that you're on a strict allowance despite his millions. Well that settles that about the dinner check," she said with an air of finality.
"No, really..."
"Nico," she said, raising a warning finger. "Remember what I said about that spanking. I was joking but that doesn't mean I won't do it if it becomes necessary."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning at her, but well aware that she meant what she said.
"And stop calling me ma'am. My name is Carlisle. Helen Carlisle. Actually, Dr. Helen Carlisle. But I wish you would make it plain Helen," she said.
"Okay, ma'am ... I mean Helen," he grinned, catching himself. Then: "Doctor of what?"
"I'm an M.D. with a specialty in psychiatry," she said. "And I'm going to London to deliver a lecture on "The Psychic Dominance of the Woman in Western Civilization' "
"It sounds pretty technical," he said, then snapped his fingers and looked at her: "Of course! You're famous. You were the one who says that the woman should be the head of the household instead of the man in western society. You lectured at Vassar last year."
"Well, you've discovered my secret," she said, smiling at him and turning slightly so that her firm, round breasts protruded across the arm of her seat. He couldn't help looking at them and it took all his self-control to raise his eyes to her face again.
"You can look at my breasts if you want to," she said. "That's one of my themes. Western males are so caught up in their futile desire to dominate the female that they've lost sight of their primary function, to procreate. In other words, it's the man's job to get a hard-on and fuck the woman and get her pregnant. That's what nature created him for. He wasn't meant to fight or make a million dollars or hunt meat. Women are perfectly capable of doing all off those things for themselves. But man has become so wound up in all of these competitive sidelines that he can't keep up with women sexually. So a woman can have five or six orgasms to his one, and after fucking once or twice in a night, often in a week, a man is exhausted while nearly all women could fuck four or five or even seven or eight times every night if the man could only service them.
"I see," Nico said, "but what's that got to do with my looking at your breasts?"
"Well you've been trained as a man to go through all the male rituals. Chivalry, being protective of women, being polite to them. All that nonsense. When really women just want you to stare at their breasts or at their bottoms or at their pussies or their legs and to put your hands or your mouth anywhere you want to, so long as you get a hard-on when she wants to have a stiff cock in her cunt. But men are too busy waging stupid wars and 'putting women in their place' to realize how much happier they would be, and their women would be, if they would just lie around and rest and do as little as possible so they can conserve their energies for the purpose nature intended. Naturally, then, it follows that in a social and economic context women should be dominant because they don't have to conserve their energies. All they have to do is lie down and spread their legs. They don't have the problem of getting their cocks hard because they don't have cocks. Therefore they should be the breadwinners and the soldiers and so forth and they should have the dominant role in the home that goes along with these functions which they're required to carry out."
"Boy, I guess you weren't fooling about giving me a spanking," he grinned.
"No, I wasn't. Women should have the right to discipline men instead of its being the other way around. But then they should also be running nations and Wall Street and the Universities and all our other major institutions as well," she went on.
"Okay, Helen," he grinned. "I guess I'll have to let you take me to dinner tonight in London."
"That's being a good boy," she said. "I think we're going to get along very well, Nico. Just as long as you remember who's boss."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling mischievously at her.
* * *
It's a hot day and his mother is in downtown Athens for lunch with friends and an afternoon of shopping. His father is hard at work in his den with the door locked and he won't emerge until dinner time, as usual.
Nico is thirteen and his mother has forbidden him under penalty of a spanking to go in her room when she is not there. But his mother is away and Maria is taking a nap as is her custom in the hottest days of summer.
His mother is a small woman and her things fit him perfectly. At first he only wanted to open her drawers and smell the fresh, clean, slightly scented fragrance of her lingerie, but the temptation proved too strong and now he finds himself with his own clothes piled in a heap on the floor of her room as he wriggles into a pair of her sheer white panties, drawing them up over his legs and pulling them high up on his bottom so they are snug and tight against his round, muscular cheeks.
Now he pulls the garter belt around his waist and attaches it the way he has seen her do so often in the days before he was too old to watch her dress and was banished from her room whenever she performed the tantalizing ritual. He adjusts the thin band of flesh-colored elastic so that the garter straps hang down in the right places and then he sits on her bed and slowly draws on her stockings, making sure they are straight and the knees and heels go on correctly. Then he fastens the garters to the tinted nylon stocking tops with their wide, dark bands and stands in front of the mirror to see how he looks. He grabs hold of the sides of the panties and pulls them higher up so the valley between the cheeks of his bottom is clearly defined. Then he sees what he has done wrong. Damn it! The panties are supposed to go on after the garter belt so that they fit over the straps. He tugs the panties down his legs and bends over to pull them off, so engrossed in his charade that he doesn't hear the door of the bedroom open.
THWACK!
His father's belt catches him squarely across the naked cheeks of his buttocks as he bends over to take the panties from around his ankles. He gives a surprised yelp and stands up, automatically cupping his behind to ease the sting of the lash his father gave him. He is terrified as he feels his father's huge hand wrap around his thin arm and he is being dragged to a chair. His father puts one polished shoe on the chair, unmindful of the pastel upholstery and he finds himself flung across the familiar broad thigh, his feet off the floor and the panties still dangling around his ankles.
His behind is on fire as the doubled-over belt comes down again and again. He is wailing and pleading with his father to stop whipping him but it is to no avail. The thick, muscular arm rises and falls like an angry machine and he is pinned in position, helpless.
He sees Tina standing in the doorway of his mother's bedroom, crying and screaming for his father to stop beating him.
He is ashamed.
Nico sits, uncomfortable and afraid, in the stiff-backed, antique chair in the sitting room of the luxurious Soho flat. He had flown to London that morning with his father in the largest and fastest of the family's private jets, confined like a naughty schoolboy to the row of front seats while his father worked at his desk in the rear of the plane.
Now his father is inside, behind the thick mahogany door, talking to the smiling blonde woman who had been introduced to him simply as 'Priscilla'.
He shifts in his chair; his buttocks are still stiff and sore from the whipping his father gave him yesterday afternoon and he wishes he could go outside and take a walk, anything not to have to sit down.
"Would you like a nice cup of tea, dearie?" the old woman who had answered the door cackles. She is Maria's age but she's fat and walks with a waddle, like a huge duck. Apparently she is Priscilla's housekeeper.
"No thank you, ma'am," he answers meekly.
"Are you sure, darling, a nice big boy like you? Some cookies, perhaps?" Her voice is kind despite its brittle tone. He shakes his head. The telephone rings and the housekeeper answers it.
"No, I'm sorry, sir, but the young lady will not be available for modeling assignments today," she says to the caller. "Her price is fifteen guineas for all the usual services including French or Swedish massage. That's for as long as you want, dear, she doesn't rush her customers. Within reason, of course. She does administer correction but it's three guineas extra and she has all the equipment. What's that? Oh of course, garter belt, black stockings, yes she has a complete wardrobe, anything you'd like. She will accept very mild correction herself, but it must be very mild and given with the open hand only, no canes or straps. And it's twenty guineas per session. The young lady is in her early twenties and is quite beautiful. She's five feet nine inches tall and weights a hundred and thirty-five pounds. Her measurements are thirty-eight, twenty-three, thirty-eight and she has extremely long, shapely legs, a firm, beautiful bust, and lovely blonde hair which extends to her waist. What's that, dear? Her bottom? Oh my yes, it's absolutely gorgeous. Has to be seen to be believed. What's that? Three p.m. tomorrow? Let me see ... yes, yes, that's fine. You call this number just before you come and I'll give you the address."
The old woman hangs up. Nico is fascinated by what he has heard. She was obviously talking about Priscilla, although he has no idea what 'equipment' and 'correction' mean.
The door opens and Priscilla stands in the doorway smiling down at him.
"Come in, Nico," she says in her soft British accent.
"Where's my father?" Nico says hesitantly.
"He's gone out another way. He'll be back for you tonight. In the meantime we're going to have lots of fun, just the two of us. Come on."
He follows her obediently into the luxurious bedroom which is decorated in pale blue and pink and has a four-poster bed with a canopy in the center of it. She turns and looks at him and he feels himself blush, ducking his head shyly.
"Well now," Priscilla says. "You're a very handsome boy, Nico, much better looking than your father. Our job will be to make you as much of a man as he is. Now come over here to my dressing table so we can get started."
He is hypnotized by her. She is quite tall and full-bodied with long, curvaceous legs and round, fleshy hips. She's wearing a skin-tight dress which accentuates the magnificent shape of her figure. It's made of thin black satin which catches the light in the room and shimmers and glistens as she moves. Her large, pear-shaped buttocks ripple and quiver as she crosses the room and sits down at her dressing table, facing him and crossing her breathtaking legs with a swish of nylon rubbing against nylon. He can see up her legs and a tiny white triangle of flesh peeks out at him from above the top of one of her darkly-tinted, sheer, tight-fitting nylon stockings.
He crosses the room toward her, mesmerized. Now he'd staring at her firm, full breasts which jiggle slightly with each breath she takes, barely contained by the thin, tight satin bodice of her dress. She has her arms extended and she's smiling, waiting for him to come to her so she can hug him.
He is in her arms and she is hugging him and giving him an affectionate, motherly kiss on the cheek. Then he feels her fingers on his belt, unfastening the buckle and opening it and for a moment he's frightened.
"Are you going to spank me?"
She laughs.
"No darling, not unless that's what you'd like me to do. But I don't think that's what your father has in mind. I'm just undressing you," she says, pulling down his zipper and letting his pants drop.
"Slip your shoes off and then step out of your pants. You can toss them on that big chair," she says. "Why did you think I was going to spank you? Have you been a bad boy?"
"Well, I..." he begins but can't bring himself to confess his crime of the day before.
"Oh I know. Your father told me. Got dressed up in your mommy's undies, did you? Well that's not so serious. All little boys do that at one time or another. Your father got excited about it, that's all. Now come on, let's get this shirt off," she says unbuttoning his shirtfront and taking hold of first one sleeve and then the other to pull it over his arms. Now he has on only a pair of thin jockey undershorts but for some reason he feels no more ashamed in front of this soft, smiling, beautiful woman than he would in front of his own mother.
"Miss Priscilla?" he says.
"Yes dear?"
"Are you really in your early twenties?"
"Oh dear, you've been listening to Mona on the telephone," she laughs. "No Nico, I'm much older. In fact I'm old enough to be your mother. But if Mona tells my clients I'm nearly forty they'll be frightened off. Once they come here and get a look at me, none of them ever leave."
"Why thank you, Nico. That's a lovely compliment. The truth is, most of my clients like a mature woman. So many of them want to be spanked or caned the way their mothers and their nannies used to do and a young girl just doesn't fit their images of what a mommy is like," she explains, her voice musical and lilting and very comforting to the boy who is fast losing his shyness. "That's why I said I would spank you if you wanted me to. We'll find out if that's what excites you, but first we'll try some other things you may like better than that. You must think of me as one of your teachers, Nico, but you're going to learn something far more important than arithmetic or spelling. I'm going to teach you how to give a woman a good fucking. Do you know what that it?"
"I ... I think so," he stammers.
"Well you'll know for certain before we're finished today," she smiles. "Now let's get those shorts down and then you can help me get undressed."
Her soft, gentle hands slip into the elastic band around his waist and slowly draw his shorts over his bottom and down the length of his slim, boyish legs.
"Oh dear, what happened to your sweet little bottom? Why is it all red and striped? Were you punished?" she asks, her voice sympathetic.
"Yes, ma'am," he admits. "My father beat me . for wearing my mother's clothes."
"He spanks you with a belt, does he?" she says, running her soft hands soothingly over his hot, tender buttocks. "Well it must have hurt a lot."
"Yes, ma'am," he says ruefully.
"Well," she says, smiling, "we all have to take our hidings in life when we deserve them. Now help me to get undressed and after we've fucked we'll put some nice, soothing cream on your hot little behind and rub it in to help take away the hurt."
She stands up and pulls down a concealed zipper at the side of her dress, lifting the hems and drawing it up over her head and taking it off.
Nico's eyes bulge and he has to hold his breath. The only women he has ever seen in their underwear are his mother and his sister. But neither one, however beautiful, compares with Priscilla.
Her ample breasts are supported, needlessly, by a tiny black brassiere which accentuates rather than constrains their trembling fullness. Her large, strawberry-pink nipples are fully exposed, peeking over the top of the bra like small, perfectly-shaped flowers.
Her thin, simple garter belt is also black and extends around her hips just below her navel. Narrow black straps descend from the garter belt and are drawn taught by the garters at the bottom which are attached to the tops of her darkly-tinted nylons which in turn curve delightfully around the supple fullness of her luscious, womanly thighs.
Over the garter belt and garter straps, hugging her bottom like a second skin, is a pair of see through black nylon panties with a tiny lace frill around the elastic of the legs. Her marvelous bottom fills the panties completely and her lower cheeks protrude under the frilly hems in twin rolls of soft, bouncing flesh. The gossamer seat of the garment curves deep inside the dark, wedge-shaped valley between the fullness of her buttocks and at the base wispy strands of velvety soft blonde hair protrude enticingly from under the tight elastic.
"All right, Nico darling," she says in a soft, inviting voice which sends shivers up his back and through his rapidly warming loins. "I'll take off my bra while you slip my panties over my bottom and down my legs."
She reaches around behind her while he is still standing motionless, in complete awe of this tall, lovely, golden-haired goddess before him.
"Oh, oh," she laughs, letting the brassiere fall to the floor, freeing her large, bouncing, marble-white breasts. "I'm getting ahead of you. Come on now, help me with my panties."
She takes his hands and guides them to the elastic of the black bikini panties and he feels himself hooking his fingers in the narrow band and drawing the sheer garment down over her hips. As he bends down his eyes catch the thick, curly, butter-colored thatch of hair which begins at the very bottom of her stomach and narrows, funnel-shaped, and disappears between the lush fullness of her thighs. He gets a sudden impulse he can't resist. Her panties are at mid-thigh and he leans forward and buries his face in the soft mound of yellow curls, kissing them and licking them and smelling the strong, raw, feminine odor that rises from between her legs.
"OOooohhhhh, Nico darling," she says. "That feels marvelous. You're learning very quickly and it looks as though I'll have an easy and very pleasant job to do. In a minute, when we're on my big, soft bed I'll teach you how to put your mouth against my pussy and eat my cunt."
He takes his face away, intoxicated, and as he pulls the panties down over her long, statuesque legs he sees that his small, pale penis is erect and trembling, like a vibrating little wand sticking up in the air.
"Miss Priscilla?"
"Yes, darling?"
"May I ... well, can I smell your panties?"
"Of course, Nico. It's a very exciting thing for a man to do and flattering and exciting for the woman, too. Press the crotch right up against your nose, and the seat, too. Here," she says, taking them and turning them inside out, "now try it."
She gives them back and his hands are shaking as he puts the wispy garment against his face, rubbing the soft, fragrant nylon against his cheek and pressing it to his nose, sniffing her strong feminine odor, the odor of her vagina and of the crevice between the cheeks of her bottom where her anus has rubbed up against the diaphanous material.
"Put your tongue against them. Taste them," she tells him, gently instructing him, leading him.
He obeys and runs his tongue over the inside of the reinforced crotch and he can taste the erotic essence of her, strong, slightly metallic, damp from her vaginal juice and the perspiration between her legs.
"Now I'll show you something else that's fun to do," she says, taking the panties and bending down over his cute, erect little rod with its throbbing red knob at the end. Taking the narrow, pulsating shaft in one hand she wraps the gossamer fabric of the panties around it and begins to masturbate him through the material, drawing her fingers gently but firmly up and down the length of him.
"Ooooohhhhhhhhh ... Miss Priscilla," he moans, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of the silky material against the sensitive skin of his erection.
Now she slides the panties down between his legs and with two fingers pushes the nylon up into the tight, narrow crevice between the cheeks of his bottom, tickling and teasing the soft muscles around his little anus, inserting one gossamer-covered finger up into the dark cavity beyond.
"How does that feel, Nico love? Does it make your little cock jump and quiver with excitement?" she croons.
"Ohhhhh, yes," he says, rotating his hips so that his bottom presses down against her finger.
"That's just a beginning, my sweet," she says, standing up and walking sensuously to a small clothes hamper by the door of her bathroom where she deposits the soiled panties. The large, round, fleshy cheeks of her bottom bounce and quiver delightfully with each step and as she bends over the hamper they part to reveal the moist, dark valley in between. Turning, she comes back to him, her corn-colored pubic triangle swaying back and forth as she moves her hips, like the hand of a metronome, and her large breasts jiggling like pieces of fruit on a branch.
Taking his hand she leads him to her enormous four-poster bed and as she sits on the edge she takes him on her broad lap, the bottoms of his thighs and buttocks tingling as they rub across the silky material of her stocking tops and the smooth skin above. She puts her arms around him and draws him close to her large, firm breasts so that his shoulder is between them and he can smell the fresh, slightly perfumed fragrance of them.
"Now, Nico darling, I see that your beautiful little cock is deliciously hard and ready for our afternoon of games," she says, putting her hand between his legs and teasing his erect shaft, running her finger-tips up and down the length of it. "Tell me, do you want me to undress completely so that I'm all bare like you are, or would you rather have me keep my nylons and garter belt on so that you can rather have me keep my nylons and garter belt on so that you can feel the material while we're fucking and licking each other?"
"I'd rather have you keep them on," he says. "I like to touch them."
"That's a good sign, darling. Men who are particularly virile, men like your father, for instance, always like to fuck a woman who is wearing lingerie, especially a pair of sexy stockings and a garter belt to hold them up."
With surprising strength "she stands up, holding the thirteen-year-old in her arms, and leans over the bed, gently depositing him on the crisp, clean sheets. Then she kneels beside him and begins to stroke his stomach with her large, soft hands, making a circular motion and edging lower and lower each time she comes around again.
He lies with his head on one of her pillows and watches her hand with fascinated anticipation as it comes nearer and nearer to his throbbing rod. Then she's touching it, brushing her fingers over it, and he is arching his hips to thrust his penis against her.
Now she is holding it softly between her two warm palms and she leans forward, letting her ripe breasts lightly touch the head, brushing the soft, pink nipples over it's eager length. And then she bends further and takes his erection in her mouth; hugging it tightly with her full, wet lips, drawing them up and down from the hilt to the tip as her tongue busily licks and probes and caresses.
He puts his hands in her soft, honey-blonde hair and feels the rising and falling of her head as the soaking moistness of her mouth sends fiery shocks pulsating through his body.
She is moving around between his legs now and raising them, propping his thighs on her shoulders and raising his bottom from the bed as she kneels down and burrows her head under his scrotum, her face pushing in between the cheeks of his buttocks and her mouth kissing the tender skin around his anus. His body shakes and he is afraid his unsteady legs will slip off of her shoulders but she puts her hands around his thighs and steadies him, then raises one to take hold of his penis and massage it while her tongue and mouth and nose go busily to work in his anal crevice.
Her warm, probing tongue pushes up into the iris-shaped hole, forcing its way through the tightly-clenched muscles and sliding inside as Nico's body jerks with pleasure and erotic excitement. He can feel her nose at the very top of the space between his cheeks, pushing and nuzzling and sniffing while her fingers caress his trembling erection.
Then she is sitting straight again, still on her knees, taking his legs off of her shoulders but staying in between them.
"Did you like the have your cock sucked, darling, and your little ass-hole licked and reamed out with my tongue?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am," he sighs. "I loved it. Please do it some more."
"Not now, sweetheart," she says, smiling gently and appreciatively. "I don't want you to come just yet because we have lots of other things to sample before your first ejaculation. Remember, this is just an introductory lesson. I must say I'm enjoying it thoroughly and I hope your father decides to send you to me for more thorough indoctrination into the art of love."
"I do too," he says, then, smiling wickedly. "What if I just come anyway and shoot off before you want me to?"
"That sounds like a naughty little boy talking," she laughs, playfully rolling him over onto his stomach and lightly and gently slapping his tender bottom. "And naughtiness calls for a good spanking from Auntie Priscilla."
"Ow! Ow!" he laughs, even though the spanks are not hurting him. "I'll be good, Auntie Priscilla."
"That's more like it," she smiles. "And good little boys get lovely rewards ... like this."
Still on his stomach he feels the cheeks of his bottom being spread and then her strong, smooth finger is pushing up inside his anus, deeper and deeper and he can feel his erogenous anal walls clamping around it, clenching, trying to hold onto it.
"Mmmmmmm, your darling little ass-hole wants to swallow my finger," she says. "It wants to keep it inside and not let it go."
"Oh, it feels good, Priscilla. I love to have your finger inside my bottom like that," he sighs, arching his back and forcing the digit further inside him.
Her finger comes out of him and he feels himself being rolled back over. Priscilla is in complete command of his body, touching it, moving it, caressing, kissing it, like a loving mother with an infant.
Once more she shifts her position on the bed, coming forward until she is kneeling near his head. Reaching around she doubles the pillow so that his face is at an angle tilted slightly upward, and then she straddles him, resting her fleshy bottom on his upper chest and facing him, her spread thighs and crotch just inches from his face.
"Now I'm going to let you put your handsome young face between my legs and give my pussy a good eating. I'm going to press my cunt up against your mouth in a minute and then I want you to put your tongue inside the lips and move it around. Have you ever seen a woman's naked cunt before, Nico darling?"
"No, ma'am," he admits. "Except for a look now and then at my mother when she's getting out of the bath or dressing, just before she pulls her panties on. I've seen my sister a lot but she doesn't count because she's only nine. She doesn't even have any hair yet."
She puts her hands between her spread legs and pushes the bushy blonde hair flat against the lips of her vagina so that he can see their shape and color and size.
"You see, Nico, these are my vulva lips. I'm getting very excited and when I do they start to swell and get all wet. See how they shine and glisten, especially the pink part just inside. On top there's a little knob that gets hard when I'm hot and when I'm getting fucked or having my pussy licked. That's my clit and it's stiff right now, waiting for your tongue to massage it. When you stick your tongue in you'll be able to feel it right up here and I want you to run the tip of your tongue all around it and over the top. That drives a woman absolutely wild and a loving, considerate man always makes sure he gives his woman's clit a good working over when he's sucking her pussy or when he's got his stiff prick up her cunt. Do you understand?"
Her instructions are given in soft, caressing tones and she smiles while she's telling him what to do. He is able to relax and for the first time in his life he's not ashamed of his curiosity about sex.
"All right, darling, I'm going to start rubbing my hot, wet muff in your sweet little face and you just do the things I've told you to do and whatever seise comes naturally to you. You're a beautiful, handsome boy and you'll be a wonderful man. All you need is a bit of practice."
She inches forward on her knees, fitting her crotch against his eager face, feeling his hot, excited breath against her pulsating vulva lips.
Nico seems engulfed by the wet fur. It moves and throbs like a soft little animal and he presses his face into it, searching for her vaginal opening. Finding it, he begins to lick and probe with his tongue, and at the same time he breathes deeply, drawing the overpowering fragrance of her crotch into his lungs.
"That's it, Nico. That's marvelous. Oh, darling, it feels go good. Yes, put your tongue deep into my pussy and draw it back and forth over my clit. Did you find it? Yes! There it is! Oh yes, baby sweet, you're doing it now! Ooooohhhhh! Oh God! Ooooohhhhhh! Yes yes yes yes yes! I can feel my juices starting to pour out of my pussy. Swallow them, Nico, you'll like the taste. Oh God, Nico, what you're doing is just right. You're marvelous, darling, absolutely wonderful! Perfect! Oh dear, if I'm not careful I'll lose control and will come too soon and I'll be the one getting the spanking!"
Beside himself with pride and pleasure at her praise and encouragement, and trembling with erotic excitement from the fire radiating from his loins, Nico sucks and licks and probes with even greater eagerness and intensity. Priscilla is right. He adores the odd, nutty taste of her vaginal juices and he tries to lap them up with his tongue and get every sticky drop in his mouth and let them trickle deliciously down his throat.
"Oh sweetheart, do you like sucking my cunt? Do you like to have your face pressed into my wet pussy? Do you like to smell and taste me?"
He nods his head, unwilling to take his face away from the sweet, matted fur for even an instant.
"Oh my baby, that's enough now. You will have me coming, all over you like a geyser," she says, easing her bottom back down his chest until she is sitting on his stomach. He can feel the warm, damp crevice spread over his skin and the plump, firm flesh of her parted cheeks like satin pillows against his middle.
She is breathing hard and smiling with pride and pleasure at him. Her skin is wet with perspiration and drops of it are running down between her magnificent breasts.
"Oh my, Nico, you're absolutely terrific! What a treat you'll be for your wife when you get married some day."
"I ... I think I'd like to marry you, Priscilla," he says. "I love you."
"Bless you, darling," she says appreciatively, touched by his youthful honesty and ingenuousness. She strokes his cheek with her hand and sees that his whole face is wet and sticky with her vaginal juices. "You did everything just right. Now comes the best part. I'm going to let you put your hard little cock in my pussy, right between the lips, and shove it in and out and over my clit until we both come. How does that sound, sweetheart?"
"It sounds great," he says, eagerly looking forward to the next step in his lovemaking lesson. "I love everything we do."
"What an outstanding pupil you are, Nico," she enthuses. Then, smiling mischievously: "Now I won't have any excuse to keep you after class and make you do extra work."
"Oh but I'll stay as long as you want me to, Priscilla," he cries.
"Don't worry," she laughs. "We have the whole afternoon. After a good, healthy fuck we'll take a shower together and I'll let you soap my cunt and my ass-hole and my tits and I'll soap your cock and get it hard and I'll give you a blow job under the spray."
"Oh boy!" he says.
"Now my sweet, how would you like your first piece of ass? Do you want me to lie on my back so you can play with my titties or would you rather I bent forward so you can see my big bottom while you're fucking me?"
"Which way do you like it, Priscilla?" he answers. "I'd love to do it any way you'd like to and I want you to have as much fun as me."
"Bravo, Nico," she says approvingly. "I asked you that question hoping that would be your answer. A real man always tries to please the woman he's fucking as much or more than he does himself. And a real woman does the same for him. That's why a good fucking session performed by two people in love is the most glorious thing in the world. Each one is trying to please the other and the result is ecstasy for them both."
"But I told you," Nico says. "I do love you and I want to make you happy and some day I want to marry you, Priscilla."
Priscilla blushes with pleasure and impulsively kisses Nico's lips.
"What a sweet, sweet boy you are, Nico. And you'd better be careful. I might just take you up on that offer some day," she laughs.
"Oh yes," he says, "I want you to. I'll be rich when I'm a man and you won't have to fuck anybody but me."
"But I'm happy doing this, darling. I feel I'm helping men to be better husbands and teaching boys like you to be better and happier adults," she says. "Besides, I'll be way too old by the time you're ready to get married."
"It's not true!" Nico protests vehemently. "I'll still love you no matter how old you are!"
"All right," she laughs. "I can see you're as stubborn and as obstinate as your father, which isn't a bad thing to be. But look at your poor little prick, standing up like a brave little sentinel and waiting for us while we argue. Sweet thing."
She bends over and kisses it lightly, then turns over on her stomach beside Nico and doubles up a pillow under her pelvis, elevating her melon-like buttocks and spreading them to reveal the valley in between.
"Ordinarily for your first time I'd introduce you to the conventional, missionary position, but since you're such an apt and talented pupil I'll show you by favorite way to fuck and then after our shower we can experiment with other positions, all right?"
"Sure," he says. "What should I do?"
She spreads her legs, so that she is in the shape of a "Y" on her stomach and her vulva lips are open, like a dark envelope, waiting for him, the pink, swollen lips trembling and shiny with moisture, anticipating the touch of his erect penis.
"Just get on your knees in between my thighs and you'll see my cunt will be just about even with your hard little cock and you'll be able to slide it right inside me. That's why I put this pillow under my stomach."
He obeys, positioning himself directly behind her spread buttocks and her waiting, eager vagina.
"Go ahead, darling, just push it right in, the same way you stuck your tongue in me."
"I ... I'm awful hard," he says dubiously. "You sure I won't hurt you?"
"Oh no, my sweet, considerate little baby," she laughs. "Far from it. You'll see. You're prick will just go sliding in. But thank you for asking. Again it proves you're going to be a real man."
He looks down at her, at the big buttock cheeks and the dainty, puckered anus in the crevice between them, and lower, at her vagina, wet and soft and warm, waiting for him, only for him, waiting to be penetrated, waiting to feel the hardness of him pushing inside her luscious body.
"Oh hurry, my darling," she says, gasping. "I'm so excited. We've played long enough. I want to feel your cock in my cunt now and I want you to give me a beautiful fucking until we come all over each other."
He puts his hands on her buttocks cheeks and presses in, as though they were fresh loaves of warm bread, then he grips the sides of her wide hips and moves forward, his rod poised between her vulva lips, barely touching them as she begins to move and twitch, wanting him, and he hears her moan and whimper with the desire to be pinioned.
He pushes straight inside her and she gives a convulsive little jerk, her whole body responding to him.
"That's perfect, Nico darling. Now pull back until your cock is almost out of me again and then come back in once more. You'll see, it will be very natural to you in just a minute or so."
He follows her instructions, feeling the wet walls of her vagina gather around his probing shaft, closing like hot quicksand, squeezing him.
"Be careful not to come too soon, darling," she says. "If you feel like you're coming think of something else or stop going in and out of me. I'll tell you when I'm ready to come and then we'll finish together."
"Y ... yes, ma'am," he stammers, gasping with excitement as he withdraws to the brim of her plump, juicy vaginal lips and thrusts back in again, heaving in and coming out, in and out, in a movement he takes to so naturally it surprises him. Now he is building a rhythm and he feels the searing flood gathering in his pelvic cavern, throbbing and pulsating through him like the rumble of an earthquake. It is something he feels is too powerful for him, bigger than he is, and he wonders if he can control it.
"I ... I ... I don't think ... I can stop it ... " he murmurs, breathing hard. He is bent over her back now, her wide, fleshy buttocks banging into his lean stomach with each forward thrust, the crevice between like an open mouth grabbing at him each time.
"Try, darling. It's the final test for you. If you can hold off you'll be a man and I can give your father a perfect report."
"I ... I'll try," he said. "But for you, Priscilla, not for him."
"Bless you my love," she said, her voice low and her breath coming in gasps. "I'll try to hurry up and come. I should be able to, you've got me so horny I'm about to burst. Hold off just a little more, Nico. Just a little more."
To take his mind off of the heat in his loins he thinks back to the previous afternoon, recreates the feeling of his father's thick belt biting into his tender buttocks. He can hear Tina screaming, and afterwards he is in her tender arms and she is weeping for him more than he is weeping for himself and he can feel her little girl's hands rubbing his bottom, trying to soothe the sting from the flaming cheeks.
"Ooohhhhhhh, Nico, you've done it, darling," Priscilla moans. "I'm coming. Oooooooooooo ... here it comes ... aaaaahhhhhhhhh . ... "
Her buttocks batter him like winter surf against a sea wall as she shudders and trembles convulsively, then the storm subsides and she is panting and he is not thinking about his whipping any more but thrusting in and out of her again, frantically, wetly, concentrating on the moist, warm, tender miracle between her legs and now her spasms begin again, even more strongly than before.
"Oh Jesus, you're making me come again ... oh Noco, I thought I'd never be able to do this again ... ooooooohhhhhhh. ... aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh ... Here it comes! Oh God, it's like a . flood, I'm drowning ... oooooohhhhhhh...."
The quiet room reverbrates with the sound of her firm, generous flesh slapping against his lean, taut muscle as she reaches her third and then her fourth orgasms, her whole body quivering like someone caught up in the ecstasy of a religious vision.
"Come, my darling!" she cries, enraptured. "Oh come come come ... shoot off inside my cunt like the strong young animal you are!"
He feels the flood rise in him again and this time he does not block its raging course. His loins are on fire and the hot wetness which seems to originate in the very center of his body radiates like water from a bursting dam, driving toward his crotch and down the length of his erection, exploding into her womb just as she reaches yet another orgasm and their bodies pulsate spasmodically together, crashing one against the other as they cry out together, like one voice, and he feels her clinging to him, trying to rub against him and he is stabbing into her as the fiery sperm explodes again from his shaft and he feels it gush inside her, splashing against the walls of her vagina and washing through her like a waterspout.
Then they are limp together and he is prostrate against her wide back which is shiny with sweat and he feels her gasping breaths as she draws fresh air into her lungs. His softening rod is still inside her, held gently between her vaginal lips as though it were a dying bird in the gentle hand of a child.
"Oh Nico," she whispers. "You were superb! Oh my darling, you held back and waited for me to come just like the best and most experienced stud in the world. It was a wonderful fuck that you gave me, a perfect fuck. I'll be able to tell your father that you're all man and not to worry about that silly little prank you pulled, dressing up in your mother's underwear."
"I don't care about him," Nico says. "He whipped me for it but I'll do it again if I feel like it. He can't scare me with his belt or with his shouting or with his threats to disinherit me. I love you, Priscilla, and I was able to fuck you that way because you were kind and patient and told me what to do. I couldn't be as good with anyone else. That's why I love you and want a marry you."
"Oh how tempted I am, sweet Nico, but it's out of the question. I was hired by your father to teach you about fucking a woman and you turned out to be the best pupil I've ever had. We'll spend the rest of the day trying out variations of what you've just learned. Believe me, I'm looking forward to it. Perhaps we'll even have further lessons. But that's the extent of it. Whenever you're in London you can come here and fuck me all day ... free of charge ... but don't talk about marrying me. It's impossible ... because I wouldn't betray your father and because you're too young and I'm too old and because, finally, I'm a whore. And I like being a whore. I've become rich and I've done a lot of good for a lot of lonely, disillusioned men ... men whose wives are even bigger whores than I am and a lot more dishonest about it to boot. Oh little Nico, I love you, too. I adore you. And because I do I'm going to put an end to your dreams right now. There will be no more talk of marriage between us and that is final. Do you understand?"
"But. . . " the boy protests, feeling his flaccid penis begin to rise again.
"Nico!" she admonishes. "Am I going to have to take you across my lap and punish you like a little boy after all? That's enough, young man!"
"Yes, ma'am," the boy says grudgingly, realizing finally that she is the dominant one in their relationship and that the only path to the sublime pleasure he can experience with her is through obedience.
"That's better," she says, her voice still severe and commanding. "I feel you getting hard in me again. Why don't we have another nice little fuck and then take our shower and after that I'll rub cold cream on your red little bottom and you can lick my ass-hole the way I licked yours and I'll suck you off again . ... "
As her voice drones on, cataloguing the pleasures the afternoon holds for them, Nico feels the hot tears welling in his eyes at the thought of having found a woman to love, a woman who understands him and can make him ecstatically happy, and of having her deny him for reasons he can't understand.
He feels her moving against him again as his penis hardens, and he can feel her hot juices begin to ooze out at the base of his shaft.
As he begins to move in and out of her again he knows he will never forget her and never stop searching for a woman like her.
* * *
"But Nico, darling," Helen Carlisle said. "She sounds like a perfectly marvelous woman. You mean to say you've never seen her again since that day? You're a dreadful boy and should be thrashed."
"I couldn't stand seeing her and fucking her again and then just going away and thinking that the next day she would be doing the same thing for someone else."
"Not the same thing, Nico. Obviously Priscilla had a very special feeling for you. And she was right not to encourage your adolescent dreams of marrying her. You're still only eighteen and she must be over forty."
"But what does that matter, Helen? I've had plenty of girls since then and I've given them the screwing of their lives thanks to Priscilla. But I've never loved one of them the way I loved her. I just don't want a young, stupid, inexperienced girl. The only young girl I love is my sister and that's because she's something very, very special."
"I know," Helen said. "And you're right about her. I've seen pictures of her in Time and Newsweek and she's perfectly gorgeous. I wouldn't blame you for having an incestuous affair with Tina."
Nico blushed and poured another cup of espresso for both of them. They were just finishing dinner in an out-of-the-way restaurant in Soho and were enjoying each other's company over the final cups of Italian coffee. Helen had checked into the Dorchester and they were both waiting to see how the evening turned out before Nico made any plans about a hotel room. So far the evening had turned out very well and there was already a tacit, unspoken agreement between them that he would go back with her and spend the night in her room. But there was no rush and they were content to let the evening take its course before embarking on the exciting sexual liaison which was in the back of both of their minds.
Nico took Helen's hand and held it, turning it over to look at the palm.
"It's soft, yet strong," he said. "Capable of both gentleness and firmness. God how I need both of those things."
She laughed softly.
"You seem to like women a lot older than you are," she said, chiding him slightly.
"Is there anything wrong with that?" he said.
"Look, when I go out with a young girl I have to sit through hours of boring, meaningless conversation and then if I put my hands up under her skirt she gets flustered and tries to tell me what a nice girl she is and if she does let me fuck her it's only because I'm someone special and she will expect my undying love plus a sure date every Friday and Saturday night until the day of our wedding. Of course if she gives me the great honor of spreading the lips of her pussy and accepting my filthy male prick inside her it's understood that I'll marry her. Of course! And if I don't call her again there are tears and recriminations and scenes until I want to run away and enter a monastery and never look on another female again."
Helen was laughing across the table and at the same time looking at him with real interest and concern. Here was a boy with a brain, with sensitivity, with understanding, and he could be utterly destroyed by the wrong woman.
"I forgot to add 'wisdom' to the things you have that I need," he said. "With you I can say, 'Helen Carlisle, I'd like to fuck you. I'd like to shove my hard cock up your sweet pussy,' and you being what you are, and older and wiser than I am, can slap my face or tell me to go to hell or even give me a spanking ... or you can let me shove my hard cock up your sweet pussy. But anything you do will be clear and certain and I'll know exactly where I stand. And if I want to marry you I'll be the one who will have to beg and plead and do the chasing, just as I did with Priscilla. Do you blame me for feeling more comfortable with older women?"
"No, of course not," she said. She sipped her coffee and let him stroke her hand. "But do you know what I think?"
"No, but I'd love to," he said, smiling at her.
"I think you should resolve your feelings with Priscilla. In fact I think you should call her tonight and try to see her. Let's ask her over to the hotel."
"But ... " he began, protesting.
"Oh come on now, don't give me any of your crap. You've known all night that you were coming back to my room at the Dorchester and that you were going to spend the night with me and you'd better not be too tired to give me the fucking I need. But I'm curious about Priscilla, and I also want whatever happens between us to last longer than one night. That's why I think you should see her again and resolve whatever feelings you have toward her."
"Always the psychiatrist," he said, grinning.
"Always the psychiatrist," she laughed back.
"Can you see now why I prefer you to Miss Universe?"
"Yes," she said. "And it makes me happy. It's also very flattering because I have more wrinkles than Miss Universe."
"Bullshit," he said. "And don't give me any of your crap. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and no Miss Universe can hold a candle to you."
"Even Priscilla?" she said.
He didn't answer, not sure of the truth himself and unwilling to lie to her.
"And that's exactly why I want you to see her again before I get to used to having your stiff cock in my cunt," Helen said.
The waiter brought the bill and put in front of Nico with a low bow. Helen tried to grab it but Nico got it first.
It was a test of wills and they both knew it. Helen had to win or it would be ruined for both of them. Nico needed her dominance.
"Give me that check!" she said.
"No," Nico said, smiling.
"Nico, I have a plastic hairbrush in my valise and I'm perfectly capable of taking you out of this restaurant by the scruff of your neck and marching you back to the Dorchester and up to my room and taking your pants down and blistering your bare bottom like it's never been blistered before if you don't obey me instantly," she said in a no-nonsense, mean-business voice.
"You'd do that?" he said, still smiling, but not as sure of himself now and secretly thankful for her firmness.
"You don't have to ask that," she said, her eyes staring straight into his. "Now give me that check. At once, young man!, '
Meekly he handed over the check, aware that he had met a woman who would take no nonsense from him. He felt his knees begin to go weak and tremble in anticipation of the night he was going to spend in her bed and he looked up at her, smiling abjectly, silently asking her forgiveness for his impudent defiance.
"Now there will be no more nonsense like that, Nico, do you understand me?"
She gave him a meaningful look, indicating that she knew he was sorry and accepted his silent apology.
"Yes, Helen," he said contritely. "And ... and it only goes to prove how much I need a firm hand like yours."
"We'll see about that," she said. "Now why don't you go and telephone Priscilla?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, pushing back his chair.
CHAPTER THREE
"Oh!" Tina Vassilikos said with a little shriek. "I ... I didn't know anyone was using the sauna."
She covered her breasts with one arm and put a protective hand over her delicious pubic triangle. She almost turned her back but she realized that her bottom was also bare and stopped just in time.
"I'm a wedding guest," the man said, "but I have business to talk with your father and his fianc' and I arrived a few days early."
He made no attempt to conceal his nudity and simply put one foot up on the other knee and smiled up at her.
The sauna was cloudy with steam and he was sitting on the wooden bench which was fixed to the wall next to the heated stones which gave off the intense wet heat.
"I ... I'd better leave," Tina stammered.
"Not at all, my dear. I'm perfectly safe, old enough to be your father, and relatively harmless for a lawyer. If I have a vice it's certainly not attacking beautiful young girls but rather boring those of them who sign up for my classes with my pedantry," he said lightly. "Not that I don't try to peek up a coed's skirt every chance I get, mind you. But international law and sex are stodgy bed partners and somehow I'd rather be here with both of us stark naked than in a classroom where we'd have to talk about international treaties and protectionist legislation instead of just sitting together and sweating."
"Still, I'd better go," Tina said uncertainly.
"Nonsense!" the man thundered. "Now sit down here and enjoy your sauna before I throw you across my lap and spank your pretty bottom."
Startled, Tina obeyed him.
"Yes, sir," she said uncertainly.
"Now then," he said, "I assume you're Tina Vassilikos. Not only do I assume, I know. I've seen your name in our intelligence reports. In fact I know the name of your boyfriend-Stavros Nomikos and I can tell you he's not worthy of you. Get rid of him. He has the soul of a musty old merchant even though he's barely nineteen."
She looked at this omniscient stranger, aghast. All she could tell about him was that he was an American, that he had a commanding personality, that he knew more about her affairs than she wanted anyone to know, and that he was stark naked.
Not that he was unattractive. Despite his age, which Tina guessed was in the mid-forties, he had the taut, hard, muscular body of an athlete and in the misty heat of the sauna his chest, shoulder, and arm muscles glistened like the polished marble of a statue. Tina couldn't help glancing at his body, although she kept her eyes well above his waist.
"How do you know so much about me?" she said curiously.
"Because it's my business to know about people. Important people, anyway. And the beautiful daughters of important people."
She blushed prettily at the compliment and shyly dropped her gaze.
"But who are you?" she said. "It's really not fair for you to know everything about me when I don't even know your name. And even worse, I'm sitting next to you without any clothes on."
"My name is John McCandless and I used to be the American Ambassador to France until the other side got in and appointed their own Ambassador. Then for awhile I wrote speeches for Roger Clayborn before that madman killed him in Minneapolis two years ago. I got to know the Clayborn family pretty well and that's when I first met your future stepmother, Claire Clayborn. After the Senator was killed we were both pretty much at loose ends and we saw quite a bit of each other. Not romantically, of course. That's why everyone approved ... the press, the Clayborn family, and middle America. I became a professor again and started practicing my old hobby, gazing at pretty young coeds. Claire started going to parties again and met your old man and became engaged but she thought enough of her old pal to invite me to the wedding. There, now you have my whole life story," he said.
"Are you married?" Tina said, then, realizing how the question sounded, blushed an even deeper crimson.
"By Heavens," McCandless said, "I think you're even more beautiful when you blush."
"Stop it," she smiled, shyly keeping her eyes averted.
"No, I'm not married," he said. "Now stand up and let's see if that blush goes all the way down to your toes."
"No!" she said. "And don't tease me." It was all she could do to keep from giggling.
"Why not? You love it," he said.
Tina looked at John McCandless in awe. She'd never met a man like him, so funny and easygoing and relaxed. It was incredible. Here she was sitting stark naked next to a man she had known less than five minutes. And not just any man. She recognized him now. He was famous and had Roger Clayborn lived and become president, John McCandless would have been the American Secretary of State. She still remembered the news photos of him, standing next to Claire Clayborn in Arlington cemetery beside the grave of the dynamic Senator from California with tears in his eyes.
"I don't love it," she insisted, then looked up at him and grinned. "But I guess I like it pretty much."
"You see that? No one can tell lies when they're naked as a jaybird. That's why you'll never catch a politician in a steam bath," he said.
"But aren't you a politician?" she said.
"Absolutely not! A scoundrel, a mountebank, a lecher ... those I'll admit to, but don't call me a politician," he teased.
Tina was laughing out loud now, thoroughly charmed by the older man.
"Why aren't you married?" she asked suddenly.
"Impertinent brat!" he said, pretending to be outraged. "Because my wife caught me naked in a sauna with a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl."
"Did you really mean that?"
"Did I mean what?"
"About me being beautiful."
"I said the other sixteen-year-old girl in the other sauna was beautiful. I didn't say anything about you being beautiful."
"You did too!" Tina insisted. "You said it was your business to know about the beautiful daughters of important people."
"Oh, that," he said. "I meant the beautiful daughters of important people in general."
"Oh come on," she said. "Stop teasing me. Anyway, you said I had a pretty bottom and you threatened to spank it."
"And I still might. All right, stand up and turn around slowly and I'll see if you're all that beautiful or not," he said.
"No! I won't! It's all a trick," Tina said, giggling in spite of herself.
"Up before I wallop you!" John McCandless thundered dramatically and Tina stood up, not sure whether he was fooling. She was thoroughly fascinated by John McCandless.
"Now turn around ... slowly ... hands at your sides."
She obeyed him, shy, yet confident and relaxed with him and proud to show off her luscious body.
She was shiny with perspiration from the steam and her soft, delicate skin glistened as if it had been oiled. John McCandless watched in breathless wonder as she turned. Her young breasts stood out round and firm and the nipples were like pink flowers set in white marble.
Beads of moisture flowed in the lovely valley between the sculptured mounds and trailed slowly down across her firm, smooth stomach. Below her navel there was just the trace of a soft feminine swelling, leading downward to her thick triangular bush, curly and glistening and wet in the heat of the sauna. Her lush thighs were fleshy and supple and perfectly formed as if made for the purpose of filling soft nylon stockings and her calves were strong and graceful and lean.
Now she was standing in profile and then, as she slowly pivoted, she turned her wide, pear-shaped buttocks toward him and he caught his breath as he gazed at them, shining and smooth and firm, separated by the delicate mystery of the crevice in between and spiced by the tiniest trace of curly black hair peeking through between the backs of her thighs at the bottom.
"Well?" she said, smiling mischievously over her shoulder at him, knowing from the expression on his face what the answer would be but wanting to hear it anyway.
"You are beautiful, Tina," he said, no longer joking or teasing but paying her the ultimate compliment of being simple and very sincere in his appreciation of her magnificent body.
"Are you sure?" she said, doing the teasing herself now.
"Yes," he said, the words catching in his throat as he stared at her, unable to take his eyes from the tantalizing sight before him. "Yes Tina, I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
"Don't you think my bottom's too fat?" she said.
He seemed to snap out of his reverie and his face broke into a grin.
"Well, now that you mention it, the cheeks are a bit plump," he said, not meaning it.
She turned on him, annoyed.
"That's not what you were supposed to say!" she complained.
"Well you asked me," he said, in command of the situation again. "But I know just the thing to make pretty, plump young bottoms firm and tight and to give them tone."
He stood up and crossed to the other side of the sauna and opened the doors of a wooden cabinet set into the wall.
"You must have been impressed by something you saw," Tina giggled. "You're sticking out in front like the mast of my father's yacht."
"So I am," he said, unperturbed. Ah! Here we are! Some birch switches."
"Oh no!" Tina protested. "I've felt those before and they sting."
"Just the thing for young bottoms," he said, coming back across the steam-filled room with a bunch of the switches in his hand. They were tied together with a thong at the base and were for a Swedish massage. "All right, turn around now."
"Promise you won't hit me too hard,'-' she said warily.
"Do I look like the kind of man who would hurt a beautiful thing like your backside?" he said.
"Yes!" she said emphatically. But she smiled and turned her shimmering bottom to him and stuck it out saucily for him to switch.
He whisked the bunch of birch switches lightly but briskly across the taut white skin, making the blood come to the surface and giving her buttocks a healthy pink glow.
"Did that hurt?" he asked.
"It stings, but I like it," she said, holding her bottom out for more of the massage.
Once again he flicked the birches across her inviting behind and once again the soft young skin turned a warm, flushing pink.
"MMmmmmmmmmm..." she said. "It's nice. It makes me feel all tingly and warm."
He continued the massage, working the twigs expertly up and down her buttocks and legs and up her back to her shoulders, using just enough force to be invigorating without being painful.
"It ... it's so sexy," she murmured, closing her eyes and smiling and luxuriating in the gentle flicking of the switches over her skin.
Finally he stopped and she turned around, a little disappointed.
"Is that all I get?" she said.
"I think that will do it," he said, taking her arm and half-turning her. He rubbed his hand over her tingling bottom, softly stroking each cheek and letting his fingers brush against the valley in between. He felt her shudder with pleasure. "Yes. Much firmer now and most of that baby fat is gone."
"There's no baby fat," she protested, looking back over one shoulder and cupping her buttocks with her hands, feeling them for any excess flesh. "You're just saying that to be mean."
"I don't have a mean bone in my body," he said eloquently.
"Maybe not," she giggled, "but you have a pretty long bone sticking out just below your stomach."
"Young lady, kindly remember you are talking about the erection of an ex-Ambassador," he said with mock dignity. "Please be so good as to refer to it with respect. Or else."
"Or else what?" she laughed saucily.
"Or else I'll smack your impudent little seat," he said, giving her a playful but solid swat across the bottom. The crack of his open palm against her solid flesh echoed through the concrete room.
"Ouch!" she said, sexily grabbing her behind with both hands and rubbing it. "That's not fair. I wasn't disrespectful to your big thing. I just said it was pretty long."
"Well that's your fault, not mine. Usually it's much shorter."
"You're awful!" she said, smiling and blushing again. "Hey! I know how to get rid of the rest of my baby fat."
"I thought you didn't have any baby fat," he said.
"Well just a little," she said. "On my bottom. But there's a massage table in the next room. You can give me a massage."
"My dear young Tina," he said. "You can see what whisking those birches across your delightful rear end has done to me. I can't be responsible if I'm asked to actually touch you."
She looked at him before answering. Then:
"I'm not a virgin."
John McCandless started to cough as though he had something stuck in his throat and now it was his turn to blush.
"Well ... that is ... I ... uh, now, Tina..." he stammered, trying to catch his breath.
"Oh come on," she said, taking his hand and leading him out of the sauna into a second room next to it. The rubdown room was slightly smaller and there were two massage tables in the center with freshly-laundered towels piled at one end and a table holding a variety of oils, creams and body tonics.
She got up on the nearest table and lay down on her stomach, resting her head on her arms and closing her eyes.
"Uh ... don't you think I should put a towel over your bottom?" he said.
"Why? I'm not cold and you've certainly seen enough of it already. Boy were your eyes popping out," she laughed.
"Do you want some oil?" he said, quickly changing the subject.
"Oh yes. Some of the stuff with the pine scent," she said. "In the green bottle."
He poured a tiny pool of the delicate oil in the palm of his left hand and spread it onto her already gleaming back, working it around the sides of her body with his hands, gently massaging, brushing the edges of her breasts and feeling them stiffen in response.
"Ooooohhhhhh, that feels marvelous, Mr. McCandless," she said.
"I think that under the circumstances you can call me 'John', my sweet Tina," he said, slightly ironic.
"All right, John," she said. Then: "Am I really your sweet Tina?"
"If you want to be."
"Yes," she said, her tone still light and gay, but with a note of seriousness. "I want to be."
"It's not fair," he said, working the oil into the shallow valley of her lower back and moving gradually upward again toward the twin hillocks of her bottom.
"What's not fair?"
"It's not fair to give a sixteen-year-old the body of a goddess and then make a man keep his hands off of her," he said.
"You're not exactly keeping your hands off," she laughed. "By the way, how's your hard-on? I'll bet it's even bigger by now."
He gave her a little slap across the buttocks.
"Watch your tongue," he admonished. Then, impulsively, he leaned over and kissed the spot his hand had smacked.
"You're really a very gentle man, aren't you?" she said, touched and excited by the gesture. "You didn't really hurt me but you kissed me to make it better all the same. No one has ever been so soft and sweet with me before, not even my father. "By the way, I've been wanting to ask you something."
"Ask away," he said, kneading the firm flesh of her buttock cheeks now, making the skin even softer and more silky with the application of the oil. He moved his fingers down into the tight, cone-shaped space in between the glistening mounds and his fingers glided gently over the soft mouth of her anus. She shivered a little, wondering if he had done it on purpose.
"If you don't work for the government any more why do you still get intelligence reports about people? Me and my boy friend and my father, for instance? And why do you say it's your business to know about people?"
He paused for several minutes before answering her, continuing to massage her buttocks and her upper thighs. She half hoped he would let his hands wander between her legs and touch her vagina, perhaps even pushing in between the rapidly moistening vulva lips, but he didn't and by the time he spoke again he had worked his way almost to the backs of her knees.
"Even though I'm a Democrat and President Rutledge is a Republican we're still good friends and I have a great deal of admiration for him. I also have a fairly complete and, I suppose, a sane command of foreign affairs. Sometimes the President calls on me for advice and asks me to go on special assignments for him."
"Are you on an assignment now?" she said, intrigued.
"No," he said. "Now I'm giving a massage to a beautiful, sexy, provocative, impossible teenager. But as soon as I've done one more toe ... this one right here ... I'll be finished and I'm going to send her to bed before we both get into serious trouble."
"But I want to get into serious trouble," she said. "I told you, I'm not a virgin. Did you think I was a child or something? I'm a woman of vast experience."
"Vast?" he said, smiling.
"Well, not quite vast," she admitted. "But I'd like to make it a little more vast than it is."
"Well I am too ol and stuffy and respectable to go around ravishing teenagers so they can increase their carnal knowledge," he said.
"You are not old and you are not stuffy and I suspect that you are not even respectable and besides it's not up to you, it's up to him," she said, taking his erect rod in her hand and stroking it once or twice before he could pull it away.
"Do you want another whack?" he said.
"Yes, if you'll kiss it again," she said. "Anyway, you've only done one side. Turn me over and do the other."
Not waiting for him, she flopped over and their eyes met for an electric instant. Then he let his gaze wander down over her lovely body, coming to rest on her furry pubic nest and the delicate, soft white skin around it.
"Oh Tina ... " he said, his voice catching. Then her strong young arms were around his neck, hugging him and pulling him closer to her so that his chest rubbed up against her swollen breasts and he could feel the erect nipples rake deliciously over his skin.
"I've never met anyone like you," she said, her voice tight and low, the words coming all at once. "I love you and I want you to fuck me. I know what fucking is, I've had a hard cock between the lips of my pussy, more than once, and I loved it. But I've never been as excited as I have been with you tonight and I've got to have you."
"Oh Tina, my lovely young darling, I'd adore sliding my prick into you, between your sweet thighs. But I can't. I mustn't. I ... I'm too old for you," he said, his voice pleading.
"No. You're not. The size of your prick, the stiffness of it, proves that you're not. Here. I can feel your youth and masculinity and energy when I put my hand around your rod like this. Oh my darling, put that inside me, please please please. Fuck me like I've never been fucked before. Ravage me. Ream out my cunt with your shaft," she said, nearly sobbing with desire for him.
He could feel her hot tears start to come, start to well in her beautiful black eyes and spill out, wetting her cheeks.
Then he was hoisting himself up onto the massage table and she was lying back and spreading her thighs even before his strong; gentle hands could do it for her. He bent forward, her fragrance strong in his nostrils, and he kissed the sweet, tender lips of her vagina. They were opened slightly and the wet, pink skin inside glistened, reflecting the overhead light. He let his tongue go inside as she moaned, and he tasted her, tasted the femininity of her, the sharp, tangy, nut-like flavor of her vaginal juice as it gathered and flowed from her womb like autumn sap.
"Ohhhhhhhh..." she moaned, arching her body. "Oh, John, don't stop. Don't ever stop."
He tantalized her by running his tongue around the edges of her vulva lips, over the wet strands of coal black hair, flicking the tip in unexpectedly and drawing it quickly over her throbbing clitoris and then back out.
She began to rock her body back and forth on the table, and she felt herself floating as though she were being carried downstream by fresh, warm spring water. She clenched her vaginal lips and rotated her buttocks, half-mad for him to enter her.
"Oh John John John, don't wait any longer. Ram your cock inside me, fuck me before I go insane. I can't stand it, I can't wait any longer," she whimpered.
Realizing for the first time just how inexperienced she was and to what erotic heights he had brought her he straightened up and edged forward on his knees, into position between her thighs. He reached around behind him and took a stack of the freshly laundered turkish towels and with his free hand he cupped her buttocks and gently lifted her up, easing the towels under her hips to elevate her pelvis and make it easy to enter her.
He looked down at the delectable sight. Her full, round, taut young thighs spread apart, straining, and the oval shape of her vagina trembling in anticipation of him, the wet, pink folds of skin surrounded by tufts of silken pubic hair, dark as night and flattened against the whiteness of her by her flowing, sticky fragrant juices.
He held his huge erection in his hand, slowly rubbing the head around the edge of her vulva lips, barely touching the glossy, sensitive, velvety surface as Tina writhed and whimpered in delicious misery, wanting him and reveling in her anticipation of his enormous rod.
Now he dipped the knob-like head of his shaft in between her vulva lips, at the top of the silken crevice, moving inside her just far enough to be able to rub against the head of her sweet, throbbing little clitoris, teasing it by touching it and then drawing back then touching it again.
"Are you ready to be fucked, my little love?" he said. "Is your pussy tingling and trembling for my rod? Do you want to feel me inside you, filling you to the brim?"
"OOoooohhhhhh..." she moaned, rotating her hips and trying to rub up against him, trying to impale herself on his erection, her nerve ends drawn to the breaking point by his words.
"Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckme..." she cried, repeating the words like a litany.
Slowly, gently, he eased his vibrating penis inside her and felt her clenching vaginal walls close eagerly around his rock hardness. He went into her soaking orifice easily, like a knife easing into soft butter, until he was inside her to the hilt. He could feel his knob touching the interior walls of her womb and he knew he was filling her completely. He heard her give a little gasp and felt her pelvis jerking spasmodically against his own. Then he withdrew, leaving a void in the wake of his shaft, like an empty suction cup.
"Did I hurt you, Tina?" he said.
"Yes, darling. But it was wonderful. You're a little too much for me but I want you to go in again just like that, and again. Keep on fucking me right up to the hilt and I'll widen to take all of you. I'll say something if it hurts too much, don't worry, but I love it, love every glorious inch of you."
He went in again, like a piston sliding into an oiled shaft and again her strong young vaginal muscles closed around him, trying to hold his rod, to clamp around it and keep it inside her fragrant tunnel.
Ooooooohhhhhh..." she cried. "That's wonderful, my sweet. Just like that. Oh God, you're filling me up. I never dreamed I could take so much of any man. You're enormous, like a bull."
Where Stavros had clumsily rutted and fumbled and her father had used sheer brute force, John stroked and soothed, teased and coaxed, and at exactly the moment when she needed strong, thrusting firmness he changed tactics and plunged into her like an express train powering through the dark cavity of a mountain tunnel. He varied his technique with such skill and such concern for her pleasure, alternating tenderness and strength, and slow, easy strokes with quick, rigid ones, that she surrendered herself completely and absolutely to his control, letting him do what he wanted to with her body, content to follow his lead and accept each delightful surprise he had in store for her. Her legs were wrapped around his middle, clinging to him like a baby Koala bear clings to a tree trunk. The tender, sensitive area between her legs was completely filled, completely absorbed by him as he pumped in and out of her. She rotated her hips in response to him, building to his rhythm and shifting when he shifted, always eager to let him dominate and show her what it was he wanted her to do. She felt deli-ciously submissive, a love slave, a love object, and he was manipulating her the way he would play an instrument, drawing every pulsating beat of pleasure from her quivering body that it was possible to draw.
She felt the very core of her, the erotic center of her body, dark and wet and hollow close around him with each lunging, heaving thrust, and as his pelvis collided with her crotch her muscles strained, sucking and pulling at his erection, trying to draw him deeper inside of her.
No longer did he feel too big for her. He filled her completely but her vaginal nectar had soaked her thoroughly, lubricating and easing his shaft in and out, and her muscles had stretched luxuriously to accommodate the glorious largeness of him.
Tina was the tightest woman he had ever had. Her control of her muscles was instinctive, going back to some basic, primal skill the dark-eyed, olive-skinned Mediterranean woman had for making love and pleasing a man. He felt her vaginal tunnel close like a hand over his penis with every stroke, and when he withdrew it was against a powerful counter-force which tried to hold him inside her womb.
"Talk to me, sweetheart," Tina moaned as she felt the flood of searing wetness building in the heart of her loins and radiating through her body. "Tell me how you're fucking me, how your gorgeous big cock is plunging in and out of my little cunt like a sword."
"Sweet Tina," he whispered, "fucking your sweet little pussy is like fucking the softest of flowers, I can smell you and taste you and feel you all at the same time and I can feel the muscles of your juicy little cunt grabbing my cock like the soft, squeezing hand of a little girl."
"Oh yes, John darling ... oooohhhhhh ... in ... in ... in ... in..." she whimpered in time with his plunges.
Then all of a sudden it was out of control; she couldn't stop the gushing flow.
"Oh John, it's happening. Oh oh oh oh ... I can't stop it. . . " she cried.
"It's all right, Tina, you're coming. You're having an orgasm. Let yourself go."
She began to writhe and moan and buck her body against his as she lost herself in the profound and powerful flood that coursed through her body. She rose with it and felt the sticky juices shooting from inside her and in a delirium of ecstasy she thought she was going to flood the room. Then it subsided and began again, even stronger and wetter this time.
As he felt her have her fourth and then her fifth and then her sixth shattering orgasm John began plunging in and out with renewed vigor, drawing her pleasure to its highest peak, then releasing his own lava-like flood inside her, spurting his steaming juices explosively against the most secret and intimate walls of her womb, feeling her vagina sucking every wet burst, squeezing each drop out of him and absorbing it.
They lay in each other's arms for several minutes, too spent and exhausted to speak.
"Oh my darling," Tina said finally. "I never dreamed it could be that wonderful. What a beautiful fucking you gave me-it was my first real one and I'll never forget the feeling of your enormous cock inside me like that. How was I? Did I do everything correctly, the way you wanted me to? Oh, I want so much to please you."
"You were perfect, sweet little Tina. You have a talent for making love that most women don't learn in a lifetime. You're like a superb natural dancer ... all your movements are instinctive and graceful and right."
She hugged him, thrilled and delighted by his compliments, and she kissed his chest and felt his lips brushing against her hair.
Later he knelt beside her while she straddled the bidet in the bathroom and douched herself. He would reach out and touch the spread lips of her vagina, and she would shiver with pleasure and excitement.
At the door of the main house they both realized that it was the first time they had seen each other dressed and they burst into laughter simultaneously. Then he took her tenderly in his arms and she pressed her pelvis against his strong body while he kissed her, gently at first, then crushing her lips with his mouth, cupping her buttocks with his large hands at the same time.
"Oh John, I love you," she said just before closing the door and going inside. "No. Don't say anything. You don't have to love me. Just let me love you and fuck me again the way you fucked me tonight. Goodnight, my darling."
She shut the door and as John McCandless made his way down the lighted path toward the guest bungalows he couldn't get the supple, breathtaking teenager out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried and how impossible he knew the situation to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
At the same time that Tina and John were saying good-night and Nico and Helen Carlisle were finishing their coffee in London, the twin-engine Sikorsky 108 was landing on the floodlit roof of the Vassilikos mansion.
As the two huge rotary propellers whined to a stop Pericles Vassilikos eagerly approached the huge black Hellenic Airways craft and urged his ground crew to hurry with the portable stairway. He looked up as they rolled it into place and the door of the helicopter swung open.
Claire Clayborn had graced the covers of every fashion magazine in the world, and most of the news and fan magazines as well. She had been a successful New York fashion model when she met the handsome California senator during a location trip to Washington. After a subtle but thorough investigation of her background by his patrician family and a whirlwind courtship which made the front pages despite every effort to keep it private, they eloped and were married by a sleepy Justice of the Peace near Bakersfield, California, on the day Roger Clayborn began his campaign for a second term in the U.S. Senate. He obviously had his eye on the Presidency and the strikingly beautiful and graceful blonde woman he adored so much would be an invaluable asset to him as well as a loving and affectionate wife.
The marriage had its problems from the beginning, but was strong because Roger and Claire Clayborn loved each other. Claire soon rebelled against the strict control Roger's dowager mother and businessman father tried to exercise over all their family, including their sons' wives, and Roger backed her up. The illusion of unity and harmony was preserved for the public, but it was Claire to whom Roger turned for support and comfort during the long and careful preparation he was making for his political future. His parents were hurt but they remained silently in the background, or as much in the background as people as rich and powerful as they were could. Roger's mother resented Claire's fetching mini-skirts and thought she should use stronger discipline on her son, Timothy, and disapproved of the magazine covers, but as the years went on Roger Clayborn's career thrived and he got closer and closer to his cherished goal.
The marriage was ten years old, and Timothy nearly nine, that day in the Hilton Hotel lobby in Minneapolis. Roger Clayborn was not officially a candidate for the Democratic Presidential nomination and so he was assigned no Secret Service guards. He had just finished addressing a German-American Club luncheon and during his talk he had strongly hinted that he was on the verge of throwing his hat into the Presidential ring while at the same time assuring his audience that a responsible leader would work more vigorously for German reunification that the present office-holder was doing.
The lobby of the hotel was a chaos with reporters fighting for phones and people of all ages crowding around the dynamic young senator and his beautiful wife. No one seemed to notice the wild-eyed young man in the shabby coat and the long, tangled hair. No one noticed him until he drew a pistol from his pocket and fired five times at Roger Clayborn from a point blank range, shouting in a middle-European accent:
"The Germans must never be reunited! Death to all tyrants!"
He was quickly wrestled to the ground and disarmed. Roger Clayborn had been hurled backwards by the force of shells entering his body and now he lay on the thick carpet of the hotel lobby with blood pumping quickly and fatally from the gaping wounds in his chest and stomach.
Claire Clayborn was kneeling beside him, holding his head in her hands screaming for a doctor, but it was five minutes before the only one in the lobby of the hotel could make his way through the mass of people crowding around the dying man. The doctor was a pediatrician and had never treated anyone with bullet wounds. By the time the ambulance arrived in front of the hotel and the team of surgeons had rushed into the lobby, Roger Clayborn was dead.
Clair Clayborn's period of mourning lasted for a year and a half. She made half-hearted trips to California to see the Clayborns, but these became more and more infrequent. For the most part she stayed in her Washington apartment and saw only old friends such as John McCandless and the effeminate playwright Clarence Parkington.
Reluctantly she allowed McCandless to persuade her to go with him to New York one afternoon to attend a literary cocktail party, a benefit for one of the Clayborn charities. It was at that party she met Pericles Vassilikos. At first she paid no attention to him, regarding him as a loud, squat rather vulgar man but soon he had her laughing uncontrollably as he told story after story about the pompous and posturing members of international society he knew so well and who spent so much time currying his favors while he laughed and poked fun at them. He acted out every part and his imitation of the very proper, very stuffy English Lord who could only make love to a woman while he was wearing a fur hat and coat actually brought tears to Claire Clayborn's eyes.
The next week he had flown to Washington in a Hellenic Airways 707 which he had all to himself for the trip and from then on they began to see a great deal of each other. When she accepted an invitation to take a cruise around the Mediterranean Sea in his private yacht the Clayborn family intervened. Mr. and Mrs. Clayborn and three of Roger's brothers descended on her in her Washington apartment as she was packing and at first demanded and then begged that she cancel the trip. When they finally stormed out of her apartment en masse there were no fond good-byes said by anyone and the breach between Claire Clayborn and her inlaws was complete.
John McCandless quietly returned to Harvard and he and Claire saw little of each other after that. They both knew that the lovely 36-year-old blonde widow with the long, striking legs and the dazzling smile didn't really need his comfort and his sympathy and his gently witty conversation any more. She was attending parties regularly now with Pericles Vassilikos and they had been seen holding hands at an intimate dinner they had together in a small Greek restaurant in New York. Still, he was much older than she was and nearly a head shorter. And none of her friends could believe she had any serious feelings for the shipping tycoon. Then came the announcement of their engagement, spread across the world in banner headlines. Roger Clayborn's mother took to her bed and stayed there for nearly a week without seeing anyone but her doctors. In Rome a famous Italian actress known for the size of her breasts and the fury of her temper hit an English journalist over the head with a rolled-up copy of Paris Match which featured the engaged couple on its cover. The Englishman had made the mistake of asking her if the announcement meant that her fabled and long-standing romance with Pericles Vassilikos was over. Her only statement was something to the effect that Clair Clayborn bleached her hair and that if she ever laid eyes on that little Greek bastard again she would shoot him between the eyes.
Now the wedding was less than a week away and Clair Clayborn was arriving in Athens with her son, Timothy, now almost eleven and the image of his dead father. She originally had planned to come over the day before the wedding, but the time difference between Washington and Athens would have thrown her off for several days so she decided the let world opinion think what it wanted to and she came early to see her fianc' and let her son get used to his new home and to rest before the ceremony.
When the delighted Pericles Vassilikos learned of her change in plans he ordered all the scheduled passengers off of Hellenic's Atlantic non-stop flight 411 from Washington, had the plane quickly cleaned, and then put it at Claire's disposal so she could come when she pleased. She had arrived just a few minutes ago and had been immediately whisked away from the airport and the waiting reporters by the huge black Sikorsky. Timothy had immediately run to the pilot's cabin and stared in awe at the array of instruments spread out along the control panel. She practically had to drag him away when they landed and just had time to run her fingers affectionately and maternally through his unruly shock of shaggy brown hair before the door of the helicopter swung open and she saw her husband-to-be on the landing pad below, smiling up at her as the carpeted passenger stairway was rolled into place.
After a quiet dinner where Timothy's request for a hamburger instead of the superb roast duck a l'orange was immediately honored, Claire took the boy upstairs to his room to put him to bed and say goo-night to him. Her fianc' kissed her lightly on the cheek and said he would look in on Tina and then wait for her on the large terrace outside their adjoining bedrooms.
Claire Clayborn walked up the wide, curving staircase as though in a dream. She held Timothy's hand tightly and followed the silent maid who would show her the boy's quarters. She felt frightened and uncertain and wondered it she shouldn't cancel the whole affair and fly back to Washington in the morning. And yet her body ached for the special way that Pericles Vassilikos made love to her, the way he had first showed her on his yacht early one morning when they were anchored in the clear blue water off of Cyprus. Unconsciously she reached back and smoothed her skirt over her bottom, the bottom that had been photographed in countless bikinis and which, before her marriage, had made tight-fitting slacks the rage for three entire seasons. Roger had adored it and they spent hours together, lying in bed nude between sessions of lovemaking, while he stroked and caressed the round, silken cheeks and ran his fingers lightly between them, touching and teasing her sensitive anus but never penetrating it.
Pericles adored it too, but in a different and exciting way and she felt her knees go weak as she realized that before the night was over she would feel him inside her in the way she had come to prefer over any other kind of intimacy.
The maid was standing in front of the open door giving her a puzzled look. She snapped out of her reverie and led Timothy into his spacious room.
* * *
"Of course I still love you, Papa," Tina said. "But we must never, ever do again what we did together that night last week."
"It's not the first time it has happened in the world, Tina," Pericles Vassilikos said. He was sitting on his daughter's bed saying good-night to her. She was under the covers with the sheets drawn primly to her chin. She had taken a shower and carefully washed her vagina and now wanted only to go to sleep and dream about John McCandless, and to imagine that he was beside her in bed and that during the night he would turn to her and she would feel his erect penis sliding once more between her young thighs.
"In a few days you'll have a new wife, Papa, and even if you weren't my father and even if the thing we did was right and natural, which it's not, you now belong to another woman," Tina said, her voice grave and solemn, like a child in Sunday school reading her lesson.
"All right, my sweet," he said. "But my marriage won't change anything between you and me. You're still the number one girl in my life and you always will be. What we did the other night was just another expression of my love for you and someday, when you're older, you'll realize that. There are certain social conventions which limit the ways people love each other. But they don't apply to people like us, Tina, people like the Vassilikos family. I'm one of the richest men in the world and I got that way by defying convention and society and even the law and governments when it was necessary."
"I know, Papa," Tina said admiringly. "I realize what a great man you are. But still I feel what we did was wrong, even though it was as much my fault as it was yours."
Tina hadn't spoken of the incident for several days, avoiding her father when he was alone and only talking to him when there were others around so that a serious discussion of their incest was impossible. She had felt guilty and yet there was no denying that she had enjoyed making love with her father. Terrified that she was abnormal, she didn't want to repeat their transgression until she had had a chance to think things through. She even considered going to a priest, or a doctor, but she was too shy and ashamed. But her erotic session with John McCandless in the sauna and the massage room had shown her just how normal and full of desire she was and it had given her the courage to talk to her father and straighten matters out between them. She could tell he still wanted her and would have made love to her again if she had permitted it. Perhaps some day she would, but at the moment all she could think of was McCandless and the marvelous things they had done together.
"Did Claire arrive?" she asked.
"Yes," her father said, realizing she was deliberately changing the subject. "She and Timothy got in just over an hour ago."
When John and I were kissing good-night, she thought to herself, reliving the moment and rubbing her firm young thighs together at the memory of his large hands around the cheeks of her bottom.
"Some of the other guests are here, too," he went on. "There's a very important friend of Claire's by the name of McCandless. He's one of the American President's closest friends and advisers and could be of great use to me in the future. When you meet him be sure you are very nice to him."
"I ... I've already met him," she said.
"Oh? Where?"
"We ... we met in the garden on the lower terrace ... just outside the steam room," she lied. "We ... we were both out for a walk."
"I hope you were pleasant to him," her father said.
"Oh I was very nice to him, Papa," Tina said, smiling inwardly at the memory of just how nice she had been to John McCandless. "I think I'd like to go to sleep now, if you don't mind."
"Of course not, darling," he said. "And I'm glad we had this discussion at last. Believe me, Tina, kings have the right to do things that are forbidden to common people, and we are the kings of the new world because we have money. Always remember that, and never be afraid to do what is unpopular or forbidden or unconventional just because of what other people may think."
Such as making love in a stream bath? Tina thought to herself as he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
She put her arms around his neck and squeezed to show him that she loved him very much, then suddenly his lips were no longer on her forehead but pressing against her mouth and she felt his weight on her breasts and almost unconsciously her own tongue was flicking into his mouth and his large hand was under the blankets moving downward over her stomach and caressing her between the legs.
She was bare under the sheets and she grabbed his wrist and tried to force it away from her crotch but he was too strong for her. She twisted and tried to roll over on her stomach but he was still kissing her and she couldn't move. Finally she got her lips free of his.
"Papa!" she cried. "Stop it! Oh please stop it!"
She felt his body relax and could see that he was trembling as he hung his head in shame and withdrew his hand from under the covers.
But his sudden fondling of her didn't disturb her nearly as much as her own reactions. She had returned his kiss and his hand moving over her bare body had ignited an instant erotic heat in her loins. She could feel herself growing wet between the thighs and she knew that if he had persisted in his advances for just a few moments longer that she would have given in to him.
"I won't say I'm sorry, Tina. I'm not. But I won't insist if you don't want me. But I could feel the way your body responded to me and I can tell you that we'll make love again, you and me, many times before we die," he said, standing up, looming over her, thick and squat and powerful in the dim light from her bed-lamp. "You know it too, don't you my darling?"
She waited for a long time before answering him, looking up into his eyes, coal black like her own and knew that secretly she would want him again. She was confused and unhappy but far too honest a girl to lie to herself about her own feelings. She loved and wanted John McCandless and she loved and wanted her father and then she thought, almost comically, how insignificant and immature and silly Stavros Nomikos seemed when compared with these two strong, experienced, confident older men.
"You know it, don't you Tina?" her father repeated.
"Yes, Papa," she said meekly. "Only ... only not tonight."
"All right, my little love. Not tonight," he said, crossing to the door without kissing her again. "But soon. Very soon."
He closed the door and Tina reached up to shut off her lamp. She wanted to be in the dark so she could think.
* * *
She knew John had arrived earlier in the evening but she couldn't bring herself to telephone him. She was too confused, and she also felt herself tingling with desire for Pericles.
Timothy had taken a shower and brushed his teeth and was coming out of the bathroom now.
"All right, darling," Claire said gently. "In to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."
"But Mommy, I'm not tired," Timothy said, reluctant to let his mother leave.
"Come on now, young man," she said, a slight warning edge to her voice.
"No!" he said stubbornly.
"Am I going to have to give you a spanking on our first night here?" she said.
"I don't care if I get a spanking, Mommy," he pleaded. "I just want you to stay with me. Lie down next to me until I go to sleep."
"All right," she said, relenting. She knew he was nervous and unsure of things, just as she was herself. "I'll have to take my dress off. I don't want to get it wrinkled."
She stood up and took the hems of her skirt and drew it up over her head, draping it gently over a chair so as not to muss it. Underneath she had on a pair of sheer, flesh-colored panties, a matching bra, a simple garter belt and smooth, skin-colored nylons which clung tightly to her long, shapely legs.
"Oh boy," he said, secretly delighted to see his beautiful mother undressed.
"Now just calm down, young man," Claire warned, "or I will paddle you, do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am, he said. Then: "Mommy, I'm sick to my stomach."
She sat down next to him on the bed and put her palm to his forehead to see if he felt hot.
The boy lowered his eyes and looked down at his mother's round, smooth white thighs just above the tantalizing tops of her stocking and the garters that were attached to them. He let his gaze wander upward, being careful not to let her notice, until he could see the crotch of her panties and the springy yellow mound underneath which pressed against the thin material. Tiny corn-colored strands of the curly pubic bush had edged out under the elastic hem of the brief bikini panties and he stared at this forbidden sight with a mixture of awe at his good luck and wonder at the strange feelings it aroused in his genitals. He felt his tiny penis begin to swell against the material of his pajama bottoms and he began to blush with embarrassment and hoped that his mother didn't notice. He wished fervently that she would decide to give him an enema so he could lie with his naked stomach across her lap and have her soft fingers touching his bottom. If he had to provoke her into spanking him with his pants down, he would, but it was more fun to have an enema because it didn't hurt like a spanking did. She could be very firm with him when she got angry, and he wanted to enjoy the delicious experience of being across her knees without the accompanying sting of the punishment.
"You don't seem to have a temperature," she said, "But it was a long trip. I guess I'd better give you an enema before you go to bed. And no arguments."
She stood up, unaware that he was beside himself with pleasure and excitement at the prospect.
"Yes ma'am," he said, feigning disappointment. "I mean no ma'am, no arguments."
"Into the bathroom," she said, going ahead of him. He watched her smooth, pear-shaped buttocks bounce and quiver as she walked, barely contained by the gossamer material of the bikini panties which were pulled up high back, well into the lush valley between her cheeks.
He stood beside her as she took the enema bay syringe and thin rubber hose from his valise and bent over to look for the jar of vaseline at the bottom. As he looked at her taut, spread buttock cheeks he peered closely at the diaphanous material of the panties and could make out the shape of her anus and thought how exciting it would be to give her an enema.
"Mommy, did you get enemas from your mother?" he said.
"Oh yes, darling, until I was much older than you are," she answered, finding the vaseline and putting it on the sink while she filled the bowl with warm water and sloshed a bar of soap around in it. "In fact I give myself enemas even now if I don't feel good."
"Can I watch you take one some time?" he said daringly.
"Why what an impertinent question that is. Of course you can't and I want you to apologize immediately, young man," she said angrily. "And tomorrow when I unpack I'm going to look for my special strap and you're going to get a taste of it, do you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Now apologize!"
"I'm sorry," he said. He knew he had gone too far and cursed himself for inviting a spanking with her belt which hurt much more than her hand did.
"All right, come here," she said, sitting on the toilet seat after hooking the enema bag upside down over the sink. She held the black nozzle in her hand.
He began to rub his hands in his eyes, pretending to cry while instead he was actually stalling to get another peek at her long, shapely, stocking-covered legs and her panties before getting over her lap.
"Now why are you crying?" she said.
" 'Cause you're mad at me," he sobbed.
"No I'm not, Tim," she said. "Now come on, get across my knees for your enema."
"But you're going to spank me with your strap tomorrow," he wailed, "and it'll hurt."
"All right," she smiled. "If you promise not to be bold like that again, I'll let you off this time."
"I promise," he said, rubbing his eyes and gazing once more at the way the tops of her nylons hugged the lush roundness of her thighs.
"But I still think you're a little faker who can turn tears on and off faster than Sarah Bernhardt," she laughed, taking his pajama bottoms down and drawing him to her right side and down across her lap.
"Who's Sarah Bernhardt?" he demanded.
"Never mind," she said. "I'll tell you later. Now you have to get this enema and get to bed."
His head hung down over her left side and as he felt her fingers spread the cheeks of his bottom and he drank in the sight and fragrance of her from this unique and intimate point of view. He could see the way the fleshy undersides of her thighs rolled slightly over the constriction of the tops of her nylons and from the corner of his eye he could just catch a glimpse of the way the crotch of her panties disappeared upwards between her legs.
Turning the other way he could see her firm, shapely calves, and the way the nylon hugged them as it extended down past her slim ankles and into her black, high-heel, patent-leather pumps.
He smelled the delicate perfume she always wore, but there was another fragrance mixed in, one which he dimly recognized. It seemed to be the odor of her body but it wasn't like the smell of sweat she sometimes had after a long, hot afternoon of tennis. He was puzzled and excited by it but after the unfortunate question he had asked about watching her take an enema he knew another slip meant a strapping for sure.
As her free hand held his buttocks apart he could feel her fingers spreading the thick vaseline around his tiny brown anus, making sure it was completely covered so the enema nozzle would slip in easily. Finally, she stuck one finger into the small opening, sliding it through the clenched muscles and lubricating his anal walls. His slender, muscular body went stiff with pleasure and he could feel his penis hardening against her thigh as the round tip of it rubbed against the soft, smooth material of her stocking top.
Now she rested her open palm lightly on the cheeks, of his behind, caressing them affectionately.
"You have such a sweet little bottom," she said gently. "I must say I love to give you an enema because it gives me an excuse to fondle it the way I did when you were a baby."
He squirmed with pleasure across her soft lap, feeling his bare stomach rubbing over the top of her other stocking.
"In fact, young man, I even secretly enjoy it when I have to take your pants down and spank you," she said. "Your little cheeks are gorgeous when they're all red and rosy, like ripe tomatoes. But I'd better get this enema over with."
Again she spread his buttocks open and he felt the round, hard tip of the nozzle slide into his anus and up his rectum and then the warm, soapy water began to flow into him. His erection was completely stiff now and he could feel it quivering between her thighs as she shifted position and drew her knees together under him.
"You little devil," she smiled. "You're hard as a rock, aren't you? Shame on you."
He could tell she wasn't serious and he was secretly proud of the stiffness of his penis. He was showing his mother that he was a man instead of just a little boy.
"I'm going to be so jealous of your wife when you grow up and finally get married," she sighed, keeping the hard-rubber nozzle in his rectum and letting the soothing water flow into him. "And you'll probably be as good in bed as your father was."
"What do you mean, mommy?" he said.
"Oh you'll find out soon enough, sweetheart," she laughed. "How does that feel? Are you all full of water?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
She cut off the flow of soapy water and pulled the nozzle out of his anus. The feel of the narrow shaft between his anal walls had been a pleasant experience and the sucking sensation of its withdrawal made him shiver with sexual tension. She gave his bottom a light, loving smack and set him on his feet.
"All right, darling," she said, "now sit on the toilet and let all the water out of your sweet little behind."
She got up and lifted the cover and he sat on the seat and expelled the soapy water in a rushing stream.
"How does that feel, Timmy?" she said, stroking the side of his face and running her fingers through his hair. The crotch of her panties was at eye-level to him and he could see her sunshine yellow triangle pushing delectably against the gossamer material of the bikini panties. He wanted to reach out and touch the springy mound or kiss it or rub his cheek against it, but he didn't dare, remembering how close he had come to a spanking earlier.
"I feel a lot better, mommy," he said. "Thank you for giving me the enema. It felt real good."
"You see, darling? Mommy always knows what's best for her precious little boy," she said. "And I see you're not so little any more. Your penis is getting very long, just like a man's, and it's all cute and hard and wet at the end. I suppose I shouldn't let you see me in just my panties and bra any more, you're getting too old for that."
"Oh no, mommy," he said. "I love to see you dressed like that. And you don't have to worry about me getting married to some dumb old girl. When I grow up I want to marry you and take care of you. I'll be real rich when I get big.
Grandma Clayborn said so. And I'm going to be President some day. And then I'll take care of you and buy you anything you want."
"You're such a sweet boy," she said caressing his cheek. "But in a few days I'll have a man to take care of me. Pericles will be my husband and he'll be your stepfather and he'll take care of both of us."
"I don't want him to," Timmy said. "I want to be your husband and look after you."
How sweet that would be, if only you could, Claire thought. Or if only your father had lived. Oh Roger, how I miss you, how much I still love you. Pericles is sweet but he's not the man you were, despite the lovely, naughty things he's taught me to do in bed.
"We'll see, Tim," she said. "Are you all through?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
"All right. Wipe your bottom and come in and get into bed," she ordered. "And no more nonsense."
"Yes'm," he said. "Will you still stay with me for a little while?"
"All right," she said as he stood up and wiped himself, then pulled up his pajama bottoms and flushed the toilet. "But I want you to go right to sleep or it will mean a good spanking."
"Yes, mommy," he said, going in the bedroom and lying on the bed on top of the bedspread.
"Get under the covers," she said.
"I'm too hot," he said. "I want to stay like this. With you beside me."
"All right," she laughed, lying beside him and putting her arms around him.
"Oh mommy," he said. "I hurt between my legs."
"Where?" she said suspiciously.
"Right here, under my thing."
Oh dear, she thought, he's had a hard-on for quite a long time and his little balls are aching. I guess I'd better help him.
"All right, Tim darling," she said gently, taking some kleenex from a box on the night table. "I'm going to do something I've never done before. You're quite a big boy now and you have a hard-on and it's hurting you. I'm going to massage your little penis until you have an orgasm and spurt your semen out of the hole in the end. Now when you're about to come I want you to tell me so I can catch your sperm in these kleenex."
"What's 'come', mommy?"
"Well, you just tell me when you feel very, very excited, when your body feels all trembling and shaky, all right?"
"Yes, mommy," he said obediently.
She took his throbbing erection in her hand, lying beside him, and began to manipulate it, running her palm up and down its length. It felt small and sweet in her hand and she had to resist the impulse to bend down and kiss it and take it in her mouth and bring him to a climax with her lips, the way she had done so often with Roger.
Tim felt himself go stiff with excitement as his mother massaged him. He could smell her delicate yet earthy fragrance and feel the softness of her hand massaging him and feel her presence on the bed next to him. Best of all he could see her, see the lovely, firm white breasts swelling over the top of her brassiere and the delicious way her panties clung to her, emphasizing the triangular, honey-colored mound of fur between her legs. His little white shaft was trembling and shuddering with pleasure as she worked her hand faster and faster over it and he felt himself pressing forward, arching his back, instinctively trying to get nearer to the gorgeous woman who was giving him so much pleasure, trying somehow to get his body between her legs where his basic, primal passion told him it should be.
Suddenly he felt an overpowering rush between his legs, as though he suddenly had to go to the bathroom, but it was infinitely stronger and more urgent and he felt tremors of heat shooting through him like electricity.
"Oh mommy," he gasped. "I ... I think ... I think it's happening ... Oooooohhhhhhh...."
Quickly Claire bunched the kleenex around the trembling little knob at the head of his erection and almost immediately a stream of white juice came coursing out of him.
"Uh ... uh ... uh ... oooooo ... ooohhhhhh..." he moaned as the spurting continued, soaking the kleenex and spilling over into his mother's hand. His bottom was flexed and his lean hips rotated with each fresh jet-like spash until finally there were only sticky white drops falling from the small opening and his penis softened and began to go limp.
Claire got a handful of fresh kleenex and wiped off the head of his diminishing shaft and cleaned her own hand and then threw the kleenex away. Unable to resist the soft, wet, flower-like little tendril between his legs she bent over and kissed, taking it for a moment or two in her mouth and licking it clean with her tongue.
"Oh mommy, it felt so good!" he enthused.
"Can we do it again sometime?"
"We'll see, sweetheart," she whispered. "But now you must go to sleep."
She stood up and he noticed that the tiny patch of nylon covering the area between her thighs was darker than the rest of the panty material, as though it were damp. She turned out the bed lamp and whispered goodnight to him.
"Mommy," he said softly, in the dark.
"Timothy, if I have to turn on that light again it will mean a very hard spanking for you and right now," she said.
"I ... I just wanted to ask you something," he said meekly.
"All right, what is it?"
"Since I have to sleep here all by myself could you ... could you leave your underpants with me, to keep under my pillow?"
Claire didn't know whether to be shocked at the request and to discipline her son, or to be touched. Following her tenderest maternal instinct she slipped the bikini panties down over her bottom and past her thighs and ankles, letting them drop to the floor and stepping out of them. She picked them up and handed them to him. She noticed that the crotch was moist with her vaginal juices and realized that she had been excited by what she had done to her son.
"Oh thank you, mommy," he said contentedly, slipping the wispy silk garment under his cheek and curling up in a peaceful little ball on the bed. "Good night. I love you."
"And I love you, Timmy, very much," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, tears welling in her eyes. She was glad she hadn't spanked him.
He could barely make out the soft, round shape of his mother's buttocks as she turned her back to him and slipped into her dress.
He was half asleep, the strong, exciting scent of her filling his nostrils from the panties under his cheek, as she gently closed the bedroom door after her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Helen Carlisle's luxurious room at the Dorchester rang with the laughter of the three of them as they finished their second magnum of champagne and Nico got ready to pop the cork on the third. The cool, bubbly white wine had gone to their heads and they were all slightly giddy.
As soon as the waiter had left after bringing the last huge bottle of Dom Parignon, Helen had suggested that they all relax and take off their outer clothing. She put a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign outside the door and then locked it from the inside just to make sure they were left alone. She and Priscilla had slipped out of their dresses and Nico, blushing and protesting, was finally made to strip down to his tight, brief jockey shorts.
"You've certainly grown up, young man, "Priscilla said admiringly. "Especially down there. In fact you still seem to be growing. It's getting bigger by the second."
Helen had showered and changed after the plane trip and her lingerie was pale blue, with matching see-through bikini panties, a thin garter belt with long, slender garters, and flesh-colored nylons which hugged her full, shapely legs.
Priscilla's outfit was all black, with a garter belt made of shiny satin and black garters supporting her darkly-tinted nylons. The most striking thing about her was the garment she wore as panties. It was much smaller than even Helen's tiny bikini, little more than a G-string, and her bushy blonde pubic triangle bulged saucily over the top of it. In back the cleavage between her large, bouncing buttocks was only half covered and underneath the narrow strip of material twin rolls of luscious flesh at the bottom of her ample cheeks protruded deliciously, jiggling and vibrating as she moved around the room.
Neither woman wore a brassiere and their generous breasts jutted out as firmly and delightfully as a teenager's.
Nico, flushed from head to toe, and thoroughly aroused by the two gorgeous women dressed only in the flimsiest of lingerie, was in the process of getting a huge erection. His white jockey shorts bulged out in front like a snow-covered tent and both Priscilla and Helen watched his discomfiture with the greatest amusement.
"All right, Nico," Helen said at last. "I think it's time we saw your hard-on without those shorts in the way. Strip them off."
"Oh no," Nico said, shaking his head. "I'm keeping them on."
"Nico, do as I say!" Helen said. There was just a hint of no-nonsense strictness in her tone.
"Aw, come on, Helen," he said. "Have a heart. I'm embarrassed."
"You certainly didn't teach him to mind very well," Helen chided Priscilla, laughing.
"Well I only had him for one day. I could have taught him how to obey, but then he wouldn't have known how to fuck and I thought that was more important. He needs someone like you to teach him the proper respect," Priscilla said. They were both teasing Nico and he only blushed a deeper shade of red and got more of an erection.
"Cut it out, both of you," he pleaded.
"I've got an idea, Helen," Priscilla said, emptying her champagne glass and refilling it from the new magnum. "If he won't take his shorts off by himself, let's take them off for him."
"No!" Nico said. "I won't let you."
"That's a marvelous idea, Priscilla," Helen said, laughing.
Together the women got up from their chairs and advanced on the boy who was sitting on the couch. They came around the coffee table, one on one side and one on the other to prevent him from escaping. He pressed against the back of the couch and put his hands up to defend himself.
"Grab his arm, Priscilla," Helen said. "I'll take care of him from this side."
"Stop it!" Nico said. "I'm not going to take my underpants off and that's that."
"Oh yes you are!" Priscilla said, grabbing him by the arm on her side and pinning his shoulder to the back of the couch. Helen grabbed his other arm and the two of them moved in on the thrashing boy. Soon they had him helpless, with his shoulders pinned to the couch and Priscilla's ample body seated across his lap to keep him from moving his legs. He could feel the large, fleshy cheeks of her bottom against his thighs and his erection swelled to its maximum length.
All three of them were breathless from the struggle and giggling by now, Nico in spite of himself.
"Oh oh," Priscilla said. "How are we going to pull them off with me flopped across his lap like this?"
"You're not going to get them down," Nico said. "That's how."
"Here," Helen said. "Take hold of his other arm and I'll start pulling them off and when I get them over his hips you lift your bottom and I'll jerk them right down."
"Right you are," Priscilla said, grabbing the arm that Helen released before Nico could use it in his defense.
Priscilla's bare breasts were pressed like squashed melons against Nico's chest and he could feel them swelling and the nipples growing firm and erect against his naked skin.
"Still like them?" she teased, taking the opportunity to press her lips against his and steal a quick kiss.
"You know I still like them," Nico said, trying to sound annoyed. "And don't kiss me while you're trying to pull my shorts down."
"You're lucky I don't put you across my knees and take them down for something else, young man," she said. "All these years and not one letter. Not even a post card."
"I told you I was sorry," Nico said miserably, still ashamed of himself for his neglect.
"Sony's not enough now," she chided. "You have to show me your nice hard cock so I can see how much it's grown."
"Oh no!" he protested, starting to thrash around with renewed energy as Helen got the tight-fitting shorts down over his bottom.
"Now when I count to three, Priscilla, you lift up and I'll pull them off," Helen said. "One ... Two ... THREE!"
Nico jerked and struggled but Priscilla kept him pinned to the couch, at the same time lifting her buttocks. This caused her ample breasts to push even harder against Nico's chest and the sensuous flesh pressing against him sent a shiver of delight coursing through him, distracting him just enough for Helen to pull the shorts all the way down his legs and off. She held them up triumphantly, like a flag, and Priscilla sat back on his lap, adjusting saucily so that his throbbing shaft was caught between her two ample thighs.
"Mmmmmmmmm..." she sighed. "Oh Nico, you have grown. Oh darling, I can't wait for you to fuck me again."
"No!" Nico said, pouting. "I'm not going to fuck either of you unless you give me back my shorts."
"Now listen to me, young man," Helen said in her no-nonsense voice. "I've had enough of this false modesty. Priscilla and I want you with your shorts off and that's the way you're going to stay, do you understand?"
"Oh all right," he grumbled.
"What was that?"
"I mean 'Yes, ma'am,' " he said meekly. "Say, you do seem to be the one who can teach this young scamp some manners, Helen!" Priscilla marveled. "I think you're going to be very good for him."
"He just needs a little firmness now and then. He's really a very good boy," Helen said.
"Hey, I'm being selfish. You got his shorts down and you haven't even seen his hard, lovely cock yet," Priscilla said, getting off of Nico's lap.
"Oh my goodness!" Helen exclaimed, looking down at Nico's erect rod. "He is a man. Why Nico, darling, that's one of the largest, most perfectly formed cocks I've ever seen."
"Don't you say 'thank you' to a compliment, you insolent young wretch?" Priscilla chided, laughing.
"I'm sorry. Thanks, Helen," he said. By now he was blushing a deep shade of crimson he was so embarrassed.
"I think after all that work we need a little relaxation," Helen said. "First we'll have another glass of champagne and then we'll figure out what this young man can do to amuse us."
"How do you know I'll go along with it?" Nico said with a mischievous grin.
"You'd better go along with it," Helen said, fixing him with a mean-business look. "If you expect to be sitting down some time during the next week, that is."
"Well, I'll see," Nico said, teasing her deliberately.
They all sipped their champagne, toasting each other and enjoying each other's company. Helen and Priscilla had taken to each other immediately, from the moment they had first been introduced in the restaurant. Nico had found Priscilla at her flat, taking the night off. She had squealed with delight at the sound of his voice and then had launched into a scathing dressing down for his failure to write. But she had agreed at once to meet them and in less than an hour the three of them were chatting happily over Cognac in the restaurant. When they got to Helen's hotel room they were like three old friends and despite Nico's shyness he adored both of the breathtaking older women.
"Well now," Helen said, setting down her glass. "What games can we play. And remember, they should be educational to teach this impudent young man some manners." The last was said with a definite twinkle in her eye and Nico thought he saw her wink at Priscilla.
"A customer of mine ... a member of the House of Commons, by the way ... does something I adore. He has me dress up in nylons, just the way I am now, and he has me take off my heels and then he runs his tongue and his hands and even his cock over my stockings, from thigh to toe. He loves it and I must admit, from the woman's point of view, it's a lovely sensation. It makes you feel adored, worshipped in a way, and I get very hot when he does it." Priscilla said.
"Taht sounds wonderful to me," Helen said. "It's a stocking fetish, really a very mild and common deviation and one I find quite delightful. Actually, every man who's ever turned to look at a woman's skirt hiked up as she gets out of a car is something of a stocking fetishist. And that takes in most men in the world, I would stand for any more grumbling or any kind of nonsense whatsoever from you for the rest of the evening so just give me a serious answer."
"Yes, ma'am," Nico grinned. "And it sounds pretty good to me. After all, you two have about the most beautiful sets of legs I've ever seen, and with stockings on..." He gave them each an exaggerated leer.
"Remember!" Helen warned. "No nonsense."
"What'll I do?" Nico said.
"We'll take off our shoes and sit on the couch and you can kneel in front of us and just do what comes naturally," Priscilla said. "If you get stuck I'll give you instructions."
"The way you did the first time?" Nico smiled.
"Yes," Priscilla said, fondly remembering their first session together. "The way I did the first time."
The two women sat side-by-side on the couch and Nico kneeled on the floor between them.
"It'll be even more fun for me if the two of you take your panties off now," Nico said, gazing up at the two beauties.
"Well we can hardly refuse after what we did to him," Helen grinned.
"Let's let him take them off," Priscilla suggested.
"All right," Nico said. "But you won't struggle will you?"
"No," Helen said. "We like having our panties pulled down. We're not as shy as you are."
Nico gave her a sheepish look and reached up to hook his hands in the elastic of her panties, peeling them down over her bottom and pulling them past her lush thighs and her sleek, nylon-covered calves. He couldn't resist glancing at her fluffy, auburn-colored shock of curly pubic hair which nestled delightfully in the center of her wide lap and angled up over the lower part of her smooth stomach. Then he pressed the flimsy garment to his face, sniffing the crotch and inhaling her sweet, strong fragrance.
This pleased Helen and she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the lips and reached down at the same time and ran her fingers tantalizingly over his erect penis.
Now the boy turned his attention to the statuesque Priscilla, gripping the sides of the tiny strip of satin which served in the place of her panties and drawing them easily over her wide hips and down to mid-thigh, stopping to admire her full crop of butter-colored fur which sprouted like shiny corn silk from between her round, solid thighs.
Getting her panties off he raised them to his face and inhaled their musky, perfumed fragrance the way he had Helen's.
"Mmmmmmmm..." Nico sighed "I can't decide which of you smells sweeter."
He looked up at them and gave them an impudent grin.
"Well if you decide you'd better not say it," Priscilla laughed.
"That's right, you little brat," Helen chided. "Don't try 'divide and conquer' tactics with us or we'll 'divide and conquer' you. Now run your tongue over the crotch of Priscilla's panties and then get back to work. I'm getting very horny and I'm already soaking wet between my thighs."
"Yes, ma'am," Nico obeyed. He turned the wispy black garment inside out and began to lick the material which had only moments before been pressed tight against Priscilla's tender vulva lips. The panties were moist and he could taste the sweet, sharp flavor of her vaginal juices. Reluctantly he dropped them on the carpet next to Helen's and then shifted his attentions once more to the statuesque female psychiatrist.
. "It's not really fair that he start with me," Helen protested generously. "You're as hot as I am, Priscilla."
"That's all right, Helen," Priscilla said, patting her thigh. "You're a visitor in London so I'll be a good hostess and give you first crack, so to speak, at our young friend. If you can loan me the use of his hand while he's tonguing you I can put it to good use."
"Speaking of hands," Helen said, giving Priscilla a look charged with electric suggestion, "yours felt lovely on my thigh."
Priscilla returned her friend's openly erotic gaze, running the tip of her tongue over her lips before answering.
"It felt good to me, too, Helen. Very good. I think we can play some other games after this one that we both might find very enjoyable," Priscilla said.
"Hey, you two, what about me?" Nico said, feeling oddly jealous of the intimacy between the two gorgeous women he adored. He had no experience with lesbianism and couldn't figure out what the two of them had in mind, but for some reason he sensed that for a moment he had been excluded from their thoughts and it bothered him because he craved attention from them both. Helen gave him a sharp look and with a cat-like quickness leaned forward and administered a stinging slap to his bare bottom, exactly as an annoyed mother would do when interrupted by her child.
"Owwww!" Nico said, rubbing the spot where the spank had been delivered. "What was that for?"
"For interrupting us, Nico," Helen said. "When Priscilla and I are talking you wait until we're finished before speaking, is that understood?"
Nico looked over to Priscilla for sympathy but she shook her head, saying: "Helen is absolutely right, Nico. After all, both of us are old enough to be your mother and you should show the proper respect. So don't come crying to me just because you've been disciplined."
"Nico!" Helen said, a warning note once again in her voice. "I asked you if you understood what I said? Or would another whack make it clearer to you?"
"No!" Nico protested, moving his buttocks over out of her reach. "I understand. I'm sorry. I promise I won't interrupt again, Helen."
"All right, then you can start with me and give Priscilla one of your hands."
"Yes, ma'am," Nico said, bending over and pressing his mouth to her thigh, just above the stocking top. He began to kiss and lick and nuzzle the soft, pliant skin, inhaling her rich fragrance at the same time, inching his way don-ward until he encountered the smooth, tight, flesh-colored nylon. Now he turned his head back and forth, rubbing his face and his cheeks over the exciting material, feeling her garter press into his skin.
Meanwhile, Priscilla edged closer to Helen until their arms, hips and thighs were touching, sending a shiver through the voluptuous bodies of them both. Helen opened her thighs even further and leaned her head against the back of the couch, feeling the ecstasy of Nico's mouth and tongue and Priscilla's touch. She put her hand on Priscilla's ample, firm thigh this time, tightening it over the tantalizing flesh as her excitement mounted.
"Ohhhhhhh, Nico," she sighed. "That feels marvelous. Don't stop."
Priscilla took Nico's right hand and guided it between her own thighs, up into the warm, wet nest of her pubic triangle and then against her swollen, shining vulva lips. She closed her legs, trapping him, and he began to move his fingers, pretending to be trying to free himself.
Nico's mouth was on the inside of Helen's thigh now, and she raised her knee and put her stockinged heel on the edge of the couch so that he could get at the underside of her stocking top. But the move made her crotch so provocative that he couldn't resist reaching up and pressing his lips against her vagina, darting his tongue inside and drawing the tip around the glistening pink edge of her vulva lips.
Helen moaned with excitement and gripped Priscilla's thigh even more tightly.
Priscilla opened her thighs and Nico's fingers spread apart, the first two sliding softly and easily into her vaginal opening and working around toward her clitoris.
Now Nico's head was back between Helen's stocking tops, licking the other thigh on the inside. Helen raised her left foot and supported it on the edge of the couch and Nico worked his mouth underneath, running his tongue along the border between flesh and nylon.
Priscilla's hips moved back and forth, rotating against Nico's fingers which were pressed inside her and the added stimulation of Helen's hand gripping her thighs made her shudder with eroticism.
With both of Helen's feet up on the edge of the couch and her large, round thighs spread apart, Nico was able to bring his left hand up between her buttock cheeks and slip his finger through the tightly-clenched center of her anus, pressing gently at first against the puckered brown center and then easing insistently inside as she thrust and strained to take him.
"Ooohhhhhhh," Helen groaned, feeling the finger enter her and move up her rectum. "Oh my God, Nico, I love that."
By now Nico's head was between her knees, as he licked and kissed the nylon, gently biting the sensitive area at the bottom of one thigh, then moving down her round calves, massaging one with his mouth, then moving across to the other.
Priscilla's whole body was shaking and jerking as Nico's hand caressed her stiff clitoris, rotating around the edge, then brushing lightly across the top, driving her wild with each maneuver. His hand was soaking wet from her vaginal juices and he could feel his skin begin to stick to the inside of one thigh.
With his mouth he began to tongue and nuzzle Helen's silken ankles, rubbing his cheek against them and lightly kissing them, then working down to the toes of one foot, opening his mouth and taking them inside, running his tongue along the underside of them.
He withdrew his finger from her anus and massaged her thighs with his hand, easing the fingers inside the nylon stocking tops of first one leg and then the other, rubbing his sensitive palm over the garter snaps.
Now he was licking the soles of Helen's feet, kissing the heel, then the arch, working forward until he could lick the little ridge under her toes, smelling and tasting and feeling and then moving his head over to the other foot and taking it in his mouth and gently biting, then moving around and underneath and pressing his nose into the nyloned arch and against the soft, smooth heel.
Shifting his knees Nico pressed his left hand into Helen's crotch, making her moan and tremble as she covered his hand with hers and guided his fingers into the soft, wet darkness of her vagina. He moved his head between Priscilla's large thighs now and pressed his lips against the sweet pinkness of her vulva opening, flicking his tongue inside and running the tip of it across her clitoris.
"Oh, God, Nico darling, to have your lovely face pressed against my snatch again and to feel your lips against my pussy and your tongue deep inside me, just like when you were a little boy ... oh, darling, it's heaven. I can't wait to have you fuck me one more time. Oh hurry, Nico, run your mouth over my stockings. I can't wait," she whimpered. "I can't wait."
He worked his mouth down the inside of one thigh, his lips sliding over the smooth, marble-white skin and his tongue licking the softness of her, tasting the sticky wetness of her vaginal juices which soaked the entire area between her legs.
As he reached her stocking tops and began to move around the edge, half of his mouth covering the silky-smooth nylon and the other half on bare, supple skin, Priscilla felt Helen's hand slide upwards over her thigh and brush across her soaking, butter-hued pubic thatch, wet and matted and springy from the vaginal dew. Then the other woman's fingers began slowly working downward into the pulsating crevice of her vagina, separating the lips with her thumb and forefinger and sliding the long, smooth middle finger between them.
"Oh Helen, thank you, my sweet. That's just what I needed, a soft, smooth, feminine finger in my cunt while Nico's tongue licks my stockings. It's marvelous. Thank you," Priscilla moaned gratefully.
Now Nico took one of Priscilla's legs and propped it up on his shoulder which enabled him to move his mouth around under it and kiss and nuzzled the underside of her thigh. Repeating the process with her other leg he found himself kneeling in front of her with both of her legs straight out, supported by his shoulders, so that by turning his head one way or the other he would fondle and orally caress either of her tightly-stretched nylons, and by shifting back slightly on his knees he could move downwards toward her stockinged feet.
As Helen watched Nico with Priscilla's legs on his shoulders and his head busily working its way down toward her ankles, she could feel his fingers inside her vagina, going in and out and brushing up against her stiff clitoris. Withdrawing her fingers from between Priscilla's legs she leaned forward and to her left, bending her face downward until it was nestled in Priscilla's ample lap, one cheek cushioned by the sticky mound of wet yellow fur and her nose burrowing between the gorgeous blonde prostitute's round, supple thighs.
Stretching her tongue she found the beginning of Priscilla's vaginal crevice and eased the tip in between the eager, pulsating lips, tasting the honey-textured juices as they came pouring out of the sweet-smelling valley and wet Helen's tongue and lips.
"Oh God, Helen, yes! Eat my cunt ... stick your tongue inside my steaming pussy and run it over my clit. It feels so marvelous, darling," she purred. No Nico, sweetheart. Don't stop licking me down there. It's heaven to have the two of you at once."
Nico had stopped licking Priscilla's calves and ankles to look up and see what Helen was doing with her mouth. Again he felt a pang of jealousy to see that the two women he loved so much could arouse and satisfy each other without his help. But he didn't dare to protest or say anything to distract them, remembering what he got when he had simply interrupted a conversation. A second offense would probably be rewarded with a much, longer, more painful, and more humiliating spanking this time, and he didn't really look forward to the prospect of having one of his lovely mistresses punish him in front of the other.
He bent back to the delightful task at hand and took one of Priscilla's stockinged feet as far into his mouth as he could, running his tongue underneath along the sole and feeling her wiggle her toes, tickling his throat. Then he took her other foot and held it straight out, rubbing his face and his open mouth along the sole, smelling and tasting, nuzzling soft nylon with his downy young cheek.
At last he began working back up her leg, eager to join Helen and taste Priscilla's crotch again. But he stopped at her stocking-top once more, running his tongue under the filmy material which clung so tightly and intimately to her leg and feeling her garter strap and fastener pressing into the flesh of his face.
"Oh dear, thank you ... both of you," Priscilla sighed as she reached a grateful hand down to caress Nico's cheek. He was looking up at her, hoping to be praised for the way he had licked and kissed the blonde girl's legs and as she gazed fondly into his eyes she said:
"You did an absolutely marvelous job, Nico darling, and once again I'm proud of you. By now you're on the threshold of manhood and some woman is going to want to die of pleasure when she shares your bed as your wife. You know more about making a woman happy than most men ever do in their lives. You're wonderful, darling boy."
Helen straightened up and licked the vaginal juices from her lips and her cheeks.
"He did a fantastic job on me, too, Priscilla. I must compliment you on the way you've taught this young man how to consider not only a woman's physical being but her emotional nature as well. He's kind and thorough and gentle and he's going to make a splendid man," Helen said as Nico beamed. "Of course he's got a few manners to learn yet, but a few stiff doses of old-fashioned discipline will bring him around.
This last was to deflate Nico slightly after all the praise he was receiving. It was part of Helen's psychology to praise and punish, reward and discipline, in fairly equal proportions and it seemed to be working wonders with Nico. The slap she had given him across the bottom earlier had been remarkably effective and had made the boy himself snap out of his childish mood and enjoy the fetish session with the two women much more than he would've if she'd taken the easy way and left him undisciplined. Now she was balancing her approval with a subtle but nonetheless clear and meaningful admonition to mind his manners or risk being treated like a little boy again in front of Priscilla. The submissive way he lowered his eyes told her he had taken the warning to heart and was going to behave. The treatment was working so well, in fact, that she pondered the notion of bringing about a confrontation herself and then taking him across her knees and administering a hard, no-nonsense spanking right there in front of Priscilla. The other woman's presence would lend an element of humiliation that would do the young man a world of good and the fact that Priscilla loved him would make the correction not so humiliating as it would be in front of a stranger. Helen knew from past experience that a spanking administered in front of a witness was ten times as effective as one given in private and she wondered when the opportunity would present itself again to reach Nico an invaluable lesson without harming him psychologically.
Nico must have read her mind because he looked up into her eyes and said:
"I'll be good. You won't have to punish me again, Helen. Honest."
"All right, darling," she said, smiling. "Actually you have been very good except for a little pouting at the beginning and one display of bad manners. But you carried out your task beautifully and I'm going to let you do it again sometimes soon."
"Great!" Nico said enthusiastically. "I loved doing it, and I love making the two of you happy."
"Why, Nico?" Priscilla teased.
The young man looked at the floor and blushed profusely.
"Answer Priscilla, darling," Helen admonished.
"Because ... because I love you both and wish we could all stay together like this. Always," he said.
"That's a lovely sentiment, sweetheart," Priscilla said, highly moved. She reached out and stroked his head.
Helen leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and Nico felt proud and manly and thought that at that moment, with these two breathtaking, exotic, loving women he must be the happiest boy on earth.
"I have another idea," Priscilla said. "I think it's about time we all had an orgasm and I know a way we can all come together."
"That sounds wonderful, Priscilla," Helen said. "I've come across a lot of cases of three-way fucking in my work but I've never participated."
"Well of course it's not possible for Nico to fuck us both," she said, giving Helen a knowing, meaningful look which she was sure the other woman would pick up. "So we'll have to do it in a slightly different way."
"What do you mean?" Nico said, puzzled.
"What she means, dear, is that while you're fucking one of us, me for example, I'll be doing something to her with my mouth which will make her come alone with us," Helen explained patiently.
Priscilla was relieved that Helen had gotten her signal and knew what she meant, because she was wild to feel Helen's skilled and experienced, and tender, lips pressing against her crotch again. As for Helen, she couldn't wait to bury her face once more in the prostitute's bountiful thatch of silky blonde hair and taste her vagina and feel the urgent probing of her eager clitoris.
"But I still don't understand," Nico protested.
"Hush, Nico," Helen said impatiently. "You're becoming tiresome and are heading for something you won't like to get in front of Priscilla. Now just do as you're told and you'll have a marvelous time and learn even more about the art of fucking."
"Yes, ma'am," Nico said meekly, still puzzled but definitely looking forward to the lesson he was going to get.
"Now Priscilla," Helen went on, looking at Priscilla in such a way that told the other woman that she understood completely what she had in mind. "What sort of arrangement were you thinking of?"
"Since I've already been fucked by Nico and you haven't, Helen," Priscilla said, barely able to keep her eyes away from the fetching psychiatrist's tender pink vulva lips, all wet and swollen with anticipation. "I suggest that you lie on the bed while Nico mounts you and gives you the kind of delicious fucking I taught him how to give and at the same time I'll kneel over your face and you can give my cunt and, if you'd like to, my ass-hole a good, thorough licking and sucking."
"Mmmmmmmmm..." Helen exclaimed.
"That sounds perfect. I adored the sample taste of your pussy I just got and I must admit I'm anxious to get my head down between those beautiful thighs again. And with Nico giving me a gorgeous fucking at the same time I'll be in heaven."
"Good," Priscilla smiled. "Let's get started then. Nico, you and I will position ourselves after Helen is comfortable on the bed. Here, in the meantime let me make sure your beautiful cock stays nice and hard for her." She got on her knees and took his erection between her two hands, rubbing it sensuously and then sliding her lips over its length, bringing her head back and forth and making his penis throb and quiver with delight.
Helen managed to tear her eyes from the delightful spectacle of the expert fellatio Priscilla was giving Nico and crossed to the bed, lying down on her back and getting comfortable.
"All right, I'm ready," she said, then in a teasing voice added: "If you make Nico come in your mouth before he gets a chance to fuck me, Priscilla, it'll be your lovely big bottom that'll be stretched out across my lap for a good spanking."
"That sounds like it might be lots of fun," Priscilla said, taking her mouth from Nico's pulsating shaft and giving Helen a saucy wink. Stroking Nico lovingly with her hand two or three more times she stood up and led him over to the bed.
Looking down on the voluptuous, auburn-haired psychiatrist stretched out on top of the crisp white sheets, Priscilla felt a tightness in her breasts and a pleasant aching sensation as they began to swell and the nipples started to harden.
Helen's breasts stood up like two magnificent white mounds, smooth and firm as marble, with round, pink flowers set in the centers. Her stomach was as lean and supple as a teenagers with just a touch of womanly swelling immediately under her navel, and below that her wealth of silken, auburn-colored pubic hair began, glistening with dew-like drops of moisture and matted down enticingly between her thighs from the vaginal juices that had been seeping from between her delectable vulva lips. Her thighs themselves were a triumph of womanly roundness and the firm, white flesh set against the pale, flesh-colored tint of her nylons sent chills up Priscilla's spine and she could almost taste the strong, sweet, musky flavor of Helen's vagina. She envied Nico his memory of kissing and licking this breathtaking goddess' stockings and vowed that before the evening was through she would run her mouth over the silken lengths of perfectly-filled nylon.
"All right, Priscilla, snap out of it. I can't wait to get Nico's big cock in my pussy and to press my lips against yours," Helen chided, laughing, but secretly thrilled by the worshipful and admiring way the blonde beauty looked at her.
Priscilla grinned down at Helen and then saw that Nico, too, was standing and looking at Helen's magnificent body as though hypnotized. She reached over and ran her hand lightly over the curve of the boy's buttocks, playfully inserting a finger in the valley between the cheeks and touching the tender flesh of his anus.
Nico snapped out of his reverie and smiled sheepishly.
"Now Nico," Priscilla said, "get into position between Helen's legs. You know exactly what to do and I'm counting on you to give her the fucking of her life. I'll be watching from time to time even though my back will be turned and if you don't make her scream with passion I'll be doing a little spanking of my own tonight."
"All right, Priscilla," Nico grinned. "I'll do everything exactly the way you taught me to,"
"Good," Priscilla said, kissing him on the lips, then climbing up on the bed and straddling Helen's face with her buttocks spread and pointed in Nico's direction.
Nico was kneeling beside Helen and he bent forward and tenderly ran his mouth over the exact spot where he thighs and her crotch came together, at the very base of her pubic triangle, at the same time gently spreading her legs and getting in between them, bending her knees so that the soles of her feet were flat on the sheets and her thighs were angled upward from her body.
Helen silently congratulated Nico for putting her in this position. It meant that the crevice between the cheeks of her bottom was spread wide enough for him to get his hand in and massage her anus and even put his finger into her rectum and move it around while he was making love to her. Often even the most experienced lovers neglected to do this and it meant that she missed some of the pleasure that the female partner in coitus is entitled to. She might have to punish Nico from time to time for his impudence but never for lack of ability or carelessness as a lover.
Above her Helen could see the opened lips of
Priscilla's luscious vagina, pink and wet and delectable, protected by the wealth of blonde pubic hair which grew down from below her firm stomach. The strong, healthy female fragrance was like a tonic to her and set her own juices to flowing even more rapidly than they had been. At the very moment that Priscilla's sopping wet vaginal crevice lowered over her mouth like an envelope Helen felt Nico's quivering erection slip a tantalizing half-inch between her vulva lips, teasing her by going up and down between the swollen walls of glistening pink flesh like the hand of a metronome, touching her clitoris and then moving down the length of the orifice, then back up again. She rotated her hips and arched her back, trying to impale herself on him, but at the same time she was concentrating on licking and sucking and sniffing the delicious morsel of erotic flesh that dominated her mouth.
Now she felt Nico plunge inside her, sliding his huge shaft into her vaginal tunnel like a sword, going in to the hilt in one firm thrust. It made her jump with pleasure and her sobbing moan was muffled by Priscilla's crotch as the blonde woman began moving back and forth, sliding her vulva lips up and down over Helen's open mouth.
Nico set a slow, sensual rhythm, thrusting in and out, drawing his stiff penis back until it was barely touching Helen's vagina, then pushing in until his pelvis banged up against her widely-spread crotch, causing her to moan and jerk with pleasure. As he pitched forward and back he noticed Priscilla's buttocks and the fully open valley between with the soft, light-brown skin and the gently-puckered flower of her anus completely exposed. Without losing a stroke he bent forward and pressed his mouth against the alluring target and felt Priscilla shudder with the unexpected and delicious surprise. His tongue darted in, forcing itself between the clenched muscles and he could taste the strong yet delicate flavor of her anal cavity.
Helen's face was completely drenched by Priscilla's luscious vaginal juices and she tried to take as much of the exotic liquid into her mouth as she could, letting it seep slowly down her throat as her tongue worked in and out of the blonde girl's womb rubbing over the head of her clitoris and massaging the sides of her soft vulva lips.
Now Nico straightened up again, but he extended his arm and inserted a finger into Priscilla's rapidly moving anus so that she would have the delightful feeling of being impaled on the erect digit each time she rotated backwards over Helen's mouth. At the same time he reached between Helen's taut buttock cheeks and slid the middle finger of his left hand into her tight anus, overcoming the natural resistance of the soft anal muscles and thrusting deep inside her rectum.
"Oh Helen, darling," Priscilla moaned. "Your mouth pressed against my cunt is the sweetest thing I've ever felt. Keep on licking my little clit, sweetheart baby, I adore it. Am I getting you to wet? I'm dripping like a fountain I'm so excited."
Nico was moving faster and faster now and the slapping of his stomach against Helen's pelvis was getting louder in the quiet room.
"Priscilla," he groaned, "I ... I think I'm getting ready to come and I feel Helen getting ready too."
Priscilla lifted her crotch up, enabling Helen to speak.
"Helen, darling," she said. "How is it? Are you nearly coming?"
"Oh yes, yes," Helen moaned. "I've been holding back because I thought you two weren't ready. I love to have my mouth between your legs sucking your lovely snatch but I can come anytime the two of you want to, gladly."
"Give my clit a few more strokes with your tongue, and Nico, keep your finger working in my ass-hole and I'll be ready in a few seconds," Priscilla said, her breath coming in short gasps.
Nico pressed his finger further into her rectum and began moving very rapidly in and out of Helen's vagina.
Helen worked her mouth against Priscilla's vulva lips with renewed energy, taking extra care to give her clitoris a thorough massaging as she felt Priscilla building to a point of crashing climax. At the same time she bucked and heaved against Nico like a woman possessed, jamming her spread vagina onto him like a sheath going over a spike, trying to manipulate her muscles so she could clutch him and hold him inside of her, but the walls of her vaginal tunnel were too wet and slick and he kept escaping, only to plunge back inside her again, each thrust bringing her nearer to her explosive orgasm.
Now Priscilla began to shudder with pleasure and she threw back her head like an animal baying at the moon and began to sob and moan.
"I'm coming! Oh God, I'm coming!" she cried, tears in her eyes.
Now Helen began to give a series of sharp, short cries, thrusting herself against Nico frantically, insanely, with strength she never knew she had as the white hot flood of lave came coursing down through her pelvic triangle, and as she lapped and sucked at Priscilla's vagina, swallowing the fragrant juices that spurted into her mouth, she felt her own juices flooding out between her vulva lips, engulfing Nico's shaft and overflowing against her thighs, washing like a mountain rapid over the plunging rod that still filled her and withdrew, filled her and withdrew.
Then she felt Nico's stiffness make one final withdrawal and then push inside her and stay, like the quivering shaft of an arrow, and as she had her fifth and sixth crashing orgasms Nico's steaming sperm jetted inside her like a bursting rocket, exploding again and again as his milky juices mixed with hers and came coursing out of her vaginal opening.
Priscilla, too, was having her sixth orgasm as Nico had his, and her sensual, rhythmic moans blended with his jerking, breathless male roaring as she arched her body, then raked it again across Helen's lapping, sucking mouth. She could feel Helen's orgasmic screams vibrating against her vaginal lips and it made them vibrate with the erotic sound.
Then, finally, the three of them had finished and lay gasping and exhausted, collapsed in a contented, sweating heap in each other's arms on the bed, trying to laugh from the joy and love they felt but too spent to do anything but gulp air into their lungs.
"Wow!" Priscilla finally managed, summing up as eloquently as possible what they all felt about the thundering experience they had just had. It was as if the individual pleasure each had enjoyed was multiplied by the presence of the other two partners and the profoundness and power of their common erotic ecstasy was beyond the capacity of just two partners to withstand. Somehow they all realized, without speaking of it to each other, that they were now bound together for life, that none of them would ever be satisfied with anything less than the other two again. It was as though Nico's adolescent sentiment had finally turned out to be a prediction of their common destiny.
They were a little frightened, awed by the soul-shattering power of their realization, and looked at one another rather shyly and hesitantly, each wondering if the other felt as he did.
"Well I guess I'm going to be getting all my spankings in front of Priscilla from now on," Nico said, breaking the ice with a sheepish grin.
"You certainly are, young man," Helen said. "We'd be fools to let this beautiful creature escape from us now."
"That goes for me, too," Priscilla laughed. "If you two think you're going to get away from me after that, you're in for a surprise. And I'm going to giving you a few of those spankings myself, Nico. We still haven't settled the matter of your not writing all these years."
"I think we've all learned something tonight, about ourselves and about our needs and about each other," Helen added sagely. "And most important we've learned about the power to love, and our capacity for love. I don't think any of us are ever going to be alone again. I think we've found out that we love each other and can't get alone without each other. And I think we're three very, very lucky people."
The smiles on the faces of Nico and Priscilla told her they agreed, and their looks of adoration indicated that she would be the dominant partner in the erotic triumvirate.
She felt as though she had been waiting all her life for just this moment.
CHAPTER SIX
Each time it was the same.
She was nude and helpless, her supple body limp and her knees trembling. She looked down at the tiles on the floor of the bathroom and she could see Pericles' bare foot on the closed seat of the toilet. His toenails needed manicuring. She felt completely submissive, a totally dependent sex object. If someone from the women's magazines could see her now they would not be able to believe their eyes. Still, it was the most satisfying sexual ritual she had ever experienced, even with Roger who had made love to her with skill, vigor and tenderness. But it had been straight, dull, conventional coitus ... the woman on her back with her legs apart, the man kneeling in front of her with his erect penis inserted in her vagina. Then lots of movement.
Certainly what Pericles had taught her on his yacht that time was bizarre, exotic, forbidden. But she had loved it and now it was the way they satisfied each other.
She felt his finger between the cheeks of her buttocks, spreading the vaseline around her anus. Next he would put his middle finger into her anal cavity and lubricate her rectum. God, how she adored it. The next thing would be the enema.
Claire Clayborn, once destined to be the First Lady of the United States, the idol of millions of American women and the secret object of their husbands' erotic daydreams, rich, beautiful, cosmopolitan, liberated, lay like a sack bent over the thick, strong, nude thigh of Pericles Vasilli-kos as he spread the cheeks of her bottom and prepared to give her an enema. It was to clean her out in preparation for the next step in their sensual charade, but she loved one aspect of their lovemaking as much as she loved the next. And so she eagerly looked forward to feeling the hard rubber nozzle slip inside her.
Bent over as she was, feeling his strength, she felt like a little girl across her father's knee waiting to be spanked. She wished one day Pericles would spank her, just so she could feel humiliated and degraded and feminine and sexy in another way. Not that she disliked what Pericles was about to do to her. Far, far from it. She adored it. But she would like to be beaten, like a true Mediterranean wife, just to feel what it was like, to feel even more submissive than she did now. No one had ever spanked her, not her father and not Roger. She wanted to feel a strong, relentless male hand cracking across her bare bottom. She knew he spanked his daughter, Tina, because he had described to her in great detail one day a thrashing he had administered just the previous evening to the uncovered buttocks of the dark-eyed beauty. She had secretly thrilled as he related to her what he had done and how Tina had reacted. Shortly after that he had introduced her to the forbidden pleasures of what he called "Greek love", a passion that was ancient in the time of the original Pericles and had survived the collapse of civilizations.
She felt the enema nozzle slip into her anus and she tensed with pleasure, giving a little shiver. And she felt the moisture begin to form between her legs, in her pubic area, making the very tops of her thighs sticky and then the first wafting traces of her vaginal fragrance drifted up into her nostrils. With Roger she had been ashamed of her strong, feminine odor and had tried to hide it with creams and lotions and sprays, but Pericles adored it, loved to burrow between her legs and inhale it, as though he were sniffing the most luxurious of gardens. In fact, he called it his garden as he stroked and kissed and fondled it.
The warm, soapy water flowed inside her and she relaxed, letting it take hold of her and soothe her.
"Is that enough, my pet?" Pericles said.
"I ... I think so," she said. "Maybe you'd better stop."
"Of course," he said, cutting off the flow of water and easing the nozzle out of her rectum. She felt as though it were a hard penis being withdrawn from her womb after expelling its soapy semen inside of her.
Pericles lifted the toilet seat and she sat down. Again, she'd never have dreamed of sitting on a toilet like this in front of Roger. But with Pericles it was the most natural thing in the world. He even enjoyed watching her, listening to the sound of the water being ejected from her body.
"Is it all out?" he said. She had forgotten in the weeks they had been apart how charming and sweet and solicitous his smile was.
"Yes," she said. She smiled up at him, loving him.
Later, she was on his huge bed, in the position he had placed her in, on her knees with her cheek low against the single, satin-covered pillow, her buttocks sticking up in the air in a way that Roger and the women's magazines would have found ridiculous and degrading. But she liked the feeling of degradation, of humiliation and helplessness, of submission to this strong, kindly man.
The cheeks of her bottom were taut and spread apart and her anus was completely vulnerable to him. Again he had the jar of vaseline and he was spreading it around her anal crevice, finally pushing one finger through the iris-shaped orifice which dominated the center and greasing the soft walls of her rectal passage.
Next she felt herself being eased over on her side and she knew it was time for her to rub the vaseline onto him. She caught her breath, as always, as she felt the thickness of his shaft. It was like the root of a gigantic tree, weathered and gnarled and strong as limber wood.
She took a large gob of the sticky jelly in one hand and with the first two fingers of the other spread it liberally over the huge, golf ball head of his rod, then down the length of it, luxuriating in the feel of his thick, wiry, tough pubic jungle at the base. She could feel him tense and grow even harder as her hand traveled up and down his erection, apportioning the gooey stuff generously over its thickness. She shuddered with delicious trepidation at the thought of taking all of that huge mass of cartilage and flesh into her narrow behind, and as always she felt a flutter of panic, afraid that she wouldn't be able to accommodate him and he would hurt her terribly, split her, tear her asunder.
"Pericles?"
"Yes, my sweet?" he said, straining to keep his voice under control. "Would you beat me."
"If you deserved it."
"Why haven't you ever beaten me."
"It hasn't been necessary,'-' he shrugged. "How would you do it?"
"I don't know, my darling. It would depend on the circumstances. Most likely on your pretty backside with a stick or with my hand."
"No man has ever hit me," she said.
"Americans," he said, as though that explained the whole thing.
"What do you mean?"
"Americans are obsessed by their mothers. They don't beat their wives because they think it would be an insult to their mothers," he said. "But of course that is foolishness. Women are happier when they are beaten. Wives, daughters, servants. They want to feel that a man is stronger than they are, which of course he is. They want to feel he can protect them when they are threatened. Therefore, a beating makes them feel more comfortable, even though they are sore for a few days. It tells them their man is strong, and it also tells them he cares enough about them to beat them and therefore he cares enough to beat anyone who threatens them. It is very primal. If you'd like I'll let you provoke me tomorrow and then we'll go off in the woods and I'll cut a switch and thrash you."
"Pericles."
"Yes, my sweet?"
"I think I'd like that," Claire said.
"Then we shall make a point of doing it. Tomorrow," he promised. "But for now we have more adult things to think about."
He took the satin pillow from under her head and brought it down to the middle of the bed. Knowing what to do without being told, Claire rolled over on top of it, on her stomach, with the pillow just under her pubic triangle, the bushy blonde hair rubbing up against the shiny, soft material, and her bottom raised up with the cheeks spread and her lubricated anus exposed.
She spread her legs.
She could feel him moving in behind her, on his knees. Then the huge head of his throbbing shaft was touching the sides of her anal crevice, rubbing up and down. She could feel lubricated surface moving against lubricated surface. Making love with him was like doing anything with him. Easy. No friction.
Then the large knob was touching the clenched muscles, testing the resistance, measuring her tenseness.
She felt the sudden flood of panic again. He would split her in two if he tried to put that thing into her. She had to resisit the urge to turn over on her side, roll off the bed, run.
Now he was pressing and straining, spreading the soft, comfortable, determined little muscles to make room for his vibrating rod. The vaseline helped, making everything slide, easing the force with which he persisted and shoved forward.
She felt him enter her, just the enormous tip of him at first, then more of him and still more until she thought she was dreaming and he would impale her like a victim of the Crusades. Then he stopped and he was completely filling her, more than filling her. She felt her anal muscles straining to take him stretching like rubber to be able to accept his stiff hugeness and thickness.
"How does it feel, my darling?" he said.
"Fine."
"Am I hurting you?"
"No. But don't be too fast at first," she said. "Let me get used to you."
"Of course, my darling," Pericles said.
He withdrew very slowly until just the tip of his erection was inside her, then pushed back in. It went in easier this time and she could feel his wiry pubic hair brush up against the tender cheeks of her buttocks. The hardness of his penis filled her and she felt her anal muscles close around his enormous shaft, gripping it and trying to draw it deeper inside her rectum. Every nook of her dark tunnel was touching him, gripping him, and she loved this quiet feeling before the storm, with him nestled inside her, not moving, only vibrating when she contracted her muscles to feel him even more.
"I ... I think it's all right now," she said. "I think I'm stretched enough."
"Do you want me to say the words?"
"Oh yes, darling," she murmured, "tell me how you're fucking me."
He began to move in and out of her now, each time with greater facility as her muscles expanded to take him and then contracted around him when he was completely inside her. As he increased the speed and urgency of the thrusts Claire felt his firm stomach muscles slapping against her bottom and his pubic thatch now seems to scrape against her tender skin like the electric touch of a brush.
"Do you like the feeling of my cock in your ass-hole?" Pericles whispered, his body leaning on her now as he bent forward.
"Oh yes ... yes ... yes..." she whimpered, arching backwards now in rhythm with his forward motion.
"Am I filling you? A I tearing you apart?"
"Yes darling," she moaned. "I've never been so filled by anything in my life as I am by your gorgeous prick. Oh fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
"Do you like to be fucked in the ass."
"More than anything!" she cried. "Oh I love it!"
"Better than being fucked in the pussy?"
"Oh God yes, my sweet. Tell me what you're doing. Say the words to me," she said, her voice catching as he began to push in with even greater force, banging his pelvis against her buttocks. She could feel drops of perspiration falling lightly on her back from his chest, like rain, and she could smell her own anal fragrance drifting through the room.
"I'm fucking you in the bottom, pushing my big, swollen cock right up your tight, sweet, soft little ass-hole," he intoned, breathing hard.
She stiffened with excitement at the sound of the words and arched her back and elevated her behind to be able to take even a quarter or an inch or a half inch more of him.
"I'm filling your ass with my prick and it's getting bigger every second. Before long you won't be able to take any more of me, but I'll keep on swelling anyway, and when I come I'm going to flood you, drown you with my hot juices."
Feeling her rise to the peak of ardor and excitement he reached around her waist and put his finger between her legs, slipping it into her soaking vagina, shivering with pleasure as the eager lips closed around it.
"Oh my God!" she cried as she felt the finger ease inside her vulva lips and brush against her clitoris, teasing it as it stiffened and reached out like an antenna, crazy to be touched again.
"Yes, Pericles," she cried. "Move your finger around in my cunt. Massage my little clit ... oh ... ooooohhhhhhh ... yes, my darling, like that like that like that...."
Expertly he probed and tickled and teased and caressed with his finger, continuing to plunge in and out of her anus at the same time, until he had her almost at the point of orgasm.
"Are you ready to come, my sweet?" he said. He was in absolute command of the situation, of her, of her body and her emotions. Despite the great difference in their ages he was the strongest, most virile, most commanding man she had ever met. He dominated her completely and she loved to feel humble and degraded and submissive in front of him, loved the humiliation of having him inside her bottom while it was stuck up in the air the way it was. She felt humble and at the same time tootally secure.
"Yes! Oh yes! Make me come!" she whimpered.
He moved into the last phase of their bizarre lovemaking as easily as he would shift the gears of an automobile, altering the strokes of his penis to make them longer and slower and at the same time increasing the movement of his hand in her vagina, working up to a white hot rhythmic friction. It was almost as if he dominated her so completely he could pick the exact moment of her orgasm and she gave herself up to him completely, letting him do what he wanted to with her body, content in the realization that he would satisfy her beyond her fondest and wildest hopes and dreams.
Then it was happening. He had chosen the moment and she felt her body bucking and twisting beyond her control as the gushing flood picked her up like a twig and carried her along in its boiling, teeming waters. She felt the juices shooting from the very depth of her, moving like heavy surf, while at the same time his trembling rod began to stiffen and pulsate and then his own lava-like sperm came pouring out in gasping, jerking jets, splashing against the mysterious walls of her rectum and flowing downward, oozing by the thickness of his shaft and the pressing tightness of her own soft, clutching muscles.
The two of them stiffened for a climactic moment, like statues locked in an embrace, and then she felt his weight limp and heavy on her back and for a moment she thought he was unconscious until he started to ease his softening penis from her rectum.'
"No my sweet," she protested. "Leave it inside me. I want to feel it in my bottom even though it's soft."
"Of course, Claire darling," he laughed, knowing that she was completely won over to his taste in lovemaking. Even his first wife had stiffened with fear and distaste when he wanted to make love to her in the Greek manner and had only let him do it after hours of argument and pleading and anger on his part. Here was a blonde goddess who liked it as much as he did and he looked forward with enormous pleasure to the hours they would spend together, just like this, locked in a position of love that was as old as civilization.
"Oh my darling," she whispered, smiling at him over her shoulder as they eased onto their sides. "I adored it. It's the only way I ever want to make love."
He stroked her back and moved his hand around so that it was cupping one of her generous breasts.
She moaned as he ran his rough thumb over the nipple. Miraculously he felt his rod begin to stiffen again inside her soft anus. It hadn't happened this quickly for years.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The pool was on the west side of the house and was half surrounded by distant mountains, giving an amphitheater effect. It was enormous and there were several cabanas situated around the sides where uniformed waiters served drinks and food and where bathers could change into their trunks or bikinis or get a massage or take a nap or even make love.
Over half the guests had arrived and John McCandless noticed some very familiar faces, members of the international set who had too much money and were bored and exhausted trying to think of amusing ways to spend it. The boredom and the exhaustion showed in their faces, for the most part, even through the facelifts which had been performed by a mysterious and highly skilled plastic surgeon in Lausanne.
There was the usual sprinkling of starlets and high-priced whores and young wives of rich, old men, and McCandless thought wryly that there were a few present who could claim title to all three.
He recognized two middle-level British politicians, obviously uncomfortable in the jet-set glitter that pervaded the atmosphere. They were here to try to beg some time on the tanker deal, McCandless guessed. Then he smiled inwardly. Perhaps he'd be able to give them a hand. The British were a decent lot and good friends to the United States.
A Greek band was playing someplace but McCandless couldn't see them from his beach mat and he didn't feel like changing his position. In fact he could hardly hear them over the sound of splashing water and high-pitched, laughing voices.
He had noticed the tall woman before. She was in her sixties and her face was brown and wrinkled and she had had too much to drink. Her husband was a South American diplomat who doubled as one of the largest couriers in the world of top grade heroin. The dope was smuggled into his country from the Laotion mountains at the lower tip of the infamous Golden Triangle where ninety per cent of all the world's opium-producing poppies are grown. He then brought the deadly white powder into the United States under the cover of diplomatic immunity. But not for long, McCandless reflected with a grim smile. He had seen the man's name on a CIA death list just two weeks before. It was second from the top. McCandless had even been a little surprised to see him still alive, here at the pre-nuptial celebration. He was getting high on martinis, not heroin.
The brown-skinned, wrinkled woman waved her own martini glass and shouted for silence in a fuzzy, high-pitched voice.
"All right everyone," she said when it had quieted down. "We're going to have an auction."
There was a scattering of drunken applause and she held up her hands for silence again.
"Now everyone over twenty-one get out of the pool, and everyone under twenty-one get in. Then we'll have open bidding for your bathing suits," she said, laughing and slugging down the last of her martini. A waiter appeared at her side with a fresh one, taking the empty glass before she shattered it on the tile around the pool.
There was a general scurrying in and out of the pool, with lithe, tan young bodies hurling themselves into the tepid water and old, gnarled ones sheepishly getting out, dripping, and wrapping towels around themselves. Those starlets and young prostitutes who could get away with it stayed in the water even though some of them were pushing thirty but no one protested and the bidding commenced.
"What's the money for?" a slurred voice demanded.
"Charity!" the drunken woman shouted. "All these tender young asses and boobs for charity."
"I'll bid a thousand francs for the yellow bikini top," a fat man with a French accent cried.
"And I'll add a thousand marks for the bottom."
The deep-voiced German drew some dirty looks for his obvious reference to the fact that the mark was more solid and stable than the franc but it was all the same to the green-eyed young Belgian beauty who stripped off the yellow bikini, top and bottom, and threw the skimpy wet garments to the successful bidders.
"She has to get out of the pool now," the Frenchman cried, licking his fat lips.
"That's not in the rules," the wrinkled woman said, but the young woman, who had movie ambitions, needed no further urging. She climbed out and paraded nude around the pool, her ample breasts and luscious buttocks bouncing and quivering as she walked, while her wedge-shaped thatch of black pubic hair swung tantalizingly from side to side with the motion of her body.
McCandless noticed one of the guests taking pictures from beneath his straw beach hat, snapping quickly and efficiently with a tiny Minox. The man hadn't taken a drink all day and it was clear to McCandless he was there on business. Whether he was being paid by an international magazine, a newspaper, or a foreign government didn't make much difference.
The tall American sighed and decided it was time for him to go to work, too. It was a shame. He was just beginning to get a tan.
He thought wistfully of Tina. He hadn't seen her yet this morning. He had called her room and was told that she had left early to do some shopping for the wedding but she had left a message: she was looking forward to another steam bath and would call him as soon as she got back.
Why was it the children who always got hurt when nations decided to look after their self-interest?
He sighed and got up to look for a telephone to call Pericles Vassilikos and Claire Clayborn.
The Belgian starlet was making a second tour around the pool and the other young girls, and some of the boys, who were still in the pool were getting impatient to get their own clothes off.
McCandless wished he could stay and watch.
* * *
"It's so good to see you again, John," Claire Clayborn said, accepting his kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for coming and please forgive me for not calling last night. I was exhausted and went straight to bed and I slept until an hour ago."
In fact an hour ago she was bent over the back of an armchair in her bedroom with her nightgown pulled up around her waist with Pericles Vassilikos' hard, thrusting penis moving in and out of her vaseline-covered anus. She could still feel her anal muscles twitching deliciously from him as she sat down with Pericles and her old friend John McCandless, and as happy as she was to see John, she was eager to get whatever it was he wanted out of the way so she could get Pericles' hard rod back in between the cheeks of her bottom. She turned to smile at her fianc' but she saw that he was looking at McCandless with his black, shrewd eyes narrowed and speculative as though he wasn't going to like what John had to say.
"Would you like a drink, Mr. McCandless?" Pericles said without smiling.
"No thank you, Mr. Vassilikos," McCandless said. "As a matter-of-fact I'm not here entirely as a wedding guest."
Claire looked at him with a trace of surprise and Vassilikos took a long pull on his cigar, knocking the ash off and sitting back in his chair.
"What do you mean, John?"
"I think your fianc' has probably guessed," McCandless said, watching his host.
"I think I have," the powerfully-build Greek tycoon said guardedly.
"Will someone please tell me what this is all about?" Claire demanded.
"He's here to stop the wedding," Vassilikos said. His voice was calm as though he had it purposely under control and was marshalling his forces for a decisive battle.
"What?" Claire exclaimed. "What do you mean?"
"Listen to me for just a moment, Claire," McCandless began. "Listen first of all about yourself and what you are to your country."
"All right, I'm listening John," she said, but her voice had a cold edge to it.
"Obviously Claire you're a grown woman and can make your own decisions. And you're a widow, legally and morally free to marry whomever you choose. But you're also something else ... call it a living legend, a national ideal, the wife of a fallen hero ... and the people of your country have invested a lot of faith and hope in you," McCandless said.
"No more than in any other celebrity," Claire said coolly. "Like a movie star. And I'm very tired of being a celebrity, John. It's time I had some peace and contentment."
"Claire, some of us are just not made to have any peace in our lives. We have too many obligations to our country. like kings and queens, we have to put the good of our people above our personal happiness. like it or not, that's the way it is. When you married Roger Clayborn you were signing up for life. There can be no abdications."
"This is ridiculous, John, Roger is dead. What possible effect can I have on the United States now, except in the pages of some trashy fan magazines."
Pericles Vassilikos smoked his cigar and watched the two of them. He particularly watched Claire, as though trying to fix her beauty in his mind so that he would be able to remember her.
John McCandless got up and began to pace back and forth across the large room, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Claire, you know that even though I'm a Democrat I do a lot of confidential work for the President," he said.
"Yes, of course," she said. "You also happen to be one of his oldest friends. Weren't you at Harvard together?"
"Harvard Law. He took his undergraduate work at a college in Ohio. Some Baptist school," McCandless said. He paused, wondering how to word what he had to say. Then: "Yes, Claire. The President and I are good friends, even though we belong on opposite sides of the fence. But we have one thing in common-we both care a great deal what happens to the country. Nov think back to the election. The President won his party's nomination on the fourth ballot. It was a hell of a fight and he had to make a lot of compromises to win, especially in the north with the labor unions. That's why he took Dawson as his vice-presidential candidate. Dawson is hand-in-glove with every labor racketeer in America and is a dishonest and ruthless man. The President thought that he could put up with him for four years, bury him by giving him little or nothing to do and then dump him. Well you know it hasn't worked out that way. Dawson has grabbed his own headlines, especially over this communist thing and it would be practically impossible to keep him off the ticket next year."
"But what has all that to do with me and my private life?"
"I'm coming to that. Ordinarily, Dawson could be allowed to run again and win again and then forced either to keep his mouth shut or resign."
"Well why doesn't the President do that? He's certain to win again," Clair said.
"No he's not," McCandless said grimly. "The President is not even going to run for a second term."
"But why not?" Clair said, aghast.
"Because he's going to be dead."
"What are you talking about?"
Pericles Vassilikos was sitting up in his chair, alert now, no longer watching his fianc' but hanging on every word McCandless was saying.
"He's got terminal cancer of the large intestine. They went inside and took a look and just sewed him back up again without touching him. Half his insides are eaten up and the other half are going fast. He's got about three months. Which means that Dawson will be the candidate for the Republicans next year and will stand a damned good chance of winning. And if he's President it will take a hundred years to undo the bribery, corruption, and plain inefficiency he'll leave in his wake. Even the President would rather see a Democrat win."
"I agree, John, it's a terrible thing to have happen. But what can I do about it?" Claire said.
"Cancel your wedding."
"But why? How are the two things connected? Roger is dead. He can't run against Dawson," she said.
"But Paul can. And will. And with your help he'll beat the socks off of that tinhorn son-of-a-bitch," McCandless said.
"Paul? Paul Clayborn?"
"That's right. Roger's younger brother. He's been a Congressman for two terms now. I've talked to Robertson in New York and Paley in Chicago. They'll support him. Fremont in California is wavering and Senator Boswell thinks he can take the south. The only thing he's got to do to get the nomination is say yes ... which he's ready to do ... and stay completely clear of even the barest hint of scandal," McCandless said.
"But Paul and I have always been close, except for that last time when the family tried to talk me out of the marriage. Even then I could tell that he sympathized with me despite what his parents felt," Claire said.
"Exactly!" McCandless said forcefully. "You've always been close, expecially when Roger was alive. Now we already know what the Dawson people will do. They'll try to link Paul and you, and by deliberate implication, Pericles Vassilikos. They'll portray Paul as a jet-setter, a spoiled rich kid who's in the hands of special international interests. It would even cost him the nomination."
"Oh God, why did this have to happen?"
Claire Clayborn said, putting her hands to her face.
"It's already starting, Claire. A teenage girl just stripped her bikini off and went parading around the pool stark naked. There's a photographer out there taking pictures of the whole thing with a miniature camera. That sort of thing will be the losers, not you or your husband."
Pericles Vassilikos went over behind his wife and softly stroked her hair.
"Mr. McCandless, obviously the internal affairs of the United States are important to me, inasmuch as whatever happens inside the government of a superpower has a lasting effect on all of us in ... lesser and weaker countries," he said. "But my fianc' has sacrificed a husband to her country. The father of her son. I think she has done enough. Let someone else sacrifice. Go away and leave us alone."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Vassilikos, but I can't do that. I'm afraid I'll have to insist," McCandless said in an even voice. "It may interest you to know that nine separate indictments are being prepared by the United States Department of Justice against you and your various companies. I believe they have something to with certain payments that were made to an illegal organization of Sicilian origin which operates in major American port cities. It seems this organization settled some trouble for you and your American-based companies. At the time the F.B.I, had some of their people in undercover positions on the docks. That's how we got wind of the whole thing. But a President can kill indictments."
"You're horrible, John," Claire Clayborn said, looking up at him with red, tear-stained eyes.
"Sometimes I have to be, Claire," he said in a soft, slightly-weary voice. "I'm sorry."
"Could it be that you yourself are in love with my fianc'?" Vassilikos said.
"It could very well be, Mr. Vassilikos," McCandless said. "In fact I am in love with her. So much so that I wouldn't touch this thing if I could see any other way out of it."
He avoided Claire's eyes.
"Could it also be that you intend to run with Paul Clayborn as the vice-presidential candidate?" Vassilikos went on.
"Sorry," McCandless said, shaking his head. "I'm getting completely out of this dirty game as soon as I've finished this one last bit of business ... this favor I'm doing for a dying friend who also happens to be a great man."
"As for me, Mr. McCandless, my answer is no. I love Mrs. Clayborn very much," Pericles Vassilikos said. "And I've been under indictment before."
McCandless had to admire the Greek tycoon's dignity.
"Claire?" he said, looking at her.
She waited for several moments, deciding, before answering. Finally, in an unwavering voice she said:
"I'm sorry, John. I'm going through with the wedding."
McCandless looked down at her, realizing how very much in love with her he really was and knowing that what he was about to do would cost him not only any chance he ever had of marrying her but her friendship as well. But a man was holding himself together with nothing but will and courage behind a big desk in Washington and expecting something of him. He walked to a small table where he had left a miniature tape cassette. He paused for just a moment before taking the tape cartridge from his pocket. Then he slipped it into the machine and turned it to "PLAY".
"Is that enough, my pet?"
The voice on the tape was that of Pericles Vassilikos. Claire Clayborn felt a cold chill around her heart.
"I ... I think so," the woman's voice said. "Maybe you'd better stop."
The voice was Claire's.
"Of course," the voice of Pericles said.
There were certain unmistakable noises then the voice of Pericles said:
"Is it all out?"
"Yes," said the voice of Claire. McCandless ran the tape forward, then slowed it back down to normal speed. "Pericles?" the woman's voice said. "Yes my sweet."
"Would you beat me."
"If you deserved it."
"Do you like the feeling of my cock in your ass-hole?"
It was the voice of Pericles Vassilikos again. "Oh yes ... yes ... yes..." the woman's voice whimpered.
Claire got to her feet.
"I think we've heard enough, John," she said wearily.
"You are not an honorable man, Mr. McCandless," Vassilikos said. "But then governments do not deal in matters of honor any more. However, on a purely practical basis, all you have on that tape is some vicious and easily denied gossip. We could live through it."
"I also have a tape involving you and your daughter, Tina," McCandless said. "I'd rather not play it, but be assured that it does exist. The military men who run your country are a rather strait-laced bunch. If it got into their hands certain ... concessions you have been enjoying might suddenly be withdrawn."
Vassilikos sat down in an armchair, looking suddenly very old.
"I had heard your C.I.A. was an efficient organization. I hadn't realized until today how efficient," Vassilikos said. He was sitting in a slumped over position and his voice sounded weary and beaten.
"What does it matter, Pericles," Claire Clayborn said. "If we got married they'd just hound us until they ruined you and made you hate me for causing it. When the security of America is at stake my people can be quite ruthless." She gave McCandless a withering look. "Even the ones you thought were decent."
"Claire, I ... " McCandless began, then didn't know how to continue.
Claire Clayborn crossed over to him and slapped him sharply across the face.
"I suppose you'll want me to fly back to Washington with you," she said, her voice cold and under control. "As proof."
"There's an Air Force jet waiting for us at the Athens airport. We can leave first thing in the morning."
"I'd rather go this afternoon. I'll be ready in two hours," she said. "There are three conditions."
"Name them," McCandless said. "I won't campaign for Paul. I won't go near the family," she said, then paused.
"That's only two, Claire," John McCandless said, knowing what the third would be.
"The third condition is that once we land I will neither see nor hear from you again."
"Agreed," McCandless said. "On all three points."
He clicked the cartridge out of the cassette and put it in his pocket, then turned to Vassilikos:
"For what it's worth those indictments will be quashed."
Vassilikos remained slumped in his chair, his head supported by one hand. He looked like an old man.
"It's not worth very much, Mr. McCandless," he said.
* * *
"I know what's happening is your fault," Tina said as he packed. "You're on a mission for your government ... to prevent my father from marrying Claire. And you've succeeded, haven't you? And you've also succeeded in making my father very unhappy."
"Tina," McCandless said. "If it could have been any other way ... any other way ... I wouldn't have done it. It's cost me quite a bit, too. More than I ever thought it would."
He threw his formal dinner clothes into the suitcase. He wouldn't have an occasion to wear them for quite a while. One thing he knew for sure-he was through with politics and with the Clayborn family forever.
Tina had shown up in his room a few minutes after the session with Claire and her father. He had no idea how she had found out so quickly. It had been decided not to tell the guests the wedding was off until after he and Claire had taken off. That way she would at least be spared the harassment of the European press.
"My father was crying," Tina said. "He loves her very much."
She was wearing a terry-cloth beach robe tied tightly around her waist. It barely extended past the cheeks of her bottom in back and he couldn't tell if she had anything on underneath or not. He found her almost unbearably fresh and young and beautiful.
"He also got a telegram from my brother Nico this morning. He's getting married in London. Today. Some woman psychiatrist from New York-maybe you know her-Helen Carlisle," Tina said.
"She's written a couple of books," he said, "but I don't know her personally. But isn't she a lot older than your brother?"
"That's one of the things worrying my father," she said. "I guess it's good that I'll be staying here with him."
"I thought you wanted to marry that fellow ... what's his name? Stavros something," McCandless said.
"He's going to America," she said. "He wrote me a note telling me he was too young to get married and that there was no future for him in Greece. I have a sneaking suspicion my father might have had something to do with it-his decision was awfully sudden. But I don't really care. I was tired of him anyway. I need an older man."
He turned to face her and suddenly she was in his arms, pressing her firm young breasts against his chest and kissing him passionately on the mouth, her eager young tongue darting between his lips.
"Oh darling, stay here. Don't leave me alone. I've got to stay with my father until he's feeling better, then we can go away together ... but please stay with me now. I don't care what happened between you and my father and Claire and I don't even care if you're in love with her. She won't marry you, ever, and I need you and I love you and I want you to fuck me, right now. Here...."
As she pushed up against him, pressing her pelvis against him, nuzzling him, he reached around and cupped her lush buttocks in his hands. She wasn't wearing anything under the terry cloth robe.
"Tina ... Tina..." he said, brushing his lips over her soft, fragrant hair.
He felt her hand fumbling with his trousers and then the fly was open and her fingers were inside his shorts, wrapped around his hardening penis as she thrust herself against him.
"Don't you see that I love you, John?" Tina said.
"Tina, sweetheart, you're only a child," he said.
"My mother was married when she was my age. Greek girls are women when they're twelve," she whispered.
By now she had his penis free of his pants and sticking out like a flagpole. Quickly shucking off the terry cloth robe she put her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, fastening herself to him, and impaling her wet vagina on his erect shaft as he stood, holding her like a clinging little animal.
He made his way to the bed, taking short, quick steps, and sat down with her straddling his waist.
"You see, I won't let you go," she said, working her bottom up and down so that her vagina shifted on and off his throbbing rod like the finger of a glove.
He started to move with her and he could hear her soft, passionate moans in his ear as she softly bit the lobe with her sharp, white young teeth and darted the tip of her tongue inside.
Again he could feel and smell and taste her all at the same time and she occupied his senses and erotic feelings like no woman ever had before.
As she began to have her first orgasm he could feel her vaginal muscles close tightly around his erection, squeezing it as she moved up and down over it, smacking her bare, soft buttocks against his thighs. He reached around and began to explore her tight anus with his finger, guiltily remembering the contents of the C.I.A. tape and wondering if Greek women were as fascinated by anal stimulation as Greek men were.
His answer came as she began to thrash around frantically on his lap, pushing her bottom down on his finger and bucking like someone possessed.
"Ohhhhhhh, sweetheart," she whimpered, "I adore that. Keep it up."
Then he felt her start her first orgasm, pumping and flowing, the hot, steamy, sticky liquid coursing out from between her vulva lips like syrup and then she began her second, and her third, as he felt the hot wash begin in his pelvis and flood his loins and then come channeling through his penis as his whole body stiffened with frantic pleasure and he was thrusting so hard against her open thighs he thought sure he was hurting her but her moans were moans of pleasure as he finished inside her, shooting his rocketing, splashing, exploding stream upward into the farthest reaches of her fragrant, tender, pulsating vagina as their two bodies stiffened simultaneously and came together and froze while the last drops of warm juice were wrung from each of their bodies.
And then she collapsed against him, her head against his chest and her arms still around him as drops of perspiration flowed between her gorgeous breasts and down over her flat, supple stomach and into her soaking, shining, bushy mound of silky black pubic fur. She kissed him frantically and desperately, convinced that now he had finished with her he would leave her, and trying with all her girl-woman honesty and intensity to make him stay.
He held her softly and gently in his arms, his wilting rod still pressed between her supple thighs, folded into her vagina where she kept it and held it tenderly, like a pressed flower, held between the pages of a diary.
The phone by the bed rang and John reached over for it.
"Don't answer it!" Tina said frantically, su-perstitiously, as though the ringing of the instrument was some sort of ancient signal of doom.
"I have to, Tina," he said, picking it up and listening. "I'm nearly ready," he said into the mouthpiece. "Yes, I'll be right there."
He hung up and looked into her coal-black eyes, dark with the tragedy of centuries. She began to cry.
"I'll come back to see you, Tina. I swear I'll be back," he said lamely.
"No you won't," she said, weeping now, her head pressed against his chest and her arms clinging to his neck.
"Yes I will," he said, gently taking her arms away, knowing it was a lie.
* * *
The Helicopter that rose from the lift pad on the highest terrace was not the Black Hellenic Airways Sikorsky this time, but a U.S. Air Force Ranger, bearing the special C.I.A. twin stripes across the fuselage and the five-star emblem which reserved it for the private use of Generals of the Army and above.
Pericles Vassilikos stood beside his daughter and the wash of the huge propellers swept through his wavy, silver hair and her straight dark hair like a hurricane wind, giving them the wild, tormented look of characters in a Greek tragedy.
In the huge olive drab aircraft Claire and Timothy Clayborn sat side by side, across the aisle from John McCandless. The boy was fascinated by the array of instruments he could just barely see by stretching and straining against his seat belt and peering through the open cockpit door. Neither of the adults spoke. Instead they looked out of their respective windows at the rapidly receding Vassilikos mansion and the two tiny figures standing alone on the launching pad. On one of the lower terraces McCandless noticed that the swimming party was still going on but he didn't see any nude girls so he guessed the auction was finished.
From her window Claire saw Pericles Vassilikos wave. She waved back and hoped he could see her. In any event her vision became blurred and by the time she wiped away the tears the machine had swung around and the house could no longer be seen from her side.
The last thing John McCandless saw before the helicopter eased between two mountain peeks was Pericles Vassilikos putting his arm around the shoulder of his daughter.
"When are you going to tell the others, Papa?" Tina said, leaning her head against her father's shoulder as the aircraft disappeared.
"Oh there's lots of time," he said. "Let them enjoy themselves. Remember Tina, they're our guests."
"Yes, Papa," she said. Then: "Are you still worried about Nico?"
He shook his head, running one thick, gnarled hand through his silver hair, straightening it after the burst of wind from the rotors.
"We all have to find happiness where we can, Tina. Perhaps Nico has found his in London with his wife. I hope so anyway," he said. Then: "Why don't we go back to the house. I feel like resting a little bit and perhaps later on you and I can take a swim all by ourselves, the way we used to when you were little."
"I'd like that, Papa," she said.
They began to walk back through the garden, slowly, arm in arm.
"Papa?"
"Yes, Tina?"
"Do you think we can find our happiness here, just the two of us?"
