"How'd you like being fucked, luv?" said Trevor to the hard and rosy nipple which quivered excitingly inches from his lips.
"If you mean 'in what way?' lover, then any way. And if you mean 'how much do I enjoy getting laid?', then a helluva lot!" replied Melva drowsily. "What brought that on?"
Trevor raised his head to look at the young redhead. "No, what I meant, luv, was do you enjoy it most here, in the hotel, in the middle of all this decadent luxury, or like it was the first time I screwed you, alone in Nature's paradise, in the wilds of Africa, naked on the grass beside the pool?"
Melva turned her green eyes warily on him. "I don't know if you're fishing for compliments, lover, but after Cyril's miserable performances you were just yummy then, and man, have you improved in the meantime," she said.
She pushed his head off her and leaned over him, her large breasts pendant on his chest so that her nipples caught in his hair as they swayed.
"Mister Bloody H'Inglish Trevor Martin," she continued, "I dig making out with you just about more than anything else I've ever done. It's not quite the biggest prick I've ever had in me but, hot damn, it sure is the grooviest performer. MMMMmmmmm!" And she slid rapidly down him and fixed her soft, full lips around his flaccid penis. Trevor moved his head and kissed her taut white butt, nipping at it with his teeth.
"I've never asked you about who else you've balled with, Missus Goddamn Yankee Melva Fitzhugh," he murmured against her warm skin, "and I'm sufficiently jealous and old-fashioned enough not to inquire into the matter."
"Well, I'll tell you something for nothing then, Trev," she said, breathing hotly around his growing prick as she talked. "Only you and Cyril and Umphala have been into me, and you saw it happen with that big black bastard."
"Ah yes, while your dear husband plugged your ass for you ... I remember. And so that's the lot, eh? Well, let's not dwell on it. Here, get your ass over here and let me do for you what you're so expertly doing for me.
As she shifted her thighs to crouch over Trevor's head, Melva was glad the subject was now dead. For some reason she was ashamed to tell him that Cyril's invasion of her asshole had not been the first attack of the day, and that the big African Prince Umphala had painfully raped her rear end's virginity earlier.
She spread her knees wider on the satin sheets of the hotel bed as her labia felt the first long licks of the Englishman's tongue, and she slid her mouth over his whole length as it hardened to the feel of her damp lips and the scraping of her small white teeth against the tender skin. Thinking about Umphala's rape and Cyril's probing thrust set her mind to re-experience the occasions, and she suddenly realized that hell, it wasn't so bad after all! "Now why didn't I dig that before?" she thought. "Maybe that was why I didn't object when Cyril wanted it again, before we split up, the last time I saw him. And I thought it was just because Trevor, the bastard, was so eager to take up his sister's suggestion to ball her! Poor old Katy; she was so shy about it ..."
* * *
"Wonder how poor old Cyril's making out," thought Trevor, letting his bent knees fall open wider as Melva's red hair brushed silkily against his inner thighs and pursing his mouth to breathe warmly into her cavity, an action which brought her wide-open cunt lips smackingly down on his lips. "Yes, poor old Cyril; and I wonder if Katy adjusted to things ..."
* * *
The two couples, Martins and Fitzhugh's, had been on safari, searching for the legendary mines of Matabi. Trevor and Katy, children of since-dead missionary parents, had been guiding the Americans through the jungle, and it was at one of their overnight camps that Melva and Trevor discovered they were mutually attracted to each other, and that the black Prince Umphala had surprised them all, marching them off to the caves of Matabi and introducing them to the Queen, M'wadi. In the course of their short stay there, during which they'd all encountered some incredible sexual adventures, M'wadi had announced her plan to go to the outside world where she'd been educated and use her many millions, obtained from the precious stones of her mines in the mountain, to slap some sense into the world's leaders and get the globe settled down. "Bang their balls together," was what she actually said, and the four captives agreed that yes, the world was in a sorry state, and good luck to her.
Under the threat of some blackmailing photos she'd had taken of them all, and under the reward of handfuls of gems, they'd promised not to reveal the whereabouts of Matabi or the existence of M'wadi.
So, days later the four of them, in carefully disheveled clothing, were escorted through the jungle with their diamonds secreted about them. The plan was that later, far from Matabi, they would "arrange" to be discovered, starved, thirsty and too distraught for interviews, with a tale of abandonment by their bearers and long, lost wanderings in the wilds.
But on the last night before the Matabi escorts were to return to their caves in the mountains, the plan had been changed by mutual agreement, though the original sentiment had been expressed by Katy, who was usually a silent and reticent girl.
CHAPTER 2
They'd been sprawling around their small camp fire after the makeshift dinner, and the natives had already retired to their own fire off in another clearing. The big blonde Katy was sitting across from her brother, Trevor, with Melva between him and Cyril to the right of the fire when out of nowhere and without reference, she began to talk, speaking rapidly to Trevor with only occasional glances at the others.
"Trev, I want to go back and help M'wadi," she began. "I know we all agreed to stay out of her business when she asked us to join her, but I've changed my mind. All my life I've wanted to do something worthwhile, and I've come to agree with you, brother, that God and Christianity is not the best thing in the world to impose on other people. Now that I've discovered what ... what sex is all about, I agree with M'wadi that it's the most explosive force on earth and that there should be a way to harness it to keep people from each other's throats all the time.
"What I'm trying to say is that I wish you'd let me go back there and help. I'm not ready for the outside world, anyway, and I know she'd welcome me!"
Trevor remembered with a grin the lascivious lesbian-oriented looks the statuesque White Queen had cast at Katy. M'wadi was cheerfully bisexual and would certainly welcome Katy. His tall, buxom, blonde sister with her bronzed skin and the soot-dark, silver-blonde, graceful, young Queen would make a beautiful pair of book ends, he thought. But to the question.
"Katy, luv, you're over twenty-one," he said, slowly. "I can't stop you if you want to go back, but you must know what you're letting yourself in for if you don't come with us ... maybe months, even years, of exile."
"But don't you see, Trev," she interrupted eagerly, "if you'll help on the outside, she can begin to go ahead with her plan, and I'll be able to leave Matabi with her and join you later."
"Mmmhhh, I don't know about actually helping her, old girl," he began, when Melva spoke up.
"I think Katy's right," the plump, young redhead said. "I was rich before, but now with all these jewels I don't know what to do with this much bread. Why not kick in to help M'wadi and have a ball for a while? I'm willing, if you are."
It had been tacitly decided that as soon as they were out of this Melva would leave Cyril to his own devices and live with Trevor, so he wasn't surprised that she didn't consult her husband, the proper Bostonian bastard. But nevertheless Cyril joined in, leaning forward in the firelight.
"Yes, Martin, why not. I've hesitated about bringing it up before this but, hang it man, I wouldn't mind going back to Matabi myself!"
"Back to Umphala and his big ass-busting chopper and his cousin M'wadi's lively great black butt," thought Trevor, remembering the last time the three had gotten together, with Cyril the white meat in the black-bread sandwich.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like I'm outvoted, friends. And, I think I'm willing to take a stab at it, y'know. After all, why not? I admit I've got a somewhat colonial view about the blacks, but that's because of the way I've been brought up. And even then I don't particularly look down on them, or hold 'em in contempt just because they're another color. And as for helping the Cause of Womanhood, why, some of my best friends are women."
He grinned mock maliciously at Melva but was almost knocked on his back as Katy threw herself at him.
"Oh Trev, thank you," she said, kissing him ardently. He felt her large, firm breasts push against him and her bare legs in her tiny short green pants clamped around his own outthrust hairy thigh. He thought of the time he'd screwed her in the cave and of her wild response to his love-making.
"Is this all the thanks I get?" he asked in a low voice.
She snuggled against him, her hair tickling his nose. "You're so good to me, brother Trevor," she said, "and I'd do anything for you."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Anything I asked you to do, you'd do?"
"I know I'd enjoy anything you'd enjoy," she whispered.
"Well then," he said, lifting her head back and looking into her wide eyes, "what would you like to do to please me before you go back into the jungle?"
She began to whisper but he interrupted. "No, come on, little sister, speak up! No secrets from our friends here, eh?"
A rosy blush came over her cheeks as she said, loudly, but looking only at him, "I want to make love to you."
From the corner of his eye Trevor noted that Melva's expression was a mixture of amusement at Katy's phraseology and jealousy at her intent.
"O.K.," he said, grinning slightly, and was about to give her instructions when Melva stood up. "Hold everything," she said and stepped over to Cyril who looked languidly up at her. "I think maybe I owe my husband something, since he's letting me go, and leaving me, too, tomorrow. What's your fancy, Cyril, heads or tails?"
The Bostonian was startled. "Uh, why, uh, what would you suggest, my dear? Ladies' privilege tonight, you know!"
"All right," said his red-haired wife, "I'll do for you what I did in the tent that last night in camp and, as a special favor, I'll let you finish off the way you always wanted-you know, the way you slipped it to me when my back was turned in the caves, you foxy bastard!"
"That sounds very reasonable to me, m'dear. No objections from anyone, I suppose?" He looked inquiringly at Trevor. The Englishman grinned ruefully to himself. He couldn't very well object to his mistress' flaunting herself with her husband, since he was about to experience the delightful inexperience of his sister. He shrugged. "Go ahead, sport," he said. "I'm ready to go right now, m'self. I suggest we pace ourselves, neck and neck, y'might say. O.K., Katy, luv, I'd like you to start by taking my clothes off, and then yours."
"O.K., Cyril, luv," said Melva, darting a fiery glance at Trevor, "here we go, neck and neck, right?" And with that she knelt by her husband's side and began to unbutton his shirt. Meanwhile Katy crouched at Trevor's feet and started to unfasten his boots. She soon had them off and was sliding his shirt from him while Melva was working on Cyril's boots. In a moment both men were down to their pants.
Katy fumbled at Trevor's fly in her eagerness and he relished her childlike clumsiness. Though she'd been seduced when she was thirteen-raped was a better word for it-she hadn't really discovered the joys of sex till just the other day in the caves, and now her pent-up feelings were being let out of her in a flood.
Fucking had indeed made a woman out of her, a new and better woman. Even though she'd only been screwed a few times, she was searching for new sensations and outlets for her frustrations.
Trevor was only half-hard, and the somewhat chilly night air did nothing to help rouse him. But when Melva succeeded in stripping the shorts off her white-skinned husband, Trevor saw he'd again outrivaled the other, for Cyril was as soft and small as a baby, his cock all curled into the soft flesh of his balls. As if by a silent signal the men drew near each other, not from any kind of attraction, but to secure a little of the warmth of the fire.
Straightening up, the two girls-big, tall Katy and plump, short Melva-stood a few feet apart in front of the men. Katy had taken her hat off but her blonde hair was still piled in an amateurish knot. Her blue eyes looked with a secret light out of her tanned face as she put her hands to the buttons of her torn green blouse. Her long, slim and powerful legs glinted nakedly in the firelight, the fine hairs tanned golden from booted ankles to short pants.
Beside her the somewhat defiant Melva shook her own shoulder-length auburn hair free so that it curled about her neck, reaching to the top of her high-buttoned khaki jacket which, while it did its best to conceal her lush curves, fit snugly in at the waist where it merged with her full-length pants, these running down into knee boots of dark brown, shining redly in the firelight.
Melva had always resented the fact that her pure cream skin, as natural to her as her fiery hair, burned to a disastrous red in the African sun and had to be protected at all times. Watching as she swiftly unbuttoned her long-sleeved jacket, Trevor suspected she was only too glad for the chance to strip and display her feminine charms.
Katy, having unfastened her blouse, let it hang from her shoulders while she undid her hair, thrusting her large, unfettered breasts out through the opening. Since her recent innovation to the pleasures of sex, she had discarded the double-taped bras she'd always worn before, and now the two magnificent mounds, white against the surrounding bronze of her flesh, stood boldly out from her, firm and all but perfect globes with only a suspicion of overhang as they cupped themselves into her slender rib cage. This part of her torso too, as it tapered into her neat waist, was taut and smooth, made more so by the strain of her arms as she worked her fingers into the knot of her hair. In a moment it was freed, and the whole flowing blonde mass fell around her butt, and she pushed it back over her shoulders and at the same time let the blouse slide down her arms to the ground.
Melva had discarded her jacket, and by now had her hands behind her back to unsnap her black net bra through which her breasts strained in cream satin little cushions. All four nipples on view were as yet soft and Trevor guessed the girls were still not too worked up. "At least the cold air'll make 'em hard," he thought, and was pleasantly pleased to discover that his own hot blood was by this time successfully combating the same cold air, and that his prick was beginning to stand up for itself. A glance showed him that Cyril's was making an effort, but the white and red member had only just about had the curl taken out of it. "Two half-naked nymphs should've done better for it than that!"
He looked back at his sister and saw that she was standing still, leaning slightly on one hip, one hand behind her, and doing nothing. He nodded to her in inquiry, and she said in a low voice that had laughter in it, "Neck and neck, remember?"
He didn't know what she meant but presumably she knew what she was up to, so he shrugged and returned his gaze to Melva, who by this time had her bra off and was pushing her weighty breasts up, smoothing out the lines of the netting. They were a little more pendulous than Katy's but no less attractive, with a dark shadow between them and black crescents beneath them. Her nipples were fairly low down whereas his sister's were centered on their firm mounds like cherries on a sundae. Above the sexy redhead's tightly cinched pants, which she was now busily unfastening, the deep hole of her navel winked at him like a third eye, and he remembered the exquisite sensation of poking his tongue into it and sucking out the water accumulated there from the pool that first time he'd fucked her. She got the zipper of her fly down then, instead of pushing her pants off, leaned down and began to pull the legs out of the red-brown knee boots, easing the coarse material up with her two hands. Her hair hung over her face in this position but below its fringe he could see her pendant, pear-shaped breasts, dangling like fruit. Down the line of her back he could see the sparkle of fine red hairs which, he remembered, ran from nape to nether, right into the crack of her butt.
The legs free, she dropped her pants and kicked them off over her boots. She wore again the black mesh panties Trevor remembered well from another occasion, with the flame-red hair poking out all around the small black crotch piece. As she hooked her thumbs into the narrow band she glanced over at Katy, and Trevor suddenly realized why his sister had let the other girl get this far. The same mystery must have occurred to Cyril, too, for his eyes were interestedly on Katy as, with a snap, she unfastened her short pants and, with a flip of her belly, shot the zipper down by itself and stood, hands on hips, as the pants slid down her legs to reveal her nakedness beneath them. Since her initiation into the society of sexual human beings, she had given up wearing the thick, elastic-bound knickers she'd worn since childhood. As she kicked the pants away, her whole golden bush sprang out to view, the yellow curls cramped beneath the covering unfolding like tiny blonde watch springs.
Melva lifted her knees to slip her flimsy black panties off, and Trevor could see the pink lips poking out of the fiery red brush of her pubic hair and then, like his sister, she stood nude before them.
The American girl drew in her plump belly and thrust her breasts and butt out, making as much as she could out of herself, which was surely something, and gazed over at Trevor out of the corner of her eye. He winked at her, wearing a faint grin, and raked her from head to toe, slowly, noticing how her nipples hardened when his glance reached them, and feeling his own hardness jerk his prick up in an involuntary contraction. Then Katy, perhaps a little jealous, was down on one knee before him, bringing her golden-furred pussy right on a line with his eyes, a sight he couldn't ignore. Not to be outdone, Melva dropped to her knees inside Cyril's parted legs and, with a last curl of the lip in Trevor's direction, and a "come-on-then" flick of the brow to Katy, bent her head until her lips just touched the tip of her husband's lazy-hard rod, which immediately straightened up and brushed her nose.
Trevor watched with interest as his tanned, blonde sister, with a quick, coy glance at him and a faint blush, followed by a downcast, long-lashed look at the joint of his thighs, bent her long neck slowly down over him. With childlike hesitation, she took the plunge and his prick, bending her head to face him as she held the meaty thing from the side the way a dog takes a bone, letting her large white teeth sink partly into him. Trevor responded by reaching out with his left hand and, cupping her knee, pulled at her leg until it moved toward him so that he could slide his hand gently up her bronzed, golden-downed thigh to the thicker mass of fur. He circled the soft, silky inside of her thighs as she continued to move her lips and teeth up and down the length of his cock as though she were eating an ear of corn.
He was aware that next to him Melva had now completely turned about so that she crouched over Cyril's head and he, with one hand behind his neck to raise him, was licking around her asshole with a long, thin, probing tongue.
Melva was well aware of her lover's glance and moved herself subtly so that her heavy breasts swung back and forth over her husband's pale, thin body, shaking her hair to her right shoulder so that Trevor would not miss the action as she took Cyril's red and white pole into her mouth and began to gobble on it, puffing out her cheeks and sucking them in, feeling the smooth tip slide over her tongue and touch the back of her throat. She clamped her dainty teeth as far down his root as she could, nuzzling his ball bag with her pert nose, then dragged them carefully along his sensitized skin. Then she pulled back with her head so that he was forced to lift his butt off the grass. Moving her lips an inch or so back down over him, she made a cylinder of her tongue and suddenly darted its pointed end into his hole, beginning now to smell the slightly acrid scent of his sweat and to taste on her palate the first drops of his spunk which always reminded her of cottage cheese. At her ass she felt the rim of her hole begin to bud and pucker, and she shivered nervously as his tongue began to wash and delve into it. She wanted desperately to frig herself, but clung to the thought that once the other two had left for Matabi, she would be able to indulge herself and spend to the full with Trevor, perhaps to extend her pleasures because of the somewhat sluggish state he would be in so soon after he'd had Katy. Surreptitiously she glanced at the other couple to see how they were doing.
Trevor had his fingers buried deep in his sister's cunt and was working them gently but firmly in and out. Katy had at last got her lips around his girth and had her right cheek resting on the hard hairy belly of her brother, with her long blonde fair fanned out about them both. One hand fondled his balls, and Melva could see that the other girl was examining them as if they were something new. Trevor gasped complainingly as Katy squeezed them too hard.
"Bloody hell!" thought Trevor; so much for innocent inexperience. He whispered to his sister to take it easy, and she dreamily turned her head around to face him, bending his thick prick back and down in an uncomfortable way until he thought to raise his right leg and so support her head. She slid her compact butt along the ground to bring her abandoned, gaping thighs closer to his hand, and he thrust his three middle fingers deep into her cavity.
In an excess of gratification, she pursed her lips and ran them down his cock until he could feel his tip hammering at the top of her gullet. He pushed with his raised thigh and drove her down onto him so that she gulped and caught her breath, letting it whistle in around him. He pushed himself up on his left elbow so that there would not be too much strain at his crotch and reached with his right hand until he could straddle her left breast with his fingers, and he began to knead it and caress it until the swollen nipple looked as though it were about to blast off like a scarlet rocket from its creamy launching pad.
He leaned over, a bit awkwardly, and managed to get his mouth down to her heaving breast and titillated her nipple with his tongue, washing it around and around between his teeth, rasping his tongue over its pitted top, sucking as much of the mound into him as he could, pressing with his tongue until the hard nipple was driven back into her, then letting it ease out between his teeth until she, in turn, began to gasp and sucked with a will at his prick.
Mightily she fellated him until he was afraid he would go off in her mouth, while her groin pressed against his fingers, and her vagina clamped and clenched spasmodically. Pushing her off him, and not caring whether the four of them were still going neck and neck or not, he turned her back down on the grass and slid his legs between her thighs. Remembering her depth, he thought to lift her legs and hook the backs of her knees over his shoulders before letting his waving weapon find the mark and begin to enter. Her long, lean thighs were pressed back against her belly and he placed his hands on her breasts, continuing to squeeze and manipulate them, letting his head fall against her shoulder, biting gently into the back of her neck as she turned from him. As though by instinct, her hands reached down until they circled her own thighs and splayed out powerfully on his ass, and she began to pull him into her.
Bracing his toes against soft earth, Trevor moved himself slowly, inexorably into her oiled orifice and at the same time leaned heavily into her shoulder and raised his back, so that her ass was lifted from the ground and her weight was mostly on her shoulders. Although she was not a small girl, she was not much used, so he began to wriggle his butt to help, wanting her to have as much pleasure as he could offer. He wanted her to reach the climax first, if possible, knowing that his spending on top of this would release the chain reaction which would give her the most satisfaction. So, in order to blank out his emotions from the act, while still letting the physical mechanics operate, he turned his head slightly on her shoulder to see what the others were doing.
The others were about to wind up for their own climax, or at least Cyril was. "Goddamn," thought Melva, "I wish I got more out of this." To remove herself from temptation, she had laid her hands out flat on the ground above her head and was kneeling with her ass stuck up in the air, her soft breasts nested in the cool grass, leaving it all up to Cyril. He'd gotten her and himself sufficiently lubricated and had driven his thin, iron-hard rod into her at least halfway on his first skillful thrust. With his knees slightly lifted from the ground, he rested his not inconsiderable weight on his hands which, in turn, rested on Melva's upper butt so that he pivoted on her hips.
As he reached, a fraction of an inch at a time, deeper into her anal recesses, Melva felt him begin to lean over her so that his cock was straight in line with her tube. She swayed her hips jerkily, feeling him gasp as her rectal muscles caught at him and squeezed. As he flexed himself, she instinctively began to clench her sphincter muscles. Her hole felt red-hot, and her blood flushed through her in alternate warm and cold waves, and she wished he'd hurry up and get it over with. She could see why a man might prefer fucking this way, with the extra tightness and all, but from the chick's point of view, there was little lubrication and it wore at you, and it hurt. Nonetheless she felt her own cunt open and ready, and beginning to provide its own oil for the act it thought it was going to take part in. "Dumb cunt," she thought, "about all you'll get out of this is a false pregnancy!" She giggled quietly to herself into the damp grass, and her hardly suppressed shakes of laughter must have done the trick for Cyril because suddenly she felt his hot sperm shoot into her like molten drops of metal, and her muscles ran up and down his prick as though she were about to shit.
Despite her own excited movements and the drumming in her ears as a hot flash swept through her, she heard gasps and moans to her left which drew her eyes that way. Trevor and Katy, the big blonde's knees up near her ears, and both in an arch which went up from Trevor's feet down to his sister's shoulders and neck, were coming off in long bursts which sent shudders through their suspended bodies.
"Good for you, old girl," thought Trevor, reveling in the great orgasmic clutches that pulled him into his sister like a hand. As for himself, he was only now able to make himself detached enough to prolong Katy's pleasures. For the past couple of minutes he'd lost his head entirely and was simply suffused by his sexual sensations, his head somewhere down there in her, down in the warm, hard-ribbed cavern that mysteriously expanded and rippled its walls, about him. As soon as her hot flood of golden lava had creamed over his driving length, he let himself go, and sent stream after stream of fire jetting from his tongue-teased, hot-holed tip.
He rammed and rammed into her, and she responded by pulling at his ass and driving her hard belly back up into his crotch until he had to grit his teeth at the almost unbearable ecstatic agony of their pelvic bones grinding together.
Finally they collapsed together on the grass, and while Trevor would have been quite content to lay back and hold her for a few moments, his sexy sister threw her arms and thighs around him and hugged till he thought his ribs would break, sobbing and sighing in his ear in a manner that both embarrassed and touched him.
The other couple, he noticed as he tried to soothe Katy, had not come apart with any such emotion. Cyril had collapsed on his side, his back to the fire, and Melva was sitting directly across through the low flames so that, although he could see her fine red hair glinting, only the movement of her shoulders told him that she was, he guessed, cleaning out her ass with grass. From time to time she would throw a handful of something that hissed and sputtered into the fire.
Later on Katy rolled away from him, curling up by herself among her clothes, and he went to sleep with Melva in his arms, patting and petting her outraged butt.
By the time the porters were ready to travel, no trace of their overnight activities was to be seen. They explained the situation to the Queen's men, and before the sun had truly risen, the two groups split, Katy and Cyril back to Matabi, Trevor and Melva onward to civilization, interviews, quiet withdrawal and, at last, traveling separately, here to New York, Melva the grieving widow, Trevor the silent, intrepid rescuer.
* * *
Trevor lazily pinched the soft pink butt that hovered over him. "Hey," he said, "when do I get to fuck your ass, eh?"
Her response was to dig her teeth into his tool, bringing him smartly up to a sitting position, holding her thighs up on his shoulders. "Hey, watch it, luv," he said, "you wouldn't want to bite off more than you can chew, would you? Besides, where would you be without it, eh?"
The redhead struggled to push herself up on her hands and turned to look back at him. "Gee, shucks, Mister," she grinned, "I thought I was eating a hot dog and got carried away."
"You ever see a hot dog that size, and you'll be getting your money's worth," he replied with a grin, sinking his teeth into her fleshy ass, and for the next few minutes they struggled nakedly on the satin sheets of the luxurious bed until at last he had her spread-eagled and panting beneath his hands and knees. "I'll teach you how to get carried away," he said, momentarily releasing her wrist to insert his aroused prick between her glistening labia.
She still struggled, writhing her belly against his, and fought to keep her arm free. Trevor put his locked hands under the small of her back and, with one powerful heave, lifted her off the bed so that when he turned on the thick rug she dangled back away from him, uselessly flailing her arms, each wriggle easing her further down over his sheathed lance.
"Oh you limey bastard," she mock groaned as he jounced her still further down, her breasts bobbling and rolling under the skin, held in place, it seemed, by the pins of her nipples, long and red. Then she contentedly gave up the struggle and abandoned herself to his play, so completely willing to let him do all the work, in fact, that when, to ease the weight on his joint, he pulled her up against him, she merely hung there. Since she was several inches shorter, her whole well put-together bulk helped to press him deeper into her pumping vagina-the only active part of her-so that between the agony at his roots and the ecstasy at his tip, his knees weakened and he was forced to rest her over the edge of the bed, legs dangling, while he drove and thrust into her. Very soon she reached up for him, eyes closed, and they moved in comfortable rhythm for several minutes before her body shivered, her fingers dug their nails into his shoulders, and her hips bucked and twisted, squeezing on him like a milking machine on a cow's teat. Grasping her shoulders, he steered himself into her until he could feel the coral-like flower at the base of her womb and worked to force his narrow tip into it as it opened and closed to her spending. She reacted by raising her knees, trying to push him off, but only succeeded in pushing herself further back across the bed, mashing her soft breasts against his hard and hairy chest.
The two snorted and growled as they continued to spend and, by the time they exhausted themselves, they were bathed in sweat and the bed's black satin sheets were stained in several places, marking their floundering progress across its surface. Presently Trevor rolled off his partner-in-lust and planted a loud kiss on her damp and glistening throat.
"We'll save your bountiful butt for another time, luv," he said, and her only reply was to pull him down to her and nuzzle her sweaty brow on his cheek.
Later, in the bath together, listening through the half-open door as the elderly maid tsk'ed over the drying pools of spunk on the bed, Trevor hugged the slippery pinkness of Melva to him.
"We'd better get ourselves in shape for tomorrow," he said. "Enough of this fucking frivolity. Tomorrow we have to be alert and ready for our lady boss."
Busily soaping his back, she sexily ground her lathered body against his half-hard prick, rolling it in the bubbles between their bellies. "Papa don' wan' no more nooky?" she honeyed.
"Mummy's goin' t'get a good stiff British prick in her lughole if she doesn't watch out," he said, sinking his teeth in the lobe of that organ until she squealed and beat on his back.
"O.K., Trev," she said when he'd released her. "I was only fooling. We'll sleep in our separate rooms tonight, O.K.?"
"Well, ah, I don't think we need to go that far for our dear M'wadi. But I do think we should get to bed early and get as much sleep as we can."
"O.K., Mister Martin, we'll try it your way. But, as they say in the books, I won't be answerable for the consequences!"
True words. By the time Trevor woke up the next morning, he felt like a fucked faggot at a fraternity frolic, but a quick and hearty breakfast with lots of liver and kidneys and soft-boiled eggs and bacon and scrambled eggs and toast and tea and marmalade and toast and tea and a bowl of sugared oats and tea and a kippered herring and tea served to put him on his feet again.
It had been decided not to go to Kennedy to meet M'wadi and her group, so it was nearly noon when the door of the large adjoining suites Trevor and Melva had reserved was thrown open and a hotel flunky ushered the Queen and her party in.
The big Umphala entered first, brushing the flunky aside and dismissing him with a foreboding glance. As Trevor and Melva came to their feet, M'wadi swept in with long strides barely encumbered by her white leather miniskirt. Tight aqua nylon stretch boots matched the blue shirt she wore under a white leather vest, and around her neck hung silver chains and a medallion of the same metal. The black Prince wore a conventional business suit of charcoal gray and a narrow black tie which contrasted as much against his crisp white shirt as did his teeth against his skin.
Neither Trevor nor Melva quite knew how to react to the Queen; whether to greet her as friend, kneel before her and eat pussy, as was her royal usage, or act like deferential employees. But she solved the problem herself by coming up to where the two of them stood and embracing them, an arm for each, kissing each on the cheek. She released Trevor but continued to hold onto Melva, squeezing her shoulders, as she turned about. The Englishman muttered a subdued "Hello" and left it at that, more interested in the sight at the door as four nervously laughing black girls came in, and Umphala slipped out with a nod to his cousin, pulling the door closed behind him.
Trevor made a move to follow, but M'wadi called him back.
"Don't trouble yourself, honey; Umphala's gone to supervise the luggage in the rooms-the manager gave out with the info on the suites when we checked in, the goddamn, ass-licking; cocksucking whitey bastard. If I wasn't some minor royalty from Africa, he'd've bounced my black butt right out of here if he could. Well, gang, how's every little thing, huh?"
While she was talking, M'wadi flung herself onto a couch and was engaged in running her hand up under Melva's dress and fondling her fanny. Catching Trevor's look, she desisted, with a wide grin and, with a last slap on the behind, sent Melva over to stand with her lover. "O.K., kids," she laughed, "I'll leave you to play with yourselves. Well?"
Before answering, Trevor looked pointedly at the four young girls, who stood in an awed group in the center of the large window, looking down at the street far below.
"The chicks? They're my maids, and if they don't get their asses out of that window and into doing something useful, they'll be on the next flight back to Africa." She said something in the Matabi language, and instantly they sobered up and stood in a meek row before their Queen and mistress.
"Ain't no point in introducing them by name," the latter said. "Just call all or any of them 'apethe' ... that'll fetch 'em. None of them can understand English and damn sure nobody in this land can speak Matabi, so feel free to talk as you like, Trevor, old boy."
With a shrug, still wondering why the Queen had bothered to bring the girls along, he filled in the details of operation so far, expanding on the brief and discreet letter he'd sent after arriving in New York which had been collected in Leopoldville by one of M'wadi's few trusted servants and agents there.
"And I've got a likely prospect lined up for us in Stockholm," he concluded, "a liberal-minded young bird named Erika that we met here in New York before she returned to Sweden. I didn't say anything specific to her," he hastened to add, "just sounded her out in a general way. We have her address."
"Great! And I've a little something to show you guys that 'phala and I picked up in Hong Kong."
"Yes, how did you manage the trip?" asked Melva. "We thought you were coming alone and incognito."
"Well, we thought about it, 'phala and me, and decided to use his British passport that he picked up in London when he came down from Oxford, and my phony one that was used to get me from Matabi to this country and back when I was in school here. The four little apethe chicks I brought along for my own special reasons ...got them in on a student-visa racket that cost me the best part of a ruby to fix up. Goddamn, but I can't wait to get out of these things," she concluded.
She said something in a sharp and commanding tone to the four maids and three of them went and stood by the door while the fourth came to the couch where M'wadi now swung her long black legs over the side. The four girls were dressed in identically patterned suits which they wore awkwardly, unaccustomed to such coverings. To Trevor's appreciative eye the four were indistinguishable, all petite, all very dark-skinned, all large-eyed. Only the different color combinations of their clothes enabled him to tell one from the other.
Just as the "red and yellow" apethe started to tug at one of her mistress' boots, Umphala re-entered and M'wadi said something to him which caused him to drive the little flock of three girls out before him like so many young geese.
"You'll see why I needed them when they all get their butts in here," said the Queen.
"Yes. Ah, why did you decide to dye your hair?" asked Trevor, remembering her fine silvery tresses.
"Me? Dye? Not on your mother fucking life," said the Queen, and with one sweep of her slender arms she caught at the fashionably styled black hair and pulled to disclose that she was wearing a wig, which she flung carelessly to one side as she shook her head to free the hair piled beneath. For the second time in his life Trevor gave an inward gasp of admiration as the fine, platinum-silver hair swung about her ears, shading the sooty-black face with its large black eyes, straight, delicate nose, and lips that only slightly suggested her Negro blood.
Apethe red-and-yellow was still struggling with the boots; in a moment she found herself propelled across the room by the royal foot, sprawling to reveal a hint of white-covered crotch in the shadows of her skirt. M'wadi shouted at her in a contemptuous tone, and the girl obsequiously left the room.
"Dumb bitch," muttered M'wadi, then stood up, turning to face the white couple. "Just can't get any colo'd help these days, can you," she grinned, her humor restored. Then, "Guess you loyal guys wanta make sure ol' Momma-Queen is still in good health," she said, and began to strip, telling them to get off their feet and get their asses into chairs. "No ceremony, folks, except before the peasants," she said cheerfully, dropping the white leather vest to the couch behind her.
Her long, slim fingers went deftly and rapidly to the buttons of her shirt and unfastened them, then turned their attention to her white miniskirt which fell to the carpet to show her bare, booted legs, unstockinged, rising up to widely parted thighs through which ran a mere strand of black nylon. Off came her shirt now, to follow the skirt, leaving her swelling breasts half-encased in matching black nylon with a small bright-blue bow between them. Hands to her back, drop of bra, thumbs in panty band, a reach down, two lifted knees then, hands on hips, M'wadi stood nakedly before them.
Her luminous eyes stared amusedly and proudly back at them from above the high cheekbones and under the long lashes, set against the fantastic silver threads of her hair which now hung to below her shoulders. Apart from the tight blue boots, her sooty body stood exposed to their gaze. Only the silver chains hanging from her neck to cradle and jostle her breasts added a touch of the barbaric, now that she was out of the feathers and skins that had ornamented her in Africa. Something over six feet, taller than Trevor even, she was exquisitely proportioned, a slim goddess. The breasts themselves were hard and firm, jutting out almost defiantly like a pair of gently blunted cones, tipped by shiny violet circles, black-centered, like a second pair of eyes. Nowhere could be seen a wrinkle and her waist sloped in above a smooth, broad and flat belly, dull and sleek as old black leather, unpolished, like all her skin surface.
Only the legs might have seemed, to a perfectionist, longer than they should have been for the rest of her height, but to Trevor, at least, they made her look like a black Vargas girl. Between these dark towers there hung a silken beard of the same color and texture as her hair, veiling her purple lips. A matching triangle of silver shrubbery grew halfway up her abdomen, so that this area of her looked like a photographic negative of a lighter-skinned female.
When she turned around, gracefully, like a racehorse, her firm and prominent buttocks curved out beneath the long, elegant sweep of her back to meet their eyes.
"No deception, folks, the one and only M'wadi, the original White Queen of Matabi, huh?"
"Two like you would be altogether too much for the world," said Trevor, thinking of the way she'd fucked him in the caves. He could have studied her undulating body for hours as she paced up and down the rug, but now the door opened and Umphala and the four apethes returned-the Prince wearing a colorful square hat cocked over one roguish eye and a loose, black-and-gold striped floor-length robe, and the girls in simple white robes that came up to make hoods and veils for their faces. Three of them carried what looked like lengths of material while the last was still fiddling with her veil, and Trevor supposed this was little old red-and-yellow herself.
While one of them went deferentially over to M'wadi and handed her a loose, peacock-patterned cloak which the Englishman remembered from the caves and the others stood in line, waiting, heads downcast, the black Prince came striding over in his sandaled feet.
"Sorry, old boy, had to take care of business first, you know!" he smiled.
They shook hands warmly. Trevor was glad, now that they were long gone from the jungle and its mysteries, to see an acquaintance he could be reasonably honest with, since his life the past few months had been based upon and supported by lies.
Umphala twinkled as he bent to kiss Melva's hand and ran his eye appreciatively over her. "Still our plump little partridge," he said. "Glad to see you'd still tip the scales at the same weight in your bare bum!"
Melva had the grace to blush at this reference to the couple of times the Prince had done something just a little more than see her in her bare bum, and he laughed uproariously.
M'wadi had her cloak wrapped around her now and, while she and Melva filled Umphala in on the position to date, Trevor busied himself on the phone with room service, offhandedly ordering a tray of ices and soft drinks for the four maids. He was about to check this with M'wadi when her voice rang across the room.
"Oh, and, Trevor honey, ask them to send up a Super-8 movie projector and a screen, will you?"
She didn't explain, so Trevor asked for the equipment, adlibbing that they wanted to set up a business meeting on mineral rights and had films of the area to show. He was determined that this whole operation would not fail because of his mistakes, if at all.
Soon they had drinks and sandwiches on trays on a central table, and the movie equipment was set up and ready to go. Umphala stalked across to make sure that the doors were locked, and Trevor reaffirmed to the desk that the party was not to be disturbed on any account until he gave the word. He drew his chair closer to M'wadi's couch and prepared to listen.
Chapter 3
"Reckon the first thing you can do is to slip into these presents I brought you from Leopoldville," said M'wadi, indicating the material piled on the couch by her feet. "It'll make you feel more at home with us po' niggahs," she added, flashing her bright white teeth at them. As he went to pick up the pile, which turned out to be silk, Trevor was again thankful that there were no racial animosities between them and they could joke and clown without fear of offense. It turned out there were two robes; one a jumble of odd-shaped colors, the other a pattern that betrayed an Indian or Persian influence, reminiscent of paisley and highly psychedelic as the colors and designs rippled silkily in his hands.
"That's for Melva and the other's for you," said the Queen. "Just slide out of your clothes and into them ... I had the makers put pockets and pouches and stuff in the sleeves and inside the waistband for you-all. C'mon, c'mon, how come you're shy, now?" she bantered as they hesitated. "Didn't I just do a Gypsy Rose for you?" She added something in Matabi, and two of the apethes came over to the white couple and began to help them undress, their eyes becomingly downcast though just for one flash Trevor's maid looked up at him as she was negotiating the zipper of his fly and he thought he recognized old red-and-yellow. "A saucy apethe, this one," he thought, making a note to finger her change someday.
The girls didn't quite strip them, bringing Trevor down to his unzipped pants and Melva down to her skirt before looping the robes over their necks and leaving them to finish off for themselves, a fact for which Trevor was grateful at the moment. Time enough for fun and games later. If Umphala saw much more of Melva, he'd be into her like a shot, there and then, protocol or no protocol, plan or no plan. Apparently Melva felt the same way, for her long red nipples hardened under the Prince's gaze before she thought to turn her back, using the excuse of a snagged skirt zipper to make the move polite.
When the two were comfortably seated again, a little flushed from their emotions, M'wadi, who'd been talking to Umphala in a low voice, ordered the maids to carry the clothes away, then told them to come stand in front of them and strip. At least, that's what the four of them did, without a murmur, unwinding the cloth from about their heads and letting the loose garments drop matter-of-factly to the floor, every movement in a rhythmic unison that all but befuddled Trevor. In a trice he was confronted by four completely naked nubile black bodies, shiny as coal and twice as solid, as they stood, unmoving, not a nipple swaying and all in a line, perfect matches for each other.
They were about five-one and not more than a hundred and five pounds, tiny-waisted, full-bottomed and breasted like the Indian women of the Walls in the Temple of Khajuraho, nobly-nippled, real hardcore erotic's, with navels one could stick a large grape in.
They were alike as four rounded black pearls, but Trevor could subtly detect little red-and-yellow standing nearest to him (by accident or design?), and his fingers flexed and ached to fondle the sexy doll-figure.
"Bloody hell, M'w-, ah-Queen, but where did you get this little chess set?"
"So they meet with your approval, do they, Mister White Hunter? Good, because they might become pawns in our game when I want to get something out of someone in your white world."
"My God, you could get J. Edgar to jump hoops with them. Or Wilson to declare England a colony of Matabi! Man, oh man ... !" he said, in awe.
Noticing his undisguised fascination, Melva chipped in. "If you could figure a way to get 'em on Ed Sullivan, and turn this clown loose among 'em, you'd have four quick tricks and one good turn to blow Sunday for the entire nation," she commented, sticking her long and pliant tongue out at her partner and wagging it suggestively.
"The dear, dainty damsels will blow Sundays, minds and anything else at hand if afforded the opportunity," declared Umphala. "They have been trained since long before puberty by myself and my cousin to serve and entertain with no other end in view than to give pleasure. But so far they've had such a restricted clientele that they are eager, no, avid is the word I want, avid to please themselves as much as they please others."
"They're not the only ones," interpolated M'wadi, "but these four-the set of twins and their near look-alikes-are the best-trained and best-behaved bunch. Shit, folks, we'll be having an orgy on our hands if we don't get on with it. I brought these honeys with me for another good reason. They're about sixteen and seventeen, but when they're dressed up they can pass for eighteen, and that's what it says on their passports. Just giggly and innocent-looking enough not to have to bother with Customs."
She added something quickly in Matabi and, again in unison, the four dusky nymphs bent their legs, parted their thighs, plunged in fingers and thumbs and, after a minor internal struggle of which their faces gave no evidence, produced four fair-sized polished but uncut diamonds. They deposited these on a tray which Umphala pushed over on the couch then, sticking their melon-like butts out all in a row like some kind of coquettish Nubian cancan chorus line, they simultaneously wrinkled in their rectums with digits for pins and unplugged themselves of four slightly smaller stones at which Trevor chose not to gaze. Noticing his averseness, M'wadi snorted with glee and, leaning forward to slap him on the knee, said, "Pearls before swine, but not diamonds behind asses, huh?!" Trevor grinned faintly over the pun but Melva, in an unexpected burst of hilarity, all but fell off her chair.
"Thanks, honey," said the Queen, slapping Trevor on the leg again. Then, more seriously, "But you see it does work, my plan, I mean. These four black-assed, bubblin' schoolgirls are not about to be searched or questioned. White man can't touch 'em, and there ain't a white broad in the Service who'd either lay herself open to a snide charge of being a dyke or get mortified by the sight o' so much young an' unhip beautiful black pussy. No trouble at all ... wouldn't even get 'emselves uptight with my joie de vivre jazz ... walk right on by, Princess-I'm a mere princess on my passport, honey-just shake your beautiful African ass out of here. Shit, black is beautiful, baby, and ain't no man nor chick in this here world don't know it. But knowin' it an' sayin' it, right out loud ... well, that's a horse of a different killer, baby. Ain't that right, cousin 'phala?"
The Prince nodded, a sardonic light in his eye. "Indeed yes, cousin M'wadi, but you'll have to admit that color has actually got nothing to do with beauty, when you get right down to it. 'Skin deep' and all that, you know?"
"Yes, 'phala, you're right as usual. Sorry, folks, I just get carried away sometimes when I think how those rednecks tried to kick my tail around when I was in school down South. Forget it, huh? You know me better than that. You two know the kind of bastards we're after, sure you do."
"Sure we do," thought Trevor, and recited in his mind the litany she'd given them back there in the caves of Matabi when she'd declared war on the outside world:
I was a chick, and they put me down. Not all of 'em, but I reckon to screw all those bastards who think that's all I'm about! I was an alien, and they put me down. Again, not all of them, but I aim to jack off that whole world that thinks it knows where it's at, because it's their sweaty little world. I was black, and they put me down. Not all of 'em, but I aim to motherfuck every last one of those cock-suckers who can't see me out of a New Orleans' crib.
I'm going to fuck the world's head into its right senses, or die trying. Or die fucking, whichever comes sooner. I'll use the U.N. building as a dildo and flush it into Flushing Meadow. I'll piss on Peking, diddle over New Delhi, and make a whorehouse out of Parliament. I'll crap on the Capital, and cream the Kremlin. My soul brothers will creep into my ass, and the KKK will cuddle up to me. Fuck the Fascists, rape the Reds, bugger the bigots, and soixante-neuf the segregationist!
Sure we will, thought Trevor. At least here the four of us sit, ready to put part one of the plan into action, with Katy and Cyril backing us up in Africa.
His musings were interrupted as M'wadi threw a small can of film at him and asked him to set up the projector. In a moment or so he'd threaded the film, the windows were darkened, the lights lowered, and the party sat back to enjoy the movie. It was silent but in color and had evidently been shot by at least a semi-professional hand, perhaps a moonlighting cameraman from Run Run Shaw's Studios. Here and there were gaps in the continuity, obviously where the cameraman had stopped his camera to change his angle. In a couple of places a frame of some sort showed, maybe where the film was being observed through a peephole, but most of it had obviously been shot through a one way mirror. It was apparent that the girl who featured prominently in the production was aware of the camera from the way she "acted" for it and drew the other participants into strategic view of the invisible eye, they being all too surely unaware.
From the occasional sway of the eight overhead lamps, sputtering white naphtha, Trevor surmised the scene was set below decks on a junk. The wooden walls, floor and overhead, where they could be glimpsed behind the masses of silk and satin curtains of all colors, added to the impression.
As the film commenced, opening abruptly without title or fade-in, the space was shown occupied by four people: an elderly Chinese, bald, thin, wearing a loose-fitting business suit; a middle-aged white, probably American, clad in a long, luxuriant, gold-embroidered blue silk robe; a younger Chinese, in black pants and white shirt, some kind of underling probably, since he sat obsequiously off to one side; and a fat, squat, old Chinese woman in dull black pajamas, who was also some kind of servant, for she was listening intently to the elder man's instructions. There was no furniture in the place, only thick carpets and heaps of pillows on the floor, with the exception of a low, highly polished, black wooden table, like an Occidental coffee table, standing in the very center. The younger man crouched, grinning vacuously so that Trevor could see gold teeth glinting. The American took his ease resting on one elbow, while the old man sat stiffly cross-legged. Between these two rested a tray of bottles and glasses, with a container of ice, but though the Westerner drank frequently (almost certainly whiskey), his companion sipped on a small glass of some dark red liquid that looked like a rich wine.
The camera was able to pan slightly to bring most of the two side "walls"-the bulkheads-into view, and face the entrance way: a low doorway which, when the old lady left, opened to reveal a flight of wooden steps leading upward before the screening green satin curtain swung back across it. Nothing seemed to happen for the next couple of minutes; the two men carried on a desultory, awkward conversation while the younger man smiled uncomprehendingly at them. Trevor glanced across at M'wadi, caught her eye, and received a wink and a nod to indicate that something would happen any moment.
And, as the three men swung their gaze to the concealed doorway, something did.
The old lady bustled in and held back the curtain to allow a figure to float into the room. Float was a good word, for it was a small, slim, light figure that danced in on bare feet. The wealth of luxuriant, glistening black hair, now tied up in a pony tail that stood out from the sleek, petite head, clearly identified the newcomer as female. She could not have been over four-six from her bare soles to the tight-haired top of her head, but the rounds of her hips and breasts as they pressed outward against the skintight, rice-paper-thin, scarlet silk pajamas proved she was no little girl from school. Her delicately molded face was clean of any makeup; her pink lips, the upper slightly overhanging the lower, the only touch of color on her pale lemon-yellow skin. Her eyes were concealed by downcast lids as she gracefully leaped to stand before the two older men. Her slim-fingered hands were crossed demurely in front of her, hanging like two half-open flowers against her scarlet thighs.
"Name's Mei Lin ... say's she's nineteen ... interesting background," Umphala whispered to them.
At some command or suggestion from the old lady who'd sidled into the background, the girl nodded her head, did a little bounce, and sprang up from the floor like a ballet dancer, crossing and uncrossing her ankles several times in her leap with incredible speed. Her hands floated up to make an oval frame for her head, which she dropped slightly to one side. On her downward fall she let her legs collapse and cross beneath her. Then she arched her body back until she lay flat on the carpets, rolling back onto her shoulders. She returned to her feet with one lithe, smooth thrust that took her completely off the floor for a moment in an arrow-like curve. Her eyes were now wide-open, almond-shaped and black as olives beneath pencil-thin brows and long, fanned black lashes.
Standing before the two men again she stood on tiptoe, reached down until her tiny hands circled her ankles, then slowly straightened up, running her spread fingers up her shins, her thighs, her flat belly, her high breasts, her neck-long and slim as a willow branch above the collar of her tunic-up past her cheeks, until she clasped the long length of scarlet-bound hair that sprung from the back of her head. Poised in an aching arc, she began to let her feet slide out from under her, wriggling her toes at first to get them started, then merely letting her weight and muscle control push them apart until at last, incredibly, her scarlet crotch was on the carpets with her slender legs at right angles to her hips at each side. Putting her hands behind her back, crossing them as easily as if they were on her breasts, the girl turned her neck, at first slowly, then with increasing speed, so that the whip of hair swung out from her and grazed the floor in its circular passage about her.
Trevor grinned to himself as he noticed the American adjust himself under his robe. Though Mei Lin had done nothing erotic so far, the promise of what she might be able to do with that fantastically limber body was undoubtedly working on the man's imagination.
Shrugging her fountain of hair behind her, the girl next gave her body a half-twist to put her in the more normal split position, reached down to her ankle, and stretched her belly flat along her thigh, holding this pose for a moment before violently flinging her body back along itself until, hands behind her head, she clasped her other ankle and rested her back on her leg, nestling her sleek young seal head against her calf. Trevor expected momentarily that the thin stuff of her costume would split, but although it revealed every bump and hollow of her body, it flexed as naturally as her own skin. For a Chinese her breasts were well pronounced and even in this strained, flattening posture they presented well-defined oval mounds, though no sign of nipples was apparent.
The American reached forward a slightly trembling hand and ran it slowly along the contours of her body and she shivered, wriggling slightly as though annoyed by this premature move. Quick as a fish she rolled over and brought her leg back to join the other so that for a moment she lay flat, face down, on the rug. Then with a quick jerk she kicked up her heels, reached back to grab her insteps, and formed herself into a near perfect circle. Rocking, she started going forward like a scarlet wheel, leaning in slightly to flash twice around the black table before lithely jumping to her feet, no sign of breathlessness or strain showing on her beautiful but impassive face. She beckoned imperiously to the old lady who came over to stand behind her and, with two practiced downward movements of her hands, split open concealed zippers which left the tunic covering her front and baring her back; her pants also parted in the rear to reveal two plump, pale, rounded hills that hung out over the scarlet edges of the pajama bottoms. One graceful, faunlike leap took the girl to the top of the low table where she stood for a long minute, immobile, hands on her hips beneath the floating edge of the tunic, until her hair and garment had subsided into perfect stillness. The American leaned forward, pale eyes glistening, his drink forgotten for the moment. Beside him the old Chinese let his eyes sidle to study the effect his luscious compatriot was having on the Westerner.
All this time the young Chinese youth had been sitting in his corner, mouth agape, eyes agleam with a kind of moronic mirth. But now Mei Lin, turning so that her back was to the two older men, slid her legs apart, put her hands behind her head, underneath the pony tail, and called the gold-toothed one over. With no change of expression he placed himself a bit to one side of her, still only as tall as he despite the table that bore her, and very slowly inserted his curved fingers between her pale cheeks and the scarlet cloth, easing his thumbs into the crack of her ass to facilitate his deliberate moves around her slim hips and down her thighs, slowly sliding the paper-thin pants off her. Once the upper part of her legs were free, he knelt down so as not to obscure the onlookers' view, and she herself began to rotate her hips, keeping the rest of her body still, as though impatient to be free of the constrictions. Her spine made a marked indentation down her back from the nape of her neck, where the hair was drawn taut, through the narrowing curves of her shoulders and tapering waist, into the juicy grooves of her flickering butt, her tiny tail most prominent before the trail led into the close-pressed pass between the cheeks. Not a wrinkle did she show anywhere, just a perfect pair of fingernail creases underlining the bubbling balls of her exquisite ass, each half bouncing with independent rhythm as she writhed before them.
Tormentingly, yet inexorably, the twin scarlet skins were peeled off her. Watching the ivory pillars, perfectly sculpted, smooth, bare of all hair, exotic miniatures in delicious proportion, long of thigh and calf, silently being displayed on the small screen in the darkened room, Trevor itched to touch them, and groaned within himself for the emptiness of his hands. He was pleasantly surprised when something firm yet soft molded itself against his thigh, and he turned to see one of the apethes-he guessed little old red-and-yellow-now re-clothed in the thin white robe, almost abstractedly leaning against him, though standing in a suitably respectful posture, he was quick to note. A quick look around showed him the others were intent on the screen, so he slid his hand down the maid's leg, lifted the back of her robe, and brought his palm up to cup her own outstanding ass, letting his fingers find warmth between her thighs.
Having stripped the tight scarlet pants from Mei Lin, the young Chinese retired momentarily, while the old woman produced a Chinese drum with two leather knotted weights on thongs which, when the hand-held double-faced drum was twisted by the wrist, flicked to tap out a rhythmic beat. Though without sound, the skillful cameraman arranged to zoom in on this instrument from time to time, to give the silent impression of tttttrrrrrraappp-aapp-aappity, ttttrrrrrraappp-aapp-aaappity patter which the viewers in the cabin could hear, and from which Mei Lin derived the inspiration for her writhing and flexing. Highlights bounced off her bare back as she moved like a Western go-go girl, arms and legs lifting and churning, buttocks clenching and rolling, hips and shoulders wrenching and rocking with the unheard rhythm. Her black whip of hair caressed her naked ass each time she let her head fall back, but with all the movement, she somehow contrived to keep any view of her undoubted pussy from both her audiences.
Slowly she began to move, her bare feet sliding subtly on the wooden table top until mockingly, her eyes half-closed, looking from under hooding, filmy lashes, she faced her avid admirers. Her movements became stepping, her arms making great sweeps to balance the tossing of her head-but still she revealed no glimpse of breast or crotch. Sometimes the flowing scarlet jacket would all but uncover her to show the tantalizing line from armpit to ankle, all naked and glistening, or flick itself upward to be immediately followed by her upthrust, knee-bent leg, so that what should have been seen was expertly concealed. The American, his mouth open and his eyes narrowed and gleaming, would have moved to catch a clear glimpse of her hidden secrets except for the restraining grasp of his more patient companion, though whether the elderly Chinese was tout or fellow participant Trevor never discovered.
The deft cameraman zoomed in to show the viewers that Mei Lin's eyes were pools of scornful laughter just before she eventually tired of that particular form of teasing and, with a barely seen snap of the fingers to the young Chinese, she summoned him to her. Obviously fully rehearsed in his role, he came to stand behind her, then turned about and bent his knees, bringing his legs under the table so that the back of his head was on a level with her butt. Gradually spreading her legs, and at the same time letting the scarlet silk jacket slip down her arms until her breasts were only just covered and her dainty shoulders were left bare, Mei Lin thrust her ass out and around in a voluptuous slow circle, grazing the man's nape. At that signal, he bent himself down still further, then maneuvered his sleek, shiny, black-haired head between her slim thighs, raising his arms so that they went first around her waist, then up under the thin, rippling cloth.
With a smooth effort unlikely in one so generally uncouth, the man raised himself to his feet while she let the jacket drop from her arms to show that, naked, she was still concealed from their view, her small breasts comfortably cupped in his hands, her cunt kissing his gross lips, her legs straddling his cheeks, and her arms high above her own head.
The youth began to bend his head backward, moving away from the table, while the girl parted her thighs to make her body a flying X, balanced at nipple and groin upon him, forming an arc with her back and raising her face so that she looked like a lewd Oriental angel in flight. Whether she was being chewed out or not Trevor couldn't tell, but he guessed the young man was paid off in something less-or more-than mere money for his trouble.
After a few short circuits of the cabin, the couple turned until again she faced their audience and he had his back to them. Then abruptly he dropped his hands from her breasts and, quick as a flash, seized her wrists as she fell, so that there was neither the time nor the opportunity to view anything other than her beautiful bare butt. She hung down against him briefly and then they turned around again, while he seemed to wear her legs and crotch about his face like a strangely un-obscene mask. He moved his hands back to her shoulders while her fingers busily pulled away at his black pajamas until they fell to reveal a yellow, uncircumcised knob that swayed, almost completely hard, from the hairlessness of his crotch. He kicked away the black cloth and waited until she had reached up and undone the handful of buttons to his shirt. She pulled at it as he slipped his arms out of the sleeves and let the shirt drop. His gold teeth flashed in the lamplight as he opened his mouth to get a better grip on her, and then, letting go of her shoulders, he held her only by the pressure of his mouth in the entanglements and interstices of her cunt. He began to swing her around and around, her hair spinning out from her in a black Milky Way, hands spinning out gracefully, her bared breasts for the first time shown to those who watched. Her legs were spread apart, as if to show that no pressure of her thighs held his head to her, and in a moment she began to arch herself up, fully showing the lush pale amber boobs, black-tipped, and the upthrust, tight-bollicked prick that positively billowed from his muscular thighs.
Soon he stopped, facing the invisible camera as much as the two older men, and placed his hands on his buttocks, leaning back until she rested belly to belly, reversed, upon him. And then, her arms curved out behind her like a graceful butterfly, and as if to say, "Look, no hands!" She let her breasts fold softly upon his smooth, stocky waist, rolling slightly as he breathed. First licking her lips with a wicked knife blade of a tongue, she puckered them and let them settle down around his tip. Immediately he quivered to her touch, and the observers could see the bluish veins stand out on his prick's length as it hardened like a piece of curiously carved ivory. Satisfied to have so easily achieved this effect, she released him from her mouth and, snuggling down him, her cunt still fixed between his teeth, began to butterfly stroke him with her lashes, alternately shifting from one side to the other of his heavy floating tool so that it fell on her cheeks and nose each time.
Presently she dropped her hands, dreamily, and let them ride, glancingly, up his bare legs and thighs, trickling her dainty fingers under and around his scrotum, exciting him until a pearl-white drop eased itself out of his distended hole to rest there, opaquely flashing like a drop of dew. Mei Lin gently touched the drop with the tip of her tongue, cylindered like a frog's, and rolled the dew up its length, turning her head back up for a moment and twisting it so that the viewers could follow the drop's moist passage between her pale lips and into the pink cavern behind the guarding white fortress of her matchless teeth. She brought her teeth gently down to the edge of his foreskin and delicately nipped until she was able to peel him like a grape. Her lips were wide apart and her small nostrils a flaring pair of alabaster-outlined caves as her eyes shortsightedly stared down as she concentrated on her work of erotic love.
Again she moved her arms, hands palm downward, fingers splayed upon the hard globes of her ass, which she began to manipulate, brushing her fingertips with each stroke against the youth's closed eyes. In his strained position, with his long, narrow member stuck out of him as though it were indeed something stuck into him, he looked like nothing more than the engine of sexual pleasure the girl had designed him to be. His foreskin was now fully drawn back to expose the intricate holation of his sensitized tip, and she began to lap her lascivious tongue around it, and refined as a kitten at a homemade nipple. By now he had leaned back to support himself with his hands upon the low table, so that his mouth merely held her still-hidden quim in place. A quick, edited close-up (whether of this particular moment or cut in from a later occasion was debatable) showed his cheeks puffing in and out, the filmmaker's intention being obviously to at least suggest that he was tonguing her mightily while he himself was being physically titillated.
His slightly reddened tip was now moist and shiny, and the rough edges of his flange, as her lips closed around it, were clearly engorged and flushed with blood. His scrotum could be seen to roll as his stones moved within his bag, and the veins stood out, etched in purple against the natural yellow.
Mei Lin, as though wishing to step up the pace, wasted no more time in erotic foreplay but began to drag herself down by her teeth over his length, until he was half-buried in her small, puckered lips. Then, with a powerful swallow of her long, slender neck, she thrust her mouth open and down along him. She had gotten the end of him into her throat by this time, such was his wandish slimness, and Trevor could see, as the artful cameraman zoomed slowly in to a close-up, that she was constricting her throat muscles to massage his distended tip without further exciting his slim prick, for her lips and teeth were wide apart in an attractive grimace-a child ecstatically savoring the wide-mouthed expectation of a popsicle, except this was the hottest candy in the world. Trevor clenched his hand about the bare butt of the apethe and cruelly gripped her, finger in cunt and thumb in asshole, so that she demurred with a muted whimper which drew him back to himself and where he was. He quickly looked around, but apparently none of the others had heard or seen. He caressed her warm ass and felt her respond, her thighs coming a little apart, and one of them leaning against him. He gave her a light pat on the rump and returned his gaze to the scene on the screen.
He had missed some action, or the film had been cut, for now Mei Lin had released the quivering, unsatiated cock, and was pulling herself back and up, making a taut bow of her spine, while the youth beneath her bent himself flat on the low table so that her feet dangled, straddling, at the far side, but still inches from the rich carpets. For the first time her lower parts were revealed. She was as naked, bare and hairless there as elsewhere below the neck-shaved, or most likely completely depilated-as innocent and clean as an ivory figurine, with the small bones of her pelvic structure showing whitely through the pale-yellow skin, only a faint tracing of mauve lipping the deep, sharp gorge of her half-opened, glistening labia. Meanwhile, as the panning camera showed, the two older men had made some changes. The Chinese had stripped off his trousers, shirt and jacket, leaving him in short green socks and brown shoes at one end; green and purple-striped white cotton drawers with a bush of gray hairs poking through the pissing slot in the middle; and a thin white cotton undershirt at the other end, which he struggled to draw over his head by thin, ungainly, awkwardly proportioned arms. Gray hairs stood out from his scrawny chest, straggled loosely like so many thorn bushes. His companion had pulled the gold-embroidered blue silk robe up above his knees to reveal plump, fleshy, hairy pink legs. He was evidently grasping his prick beneath the heavy, sensual material, for his hands were buried energetically beneath its hem. In his haste or absorption the American had kicked over his liquor and it glistened, amber, oily, on the tray. His eyes were starting out of his head and he was breathing open-mouthed, his gaze fixed on the girl.
Beyond them the old woman continued to flick her wrist jerkily: tom-ti-tom, tom-ti-tom, tom-ti-tom, tattletattletattletattletattleTAMti ... ti-ti-tom; ti-tom-ti, tom-ti-tom, tom-ti-tom ... The beat activated none of the other four occupants of the gently swaying cabin, but somehow filled in the missing sequences-the old man frustrated and blinded by the cheap cotton under shirt, Mei Lin, now luxuriantly rolling her breasts around in her hands, pinching her plum-red nipples; the American feverishly frigging himself; the Chinese youth breathing in long ragged gasps and letting his cock spasmodically rise and fall like a ship's thick mast in a swelling sea.
With a contemptuous look at those before her, a glance that could only have been properly interpreted by her audience 10,000 miles and two weeks away from her, Mei Lin flung an elegant leg back over her temporarily tongue-tied lover. She reached up and pulled off the long, cylindrical ribbon that whipstocked her hair, ballet-stepped onto the table and, as she surveyed the two in front of her, ran her fingers through her hair so that it fell like a glossy black waterfall over her shoulders and down to fleck the twin globes of her thrust-out ass, two drunken symmetrical moons in a dark velvet sky. Beside her, her young compatriot's hand slid down over his pale belly till they circled his swaying prick; with a half-scornful gesture, she ran the toes of one delicately arched foot up the slim length of the thing. A quick insert shot showed the gold-toothed mouth, open like a dying beast's, as it breathed deeply in a vacuous, blind face.
Zap! And there was the American, flushed, blue eyes moist, nose distended, brow sweated, tongue licking lips, a drool of saliva oozing from one corner of the pudgy mouth ...
Zap! The calm and proper old Chinese man, bald pate glistening, face at last free from the undershirt, his eyes flashing with a weak fervor and squinting to focus, aristocratic nose flaring like a mare's in heat, lips trembling around pinkish gums ...
Zap! Mei Lin, huge black eyes shining beneath the laced awning of lashes, ivory cheekbones taut, pallid and glossy beneath the waxen skin, one side of the finely sculptured nose drawn high in disdain, the other half betraying the erotic lust that self-disgustedly drove her, full upper lip moist and partly drawn back from the snarling teeth beneath ...
Two-second fade from contrasting blackness ... the ageless, almost sexless, faintly pock-marked, comfortably chubby countenance of the old woman, eyes all but closed, mind all but lost in a private reverie, thick lips light brown and drawn by long-gone, long-experienced time into a secret smile, squat nose scenting in fresh-because-familiar aromas ...
And down past the almost neckless collar, down over the gleaming black cloth of the ballooned tunic, down over the flattened breast to where the time-driven wrist, wrinkled in folds of fat, thrummed the drum with its sluggishly aroused tom-ti-ti-tom, tom-ti-ti-tom, tom-ti-ti-TOMMM!
Trevor felt mesmerized. Unconsciously his own fingers mimed the unheard rhythm of the drum. One hand on his knee, beating, drew his amused, bemused attention, through eyes and touch. One set of somehow longer, extended fingers on little old red-and-yellow's satin ass abruptly flung him from one side of his body/brain to the other, without amusement, and considerably undetached, so that he fancied he could hear, through a transposition of senses, the slap-tum-tum-tamp, slap-tum-tum-tamp as they coldly burned a brand into the hot and fervent flesh. He knew that under his own thin robe he was hard and horny as a haberdasher on his first whore, and he lusted and longed for Melva, M'wadi, red-and-yellow ... any available apethe or hole in the wall ... to spend all the silver he had in his bags ...
But patience, Martin, me lad, patience! Don't fire till y'see the whites o' their eyes ... from half 'n inch away; or the warmth o' their wombs around and behind your muzzle! Trevor Martin, m' poor, sufferin' boy ... remember the day, long since, when you swam a mile in the Thames on New Year's Day, on a bet! Trevor, old son ... remember, if you're not about to make a spunk-strewn fool of your stiff-upper-lippish, hard-cock-aloftish self ... when you climbed out of the ICY water, how you thought you had a cold-fried, curled-up, scarlet-chapped prawn of a prick for constant companion thereafter!
His hitherto manifest manhood, if not completely shriveled, was at least within manageable bounds, and Trevor relaxed back into the contemporary scene, contenting himself by running his hand up the delectable indentation of his acquiescent companion's spine. While concentrating on the memory of his youthful exploit, he'd closed his eyes. Refocusing on the screen before them, they re-emphasized the contrast between this palatial, air-conditioned, somewhat sterile New York hotel room and the exotic, far-off time and place of the wood-gleaming, light-flickering, lushly carpeted interior of the age-old, capable junk, presumably afloat on the dark, dank waters of Hong Kong.
The old Chinese man, drawerless, but too impatient to discard socks and shoes, was on his shaking knees between those of his younger countryman, his thin lips tightly clasped about the ivory wand, the youth's hands pressing on his glossy, balded pate.
The American, or Mei Lin herself, had thrown the Westerner's slithery robe up to his neck so that now he half-lay, half-supported himself on an elbow, naked and plump as a seven-month-old baby. The utterly, stupendously, bare and naked Mei Lin was bent around him, a leg under his neck, another rubbing against his supporting arm; one slender arm was entwined around his hairy leg, the other rubbed elbows across his belly, the hand nicely forked about the pendant sack of his balls. At this time the camera operator chose to cut to a close-up of the girl's exquisite nipples, for the first time fully shown, as conical as if they'd been shaved in a pencil sharpener, dangling against the man's belly hairs, underlining the fact that, gross as her companion was, Mei Lin was no cold harlot to lie back and let the other get his kicks and shoot his rocks.
Again as he watched, he saw the humming bird tongue dart out, wrap about the big red cock lovingly, and then dig its narrow point into the peculiar slots and rifts that some badly performed circumcision had formed beneath the flange of his fleshy fuck piece. Obligingly the camera went to a close-up of this extraordinary work of unart. This urgent prick tip was certainly worthy of curious note. Flaps of flesh had been drawn down from the upper, blunted slope to join onto the main and essential tube but, unlike some sculpted, proportionate minaret, with balcony and broad, flattened pillars that it might have been, this, this ... curiosa erotica ... leaned slightly in its dome to one side. It may merely have been that the man's parents, or the surgeon or midwife or whoever, had absurdly thought that his war head might become detached at his first volley, like those spears designed to lodge the barb perpetually within the flesh of the hunted animal, and leave a blockage in the female passage which would forever give her ease and grant her sexual satisfaction; but which, at the same time, would never allow her the pangs and passions of childbirth.
The pragmatic, poetical photographer again moved in to a super close-up of Mei Lin's twitching cunt. "The man deserves an Oscar for the best animated Short Subject of the decade," fantasized the wonderfully enraptured Trevor, again fingering obliging red-and-yellow's plump and pouting pussy. "Maybe the chap once worked for Disney?" Mei Lin's labia were now fully opened, a sesame trick all of gold-teeth's efforts had not performed, and the amber opening positively seemed to pant with desire.
The tiny, Chinese, Ming-reminiscent minx seemed utterly fascinated by the American's odd configuration of flesh, and even as her tongue probed into the nooks and crannies, her own nooky treacherously gave away her own craning curiosity and lubricous cravings. Her almost formalized picture of a cunt showed the tumescent outthrust of her hard and nubby clitoris and the oozing of her essential oils. With a sharp turn of her head, which incidentally lashed with silken blackness the man's already hard-nippled chest, she called out to the old woman who had not in all this time ceased the intricate pattern of drumming. Impatient, the young girl rubbed one thigh against the stubbled cheek of the American and tapped her own rhythm with small fingernails on his small, drumhead-stretched scrotum skin.
Meanwhile the cameraman swung to the other couple, the frame showing in full the long, lanky out-stretched elder citizen prone upon the low table, a look of rejuvenated joy upon his flushed face, as gold-teeth, the same imbecilic grin on his face, ecstatically pumped into the old man's ass. The youth's broad, capable hands gripped his elder's shoulders with a twisting, knowing movement that bespoke some experience with massage. Briefly the film blinked ... Trevor surmised a hasty splice ... and then the viewpoint was from the other side of the room, perhaps through the screened doorway, with a hand-held camera that swayed and was uncertain in its focus. But nonetheless a splendid shot of the young Chinese buggering the old came out of it ... a top shot showing the heavier youth almost concealing the other except for the latter's wildly waving feet in their green socks and brown shoes; a worm's-eye view, which, somehow unseen by the various participants, presented the thin yellow wand ploughing through the hard, choppy swells of the old man's ass, with one set of swinging balls banging against the other, more flaccid set, with all the spontaneous enthusiasm of a happy cowpoke at a rodeo letting in daylight between his butt and a bucking bull. Feet sturdy in the stirrups of the wooden table legs, the hard-driving young male rode the old man with his prick plunging roaringly up his flickering asshole.
Once more there was a dark "break" in the film, and then some kind of overhead view. The American was stark naked and on his back, while the little Mei Lin was toying with his engorged cock. A telephoto lens, somehow mysteriously combined with a wide-angled effect, brought Trevor down to within a few feet of the activity below so that he was able to regard every last intimate detail of the action.
The Chinese girl had gathered a collection of small objects which she was industriously threading through the latticework of the Westerner's organ, resting his neck and head on one coiled leg so that she could bring his mouth to her cunt with the merest movement ... a movement which became progressively more frequent and more rapid as her own experimental toyings developed. On the liquor tray she had spread a number of toothpicks; calligraphic brushes which she soon began to systematically break off close to the fine hairs; small fluffy feathers from the underside of a hen; what looked to be soft rubber erasers, cut into strips; a spool of glossy green silk thread; and a couple of soft plastic "monster" animals of the type Trevor recognized as the ten-cent Hong Kong variety, from which the girl immediately proceeded to cut with a razor blade the claws, fangs, and other protuberances.
A one-girl French tickler factory, Trevor realized. Custom-made cunt manipulators, no less!
The American seemed content to suck her pussy and let her do what she would with his hard and rampant prick. Trevor watched in fascination as she tried various combinations of the objects in the slots, using short lengths of the green thread to tie and secure them. For instance, she bent one of the slivers of rubber back on itself and pulled the two ends together to make them one piece which projected at right angles from the flesh. When she had trimmed his tree to her satisfaction, she industriously lowered her lips and proceeded to salivate on the fat rod until it was as moist as her own cleft, which her partner was tonguing with gusto and evident enjoyment.
Because of her small size, Mei Lin was able to treat the other's paunchy torso as if it were a soft mattress. As she began to warm to her game, she luxuriated on it, rolling from side to side, pressing her conically-nippled breasts into his belly, squeezing with her knees and elbows into his sides. She continued to nip and nibble at him, taking his entire ball bag into her mouth and very slowly letting it squeeze out; worrying it between her lips and teeth as if it were a bone; wrapping both hands about it and jerking him, fast and slow, until he just had to be ready to spend. Then, in a trice, she turned herself around on him. Moving his legs slightly apart, she knelt on his thighs and reached back to clasp her ankles, throwing her petite body into a graceful curve over him. Then, almost imperceptibly, she began to roll forward, at the same time asking him to put one hand around his root and hold the bludgeon of flesh upright to face her downward descending slit, which gashed between the taut drum skins at her crotch.
Behind her, her hair hung to the carpet; her breasts, with their small and erect nipples, seemed to scrape the air. Just before his straining tip entered her, she paused for a moment and, without any visible effort, began to flex and distend her labia, opening herself up for him like a flower, the nodule of her clitoris peeping out like a bud. With a sudden move, she dropped an inch and took him into her, meanwhile asking him to remove his hand from his prick. In delectable close-up, the camera showed her clenching and unclenching her cunt to clutch at him, letting the protruding lips pout about him until his ornamented head was fully in her. At once a spasm shook her, and a ripple ran across her stretched skin like a snake in movement. Another inch into her and she was all but off balance. She released her ankles, put her slim hands against the insides of his spread thighs and swung her feet around in front of her. Then she crossed her legs in a yoga-like position and balanced on her slender wrists. She tossed her head and brought the black rain of her hair down over her face and body, whipping the man's belly gently. Trevor suspected that her real reason was to conceal her own ecstasy; she had spent too long preparing him and herself for the final act not to be getting a great deal of pleasure out of it.
Gently, with loving slowness, she began to raise and lower herself. The worm's eye camera zoomed in to show the great pink shaft on flesh stabbing into her pale-yellow tumescent mound, penetrating deeper with each downward drop of her exquisitely curved ass, trembling with suppressed energy each time she lifted herself up ... always high on him, but never releasing his decorated dome entirely. The feathers, soft plastic and harder rubber in turn were twisted up against her clitoris, dragging through the smaller slot to make that third nipple throb and quiver with a life of its own. From time to time, ripples frisked her tiny young body, while the man, hands contentedly under his neck, breathed deeply and kept his eyes closed.
Presently, as the shudders become more frequent, she uncrossed her legs, knelt to straddle him, and placed her delicate fingers just above his root, so that she could bring pressure on his pelvic bones. Now she began to hoist and lower in earnest, her movements progressively more rapid, rising up and down his eight or nine exposed inches like an ivory monkey on a stick. It got to be too much for the American, for suddenly he swung himself up, grasped her bouncing-ball buttocks in his fleshy hands, and rolled her over on her back. While she threw her arms around his beefy neck and kicked her legs up around his waist, he began a rampage in her, thrusting like a bull into her tender orifice, each charge spreading her thighs wide apart. Struggling frantically, she managed to double herself up so as to get her ankles under his armpits, and with each drive she was rolled back up off the carpets. Soon they were actually moving along the floor like a machine of flesh, carpets and cushions piling before them.
The watching Trevor admired both the enthusiasm and the restraint of the two and wondered how they could hold out for so long. The couple were soon blindly heading toward the table; as it came into camera range, he saw that the two Chinese men were still at it, or perhaps at it again. The younger was still plunging his wand into the withered cheeks of the old man's butt and was doing so with such zing and verve that the old man had been half pushed off the end of the table so that he had to support the forward part of his body with his trembling arms, elbows down on the floor. Meanwhile, from the other direction, Mei Lin slid partly under the American's body and jammed her head against a couple of cushions which were against the table leg, so that she could move no further. Now every thrust drove completely into her, and her nails dug into his fleshy back, bringing blood from long scratches. The American's blunt head butted against the old Chinese's brittle ribs so that he, too, could move no more and therefore took every last dart of the thin prick up his asshole, but by this time all four participants were beyond caring.
As if at some mutual signal, both fuckers halted momentarily and then, as the fuckees opened their legs to their widest extent, made a powerful surge into them -the young Chinese pulling back on his partner's shoulders, the Westerner clutching Mei Lin to him. For several minutes the teams rocked and writhed and wrestled to give and extract the last amounts of pleasure and sensation, and then all subsided. As the camera pulled back to show the old woman, drum discarded, approaching the four with a steaming bowl and an armful of towels, the scene faded to black.
"Wow," said Trevor, remembering to remove his hand from the apethe and nudge her away before the lights went up, "that Mei Lin is some kind of gal!"
"A very special kind of gal," said M'wadi, laconically, as she signaled one of the maids to put the lights on, and Umphala doused the projector lamp.
CHAPTER 4
Later the four sat down over more drinks to discuss business, the four maids in quiet, ubiquitous attendance.
"O.K., folks," said the towering M'wadi, long legs crossed beneath a thin loose robe, "here's the scam as I see it. Umphala and I have lined up this chick Mei Lin to work for us. We can float her out of Hong Kong any time we like. Incidentally, as well as being a part-time whore and full-time nympho, she also is intelligent, speaks a fair brand of English, and carry herself like a lady when she wants. So, no problem there. Now, Trevor, what about this other chick you mentioned ... what was her name, Erika?"
"Yes, Erika. A great big, beautiful, buxom blonde, a sexy Swede with a sharp mind but a lazy temperament. Melva and I have seen her and spoken with her, but we made no commitments, since we expected you or Umphala would have to check her out anyway. Your plan is too big to be thrown out of gear by some mistake on our part."
"If she's as big and blonde and sexy as you say, old boy," grinned Umphala, "I'll undertake to put her through her paces. Haven't had a bawdy blonde since I left your sister back in Matabi. She sends you her love, by the way."
"I'll just bet she does," said Melva, moving over to sit on Trevor's knees, touch his tubescent tool with her fingers through his robe.
"Ah-ah, luv," said the Englishman in her ear. "Mustn't forget sisterly love and family ties and all that sort of rot, you know."
"Family ties, my ass," replied the redhead. "About the only bond your beloved sister Kate cares about is that of the flesh ... this particular piece of flesh," she added, pinching him viciously.
"Knock it off, gang," interrupted M'wadi before Trevor could respond, "we've got things to talk about. I'm about ready to make the first moves in the plan, just as soon as we've co-opted this Erika into the group. You say she's in Sweden now?"
"Stockholm. She lives alone in a hotel there. Makes her living as a model for the pornographic mags ... gets top billing and top pay."
"Great. That fits in with my ideas. We can make Sweden our base, for the time being. Umphala, you and Trevor can fly there as soon as you like, look the chick over, and buy us a house for base camp. You know what we need, I reckon?"
"Surely, Boss-cousin," the big black replied. Again Trevor was struck by the difference in the cousins' accents ... M'wadi with her throaty American slang, and Umphala's proper Oxford tones, interlaced with lower-class Britishisms.
"That's taken care of, then. Melva, honey, I'm going to have to rip you off from Trevor for a few days. We have some other business in hand, like, for instance, floating out to Hong Kong, outfitting Mei Lin, fixing her a passport, and getting back into Sweden to join the boys. Reckon we'll split the apethes down the middle, if that's all right with you guys?"
Trevor shrugged carelessly, but noticed from the corner of his eye Melva's sharp look at him. Maybe she'd spotted his handling of little red-and-yellow after all. If so, he'd be sure to hear of it later. He leaned forward to concentrate on what M'wadi was saying.
"Right, folks, gather ye round. Move one in the plan is to stop the wars in Vietnam and the Middle East. Won't be immediate, but I guarantee it'll work. Now, I've always noticed that, given the choice, most folks would rather fuck than fight, right?"
The others nodded agreement with enthusiasm.
"O.K., then ... I plan to snatch up a few important people from the countries fighting these stinking, stupid wars, and get them to fuck instead. And between that and a spot of blackmail and bribery, I aim to send them on their way rejoicing, as Trevor might put it, and presently get them to knock the wars in the head. Right, well, I've already picked our four targets, and later I'll rap about the details of just how we'll rip 'em off. But for now, just get this stuck into your heads. It doesn't matter how much they see of us, but they must never know just who or what we represent, how many of us there are, and what our actual power is. We have to convince them that anything we want to do, we can. Got it?"
Again she received nods of agreement. Trevor, remembering the vast resources of the gems in the Matabi mines, knew that indeed they could just about do anything they wished.
"Now, I said there were four people. I've gone over all the records and information I can get on them, and I don't think I'm wrong in picking them. One of them I have a very special reason for wanting, but I'll get to that later. If you have any objections to my selection, save it till I'm finished.
"First, from Israel, there's Sarah Chikowski. She's a prominent leader of a whole feminist cult, as well as being in with other biggies in the country, and it's even betting that she'll be elected premier next time around. She's single, in her early thirties, and at least ambisextrous. Next, from Egypt, there'll be Yusup Ali. He's Minister of Media Liaison, which makes him chief censor and spokesman, and he wields a lot of clout with the government. He's also single, openly heterosexual and privately homosexual.
"From North Vietnam I have Mme. Thanh Vinh, who's very big with the Party, is in Paris for the peace talks, supposedly just accompanying her husband, who's an ineffectual squirt, but actually more or less running things there. She just lusts after big white choppers but is forced to be discreet because of her position. I have photographs of her operating with a dildo that you wouldn't believe. She's an itty-bitty thing, and I fancy she'll take to the taste of black cock when I have Umphala soften her up. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
"Fourth, from the good old U.S. of A., we'll snatch a cat by the name of Robert Adamms ... that's with two m's ... 'case you didn't know ... who's a VERY SPECIAL ... and that's in caps ... White House aide. Now he's going to be in Paris too, which simplifies things a bit. He was married ... his old lady died, 'cause he's a mean, sadistic bastard, and he has a daughter, fourteen, fair, flaxen and fuckable. Now I know you may object to this since, you'll say, it may complicate things for nothing, but I intend to snatch his little Jocelyn ... Jo, they call her ... when we pick him up. I'll explain up front. When I was over here getting my education a few years back, I was doing pretty good in an exclusive finishing school on the East Coast. This bastard Adamm's had another daughter ... since then she's gotten herself married to some dumb cluck who's an anthropologist over in Malaysia, so I can't get to her-yet! Anyhoo, Adamm's wanted this chick to get into the school, but when he found out they had a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool, black nigger Afreakan' in the place, offered 'em triple fees if they'd bounce me out and take in his daughter. Naturally they were very sorry about the whole thing at the school, but, well, dear, they said, you would be better off with, uh, well, your own kind, don't-you-know ... and they shipped me off to a southern school, sold me down the river like they say.
"Don't blame them one bit. They weren't prejudiced ... just money hungry, like the rest of us poor bastards. But that motherfucker Adamm's is something else again. A cocksucking, nigger-hating, scarlet-throated, yellow-bellied, cunt-loving, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, shit-scared Bible-punching, Fundamentalist, prejudiced, sanctimonious, chauvinistic SHIT-head! And I'm going to ram all those fucking adjectives down his throat or up his ass before I've finished with him. I didn't pick him for our man in Scandalnavia just because of all this. But I hope to tell you I'm damn glad he turned out to be the man most likely!
"Anyway, 'phala knows what I'm going to do about that side of things. And that's particularly why I want to pick up young Jo when we get Mister Goddamn Eaglemaniac Robert Adamm's himself! Now, any objections?"
Umphala would obviously go along with his cousin's plans, certainly having discussed them with her before this time; and Melva would let her lover make the decisions, Trevor was sure, so it looked as if it was up to him to respond. He thought about it for a moment, and decided that since the whole thing was close to fantasy, and the bunch of them had already gone through some pretty fantastic adventures, this particular operation might just as well be added to the list.
"Provided that we work out the details of the kidnappings in a sensible way, I'm all for it," he said. "Obviously you've gone to great lengths to secure the necessary information, and I've no reason to doubt your word. If you think it's O.K. to proceed, Queen-Boss M'wadi ... then I say let's drink to ... The Big Snatch!"
CHPATER 5
Things moved swiftly as soon as M'wadi outlined the details of her plan and organized them. The day after her arrival in New York, she took off for the West Coast, with Mela and two of the apethes in tow, to pick up a private plane for their eventual use. Melva's own considerable fortune would be brought into play so that the purchase would be on a better footing. The American dollar would count a lot, and most of M'wadi's loot was in British and Swiss banks.
Trevor had a tough time explaining away his actions with red-and-yellow, but his green-eyed mistress eventually succumbed to his abstract arguments and physical presence and they enjoyed a fine farewell fuck before she took off with the White Queen on their journey westward.
A prince in his own right and interpreting his cousin-Queen's commands with a fond, disregarding familiarity, Umphala opted for a night on the town before departing for Sweden. And so Trevor found himself left to his own resources and those of the indefatigable red-and-yellow for the nearly twenty-four hours before the Prince returned from his jaunt with tales of a Village party and a swarm of groping groupies. In the big black's absence, the ex-White Hunter found no need to hunt for blackness ... it came to his bed at a snap of his fingers, and although they found no need for language, he labeled her with a lover's name ... Arandwy, for her costume. Of course, she was no companion of the spirit such as Melva was, but she knew more bedroom diversions, and Trevor was sure that Melva would appreciate their being passed along to her in due course.
At last he was in Sweden, in a small village some miles from Stockholm. He wondered how Melva was getting along in Hong Kong, and guessed he would hear all about it later. Knowing the redhead as well as he did, he expected either a special delivery letter by the next mail, or a transworld phone call ... though he couldn't possibly imagine how Melva's exquisitely blue language would be allowed over the wires.
The afternoon of their arrival, Umphala checked them into a hotel and then went out house hunting, telling Trevor to set up a meeting with Erika. The Englishman had phoned the big blonde to see if she would be free and available and then set the two maids, Arandwy and her look-alike, to frigging each other in the nude, an act which they seemed to enjoy. Umphala returned in the midst of this and sat down to watch until they'd finished, then brusquely ordered them to repack and get ready to move. He'd managed to purchase a private estate, a small castle that loomed on a hill above a village not too far from the city, and before the sun was down they were in residence.
Trevor was unaware of all the nuances of exactly why this particular place was the place for their operations, but obviously it was sufficiently small and secluded, yet large enough and in touch with the rest of the world, to make it desirable as their base in the country. The place had twenty rooms, nearly all with wood paneling over the rough-hewn rock that showed as its outdoor structure. Though of considerable age, it had been modernized to the extent that it was completely electrified, had telephones, and luxurious sanitation facilities-fur-topped Johns and sunken baths. The grounds-about thirty acres-were enclosed within forbidding stone walls twice as tall as a man and topped with strands of barbed wire that could be electrified from a switch in the kitchen. Trevor did not know who the previous owner had been, nor why he'd installed the fancy safeguards of his privacy.
He must have been some rich latter-day hermit, he surmised, for the final strange and attractive aspect of the place was a large hothouse, two acres in extent, all under glass and featuring exotic greenery from the jungles of Asia, South America, and some that Trevor recognized as representative of his own Africa. Heating elements in the soil, dripping pipes overhead and a staggering array of low-intensity sun lamps kept the place humid, steamy and all but fetid. Among the greenery (which included full-sized trees, so high and vast was the place), grew orchids and jungle flowers of every variety and color, though blessedly there were no insects or any kind of fauna to live off them and propagate their species. Apparently Umphala had fired, with generous recompense, the estate's small staff of retainers-caretakers and gardeners-and so it was going to be left to their own party to keep the place up.
Showered and shaved after his brief walk around the grounds, Trevor joined Umphala in a picnic dinner, served by the maids, and then phoned Erika to join them, telling her to bring a weekend bag and take a cab at his expense. When she arrived an hour later, he introduced her to Umphala and took her aside to explain the position, while the Prince vanished on some mysterious errand of his own.
"The thing is," Trevor began, "as Melva and I explained when you were in New York, we work for a very special organization with practically unlimited funds. If you are interested, and if you, ah, pass the qualifying examinations, then I am in a position to offer you the opportunity of joining us and earning enough money in a very short time to last you for a year. And if you prove to be satisfactory, why, there's a very good chance we can use you permanently ... or at least for as long as it would take you to pick up enough to live on for the rest of your life."
"Mmmm, sounds all right, of course," said the big blonde, "but how about the examinations you mentioned? I'm not all that well-educated, you know, Trevor."
"I think that's the least of your worries. These are very special examinations and require no intelligence at all, hardly."
"Well, O.K., then ... I'll give it a try."
"Right. Now, here's what I want you to do ..."
* * *
Trevor lounged in a comfortable armchair, with little Arandwy standing at his shoulder. They were in a fairly large room of the old house, once perhaps a hall but now converted by the previous tenant into a small gymnasium, complete with a boxing ring at one end. Two pairs of ropes hung from the ceiling, one wall was covered with bars and a set of parallel bars and a couple of exercise horses were scattered here and there on the floor, which was covered in most places with pads of thick rubber. Up in the rafters were myriads of bright spotlights, at the moment all turned off, with the exception of those over the ring, in the center of which Umphala, in crimson silk boxing shorts, sneakers and boxing gloves, was working out with an imaginary opponent.
The Englishman, wearing a sarong type of garment that left his feet and torso bare, looked up as the swinging door creaked open and a barely visible figure entered the darkness. It was Erika, and he nodded with approval when she came up to him. He rose and escorted her to the ringside, calling up to Umphala to announce her arrival. The blonde climbed the short flight of steps that led to the canvas, and slid between the ropes to stand, tall and statuesque, in the center of the overhead spotlight. With an impatient gesture, Trevor beckoned the apethe to bring over the easy chair, which ran on smooth castors, and sat down again to watch.
The object of the exercise, as he put it to himself, was to make completely sure that Erika would stop at nothing, back away from no kind of sexual encounter, refuse no kind of copulatory, pseudocopulatory or quasicopulatory challenge, whether from the fact that it was being made worth her while to perform or from sheer enthusiasm. Also, though she didn't know it, her every move was being photographed and recorded on videotape, this being one of Queen M'wadi's invariable practices in insuring either loyal service or future silence. Remembering Erika's professional status as pornographic model, Trevor, who would control and monitor the filming from a console set under the edge of the ring, had already reckoned to shoot with the effect not so much of bringing out the erotic side of the performance, but to pick those angles and split-second frames which would make the girl appear at her ugliest, though still recognizable self. In these days of the superslick image, of the partners in the various acts obviously enjoying their activities, of pleasant if ecstatic expressions, no model could afford to let herself appear unattractive. For her own part, Erika had done her best to act upon the suggestions Trevor had fed her.
She had combed her hair so that it hung down her back in a broad golden fan, curling up like foam against the small of her back. Her violet eyes looked calmly at Umphala above her strong nose and full red lips, her high, wide-spread cheekbones pushing out against the smooth, tanned, glowing skin, the chin firm, the neck rather short for her height but half-hidden now by the white, scarf-like towel that she'd wound about it. Her broad shoulders were covered by a black satin boxer's robe which, belted tightly at her sturdy waist, showed off the extraordinary great and sudden swell of her hips. Beneath the edge of the robe, Trevor could see she'd laced herself into soft, black, high-ankled boxing boots, with white socks above. Her arms were crossed before her and, as she stood firmly on her spread legs, she looked as though she were truly ready to give a good account of herself to the big black, who began to approach her, sparring and ducking and weaving, face guarded by his gloves, feet dancing, as if he would, indeed, strike out at her. But she continued to stand unflinching and never batted an eye as at last he came near enough to lash out at her, pulling his punch at the last moment, just tapping her on the jaw.
Putting his gloved hands on his hips, Umphala laughed aloud in admiration and patted her friendly on one shoulder. Coming closer he pushed her head this way and that in the bright light, examining her, and eventually he raised his hands together in a victory salute, looking across to Trevor and winking. He said nothing to the girl, however, and now indicated silently that she should uncross her arms and let them hang by her sides, which she did, with an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders which silently said, "You order, I'll serve, any way you like." Umphala clumsily hooked one gloved hand into her belt and tugged till it came loose, then pulled the front of the robe open so that it was draped back on her shoulders. Despite his increasing knowledge ability and savoir jaire where the finer points of erotic display were concerned, Trevor let out a muted gasp which drew Arandwy to his side in silent question. He shook his head at her and returned his gaze to Erika and her newly revealed costume.
The statuesque Nordic wore black boxer's shorts which she'd obviously found with the rest of the gear in her room, where Trevor had sent it, but the pair she'd chosen must have belonged to a youngster originally, for they fit her like a rubber glove. So tight were they, in fact, that she'd had to split the legs on the outside from cuff almost to the ridiculously cinching rubber waistline. A triangular cutout in the front showed her long-curved belly jutting through and the suspicion of the golden down that must cover the strongly prominent pelvic arrangement that thrust firmly against the strained tight black crotch piece. As if this were not alone enough to set her up as a sexual symbol par excellence, she wore on her upper torso, below the white, throat-encircling towel, a kind of vest that she must have brought along herself. It was nothing more or less, though much less than more, than a broad-gauged netting, with holes about three-fourths of an inch on the side, so that apart from bracing her outthrust breasts in spectacular fashion, the garment served no useful purpose.
Her large-aureoled nipples were as yet flaccid, Trevor noticed, and there was no sign that Umphala, despite his obvious admiration, was aroused beneath his certainly unjocked-strapped skimpy scarlet shorts. The black motioned to the girl, who stood but a couple of inches shorter than his own great height, and she let the robe slip to the floor, where it shinily shadowed her feet. A touch on her shoulder turned her slowly around. As she moved, Umphala caught at her long hair so that it was held away from her to show that the back of the vest was merely three intersecting white straps. She cut the back of her tight black silk shorts as she had the front, and the V of the triangle ran down into the valley of her buttocks which the thin material hugged. Hug they were forced to, despite her cuts and deletions, for Erika's ass was as beautifully monumental as her boobs. Not even the White Queen herself, not even Melva in proportion, had such rollicking sweet mounds as this. Even the apethes' black cannon balls were not so striking a pair of prominences as these firm, out bursting sections of anatomy. In part to assure himself of this, and in part to justify his rising spirits, Trevor reached with his right hand for Arandwy and brought her to him.
The black teen-ager was wearing a costume he'd amusedly bought for the four of them in New York, but which he'd not seen in service until now. It consisted of a regular maid's outfit of black silk dress, black silk stockings, high-heeled black shoes, and white apron and cap, lacy and frivolous. But, like the others in the set, it had been designed for some French farce, or for some pornographical entrepreneur, for the skirt was cut to the minimum length at which it could still be called a skirt, and was flounced out with a nest of white lace petticoats that susurrated with every step the wearer took. Various kinds of underwear came with the outfit, but Trevor had banned it all except for a single-strap garter belt to support the old-fashioned, black-topped silk stockings. At the time he'd imagined the effect the maids would have on him-or anyone else in the party for that matter-as they bent or reached to sweep or dust; or as they bowed or curtseyed, for that was their usual response upon coming into the presence of the Prince of Queen.
Now he was doubly glad that he'd decided upon this facet of the costume for, standing Arandwy sideways in front of him, it was no trouble to pull up the rustling skirts at the back and compare the profile of her butt with that of the big blonde Erika above them. And the Scandinavian won, legs down, no doubt about it. Though the little black maid, somehow aware of the purpose of the research, thrust her pert ass outward and brought the small of her back into a sweet curve, she was as oranges to grapefruit compared with the other. Trevor pulled her back down to sit astride his left leg, one firm cheek hard up against his aroused prick, and he watched as Umphala crouched behind the blonde and slowly, lightly, ran his big, leather-clad hands up the inside of her long, lithe, tanned and sturdy legs. For the first time Erika moved a bit, shifting from one leg to the other, and the Englishman suddenly saw that her nipples were beginning to become erect. The so-called vest was so tight that she was forced to raise one hand to release one of the hardening dark-brown bullets so that the strand of thread over it did not bifurcate the thing. He saw Umphala, spotting the unconscious gesture, open his mouth in a broad grin. As the Prince stood up, Trevor was aware that he was indeed unprotected at the crotch, a realization made evident by the huge swell and pressure of hidden flesh against the front of his scarlet shorts.
The Prince raised the blonde girl's arms and pushed himself against her ass, so that she could not fail to realize his reaction, at the same time brushing her body with the cold leather until the backs of his hands were pushing up beneath her voluminous breasts.
Abruptly stepping away, he swung her around and studied her for a moment before stooping slightly to quickly tongue each of her nipples in turn, arousing them to hard, blunt-ended ferrules of flesh.
For the first time now he spoke, jerking his chin at the girl before him.
"So far so good, my big blonde lady. Now to continue with the examination. But, ah, methinks this old examination man would just as soon be relaxed first, so, for a start, you can get this gear off me, beginning with the gloves and working downward."
Silently Erika unlaced his gloves and threw them behind her, then put her hands against his waist and slid her long fingers into his elastic waistband. First she stood close to ease them down over his flat, firm, hairy black ass, then delicately put one hand completely inside against his belly to hold his flesh while she worked the thin silk over its length. As soon as its tip was clear, she released it so that, as the waistband was slowly drawn down, the huge black rod gradually tipped forward and out toward her. Trevor could imagine the delicious feeling of the silken pressure slithering tensely along the underside of the prick, and he brought Arandwy's small hand back to fondle his own eager organ beneath the sarong, at the same time setting the hidden console on automatic.
Umphala's massive weapon waved gently in front of Erika's face as she went down on one knee to first slide the shorts over his feet, then to unlace the boxing boots and take them and his socks off. When she had finished, the black prince sprawled nakedly against the ropes while she patiently awaited his next instruction. He let her stand for a while, eyeing her up and down lazily, then he jerked his head at her to come closer.
"Ever sucked black cock, you blonde-haired honey? Well, if you haven't, now's your time. Just make like it's chocolate or, no ... a big thick lump of licorice. Yeah, there you go ... you're a little kid again, and you just got this bar of licorice. First you lick it all over, to make sure it's good and wet, so nobody else will want a bite, then you shove the whole thing in your mouth and begin to sink your teeth into it ... not too hard, mind, because you want it to last a long time. Off we go, now. Now, hold on a minute. Let's show friend Trevor here how it's done, huh?"
Winking at the Englishman as he came closer, Umphala leaned back on the corner ropes and bent his legs a trifle so that his long, thick, purplish excrescence stood out from him like a bowsprit. Unperturbed by all this, Erika knelt down beside him and began to act on his suggestions, putting out a long, lascivious tongue and licking his whole incredible length from tip to root, then lapping away at the black-haired bollicks that still hung loosely below. She kept her hands behind her back through this but once she'd fully moistened him, she brought her hands up to hold him at each end, and began to munch along the smooth black banana with lips and teeth. The thing grew still harder, striving to rise up flat against his belly instead of hanging out from it. Then she judged it right to move around in front of him and, holding him firm, her two large hands not even beginning to cover him, she pointed her tongue and probed with its narrowed tip into his actual hole, half an inch incredibly vanishing down into the crater.
Watching, Trevor was beside himself and, momentarily pushing Arandwy away, he pulled back his sarong so that his own prick stood nakedly out. Then he pulled her back down so that she straddled it between her bare, hot thighs among the cool lace petticoats. She guided her fingers until they played with her own hole, her sharp nails circling the rim, rubbing his bare thighs against her silk-clad ones.
Erika's tongue was lusting into the Prince, digging like a hummingbird for the white honey the man had to be secreting, still without looking up at him. Maybe this last annoyed Umphala, for in a moment he reached down, grabbed the blonde by her head, and forced her to look up. What he saw in her eyes apparently satisfied him, for he soon pushed her head down, stuck a broad black thumb into each corner of her mouth, and brought her lips down over him. She swallowed once; then, as he released her head, opened her mouth wide and took him in, her lips kissing and sucking his girth as she moved closer to his root. But if she thought that bringing him off in her throat was his only plan and her only occupation for the evening, she was mistaken, for once he was sure that she was not in any way holding back-in fact was rather zestfully attacking the task- he tapped her on the head, put his fingers in her long hair, and pushed her away.
"Fair enough, my lovely, fair enough ... that's about enough for your head at the moment, though you still have a couple of ears I might use later." He glanced narrowly at her, but she shrugged, smiling slightly, ready for anything. Putting an arm companionably around her shoulders, he motioned her to the ropes and the steps, continuing. "You look healthy enough, lass, and I ain't going to box or wrestle with you-not in the ordinary way, at least-but let's see how you do on some of these contraptions here. Trevor," he called over his shoulder as they went toward the wall bars, "can you spare your little dolly there to reset the lights, and come on over here yourself?"
The question was an order, and Umphala followed it with instructions in Matabi for the apethe, who clicked off in her high heels to the elaborate but clearly-plotted switchboard and doused the ring light while she brought up a spot that glaringly slashed through the hall to illuminate a white circle against the wall bars.
CHAPTER 6
Like a break-out prisoner in a Warner Brothers' movie, Erika stood out in the spotlight against the bars. Just for kicks, Trevor had Arandwy follow her big blonde sister's antics under Umphala's instructions so that both of them were standing tall and grasping the nearest bar above their heads, taking a firm grip, and then bringing their legs up to a ninety-degree angle with their bodies. For the Scandinavian, this merely meant an additional strain on her taut black pants and an effortless, steady hold of the position, legs neatly together, toes pointed out in the pure ballet position. The unused little apethe, though, could get her legs up there lithely enough, but was forced to take an unwonted strain and kick and fluster so that the depilated black slash of her cunt winked and pouted at him against the setting of crisp white petticoats. He took pity on her and let her drop to the floor as the Black Prince urged Erika to raise first her right leg, then her left, as far as each would go, the broad, tawny underside of her thighs shining in the light, the silk pants ripping just a little under the strain.
Then Umphala had the Nordic nooky stand tall, grasp the bar above and in back of her, and walk her booted feet back up the close-set bars until she hung out over them, her hard-nippled breasts poking through the mesh of her vest like twin guns in the under bellied turrets of some sleek aircraft. The black, hard and stiff as ever, amused himself by fingering these erectile fleshlets and watching as Erika licked her lips, whether from the strain of her position or from her arising arousal, it was hard to determine. Apart from the occasional touch of his fingers, the blonde was inviolate, but Trevor reckoned that she was not, to say the least, completely unaware or unappreciative of the heady sexy overtones of the situation.
The scant garments she wore were holding up well under the strain imposed on them, apart from the aforementioned increased slit at crotch and, it was to be imagined, crupper.
But it was not for long to remain in imagination alone, for Umphala soon had her turn around to stand facing the bars. She reached up and grasped the highest bar, which left her feet dangling a foot or so above the floor; then she walked, toes upward, bar by bar, legs stiff and straight before her, until her body conformed to a narrow V, her shapely posterior looming over the watchers, two half-moons that bulged in the black silk cloth like giant olives. Once she had arrived at this position, Umphala told her to start sliding her feet outward along the bar. Erika's arms were trembling with the strain, but she determinedly did as she was ordered. Slowly she slithered her toes outward, having some difficulty as her pants cut into her, until, when her long limbs were nearly four feet apart, the inevitable happened and the black silk parted under her crotch with a sound like a ripping sail or a healthy fart. So sudden was the split that she nearly lost her balance and her feet, pressed by the weight of her body, celebrated the liberation of their upper half by sliding out along the polished wood, bringing a wince to the blonde's face as her thighs were wrenched apart.
Moving in close to her, Umphala reached up and caught at the remains of the silk pants fluttering about her waist and with one powerful motion ripped them clean off her. Ducking his head, he went under her and stood with his back to the bars. Her breasts dangled against the top of his head as he inspected her wide-open cunt. With a nod he invited Trevor over, and the two men looked into the red gash, exposed and unguarded before them, that showed through the curly yellow tuft that mossed her crotch. Reaching out, the Black Prince thrust a meaty purple thumb into her upper notch and eased the raw, scarlet node of her clitoris out, rubbing his nail up its underside, watching interestedly as her labia opened out under this stimulus. He played around just inside with a finger; then, tilting his head back to bite one of her dangling nipples through the netting of her vest, he left the bars and went to stand behind her, poking his lubricated finger between her cheeks and into her round-eyed asshole, not delving too deep, but just enough, obviously, to touch the cartilage which kept her turned on. Trevor, taking the place just vacated by the Prince inside her legs, could see the twisted inner labia begin to ooze moisture.
In a moment Umphala had finished this phase of inspection and told her to jump down. When she stood before him, raising her legs bent-kneed to ease them after the strain, he grabbed at the shoulders of her vest with both hands and ripped it apart at the front, pulling it down over her arms until it was free. Now she was naked except for the boxing boots and the white towel which, although it had come unwound, still hung about her throat. The Prince rewound it like a scarf and stood back to survey the picture she made. And she was quite some sight! Her long blonde hair hung down her back and over one shoulder to half-conceal one great round breast whose hard and erect brown nipple poked through the golden rain like a mouse in a cornfield. The other breast was bare and, now that it was unsupported, swung out from her and formed a dark-lined crease between itself and her rib cage. This mighty torso slimmed down to a lean waist then flared out dramatically to her splendid wide hips which framed the pleasant swell of her belly, with its deep navel above the golden clump of tight-curled hairs at the junction of her powerful thighs. As Arandwy changed the lighting set-up, Erika presented a glorious, fuckable sight ... lithe, tall and tawny, a lioness worthy of any African hunter-which was about Umphala's game.
After fondling the girl for some time, the Prince led her by the hand over to an exercise horse and had her lay back along it, then part her legs so they dangled on each side. Catching her behind the knees, the nude black pulled her forward until her gaping cunt hovered over the edge of the padded top of the horse. Her arms he brought back and up behind her head, along the leather top, and he began to stroke her unresisting body, telling Arandwy to take off her boots as he whipped the towel out from under her neck. As the little black maid knelt to do his bidding, her pert shining butt sported itself among the petals of her white ruffled petticoats, twitching with her movements above the silken stocking tops like black-eyed daisies in a breeze. Envying Umphala and his occupation, Trevor reached down and caressed the little beauties, much to the apethe's pleasure. The Prince was now brushing the backs of his hands inside the velvet tan of the Scandinavian's thighs and watching closely as they quivered with her mounting desire, as did her fine nipples on her only slightly flattened breasts. Presently he placed his thumbs against her labia and pried them apart as he would split a peach or an orange, and leaned in to more closely examine the moist fresh fruit of her vagina, pulling the lips completely apart so that Trevor, just behind him, could see into the black cavern that was her hole.
As if to measure the orifice, the Prince easily lifted himself up on the horse, placing his weight on his hands at its edges, and let his monstrous purple prick ride up and down outside the lips, which seemed to part and pucker like a girl waiting with closed eyes for a surprise. Erika was breathing heavily, despite the fact that she should have been blas� about stuff like this, Trevor thought. But then perhaps she had decided to relax and enjoy herself as she was enjoyed, to show good service to her potential future masters. But whatever, she was not yet to be satisfied, for the Prince walked away to the switchboard and manipulated the lights again so that the area around the hanging ropes was illuminated. Then, calling her to him, he ordered her to climb a pair of ropes, which she neatly and efficiently did in the correct way, crossing her slim, long-toed feet around the two lengths of whitened hemp and hoisting aloft. When she was comfortably high, he had her perform several tricks for his delectation, including a flying angel which, in her stark nude condition, conjured up a sinner's heaven as her arms thrust back and out, her back curved and her brown-tipped boobs hung pendant beneath her. When she hung upside down, an ankle and hand on each rope, her tawny skin, her lush curves, the golden hair at head and crotch and lustrous globes of breast and ass seemed to make her a sportive goddess, a nude naiad on Nordic scale, Odin's odalisque. Umphala began to swing the ropes until she swooped high above them, her pendant breasts hobbling at the end of each arc of flight, a great golden bird of paradise with her stream of hair floating out behind her as she arched abandonedly through the air.
Smiling a bit cruelly, the Prince told her to slide down as fast as she could, and Trevor expected her cunt hair to be burned off as she shot downward. The insides of her thighs were red from the friction and for once she glanced at the Prince with a hurt look, but he ignored this and sent her jogging around the perimeter of the hall while he considered his next move. The sight of those great breasts heaving up and down as she paced, those long thighs lifting and dropping, and those burnished balls of her butt flexing in and out with each pumping stroke turned Trevor on again so that he felt like fucking Arandwy here and now. But, with a knowing glance, the Prince beckoned to him and spoke to the maid, leading them over to the pile of rubber mats which he spotlighted from above, quenching the other lights. He sat down with them, placing Arandwy in the middle so that they weren't quite touching, then called for Erika to come over. He let her stand in front of them for a couple of minutes, getting her breath back, and Trevor was even more excited by this almost-from-under view of her steadily rising and falling breasts, and the now slightly sweat-glistened golden hair that marked the junction of her slender legs.
When she had recovered Umphala spoke again. "So glad to see you're as healthy and fit and athletic as your figure would promise, my dear lady. I was hoping that your exercise was not restricted merely to the bedroom and the photographer's studio. If your sexual stamina is as great as that of the rest of your body, then indeed you are, so to speak, in remarkably good shape. Now, just to confirm that you have no inhibitions, and before I take you off to test your copulatory capacity, I want you to kneel down here between this maid's angles, and bring all three of us off by mouth and hand. That's it ... but first push your knees apart till they touch the girl's legs ... that's right; and part your cunt for me ... yes."
Trevor, amused, pulled his sarong off and threw it to one side so he was as naked as the Prince, while the big black carefully placed one big toe into the blonde's hole and worked it skillfully in, as she obligingly held her labia apart to accommodate him. His was the large toe of an African used to going barefoot, broad and prehensile, long and flexible. The Englishman imagined it turning and twisting in Erika's sweet socket and felt his own cock jerk at the image.
When the big blonde had satisfactorily ensconced Umphala's digit, she leaned forward to turn her attentions to the three of them as the two blacks reclined flat on their backs. But Trevor, sizing up the situation to come, had a suggestion to make, to which Umphala quickly agreed. The Englishman leaned over Arandwy and lifted her accommodating bottom with one hand, unsnapping the waistband of her petticoats to pull them down over her chubby little legs. Throwing them aside, he pulled up her short black silk skirt to expose her round, firm jet belly and the depilated jut of her pelvic skin. This arranged-so that Erika might the more easily apply herself to the tiny black slot-Trevor lay down with the others, resting his head somewhat uncomfortably on his crossed arms until he thought to roll up one of the smaller mats for a long pillow whose comfort he offered to Umphala and the maid.
The blonde paused for a moment to consider how she should go about her task, then reached out to grasp Umphala by the root of his great prick, holding it toward her till she could get her lips and teeth around it for the second time. This achieved, she let go of him with her right hand and placed it between Arandwy's silken thighs, resting a knuckle between her naked lips. With her left hand she took hold of Trevor's manhood and began to play with it, concentrating mainly on what she was doing with her mouth, but letting her hands toy and manipulate the others, pressing against the girl's cunt and circling and ringing Trevor with gentle pressure, bringing him slowly up. Meanwhile she moved herself fractionally up and down on Umphala's toe; her swinging breasts jostled between the squeeze of her arms, their large brown centers hard and firm. Her long hair had slipped around her so that Trevor couldn't see very much of what was going on with Umphala, but the glimpses he did catch through the golden veil showed her enthusiastically sucking and blowing at the black bulk of flesh that rode succulently in and out between her pale pink lips, the tawny skin of her wide cheeks fluttering as she breathed around the purplish pillar.
After a while, during which Trevor became hard under her gentle touch, she changed hands and mouth so that she could lick the Englishman's sensitive red tip with her long, serpentine tongue and, using her left hand, fingers bent except for the longest, she poked into Arandwy's tight little hole until the child wriggled with approaching joy. Erika took the Prince's tool into her right hand and pumped up and down its salivated surface with a stronger stroke than she'd used on Trevor, thrusting with short jabs of her heavy hips at his foot so that at times his next-to-big toe was also driven partly into her. Noticing this, the black began to waggle that toe too so that its nail scraped along one wet labia until somehow he was able to twist it up into the narrow slit that housed her aroused clitoris, pressing the small knob as though it were the doorbell to her inner awareness. She responded by further widening her doors, the softer skin of the vagina plumping out like the lush pink trumpet of an orchidaceous exotic tropical flower.
Under the ministrations of Erika's hot mouth, the veins in Trevor's penis stood out so that he could feel her tongue ripple over the ridges as she worked warmly around him. From time to time she would close her teeth on him and drag them up or slide them down, and he thrilled each time she did this, appreciating the strange joy of the empty cave of her mouth in which his blind prick stood, shivering at each billow of warm breath that came from her throat to blow into his open hole and against his grainy tip. He yearned to remain forever like this, with a circle of warm pressure almost at his roots and the rest of him enclosed in a hot and humid invisible sack. Her tongue lapped lasciviously, with tormenting leisure, between her lips and down to his hard-bursting bollicks, flickering among the sparse hairs there. After a little while she drew herself slowly, wetly off and placed her left hand tightly around him, working away with a will, adjusting herself meanwhile to lick between Arandwy's thighs like a cat washing itself, her long-lashed eyes closed like fair fans on her tanned skin, her nose rubbing up and down the small girl's drum-tight belly. As Trevor curiously raised his head to watch, the shiny black leather lips fully opened and the blonde kissed them with her own moist pink ones with a smack he could hear. Then the long, sinuous tongue dived into the jet portals and lost itself to view. But not to touch, evidently, for Arandwy began to writhe her hips, and her silk-clad thighs came up to press against the prominent cheekbones of the other's gold-helmeted head.
He saw, presently, how Erika's broad mouth gaped open until her white teeth munched on the black flesh, her lips drawn back, the tongue still busily at work in the dark, hidden hole. The blonde's jaws began to work, chewing deeply at the African girl's now quivering little crotch. So intent was Erika on her headwork, in fact, that she'd momentarily stopped her own trembling over the Prince's toe. So good was it, that in a moment, with ooh's and ah's and grunts of ecstatic, suddenly released pleasure, the apethe clutched her breasts lovingly through the thin silk of her dress, and gave her tiny loins up to satiated desire. Shivers of uncontrollable delight rippled the skin of her thighs and belly, her legs clenching and relaxing and clenching again in their black silkiness against the yellow glory of her cunt-munching, white companion in lust.
Erika's busy hands did not cease to work on the other two through this, although when she somewhat reluctantly, Trevor thought, came off Arandwy, her eyes were still closed, giving her face an expression of otherplaceness. Nonetheless she immediately began to bounce her butt up and down, rapidly now, to take what succor she could from Umphala's digit. Two unexpected squeezes from the hand tightly jerking in long rubs at his cock all but brought Trevor off then and there, and he supposed his breast-swinging partner was having pleasant images cast on her own eye screens. Then, with a barely perceptible shrug, the tall blonde girl opened her eyes, leaned over so that her pendant nipples swung and scraped over the black girl's belly with each arc of transit, and began to alternate her greedy lips, still slick from Arandwy's honey, over the upstanding members of the two men, not lessening her expert work with her hands, using them to guide their members quickly and easily into her avaricious mouth. She must have felt Trevor begin to tremble, for she rub-a-dub-dubbed him speedily while giving her last oral attentions to Umphala, releasing him at last just as both men spurted a fine white stream of spunk into the air to curve, arcing as she directed their nozzles, back down past her face into the waiting notch of little Arandwy, who started when the hot drops spattered on her spread thighs.
When the first fine rain had ceased, the blonde treated both of them to a last, polishing gouge of her loving tongue, scooping the milky stuff from them with its tip, savoring the liquid pearls on her palate for them to see clearly, opening wide her mouth and wriggling her tongue out between her clean, matched, white teeth. Brushing her golden hair back from her creamy shoulders, she swallowed gratefully and, for the first time that evening, gave each of them a lingering, sweet and satisfied smile.
"Did I do well, Prince Umphala, Trevor?" she asked with mischievous demureness, as it was obvious from their smug smiles and comfortably weary postures that they were very happy and satisfied. She didn't wait for a reply but, raising an eyebrow quizzically in a my-goodness-how-could-I-have-forgotten expression, she kneeled upright before them to let Umphala's big toe drop out of her like a cork from a wineskin, with a sound of released suction. As the black regarded it, wiggling the thing to examine it halfheartedly, Trevor saw that it was wet and runny, but whether from her oils or her eggs he couldn't tell.
Arandwy got up and went off, presumably to wash her thighs, her plump hard ass jiggling jauntily beneath the short black silk skirt, now unpetticoated. Erika sauntered nonchalantly over to the parallel bars, barely suppressing a yawn, and began to exercise herself, swinging and looping and turning with the smooth precision of a graceful machine. Umphala looked over at Trevor and shook his head in admiring mock disbelief.
"That's one well put-together, unflappable honey of a girl," he said, adding a long, low whistle. "You surely picked a right one there, Trevor old man. For me she'll do. I'm taking her to bed now and I don't expect to find any faults with her there. Queen M'wadi thanks you, my country of Matabi thanks you, and I fuckin' well thank you, you lousy limey, you!" Getting to his feet with one lazy and lithe movement, he affectionately patted Trevor's naked shoulder where he sat cross-legged on the rubber mats. "And that's the first time," the Englishman recorded in his mind, "that he's ever shown a sign of genuine bloody affection for me. Things are looking up in the Martin family, Trevor m'lad!" He watched as the big nude blonde Scandinavian and the magnificently naked African prince strode out, his arm around her shoulders as he talked to her. Then he rose to his own feet and went to look for Arandwy. Bigger things were in store for her this long, long, Nordic night!
CHAPTER 7
Dear bloody Trevor:
Is that how you start off a letter to an Englishman? Any fucking way, here I am in Hong Kong and there you are in Stockholm, East and West, and my aching crotch the twain had better soon goddamn meet! Like man, I haven't had a fuck since I left New York-which isn't to say I haven't come like a good 'n more than once and nearly creamed my pants in the bargain-but more of this a little later.
Meanwhile, you bastard, I don't expect you've lost any opportunity to put your donger where it'll do you the most good. Like up that little black bitch's cute ass, for instance. Not that I blame you ... if I had a third leg I'd have a shot at her myself. And I know (and I'd better be right, you clown) that you just pant and lust after me ... what I've got between my legs-(and other places!) ... is something that can do you just fine, just fine ... and better than you'll get in any other establishment. And I know you dig what's in my head, too (and I don't mean what you're going to think when you read that, either!) (though that you dig too, you dirty bastard!). Anyoldhow, as you say, we're something more than just simpatico, and as long as you've always got enough of the bantam belter for me, I don't much care what you do. Me, I might fuck with someone if M'wadi says it's for the good of the cause, or just out of curiosity, maybe; but I'll always be true to you darlin' in my fashion, always true to you darlin' in my way. So screw you, you bum. Hey, Trev, maybe that's what we all are, you know-balling bums, like tennis bums and ski bums and like that, just screwing our way around the world on a corkscrew drive! Hey, how's about that! Little Melva not only just made a philosophical statement but also added a note of literary whimsy by way of a humorous metaphor! You know I always said your brains were in your balls. Well, maybe you've pumped enough of 'em into me to get old bunny-brain Melva started up.
Well, back to business. We picked up the plane, no questions asked, of course, with the Queen bribing her way along like diamonds and rubies were going out of style ... and hired a pilot for the trip, a dumb sort of guy, not too much intelligence or curiosity, thank God, but smart enough to take us up and put us down. Hey, and guess what? M'wadi wants me to learn to fly so that in the future I can pilot our new bird! Groovy, huh? I've been having fun out here at Kai Tak airport, fooling with small planes. M'wadi says I'm to continue with the lessons each opportunity I get so when we get to Stockholm it'll be fucking and flying for me, doll. Yo, well, anyway, the plane is a twin-engine Fokker, about eight years old but all tuned up. Damn thing sits so low on the ground though, I'm kinda scared about flying it. But say, ain't that some name, a Fokker!? Just think, when I get through with all this learning, I'm going to be a Flying Fokking Fool! How does that grab you?
Well, we checked into the Peninsula Hotel a few days ago and M'wadi went off right away to collect Mei Lin. She's some neat chick, too. Don't reckon I'll be able to keep you out of her little ol' love locker when you see her. Man, if you think that film was a raunchy, randy thing you shoulda been here to see what happened when the Queen put her through the hoops. Guess I might as well tell you in detail, 'cos it has to have been a once in a lifetime deal. Anyway, while she and one of the apethes were out ... got the little black chick dolled up in a sam foo (that's those tight little pajama outfits these Chinese chicks wear around here when they ain't stuffed into a long-slitted cheongsam) and you should just see (you will, you will, you horny bastard!) what the outfit does for her ass and boobs. Man, looks like she's got more round pockets than a pool table, though hers are out, not in. Where the fuck was I ... ? Oh yeah, well, they were out and so I sneaked off next door to the Y for a swim in their pool. (Me, in the Y! Like to bug the eyes out of their heads It's mixed bathing, buddy, and I sure mixed them!) Right, well, when I got back up to my room (part of the largest suite they have in the joint, naturally) there's M'wadi, done up in one of those African gowns-shit, can't remember the name but it begins with an a I think; so, she's got one of those towel turbans around her head to hide her platinum hair and she's got her feet up on a couch with a tray of drinks at hand. The two apethes are there, standing in the background as usual, and M'wadi calls me across to sit on the floor next to her. (I pack my own cushions, you dig!) Across from us on a hard-backed chair, looking like shit wouldn't melt in her ass, is Mei Lin, dressed in one of those cheongsams I was telling you about, tight shiny green silk, knee-length, but slit at each side 'bout up to her navel it seemed. The thing'd been tailored for her tits and they pointed out at us like a couple of pagodas from her slim body. She's an itty-bitty thing, except where it counts. She'd had her hair all lacquered up and slick-looking, wound up on top of her head like a third pagoda, and she kept her hands modestly crossed in her lap, and her eyes modestly cast down, and her legs from ankle to thigh modestly pressed together. Oh, I tell you, she looked like she didn't know cock from cucumber. By her feet she'd placed a purse, same green silk as her dress, and on her feet she had a pair of matching green, high-heeled (the only unfashionable-though great for her!-thing about the chick) court shoes. No stockings, of course, but she did sport gloves up past her elbows made of guess what material in guess what color? You're right. Give the man his thirty-two dollars; now, sir, do you want to try for sixty-four? What do you suppose the first words out of her tiny cherub's ruby lips were, when the Queen asked her what she did for a living and what she wanted to do with herself?
She half-opened her modest eyes and shyly, by fuck and fury, looked over at us as she spoke. Her English is pretty good, by the way, so don't think I'm putting you on. "I plostitute. I better than fuckin' plostitute, I number one high-class call girl in Hong Kong. Mei Lin best fuck in the tellitoly, best fuck on the island. Mei Lin go anywhere, do anything, any time. Cos why Mei Lin best fuck around? Cos Mei Lin like to fuck, love to fuck, and man, girl, woman, like Mei Lin enjoy herself with he. What Mei Lin want do later, tomorrow, next year? Mei Lin want to keep on fucking and getting lot o' goddamn dollar for it. Mei Lin want buy lot of other girl and set up one big damn house, be Mummy number one to all girl. But Mei Lin not want stop fucking herself, no ... Mei Lin that time go catch man to come that she want to fuck with.
"You got good money, Mei Lin see. Now, lady what you want Mei Lin do? You want to fuck with Mei Lin? Just want look see Mei Lin? Want see all Mei Lin can do? Not mind what you ask, Mei Lin can do any fuckin' thing!"
And she just sat there like she'd recited the prize-winning speech at Sunday school or something, just naive and nice-looking. Hot damn! She's something else again. Well, M'wadi first asked her where she came from, how she got into this racket, and a lot of shit like that, and she told the Queen that she'd been brought up to be a stage acrobat and had then been sold for a couple of thousand bucks to some old Chinese sugar daddy when she was about ten. He broke her in and fucked her sore, but she soon discovered she liked it. And, having a smarter brain box on her shoulders than he realized (her uncle or someone had taught her some English, to read and speak, so she could perform her acrobatics at some of the Peke parties), she put the screws on the old man and threatened to go off and blab the whole sordid thing across the front pages of the Hong Kong Standard and the South China Morning Post if he didn't leave off and set her up. Must have amused the lecherous old bastard, 'cause that's just what he did, making out she was some orphaned relative or something and getting her into school. Well, between what she learned in school and what she learned in his bed (the dirty old man collected erotica from all over-out-Farouked Farouk, the way she tells it) she got a verrry liberal education until one night she turned the guy on so much he died, and, to prevent scandal the rest of the family shipped her out before the doctor came in. Don't know what they put on the death certificate-something like "death due to premature hardening of the penis," maybe.
Anyway, there she was, fourteen and fuck-happy, and enough bread from the old man over the years to get herself a pad and keep herself in food and clothes for a few months. Soon she started asking for, and getting, top dollar for her services, and ain't looked back since, 'cept by way of her acrobatics, which she still keeps up, as you saw in the movie. But I'm probably boring the shit out of you, so I'll get back to what happened here in the hotel room once M'wadi'd locked the door so there'd be no interruptions.
First she had the girl stand up in the center of the room, on the faded blue carpet we've got here, and turn herself around. Tell you what, Trev, I'll just tell you what she did, like a story, instead of throwing all this "M'wadi told her, M'wadi had her" kind of crap.
Mei Lin turned herself around, this way and that, smoothing her tight green silk dress down over her tits and hips and fanny, with her slim pale-yellow legs naked to the thighs and showing through the long slits of her cheongsam. She kept her gloves on while she fumbled under her right arm for the loops of material that hooked over the buttons of her dress and undid them, then unhooked something at her neck. Don't know how she did it, but the high collar-a band of green silk, stiffened, about two inches wide-was left around her throat when she wriggled herself out of the dress. She didn't have a stitch on underneath and, if you remember from the film, she'd gotten rid of all the hair on her body, so it was kind of odd to see her when she posed for us, long-gloved arms above her head, gracefully waving, the mass of shining black hair piled up, then nothing but the collar on her naked ivory body, small and slim, till her feet in the high-heeled shoes. But she'd done something right up front-she'd painted and lacquered her nipples so that they looked hard as plastic, and they were green, even the aureoles. And in her belly button she'd stuck a piece of jade or something, and in her bare cunt she'd managed to stick a small green shield, again of jade. Couldn't see any kind of support for it; it just stayed there between her thighs. Something like a cache-sexe that the Folies-Bergere chicks wear. Anyway, there she stood for a moment, bare-assed and beautiful, with the green spots, four of them, really setting off the pale-lemon of her skin.
In a minute she walked over to the radio, with her pretty little butt parting and rolling between her swaying hips, all naked in the back from neck to ankle, and fooled around with the knobs until she got some pop Chinese station with a kind of acid-rock group going like you've never heard, with Chinese orchestration yet-Fu Man Chu and the Fuk-Ups, maybe. Anyway, she started to dance to this, and can she ever move her body! She swayed and shook and swiveled ... everything from bump and grind through belly dancing to a sort of sexy ballet. You ever seen a naked belly dancer? Gad, she used every muscle in her body, and somehow, seeing her in broad daylight in that hotel room, right there in front of me, it started to turn me on. When she rippled the muscles from her thighs to her waist, I just had to reach out and put my hand on her belly to feel the throb and pulse of her skin, and the little minx actually pressed against me, bending herself backward over those high shoes until her green-blocked crotch was winking at me like a big eye. I think M'wadi got a kick out of me and my reaction 'cause she made Mei Lin carry on with her dance but stand right in front of me. Once the Chinese chick swiveled herself around, still bent over backwards, so that she faced me upside down, and jiggled her cute little boobs before my eyes. She came in so close to where I was sitting on the floor that she could have scratched my eyes out with those sharp, hard nipples of hers! And then she straightened up, still shaking like a blender, and bent over the other way, with her legs wide apart, so that I couldn't look anywhere but at her bobbing butt. All but had my nose in her asshole, which I swear she winked at me! She'd scented herself, too; I think it was sandalwood.
The Queen nudged me with her foot. "Why don't you go ahead and touch her, Melva," she said. "You look as if you can't keep your hands off her." So, what the hell, I reached out and began to run my hands over her body. And she didn't stop dancing and moving. But she did begin to play with me, moving just far enough away from me sometimes so she was out of reach. Well, fucked if I was going to go after her, but the next time she was bent over backwards toward me, I grabbed a breast in each hand and squeezed them. All this time, of course, she was running her own green-silk-gloved hands over herself, sliding them around her body as if she were making love to herself.
When she thought she'd given us enough of a show, she stood in front of us, with her legs in a great open V, and really began to grind her hips around, moving from one leg to the other and sticking herself out in front and behind. As the music was coming to an end, as a climax to her little performance, she stuck out her belly and popped that piece of jade out of her cunt. She has to have fantastic muscles in there, for there was only an inch or two of knob on the back of the thing for her to clench around. And there she stood, with her brown-lipped hole pointed right at us, bold as a whore at a wedding. We all gave her a clap and, goddamn it, I'll swear she actually blushed. So fucking modest.
Now, you remember I told you I'd just come back from a swim? Well I'd taken off my dress and had a wrapper on over my panties, garter belt and stockings ... no bra ... too damn warm despite the air conditioning. So when M'wadi tells the Chinese chick to strip me and turn me on, she didn't have too much of a job. When I looked at the Queen, she just gave me that big grin of hers and said she figured I must be pining for you, and that this was the next best thing. Well, like I said, I was already half-turned on, so I didn't offer any objection. Mei Lin just nodded, took hold of my wrist and pulled me, all unresisting, into the center of the room where M'wadi could get a better view. In spite of the shoes she was wearing, I was still about six inches taller than she, and I'm only five-two myself. She fluttered around me in her yellow skin and green silk and jade bits like a hummingbird. First she pulled the cord of my wrapper and let it hang open, then pulled it apart, then slid her silky arms around me inside it and hugged me to her, dropping her head to fasten her lips on my left nipple. Zap and powie! Instant turn-on! She sunk her teeth gently into me and sucked as much of my big boob into her mouth as she could, toying with my scarlet tip as if she were chewing on a grape. Boy, but it felt good. Well, what to do, I brought my own arms around her and began to run my hands up and down her back, feeling the fine line of her spine, smoothing her narrow shoulders. She slithered her own hands down over my butt and began to squeeze me through my panties-those old black mesh ones that I wear for you and your nostalgia, hah! Then I guess she realized that she wasn't giving the Queen much of a look, and she let go of me to yank the wrapper down off my shoulders and throw it to one of the apethes, who were trying not to be too interested in what was going down. That left me naked from the waist up, and she spent a couple of minutes brushing up against me, going behind to caress my ass, then hugging me again from the back, playing her green-silk hands over my buxom boobies, bouncing them on her palms, fingering my nipples, making two circles around them with finger and thumb, pulling them apart, running her delicate fingers around my aureoles so that I could feel the long nails through the thin silk.
Then, in one quick move, she thrust her hands inside my pants at my hips, still standing behind me, and slid them down my stockinged legs till they hit the floor. My little old red bush burst into glory for all to see, and there I stood with my panties around my ankles. Mei Lin came around in front of me and gently lifted my feet, one by one, out of the things, and I noticed her gaze was fixed on my crack which, in spite of all this, hadn't really started to open up. But that state of affairs didn't last long, I'll tell you. She pulled my feet apart, about a yard, then went behind me again, kneeling. Clutching me around the ankle with both hands, she oh so slowly ran them up outside my stocking until she reached the soft part of my thigh, then began to circle that sensitive bit of skin with her fingers for a moment until she started off with the other leg, slithering up, silk on nylon, till she reached my upper thigh again. She repeated this several times and, by the time she was through, my legs were trembling, and I could hardly stand to wait for her to get on with it. But she took her time and went back to playing with my breasts again. Kneeling behind me once more, she pressed her face into my ass and, as she began to run her fingers lightly over my belly, circling down toward my displayed, copper-tufted crotch, started to kiss my cheeks, giving them gentle love bites, and poking her delicious tongue into my crack. You're really going to have to take instruction in all this, Trevor me lad! Just wait till I get hold of you!
So, she let me keep my stockings and the belt, and that was it. Presently she got her hands down into my red thatch and started to pull and pluck at the hairs, twisting them around her finger, making little curls and coils out of them, still not quite touching the place. By now I was in an agony of impatience for her to get there. And then the little devil left off that and returned to running her silken hands all over my body, front and back, cool to my skin, brushing my flanks, tickling the rim of my asshole, blowing into it through cupped hands, biting the cherries of my nipples, pulling herself up me by wrapping her arms about my neck and driving her knee into my crotch, letting her own bone-hard nipples rake the skin of my breasts and belly, tonguing my navel. I could hardly stand, and she must have sensed this, for she let me go. Then, still keeping my legs apart, she pushed me down, first to my knees and then onto my back with my knees bent and wide-open. Kneeling down between my legs, she let herself go flat with a peculiarly graceful, snakelike movement that comes, I suppose, from her acrobatic training, and at first placed her cool forehead in the joint of my thighs, her round balls of ass sticking up in the air behind her. One of the apethes, at her nod, had fetched me a pillow, and this made it a hell of a lot easier to see what was happening. M'wadi, of course, was quietly enjoying herself, moving a bit on the couch to get a better view from time to time, but not complaining, and letting Mei Lin have her head, or my ass, if she wanted it!
It almost looked as if Mei Lin was performing some religious rite on me ... perhaps she was, I never asked. But certainly there was something ceremonious about her posture and I wished to hell she'd get on with it. It's just that she's so damned good at her job, her profession, that she can judge the best timing for everything. Anyway, it didn't last long, this head to crotch thing, and in a minute she pushed her brow onto my belly so that her nose was somewhere just above my clit. Then she raised her head and we looked at each other along the length of my body, and now her eyes were wider, and more interested, as though she was beginning to get turned-on herself. Coming to a decision, with a cute little nod of her cute little head, she reached under me and unsnapped the garter belt, then detached it from my stocking tops and threw it away. She pushed my right leg flat on the floor, still out at a forty-five degree angle from the other, upraised it, and straddled herself across and along it, pressing her quim on my kneecap so that I could feel it twitching through the nylon, heating up. This position put her head over my stomach and she immediately began to probe with her tongue into my navel, and you know how deep that is, and you know what happens when you poke something into it! Gad, it was like she'd pressed a button, and I tingled from armpit to crotch to toes to fingertips. Since she was slightly on one side of me, it was simple for her now to adjust herself until her hardened right nipple dangled against my cunt, and at last she let it drop into and against the slit of my ready and waiting clit. Bong, how it sprang up to her touch! Man, it was fantastic, what she did with that hard green nipple. Using her muscles alone, she was able to manipulate my little knob with it like it was an extra finger. It may sound corny to say I thrilled to her touch, but that's right on, that's exactly how it was. By this time she had her green-silk hands back on my boobs, digging her fingers into them like some contented kitten flexing its claws in a blanket, keeping each quivering nipple in the cleft of two fingers, rolling them with each move. Now she had me going at breast, belly and clit, and man did I feel like going! Again I brought my own arms into play and started to fondle her hard little body, getting a secondary thrill from the feel of her smooth, flawless skin under my palms.
In a little while she slid back down me until her naked notch was nestled in my instep and her breasts straddled my thigh, and delicately, as though she were plucking a flower, pulled apart the lips of my cunt. At last! Praise the day! She slid two fingers of each hand inside and began to twiddle them, using both thumbs to capture and squeeze my clit. I closed my eyes, grabbed my boobs, and let myself go into fantasy land until she moved again, easing her gentle but firm fingers out of me. The base of my womb ached to be assaulted; I could feel gusts, waves of desire run through my guts, but still she was not finished with her exquisite torment. Looking down I saw that she had bent her legs back so that the spiked heels dug into her rounded ass, and she'd parted her thighs some. In gratitude for her services, I began to flex my foot into her crotch, bringing my big toe up to squeeze between her cheeks, rubbing the nylon between her satin thighs. She responded by first smiling quickly at me, then lowering her opened mouth to my cunt, making sure to rest her hard little nose, nudgingly, into the clit slit, giving me a huge, hot kiss, open-mouthed, which lasted for a minute, an exciting, tingling minute, before out popped her long, thin tongue, and up it went against me. Rolling her head, she kissed and licked and tickled my inner thighs, the supersensitive area immediately under my slot, the rusty fur around it, and finally my lips, rasping on them like a washing cat. I shivered and trembled like a virgin on the verge, and I reached down to grasp her shoulders. Her own squirms around my ankle were now getting more excited and rapid, and I wished I could somehow grab her tits and help her turn on. Now her tongue was thrusting into me, running around the walls of my vagina, while her teeth bit and caught at my lips. I could feel her hot breath, short, shallow, shuddering, blow into my damp and curly hair, and my own mouth was open and gasping. Flick, flick, flick went her tantalizing tongue and nnhh! nnhh! nnhh! I jerked. She was almost bringing me off, and I readied myself for it, bringing my left leg, still bent so as not to crush her head, onto her back, rubbing my nyloned heel up and down her spine, and then, suddenly, she withdrew her tongue, hugged my shaking thigh, and drove two long, silk-clad fingers into my cunt until she touched the fluted entrance at the back. Wham! Hhhhhhnnnnnnn! Oh momma oh momma oh momma oh momma oh momma oh MOMma! I creamed, I came, I exploded, I burst into stars and rockets! Great surges ran through me like hot flushes, and all the muscles of my belly and thighs contracted and relaxed, contracted and relaxed, clenched and gave.
Shit, man, that was the best damn orgasm I've ever had, 'cept for those with you. I don't think Mei Lin came off, but I guess she got her kicks. She lay over me until I was through ... come to think of it, maybe she was hiding me from any embarrassment ... we girls do like to have a few quiet moments when it's over, y'know? Anyway, when I'd settled down, she extracted her fingers (did I forget to write that all this while, while I was firing away, she'd kept 'em in me, using them as triggers to keep me going?), reached over for my panties and draped 'em neatly across my quivering quim, then gracefully stood up and turned to look at M'wadi. Hot damn, but she looked sexy with that green collar, her shining black hair, still undisturbed by all her activity, her lemon-yellow skin, hairless and smooth as milk, and those ridiculous spiked shoes. And when she clasped her long, green-silk gloved hands behind her back to stand demurely in front of the Queen, I felt like tying on a dildo and fucking her right then and there!
Well, that's about it. One of the apethes helped me up and carted me off to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and when I came back M'wadi and Mei Lin had gone off together into the Queen's bedroom. And since the Chinese chick's dress was still on the floor where she'd dropped it, and since Our Leader's African robe was strewn across the couch (and you know she never wears more than shows), I figured she was putting little Mei Lin through her final paces.
That was all a few days ago. Mei Lin is definitely recruited. I suppose that since Erika's with us now (M'wadi showed me your wire yesterday), you'll be going off to Israel with her and Umphala to pick up this Sarah Chikowski. Good hunting! We'll be off to Cairo in a day or so to do our bit with Yasup Ali, then pick you all up in Tel Aviv in the plane. Then to Paris, to collect Adamm's and his daughter, and the Vietnamese chick, Thanh Vinh, and on to Stockholm.
M'wadi's almost finished getting this plane fixed up for our guests, and for us. Got a crew of Chinese carpenters and welders and such who think we're all crazy but don't care so long as we pay, and they certainly won't talk. Oh, yeah, I'm writing this part of this letter a couple of days after I started it, and I forgot to tell you that we've bounced our original pilot-sent him back to the States with a lot of loot in his pocket. M'wadi's picked up a new guy, a Malaysian Indian called Ram something-or-other; we call him Ram for short. Something murky in his background ... don't know what, but he used to be with Malaysian Airways and got canned. Still got his license, but apparently no airline will touch him, so he was eager to join our happy little band. Keeps to himself, but M'wadi's sure he can be trusted.
Shit, man, this is a long letter. Going to end it right now. Can't wait to be with you again and screw around. I want to be fucked and, Mei Lin or not, it ain't the same without you, lover! See you,
Love and all that crap, Melva
PS: While we're on the long flight to Cairo I aim to have Mei Lin teach me a few tricks that may endear you to me when I try them out. Take your hand off your penis and grab a pen. Write, hear!
CHAPTER 8
They traveled as Mr. and Mrs. Trevor James, and as Mr. John Mbowa and daughter. Their faked passports listed Mrs. James as Erika, and Umphala's "daughter" used the what-the-hell name of Arandwy. The overnight flight had set them down in Tel Aviv in the early afternoon and they were comfortably settled into two adjoining suites, things squared with the management (important business talks, utmost privacy, no employees to be allowed in under any circumstances) and a good meal inside them before they got down to the details of the actual plan.
"All right, people, this is how we'll do it," said Umphala. "Tomorrow Erika, as your personal secretary, will phone Miss Chikowski and make an appointment for her to come discuss business with you. We know that she has powerful personal ambitions, and you will say that you are acting for me ... we'll use my real name, I think ... and imply that I am extremely wealthy, that I seek political influence in Africa, that I am anxious to set up a relationship with someone of equal influence in Israel with the object of fulfilling our mutual ambitions. Be a little vague, of course. Stress that I am here incognito and that she must say nothing of this to anyone. The fact that you are so obviously of the English type who works with Africans like myself should remove any suspicions from her head.
"Now you, Erika, when you speak with her, try to engage her in some kind of chitchat. Trevor can be occupied on the other phone or something, you can say, so you'll engage her in personal conversation. Let your words and tone indicate that you are a feminist-this is one of her bags-and that you are a lesbian. That should cinch her and get her to come see us, but she is not to tell anyone where she is going. She lives alone, anyway, and works from her small apartment; when she gets here, she will be met by an apethe and brought in by the back entrance.
"When she gets here you, Trevor, can start a conversation and introduce me. We'll dress and act square for the few minutes that it matters. Meanwhile the apethe will serve drinks and Erika will do what she can to make herself look attractive to the woman, to take her mind off things. In her drink will be a little drug my people use in ovotege-that's the sorcery of snaring men or women-and by using it this way, obwambekesye, we call it, I will not be obliged to run through any damn fool incantations. Yes, I know, Trevor, it sounds far-fetched perhaps, but you've been in Africa long enough to know that a lot of this sort of thing actually works. And I can assure you that in this case I know it works-I've used it often enough. The effect of the drug, which only takes a few seconds to work, will be to make her a kind of zombie, but not the dead-eyed, stiff-walking kind you've seen in your movies-oh no! She will appear to act and talk normally, but with a sort of dreamy attitude, and she will do or say nothing until and unless I tell her. Then she will reply or perform exactly as requested. Once she is under the spell, I can also transfer the obedience to anyone else at the same time, and I'll pass this on to both you and Erika here, so that one of us can always be on hand to control her.
"As soon as she is under our influence, we compromise her and take photographs which we can use against her later on, if necessary, to insure her continuing cooperation. The effects of the drug last for a couple of days, maybe a little longer before it is eliminated from her system, but she will appear a bit uneasy, be a little less tractable after the first fifteen hours or so. While she is with us, we can keep dosing her with the drug, but once she's released we'll have no control over her. Hopefully by the time we're through, she'll have seen the light anyway, but just in case she hasn't, well, we'll have the photographs, which, if published, will certainly block both her political and feminist aims. And remember, there's every good reason to expect that at the very least she will, in the next elections, be in the cabinet, if not actually premier.
"Any questions? Right, now I suggest you work up some dialogue for your performance tomorrow and do some rehearsing. I'm going out on the town to see what I can pick up."
Trevor and Erika worked together for about an hour, perfecting their roles, and then the Englishman went to his room to relax, even dismissing Arandwy so that he could do some reading. About an hour after he'd retired, a knock on his door announced the arrival of a freshly bathed, black-negligeed Erika, escorted by the apethe, and the three of them spent a most interesting night. Erika proved to be as experienced in bed as her performance in Stockholm had promised, and Arandwy as anxious and able as ever to cooperate with her master and mistress.
The next morning they started the business off, and Sarah Chikowski was with them soon after lunch. For the occasion, Arandwy was dressed in a simple African gown, and Trevor and Umphala wore light business suits, complete with ties, jackets and expensive English leather shoes. In accordance with her part, Erika had contrived to make herself look like a very large schoolgirl, her six feet of tanned, robust beauty made softer by a fluffy, long loose-sleeved minidress, with ruffles at throat and cuff, and a myriad of pleats which let the short skirt float about her with each move. Her slender long legs were in gray pantyhose that matched the color of her dress, and her long blonde hair was bound back on her head with a large, ornate bow. She used minimal makeup and looked like an Alice grown tall except for the flashes of thigh she presented as she moved. She had managed to press herself against Sarah on several occasions when the men were ostensibly not looking at them, and knew that the older woman was not unattracted.
Sarah turned out to be rather a plain and prim woman at first glance. She was in her early thirties, used no makeup and wore her hair in a severe bun beneath a flowery hat that seemed to be her only acknowledgment to her sex. She was otherwise dressed in a simple black-on-gray suit with an unfashionably long skirt, a peach-colored silk blouse, all but hidden by the buttoned jacket, formal white gloves, dark beige stockings and low-heeled shoes of a dusty brown that matched what could be seen of her hair. Though she looked modest enough, they soon discovered she was a woman of a great deal of intelligence and discernment, and despite their distractions and rehearsals, it was difficult to keep her from suspecting anything. Umphala, with an almost imperceptible nod to Trevor, decided to speed things up and soon had Arandwy bring the refreshments, consisting of biscuits and separate glasses of iced orange juice. Sarah gratefully and somewhat apologetically drank hers down in great gulps, referring to the heat of the day and her hurried journey across town; in a moment or so it was apparent that the drug had taken effect. Her eyes widened and dilated slightly, giving her an abstracted gaze, and her conversation came to a stumbling halt. She sat on the couch across from them, gloved hands in her lap, patiently waiting for something ... what, she obviously did not know.
Umphala motioned the others to silence and, after a minute, addressed himself to the woman. "Sarah, my dear woman, stand up."
With a pleasant smile on her face, she did so.
"Come over here and stand in front of me."
Again she unquestioningly obeyed him. He reached up and calmly unbuttoned the six buttons of her jacket, pushing it open with a casual flick of his fingers, and she made no move to protest or stop him. "Satisfied?" he asked Trevor.
"Never saw anything like it before, old boy. You should market the stuff to lechers, law and order men and lovers."
"Prefer to keep it myself, chum. Have much more fun that way, though I do say, without boasting, that I don't usually have to resort to its use to get all the women I need. There's something unsportsmanlike about it, y'know. Much more amusing to use one's wits."
"It certainly isn't cricket," replied Trevor, grinning, then added, "Eh, why don't we get into something more comfortable. These clothes are killing me."
"Yes, why not," replied the Prince. "We can leave Miss Sarah where she is till we come back. Sarah, wait for us. Erika, keep an eye on her and go get the camera. I hope you remembered to get plenty of film."
"Oh yes, Prince, packs and packs. I'll get the Polaroid now, I haven't loaded it yet."
They went their separate ways and in a couple of minutes were back in the room, Umphala in loose white pants and a smoking jacket, Trevor in a belted dressing gown of wine-red quilted velvet. Sarah remained as they'd left her, breathing quietly, looking at nothing. The two men sat on the couch, while Erika prowled around the room taking her shots as she saw them.
"Now, my dear Sarah, you are to do nothing that I, or Trevor, or Miss Erika don't tell you to. If there is something you want to say or do, you must ask permission first. Understand? Good, now let's get a better look at you. Arandwy, clear the coffee table and bring it across here, will you. Sarah, go help her."
Quickly the coffee table was placed a few feet in front of the two on the couch, then Umphala had the Israeli climb up and stand on it, facing them.
"Erika, put the camera down for a moment and do something with our guest's hair, will you," said the Prince. "Don't take her hat off, just unfasten her hair and shake it out a bit."
When the bun was unknotted and the pins taken out, Sarah had a pretty good head of hair, Trevor saw. It fanned out quite nicely about her shoulders and had more sheen than had originally been apparent. Erika brushed it out with her hands and the woman began to look a bit more attractive, the spread hair and the large overhanging brim of her flowery hat softening her face and giving it more of a heart shape.
"Mmhh, well now, that's a bit better," said Umphala; then, looking up at her with a broad grin on his black face, asked, "Have you ever been fucked, Sarah, or are you still a virgin?"
Unselfconsciously, the same little smile on her face, she replied, in a sweet tone, "Oh when I was much, much younger, growing up in my kibbutz, I used to get a lot of fucking. It's hard not to indulge, you know, when there's all those young people around. But then I fell in love with our lady physical education teacher, and she taught me all the joys of tribadism. But I have to be very discreet now, don't you see, for I might become chief of government. I haven't had a fuck in years, and I don't know if I'd enjoy it now."
"Well, my dear lady, we're going to provide you with ample opportunity to find out, shortly. And we'll also supply you with a glorious partner for your sapphic joys. How do you fancy Erika, here?"
"I've been just aching to feel her hands on me ever since we were introduced," she said, looking over at the big blonde.
"So we'll all be very happy before we're through. And there's another theory I'll be checking out later ... but for now, let's see what you have to offer. Trevor, would you like to take over for a while?"
The Englishman nodded and told Sarah to take her jacket off, then her blouse, but to keep her hat and gloves on. This took a moment, and then she stood revealed in a pale blue slip. Sarah presented an interesting sight as she struggled to pull the slip up from under the waistband of her skirt; when she cautiously raised her arms to pull the thing over her flowery hat without disturbing it, the sight of her small breasts in their cups of pale blue bra, jiggling as she moved, was enchanting. When she had the slip over her head and held it hanging in her hands, Trevor told her to wait, then had Erika come across to unhook the bra so that one small breast hung out over its cup with the little pink mouse-nose of nipple resting on the edge of the blue stuff. Then he told the woman to pretend she was drunk and, when she'd adopted a sufficiently smashed expression, got Erika to take several pictures. They waited until they were developed and it clearly looked from them as if Miss Sarah Chikowski were looped at some orgy. He told her to continue, and in seconds both slip and bra were on the floor.
Now she stood in front of them in hat, gloves, skirt, stockings and shoes, plus whatever she wore under the skirt. The three of them walked around her, touching her breasts, commenting on her thin waist and narrow hips, admiring the slope of her shoulders. She still smiled vaguely through all this, but she blushed when Trevor squeezed at her nipples till they hardened. Her breasts were quite shallow and soft, and her build was slight, though she was feminine enough not to be taken for a boy. Umphala sat down again, content to let his partner continue. Trevor went around behind the woman, pushed her ankles apart, and began to slide his hands up over the dark beige stockings until they vanished beneath the skirt, which continued to ride up at the back on his slowly rising wrists. He felt the warmth of her body under his fingertips and knew his prick was beginning to rise beneath his dressing gown. All too soon his fingers brought him to her stocking tops and, when he crouched slightly to look, with Erika at his shoulder still snapping, he saw that she wore a narrow blue garter belt whose straps descended inside of her matching panties till they reached the high-pulled dark-brown nylon of her stockings. Keeping his hands on her, sliding them around the silky curves of her buttocks, he moved in front of her, pulling the skirt up so that Umphala could see and the Scandinavian girl could take more pictures. He told Sarah to hold up her own skirt and then, inserting his hooked fingers into the legs of her panties, gently began to tug on them. In seconds the ribbed elastic of the top began to move down from her hips, and in a moment the soft brown curls of her pubic hair sprang out above it. Wasting no more time, Trevor pulled her panties right off and sat back on his heels to look up at the fetching sight she made. She was still standing spread-legged, holding her skirt up against her belly in the front, letting it hang like a backcloth of gray against which her pretty, slender legs in the dark beige, the creamy whiteness of her thighs above the stocking tops, and the blue straps and belt of her garter belt served as frame for the splended bush at her crotch, at the base of her white belly.
Sarah really was well served with hair at her crack; the brown, soft, curly stuff growing well down between her thighs and high and wide on her otherwise smooth, milk-white stomach, completely concealing any sight of her hole.
To remedy this, Trevor made her stand on one leg and raise the other, pulling the skirt well above her knees. Looking closely, he and the others could see the dry, brown, tight-closed lips, a short gully in the brush. While Erika continued to click away, now using two other Polaroids to save time, he got the Jewish woman to turn around, spread her legs as wide apart as possible on the coffee table, bend forward, and hike her long skirt up over her butt, meanwhile turning her happy face back toward them so that the blonde could include it in the shot with her firm, naked balls of ass, the tight little asshole between her cheeks, and the longer brown slit beneath them. She was truly a sexy sight, half-clothed and uninhibited like this, but Trevor had the additional idea of sending Arandwy to her room for an extra pair of shoes, and soon he had Sarah in the black, high-heeled pumps that normally went with the maid's French farce costume. The shoes threw the woman's legs into delicious curves and added the final exotic touch to the picture.
When he had her take off the long gray skirt and walk around the room in the new shoes, he wanted to get into her right then. She was acting as if it were quite normal to be dressed merely in shoes, stockings, garter belt, gloves and hat. The French shoes had certainly changed her, from a rather slim woman to one whose ass stood out like hard white fruit that rolled splendidly above the wine-dark stocking tops and the suddenly longer appearing beige-clad legs. The smallness of her breasts actually added to the sensuality of her figure with its slim hips and narrow waist.
Following up his previous thought, Trevor had her lie down on the floor in various positions and act drunk again, throwing her clothes on her so that it looked as though she were tearing them off in the last stages of intoxicated lust.
It was at this point that Umphala took over once more. Telling her to kneel between his outstretched legs, he suggested that she loved his prick, and was to worship and amuse it. Still with that same strange smile, the woman raised the bottom of his smoking jacket and investigated the waistband of his loose white pants. They were some kind of Moorish or perhaps Turkish lounging pants, Trevor saw, with no proper belt, but held up by overlapping a loop of the cloth at the waist down behind the remaining cloth, much the way that one wears a towel. It took no time at all for Sarah to pull this loose and yank down until, with Umphala's benevolent assistance, she slid the garment out from under his butt, down his legs, and so to the floor, where she lifted his heavy feet out of the legs and threw the pants to one side. Again Trevor was amazed at the sight of the Prince's huge, purple organ, standing out from him like a young tree on a black mountain.
Sarah appeared to be wonderfully delighted at the sight of it. She reached out with both hands, slowly, until she touched it, then grasped its broad girth, dark and glistening, in her white-gloved hands, then reverently bent to kiss its tip with eager, puckered lips. Moving closer to him, leaning her head way back so the brim of her flowered hat was not crushed by his broad black belly, she lifted her body up toward him until his prick was between her delicate, soft white breasts, her nipples catching with each movement in the coarse, springy hair that surrounded his root. Though she was not a particularly small woman, she could not completely encircle him with finger and thumb, and so put both hands together to form a white ring just beneath his tip, arching her back to press against him. Her tender pink nipples stood lengthily out from her shallow white mounds. Still on her knees, she released him and backed away until she could again bring her mouth to his shaking tool, just moistening the first inch of it with a short, broad, powerful-looking tongue.
Telling Sarah to remain as she was, Trevor got Erika to help him lift her up on the coffee table and bring it to stand between Umphala's strong black thighs. As she crouched to take his big tool into her mouth, her ass stuck up in the air, spread apart by her position, two milk-white globes between the blue of her garter belt and the brown of her stocking tops. Her breasts hung down from her like white pears with pink stems which swung gently with her movements as she slid her small mouth, jaws wide as far as she could get them, up and down over the great hunk of black flesh that drove between her dainty white teeth. All of this was recorded on film, of course, but although they had more than enough to compromise her for five lifetimes, they were all aroused by her and had no wish to discontinue.
The grinning Prince was content to let them indulge their fancies, and made no objection when Trevor got him to lie face down with his torso on the couch and his legs on the coffee table. Ordering Sarah to lie on her back beneath the table and slide her body up until her face was immediately below the heavy, swinging prick and the dangling ball bag, he made her fondle and squeeze them and toy with and tickle them as he watched in fascination. Eventually, with her mouth wide-open just beneath the big black hole, she drank from the stream of sperm as if it were nectar from an upturned wineskin, heroically swallowing the heady brew which sprang like a fountain from the Black Prince's loins. Her thighs fell apart while she worked and was rewarded, and Trevor was excited by the sight of her brown cunt as it twinkled abandonedly at him, and Erika couldn't remove her gaze from the woman's sprawling, naked body.
Sarah's hat had been removed prior to her exploits on the floor, but she still retained her formal white gloves as proof and symbol of her essential conventional feminine status. With one of these she squeezed and dried Umphala's partly tabescent prick and with the back of the other she dried her lips. Winking at the others, the Prince heaved himself up and recovered his pants before trundling off to the bathroom, telling Arandwy, wide-eyed and amused observer of the proceedings, to take Sarah off with her. Trevor and Erika sat down and endeavored to recover themselves somewhat, each prepared for the next stage of this game. Presently Umphala returned and sat with them to await the woman's return. When the apethe ushered her back into the room, Trevor discovered by eye and nostril that the maid had stripped their guest and painted and powdered her. When again she stood before them, wearing now only the high-heeled shoes, Sarah presented a better appearance than before. Her hair had been properly combed out; vermilion lipstick applied to her lips her long, thin nipples and their attendant aureoles; and the same brilliant red slick stuff circled the inner wall of her navel with a thin red ring. Her eyes had been heavily made up with violet eye shadow and long, long lashes, while her eyebrows were penciled thin and curved upward at each end, to match the design Arandwy had etched with makeup at the corners of her eyes, giving her a very Oriental look. The fine pubic hair had been combed, plaited and oiled with some perfume that reminded Trevor of lilies. When the maid coaxed her charge to raise and bend one leg, he saw that her labia and clitoris had also been lipsticked vermilion, a bright bold slash of color between the mustache-wings of damped and stiffened hair like a tongueless mouth. The same heady perfume suffused the woman who was also dusted with a fine powder so that she was as smooth and as white as the petal of the lily her scent evoked, except for the vermilion marks and a kind of tracery Arandwy had contrived from thigh to ankle with the violet eye shadow, so that it seemed she wore tattooed stockings. When she was turned around, they saw that the design was continued in subtle loops and spirals around and across the soft shallow mounds of her ass, running down into her crack.
Whistling with admiration and returning interest, Trevor asked Umphala to congratulate Arandwy on her artistry. For as rare, exotic and erotic as Sarah looked, she was still recognizable as Sarah and, as such, an ideal subject for Erika's cameras. They posed her in a dozen lascivious stances, each with her eager, willing and obviously uncoerced and happy expression displayed as prominently as the various attributes of her sex. These pictures in particular could be used by any Scandinavian magazine devoted to the art and craft of pornography.
The high-heeled black shoes caused her to walk a trifle bent-kneed and when, with a brilliant afterthought, Arandwy ran out and returned with handfuls of crystal bead necklaces, which she draped around Sarah's neck, waist, arms and thighs, the picture her quivering, glitter-bedecked, sensuous body made sent Trevor into raptures of expectation. But shortly Umphala called her over and whispered some instructions, to which she responded with a shy yet excited nod. She came over to Trevor, deftly slipped the cord of his dressing gown and, as it fell open, pressed her nakedness against him, thrusting with her hips to squeeze his cock between their rolling bellies, pricking him with her vermilion nipples, plastering wet, warm kisses first on his face and then gradually down along his body, pulling off his robe as she dropped until, salaciously, twistingly, she was running her reddened lips along his hard length and curving her hands around his butt while he stood bare before her. Standing against him again, she took his prick in her hands and fondled him, cupping his soft sacculus in her gentle, ever moving fingers, applying delightfully tormenting pressure to the two hard balls within, rolling them between finger and thumb, all the while rubbing her scented skin against his hairy thighs and belly.
And then she pushed him down onto the couch and, with a last succulent kiss which took him into her as far the red flange of his quivering cock, left him. She danced over to where Erika, camera now put aside, sprawled in an easy chair. Taking hold of the blonde's wrist, she pulled the younger girl to her feet; before she quite knew what was happening, Sarah had bent down and, crouching, thrust her head up underneath the hem of the flowing short gray dress to presumably kiss the girl's belly, But while the blonde stood bemused, Sarah released her, went behind, and with one stroke unzipped the dress and pulled it from her to reveal those billowing, unbrassiered breasts and the minute white panties above which the curly yellow hair frothed. Kneeling, the naked woman took off the other's shoes, then snapped impatiently at the silk of the panties until they ripped and fell to the floor, to be followed by the panty hose, leaving the tall blonde as nude as herself. Thrusting her back into the chair, Sarah threw herself upon the girl and began to smother her with kisses, her frenetic hands running the full length of the magnificent, great tanned body, her own smaller figure climbing and sliding on it until Trevor could see Erika's large nipples enlarge still more and harden into brown bullets.
The Scandinavian began to respond and hugged the smaller woman to her, letting her own hands fondle the slim ass and small breasts so wantonly urged upon her, until in a moment they fell to the floor, rolling over and over in each other's arms. Umphala began to take pictures now, but the two females were careless of observers, both possessed of an appetite for uninhibited pleasure. Erika restricted her kissing to her companion's face and neck, when they were available to her, but Sarah ran tongue, teeth and lips over the glorious expanse of tawny skin, with special, tender, loving concern for the large brown nipples swaying on the rolling breasts, and the lips peeking out from the golden fur between the splendid thighs which she forced apart with her burrowing head. Erika's body was beginning to pick up streaks of vermilion and violet from her impassioned partner, and as the woman writhed and clung and struggled to press herself into the other's flesh, her heated body exuded the scent of lilies like an invisible steam. Soon the blonde's strong legs were stretched out, trembling, as she lay beneath Sarah, whose thighs were wide apart so that she could rub then clitorises together. Sarah bucked her ass to press pelvis to pelvis, her hands engaged with one bounteous breast while her sucking, seeking lips plucked, bit and nibbled at the other.
Able to restrain himself no longer, Trevor went over to the couple romping on the floor and, kneeling down and leaning forward, put his aching tool tip to the wet, strained-apart labia of the Israeli, aiming himself at the scarlet target that her incarnadined cunt offered. Whether or not her hole had been used a lot, despite her denials, he slid in easily now, such was her excitement over the blonde beneath her. In three sharp thrusts he was all the way into her and he let himself relax and enjoy the feeling as she continued to buck and drive her butt so that, by resting on his hands and feet, he could let her do the work. His imagination was fired by the thought and touch of the other blonde quim against which his balls battered, and over Sarah's vibrating head he gazed into the half-seeing eyes of the Scandinavian. In a moment she brought her long arms up to clutch at his shoulders, jamming the sweet-scented woman between them and pulling her tanned, beautiful face up to him until their lips were pressed close and their tongues began to twine and twist about each other like the lances of jousting knights, probing and pressing for an advantage. He braced his feet against her upturned insteps and, with this additional support, propelled himself still further into the ass-twisting Sarah. Erika slid her large hands down to his butt and helped to pull him in, at the same time increasing her pleasure as his thrusts forced the now slippery woman between them hard on to her Venusian mound. Against his belly the hard round melons of Sarah's buttocks trembled and roiled; she was surprisingly able, despite the twin pressure of himself and the girl under her, to move her own smaller body. Each twist imprinted her beads into his body, cutting deeply. Her scent rose to his nostrils and also that of the blonde who was so voluptuously now attempting to swallow his tongue. He knew that he was about to spend, and it seemed Erika was in the same condition, for she let her head fall back and began to thrust up with her hips at both of them, heaving like a ground swell beneath them. Lowering his head, he brought one hand up to bare Sarah's neck of hair and sunk his teeth into her nape so that she squealed with the pleasureful pain. Now that Erika was about to let herself go, her unconscious hands drove him deeper into the Israeli's grotto until he could feel himself ramming the soft-firm far wall of her vagina, and sense her sheath clenching and loosening on his total length.
He slid one hand between the struggling bodies and seized one of the soft little breasts, not relinquishing his grip with his teeth, and proceeded to squeeze it. The woman's enthusiastic grinding and twitching increased in tempo and all three of them began to pant and snort in short, hot bursts of breath. When he thought he could stand the mad, sensual agony no longer, Sarah began to shiver and a hot surge of moisture enwrapped his driving prick. Erika started to groan aloud with pleasure and raised her knees against his butt; his fluid tore out of him like a liquid rocket to explode somewhere in the depths of Sarah's cunt, sending her into fresh paroxysms of shuddering contractions which in turn added to the big blonde girl's loud screams of ecstasy. Grasping him so tightly around the waist he thought his back would break, Erika rolled the three of them from side to side on the floor, rocking like a cradle of flesh. It was many minutes before the three of them had quite drained the dregs of their desire. When it was all over, Trevor just rolled over on his back, still imbedded in Sarah so that she lay back over him, and let his hands idly play down her front, fondling breasts and dripping cunt with remembered joy. Erika sprawled out nakedly on her back, one thigh clamped tightly over the other, eyes closed, as if to retain the memory of the salacious session for as long as possible. Umphala watched them all benignly from the couch until, with a yawn, he announced time out.
It was a weary Trevor that allowed a nude and nubile Arandwy to bathe the scent and makeup streaks from his body, and even the sight of her glistening, voluptuous little black body could not arouse him so soon after such a spending, though she, of course, tried.
When he returned to the main room, he found that Umphala had already confirmed that Sarah could remain absented from her apartment and private work for a couple of weeks and, redrugged and stimulated as an extra precaution, she was put to bed until they had further use for her.
CHAPTER 9
Cousin o'mine:
Most High Prince Umphala of Matabi, and all that jazz, greetings:
Well, usn's is all here safely in Cairo, mission accomplished according to plan, just to let you know up front of this letter that there's no need to get uptight even though we're going to be hung up here a couple of days more than I'd expected.
I'll tell you about it, but first, glad to learn from your cable in code that you'd hooked Chikowski already. Right on, 'phala!
Well, we flew in from Hong Kong on schedule, usual routine at Customs and airports with the fabulously wealthy Queen M'wadi bit, so no trouble anywhere. The Mei Lin chick is working out O.K. and I plan to use her for as long as we're in operation. Picked up a good pilot in H.K. too, Indian fellow name of Ram. Got bounced out of his previous job for getting three blonde stewardesses pregnant at the same time, so you can tell he's one of our kind. Keeps to himself but I had to watch him each time we stopped ... the cat's a real lech artist, and it's on account of him we've got this extra stay over in Cairo.
But let me tell you about how we got hold of Mister Yusup Ali, first.
The day after we got here, I sent Melva off to the Ministry of Media Liaison in the role of a freelance reporter, with connections to several of the larger U.S. mags. Now you know these Egyptian guys are concerned to have good propaganda put out on their side of this stupid war, and between that, some bribing on my part, and the use of a few fake credentials and stuff, Melva was able to get to see the Minister himself. And fifteen minutes of flaunting her ass around his office got him on the hook. She was wearing a tight, low-cut sweater under a light linen jacket and no bra, so he spent most of the time trying to get a look at her boobs. And she, of course, spent a lot of time leaning over to show him her papers and pictures we'd faked up for the occasion. Trouble was, like all these little local hot shots, he didn't travel anywhere without a couple of escorts, bodyguards actually, but they're all too paranoid to call 'em by their right names. Well, Melva let him talk her into coming over to see her at our villa that night for dinner-I rented a place, took a lease on it, just in case anyone checked from Security ... made it look as if we were going to be there a long time, dig, and sure enough he brought along his two "assistants." I had the apethes take care of them in the kitchen and got myself introduced to Yusup Ali. He isn't a bad-looking cat, pretty tall, about five-ten, but too much on the heavy side for me-I likes 'em lean and lusty. He's in his late thirties, and what you might call prosperous looking, with fleshy cheeks and a cute little old mustache. Brown as coffee and sleek, slick black hair beneath his fez, and his fly! He came to visit all dolled up in a white linen suit, shirt and tie. But fez or not, he was no more stuck on Islam than most of the cats around the Middle East with any culture, and he drank whiskey and sodas like there was going to be a drought. When he started off, he was very formal and politic, greeting me as "one of our new partners in the great pan-African complex of nations," and garbage like that-as if any Arab worthy of his Moslem ancestry would have any truck with a black heathen 'cept in a master-slave relationship. But he was affable enough, and I played dumb and simple, keeping my little self in the background and letting Melva take care of the action. We were keeping Mei Lin in reserve for later.
The redhead made a special attempt to get herself up real good-brushed her long hair till it shone like polished copper and curled around her creamy white shoulders (I'm going to try to turn you on, my cocks-man cousin!) which were bare. She poured herself into a low-cut green evening dress and she just busted out all over the top of it (that's a pun, honey) so's it looked like her titties would tumble out altogether if she leaned over more than 45�. Our friend Yusup couldn't unhook his eyes from her; each time she walked away from him and swayed her hips and jiggled her plump little fanny, why, the man was like to fall out of his chair. As for me, I just muffled myself up in a great white cloak, veiling my mouth and hooding my head, trying to make myself small. Hardly gave me a second glance, did Yusup, so you just have to know how well I was covered. After dinner I left the two of them to talk business and went off to the kitchen, where the men were having fun with the two maids and getting along fine although they couldn't speak each other's language. The cats had checked the place out, for bugs and assassins, I suppose and, Security satisfied, were prepared to enjoy themselves.
Well, they were so careless it was no trick to practice a little ovotege, followed by application of obwambekesye, and I had them where I wanted them. Now, you know all this jazz about the effects wearing off, so you've got about fifteen or so safe hours? Well, cousin, I've solved that. And it's so goddamn simple I don't know why it hasn't been thought of long since. Among the suggestions-I guess you'd call 'em hypnotic, in a sense-you plant the idea that every twelve hours the subject must take a drink from the phial you provide. Simple! And it works, cause (to get ahead of this story a bit) I kept 'em overnight in the villa and, sure enough, next morning they dutifully dosed themselves. The only catch is if someone else spots them drinking and wonders what it's all about, but even that can be fixed up if you tell 'em they must drink the stuff in the John. So, to cut this part short, I sent one of them back to his relatives up the Nile somewhere with the idea he was on a holiday, and the other I sent back first to the Ministry together with the first guard, with a story I dreamed up to explain Yusup Ali's absence. Won't bore you with the details but, as you've probably discovered, the higher up the guy is you're kidnapping, the less chance there is that anyone'll notice, once you've taken care of the actual Security business. The whole goddamn bureaucracy just carries on as normal, and the staff are only too glad to have a chance to catch up. So, no one's likely to come searching, and we shouldn't need him for too long anyway.
Well, having put the two guards out of action, I went back to the dining room and found the other two had gone out on the terrace which, since we're on the side of a hill overlooking Cairo, was still a pretty private place. I didn't join them but remained hidden in the room to watch the action.
We hadn't moved in on him with the drug yet-I wanted to get his men safely out of the way first-so Melva was still playing him, though he thought it was the other way about. She was hanging on to him, pleading in a promising way for special permission to go here she wanted to take her photographs and get her interviews, and he was still at the avuncular stage (making like a bachelor uncle, honey), nodding his head and patting her on the shoulder, really getting his kicks out of all that soft flesh under his pudgy fingers. And you can be mighty sure Melva let him get a good squint at her boobies. Presently his hand was dropping down her back until he was all but fondling her fanny, but the whiskey hadn't yet gotten rid of all caution in the man, and he was prepared to leave it at that until the next time. Melva told him she didn't want to wait, and maybe they could talk about it later, and started to come back into the room. I made like I'd just come back myself and suggested some entertainment.
O.K., says Yusup, prepared for I don't know what kind of dreary folk dancing, but man, did he get interested when I trotted Mei Lin in!
Thing was, see, Melva and I worked her over into a boy. Or at least, she looked like a boy, a very effeminate one, but that's the kind friend Yusup likes when he's not in public. We wrapped cloth around her tits to flatten them as much as possible and dressed her up in black pajamas, hiding her hair under a wide-brimmed straw coolie hat that also shadowed her face. It's difficult to make the chick that masculine, you know. She was barefoot, and she looked kinda like a little Chinese boy of around twelve. The other special effect was to get her into a pair of pants so tight we had to sew her into 'em, and in her crotch we stuck a wad of cotton wool so it looked like a miniature codpiece.
We kept the lights down, of course, and Yusup was completely taken in, thinking we'd imported a sexy young boy for our own purposes. Her pert ass stuck out against the black silk in two perfectly visible hemispheres, and it was obvious our friend the Minister just couldn't wait to do some exploring. He lost all interest in Melva and she winked at me as we watched his flashing eyes rivet themselves on "young Pan," as we called Mei Lin. In her tight outfit she couldn't do too much by way of acrobatics, naturally, but she did get off some dainty little dance pieces that had her butt swinging around and around like a couple of glossy black olives in the shining stuff of her pants. I slipped the drug in Yusup's drink, anxious now to get this whole thing under way, and as soon as he was safely in hand sent Melva off for the cameras and told "Pan" to hold it for a moment.
Then I told the big Egyptian jerk to stand up where we could see him, and told Mei Lin to turn the lights up. He stood there, swaying a bit from the alcohol, with that kinda dumb look they get when they're really under. Just to check he wasn't fooling, though I was sure he wasn't, I told him to unzip himself, take out his flaccid prick, and offer it to me, all of which he quickly and cooperatively did, pushing his belly out and making a plate of his hands to show and proffer me his brown heap of meat and his bag of tricks. He was as happy as a boy doing his party thing. Melva took a couple of shots of this for the record, and then I gave him the spiel which told him he was in my power; that he must obey me, Melva, and whomever else we designated; that he was going to be staying with us for several days; that tomorrow he was to phone his office and confirm the story his escort would be telling; and that every twelve hours until told otherwise he was to take a slug of the drug. That took care of business, and then we were ready to be amused. I turned him over to Melva first, while Mei Lin (whom we still treated as if she were "Pan") came over to sit beside me on the divan that went with the Arabic, slightly Turkish decor of the place.
Well, hon, if you haven't dug it before, I'll tell you that Melva has a sense of humor. Neither of us much fancied the guy and Mei Lin didn't care much one way or the other, so our young redheaded partner figured that the strongest weapon against Yusup would be ridicule, and not freaked-out sex.
"O.K., Mister Ali, let's see you shag those pants down, huh?" she said, and snapped him as he was stepping out of them. This left him wearing a pair of red-striped white cotton drawers out the front of which his equipment dangled. She had him take his jacket off, then his drawers and he stood there, waiting, in his shoes and socks, shirt, tie and fez. Holding his shirt up so that we could see the wide expanse of his hairy brown stomach, she made him do some bumps and grinds that made excellent pics, plus a couple of him sitting on the corner of an end table, still in the same dumb get-up, attempting to masturbate. Melva hadn't told him he could get turned-on yet so he was flogging a dead horse, like. While you'er in Tel-Aviv, 'phala, be sure to get the names of journalists on each of the main papers, in case we're forced to use these pics in the future. I'll be picking up the same information here in Cairo for Sarah Chikowski's benefit. We can play one against the other if we have to, though I don't think we will. But the sight of the Minister of Media Liaison playing with himself in shirt and socks-and fez!-should help to discredit the government here.
But back to Melva and her merry pranks.
"You can leave off jerking yourself now," she said. "Now, you've wanted to get into my boobs all fucking evening, so here's your chance. And the hornier you get, the better, though it won't do me any good. Just come around and unzip me here at the back ... yeah, that's far enough. Now, stick around till I'm ready."
She pulled the top of her long gown down until it hung about her hips, leaving her pinkly naked from her navel on up. Her chubby breasts swung free and she massaged them in relief after their confinement of the past few hours, though she wasn't turned-on and her nipples were soft and flat as if they'd been painted onto her smooth, milk-white globes. She looked like some kind of a trip as she moved around the pad, half-naked and with that glinting red hair around her shoulders. Could have gone for her myself, but I was in no hurry ... I just let my hand take hold of Mei Lin's ass, wriggling my fingers beneath her, but taking care not to strain and split the black silk that so closely covered it.
Melva finally settled herself down on the same corner of that end table and called Yusup over to her, telling me to stand by with the cameras. "So you like big white titties, do you?" she said. "Well, just imagine that mine are the best and biggest and the most luscious you have ever seen in your life, and just hang in there and love 'em up to death, hear?"
With an eager nod, the big Egyptian threw himself to his knees in front of her and began to caress her swaying fruit as if he were making his selection in a supermarket. Man, I like to tell you he 'bout went crazy for 'em! He pressed and squeezed at her plump, pinkening flesh with his pudgy brown fingers, weighed them in his palms, pushed them apart, mashed them together, buried his nose between them and rolled them against his cheeks and ears, kissed and licked and sucked at them all over until they were rosy red from his firm fondling. He licked upward from under each nipple like a puppy with a peanut until he had her red and hard and fully erect, then sucked on them till they were wet and glossy and scarlet, all the time spanning her satin softness with his massaging fingers. Melva was meanwhile enjoying the sensation, if not the operator, and when he tried to stick her nipples in his nostrils, breathing in around them, I saw her begin to writhe her plump butt around a bit on the table.
His hanging shirt tails hid his own reaction, if any, from both her and me so I sent "Pan" over to lift them up and tuck them around his chest. What I saw looked kinda interesting so, with a nod to Melva to relax, I told him to come over and show me how he was doing.
Naturally his prick was brown, and his balls were covered with coarse black hairs, but he's got the smallest ball bag I've ever seen on a man, I think, a child could comfortably conceal it in a clenched palm-and maybe some have, at that, knowing the man. But his prod, the thing itself, is also something unique to me. It's about ten inches long, circumcised of course, since he's Moslem, but only an inch across, if that, at the widest part, the flange. It's straight, smooth, perfectly symmetrical in its whole circumference, and it doesn't taper or flatten out from root to flange, like something turned out on a lathe. Man, but I was fascinated, and couldn't help but handle it, letting its thin, warm, leathery firmness rest comfortably in my palm like a blackjack.
Melva came across to study the odd but exciting thing with me and sat down on the divan, leaning forward, so that he could place it between the valley of her pendant breasts and roll them around it while she explored his scrotum with finger and thumb.
"He's got his peas in there, right enough," she said in a moment, "but that's the cutest little purse I ever heard of or saw. Could suck it in and spit it out without thinking. And the size of that cock of his, not much bigger around than a large pencil. Wonder if it grew that way because of how his mind works, on ass, I mean; or whether it's because of the way he's built that he likes to bum fuck. Oh, that's a bit of English Trevor taught me," she added with a blush.
While we were talking about him and toying with his rare specimen of manhood, Yusup stood calmly enough in front of us, content to let us have our way with him, but I noticed that the skin on his rod was growing tauter and the pin-sized hole in its tip was beginning to enlarge, so I figured he was about ready to go.
"Now we've gotten enough pics, honey," I said to Melva, "why don't we reward him with little Pan?" I winked and she laughed. "O.K.," she agreed. "Ali, my flexible friend, would you like to play with our little Chinese playmate, young Master Pan? You can do what you like with him as long as you don't take his clothes off till we tell you. Oh, yeah, and you'd better get the rest of your gear off. But keep the fez. I think it looks kind of cute."
Minister Yusup's eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. While he was rapidly, carelessly, throwing off his socks, shoes, tie and shirt, Melva told me that his wiry toothbrush of a mustache was quite tantalizing when he played it on her boobs, and that she must get Trevor to grow one for the same reason. Better tell Trevor to start in on one now, 'phala my sweet cousin; it'll be a pleasant surprise for the dear girl. Well, we told Mei Lin what to do, and by the time Yusup was stripped down to his plump, hairy brown skin and his red fez, she was ready for him, acting like a young boy, which of course made her act like a young boy trying not to be too much of a girl, in the Minister's eyes.
He had her hug him first, but the hat got in the way. When he tried to take it off, we cried out that this was not allowed. Miffed, he sat down on the end table and, pulling her to him, cupped the prominent cheeks of her ass and began to kiss her face in the shadows beneath the hat. He guided her tiny hands down to his prick and forced her to fondle and stroke him until, this not being enough for his taste, he had her bend down, which incidentally pushed her butt out still more into his clutching, squeezing hands, and take his tip delicately between her dainty white teeth and press her hummingbird's tongue down into his hole, while he cupped his balls with her hands, alternately smoothing their sides with her thumbs, pale-yellow digits all but lost in the jungle of black hair. The hat still made it difficult for her to do more with him than this, so he picked her up impatiently and held her so that his prick was trapped between them. He seated himself on the floor, whispering in her ear before he eased himself onto his back, looking like a beached brown whale.
Using the sides of her long thumbnails, she pried his hole open and, bending low, began to whistle softly, directing her notes and her breath into his interior through puckered lips which slowly came closer and closer to his upright flesh until at last they touched him and her song was muted while her piped exhalations continued to thrill into him. We could see his thin rod quiver to the tune she fluted on it, and for a brief moment I again envied the male the uses and pleasures he could put the evidence of his sex to.
Yusup's fleshy flanks and thighs began to shake, and he looked imploringly over to us as if to ask permission to strip "him" and finish off his lust. I hadn't figured out how we were going to end this farce, but Melva had evidently figured it all out in advance. With a look at me, she went over to the immobile, black-clad figure squatted over the Egyptian, turned her around so that she was facing his feet, and brought the man's hands up to dig inside the waistband of the silken jet pants. The redhead's heavy breasts dangled in front of Yusup's face like white grapes as she made her arrangements and, her previous suggestion still in his mind, he lifted his head and nibbled at her nipples until she pushed him away. Stepping back from him, she said, "Go, Minister, go!" and she dashed for her camera as the thin black silk ripped apart to reveal Mei Lin's pale-lemon ass, two light grapefruits billowing toward Yusup's enraptured eyes. I don't know how Melva had arranged it, but the split stopped short halfway around between the Chinese girl's thighs so that her secret was still not revealed. Grabbing her under the armpits, the big man pushed her, sprawling, onto her stomach and dropped onto her from behind. His busy hands fumbled to clear her ass free of the shreds of silk and then, spitting a great gob of saliva into her crack, thrust a meaty finger into her rectum and hastily began to lubricate it.
After a dozen or so strokes like this, in which he bent his finger to gouge her anus, he impatiently placed his narrow tube between her cheeks and began to jab into her, almost hiding her from view beneath his bulk. The weight of his hands served to pull apart the quivering mounds of pale flesh into which he inched his way. His narrowness was an aid, and it took him no more than a minute to be riding almost the full length of his shaft in and out of the girl he thought to be a boy. From what little I could see of her face beneath the wide-brimmed hat, Mei Lin was enjoying the experience, despite several winces. Knowing of her contortionist capabilities, I figured she was giving as good as she was getting by way of the ripples, clenches and contractions I saw around the driving piston of his engine.
Melva was hopping around the couple with her camera, her hair swinging with her tits as she threw herself into various positions of vantage, kicking and cursing at the skirt and top of her gown as they impeded her legs. Then, with a sudden jerk of her head, she motioned to me to grab the camera from her. As soon as I had Yusup's face in focus, she tore off Mei Lin's hat, shook out the girl's hair with one fanning brush of her fingers, ripped the tunic of the pajamas from her narrow shoulders, unhooked the bosom wrapper and pulled it away. Seizing one of the startled Yusup's hands, she thrust it under the figure he had impaled so that he could feel the soft flesh of the unexpected breast. But whatever his sexual preferences, the Egyptian was now too far gone in about-to-be-requited desire; his heavy loins thrust into the naked butt of the girl and his hairy belly slid and raked along its soft, smooth surface to redden it. Only his astounded eyes, faithfully recorded on film, revealing his disconcertedness, above his parted, slobbering lips through which he drooled unheedingly onto the fine, long black hair of his unexpected partner.
Then with a series of great snorts and a long aaaaaaahhhhhhh! of ecstatic exhalation, he was surgingly spending into her asshole, catching her underneath her armpits and hooking his hands around her shoulders, pulling her down as far as she would go ... could go ... tightly gloved about his jetting cock. He fucked the tiny heifer like a stud bull, roaring into her rounded, bouncing buttocks until I thought he would never stop. But, eventually, reluctantly, his movements became slower until he ceased altogether and withdrew, rolling over on his back in pleasurable exhaustion.
Mei Lin murmured dreamily when I asked if she was all right, and then I shook Melva's hand across the two recumbent bodies on the floor. A good job well done. The redhead tore off her dress and sat around in her panties as we discussed the evening's happenings and watched the two apethes support the drooping minister and the sore-assed Mei Lin to bath and bed.
Well, cousin, that's it. Yusup Ali is snared, no problem.
Now I'll get back to the pilot, Ram. Since we intended to be here for several days, I couldn't very well keep him under lock and key, and you know how I hate to use sorcery on our own people. Blackmail, yeah, because that requires their own ingenuity to circumvent it or their personal guilt to acquiesce to it. Well, I gave him a lecture, but the man's balls are bigger than his brains, it seems, for it took him only three days to get involved with the young blonde daughter of an American importer here. Poppa walked in on them, got uptight about his jewel screwing around in bed with a colored person, no less, and put Ram out of action with a couple of bent ribs and a strained wrist ... which means he can't fly for a few days. If he can get us in the air and get us down again, I reckon Melva can cope with the problem of keeping us in a straight line. But we've got to cool it for a few days more than I'd counted on. Luckily the Yusup Ministry guards thing has checked out all right.
Be seeing you over the weekend, then. Kind of hankering for that big black beautiful chopper of yours. Any port in a storm ... gentleman's choice the first time around, O.K.?
Take care, and watch it when you zap it to them Zionists!
Power to the Penis, and Remember Pear's Arbor ...
M'wadi Regina
CHPATER 10
After the operations in Cairo and Tel Aviv, Paris was a breeze.
The Egyptian contingent flew into Israel after making a couple of stops elsewhere in the Mediterranean to allay the suspicions of airport officials, then picked up Umphala, Trevor, Erika, Sarah and Arandwy, flew to the French capital to drop off Trevor and Melva, and continued on to Stockholm. Now that the Malaysian Indian, Ram, was in good enough shape to fly alone, the Fokker would be flown back to a more discreet French airport as soon as M'wadi received a cable from Trevor.
Trevor and Melva checked separately into the same hotel, a modest little establishment off the main tourist stream, making sure that their rooms adjoined, though there was no official connection between them. After a first night of furious fucking, the pair began to follow the plans suggested by M'wadi. So it was that Melva found herself a couple of days later in the suite of Robert Adamms' more palatial headquarters. The aide had half a floor in Les Americains Arms which housed his small retinue of private secretary, clerks, valet, etc. His daughter's French maid also lived with them, but there were enough spare rooms and private places for them not to be crowded, and for the aide to entertain guests without disturbing the rest of the occupants. Melva had approached him through his secretary in her guise of freelance journalist. The ploy was that she already had permission to visit Hanoi (she had forged documents to back this up) and wanted to do a both-sides-of-the-fence article which would involve Saigon. Naturally, Adamms had to try to persuade her to give a better write-up from the American-South Vietnamese point of view and he was effusive in his invitation to dine with him in his suite.
Accepting with a put-on but barely concealed reluctance, the redhead managed to suggest that it might help if she could get the fresh opinions of a typical American teen-ager, and Adamms eagerly responded as she had hoped, saying that his daughter Jocelyn would be on hand at dinner for any questions Melva might like to ask. Privately, Melva didn't see how a career diplomat's child could possibly give any kind of sane criticism or comment about her father's involvement, but over the phone she said that this would be ideal.
Dinner was a gourmet's dream, and they were onto the liqueurs before the main topic was broached and Melva was able to elaborate on her spiel. Though the occasion was not strictly formal, Adamms wore a tuxedo and the redhead had on a tight black dress that came to below her knees. It was sleeveless and designed in such a way as to leave her shoulders bare while tapering up to a high collar. Beneath it, her full breasts were pulled high and she made sure to use many hand gestures while she explained the details of her request so that they shook and swayed. The man tried hard not to be too obvious about his attraction to her charms, Melva noticed, probably because little Jo was so sharp-eyed. The young blonde was wearing an off-the-shoulder dinner dress which, despite its sophistication, did nothing to make the girl look older than her fourteen years. Her short, curly hair fit her head tightly, like a golden cap, and her large blue eyes took in every detail of the scene, flitting from one to the other as they talked, her hands usually tightly clasped on her blue silk lap. Adamms became more and more relaxed as he drank and was obviously keen to get his guest alone. It was with some amusement that Melva noticed his distress when, later, upon his suggestion that he show her some night life, she suggested Jo come along with them.
At first they toured the more obvious tourist places, Adamms still drinking more than most men would have at each stop, and the most exciting thing was a couple of semi-nude dancers in one cabaret. Jo seemed undisturbed at the act, but Adamms whispered to Melva that there were hotter places in town, and he thought it was time to drop his daughter off at Les Americains Arms and make a night of it alone. When informed of this, Jo pouted but gave no argument. She did give Melva a look, however, that suggested she was put out by the arrangement and blamed the redhead for it, but Melva gave her a calm smile and a wink and said good night to her.
Completely relaxed, the aide sat back in the cab and told Melva what a relief it was to get away from the cares of office and the responsibilities of being a father, even if only for one night. He directed the driver to a particular district in one of the smaller Parisian suburbs, and finally to a shabby street of houses in which only one red neon sign flared in the night ... "Le Mouche Mai." They got out of the cab and, telling Melva he'd show her something she'd never seen before, hardened journalist though she was, he knocked in a peculiar pattern on the door. He was identified through a judas window and the door opened to let them quickly through. Muttered discussion with the proprietor got them entry through a secluded, curtained doorway. Eventually, after many dark passages and up and down padded flights of stairs, they came to a small cobbled courtyard whose walls were filled with dark alcoves in which tables were set. There was no light at all save that of the stars, but as soon as they were seated, a spotlight lit the center of the area, its circle of illumination exactly matching the circumference of a small stage.
In a moment a short, compactly built black woman in street clothes stepped from the shadows onto the stage, carrying a light collapsible chair under one arm and tugging at the leash of a large Great Dane. She unleashed the dog, set up the chair at one edge of the stage, and began to caress the dog, whispering into its ear and stroking its huge, heaving flanks, occasionally reaching under it to touch its penis. When he was somewhat aroused, she had him lie down at her feet and she began to undress, folding each garment carefully and placing it in a pile near the chair. She had a splendid, solid body, not unlike her own, Melva thought, except that the woman's breasts were conical and hard. She was coal-black and her hair at head, armpit and crotch was short and wiry. When she was completely naked except for a pair of white high-heeled shoes, she took a tube of cream from the pocket of her coat and began to oil her body, stretching and reaching, bending and stroking, as unaware of the crowd that observed her from the shadows as if she were in the privacy of her own bathroom. Her beautiful black body began to gleam in the bright white light. The heavy, prominent cones of her breasts quivered rhythmically as she methodically smoothed the ointment into her skin and, when she reached up to treat them, her nipples slid smoothly out of her to complete the conic picture.
Starting at her ankles above the white shoes, she began to work her hands up her legs until finally she bent her knees to massage the well-separated inner thighs and the curly black hair. When she finished, she looked like a glossy black statue in the harsh light. Staring up at her, the dog panted, his long tongue hanging out. The woman bent over to return the tube to her pocket, poking the beautiful curves of her rear right at Melva. The planes and surfaces of her black globes were oddly exciting in their rippling tension. Sitting down on the chair, she called the dog to her and pulled his head into her lap; obviously well-trained, he began to lap at her thighs with his outrageously long red tongue, sticking his nose into her cunt, warmly washing around it, tail slowly wagging. Then she lay back against the chair and pulled him up so that he could caress her nipples and breasts with his hot, narrow piece of flesh. At the same time she reached under his stretched body to take his long, hair-ended prick between finger and thumb to pluck and pull at him till his tail wagged faster. She hugged him to her, stood up with his front paws over her shoulders, hind legs on the ground, and pressed her hips against him in a sensuous series of slow bumps and grinds, wagging her black backside as she waltzed around the small stage with his body between her conical breasts.
In one move she picked him up entirely and wrestled him down onto his back, where he lay, twisting his head, tongue out, all four paws bending and straightening. Then she crouched over him and lowered her full lips to the gleaming scarlet end of his jerking cock, and he eagerly strained his head until again he could lap his tongue between her thighs like a long, narrow, hot, red hand. She accommodated him by flattening herself more, pushing her ass toward his face. As soon as she was in range, the animal opened his jaws wide to reveal narrow, sharp-toothed jawbones, and, with his neck uncomfortably bent, he slid his lower jaw between her thighs, letting his upper row of teeth sink into the gleaming black skin of her back. Meanwhile she continued to suck at his candle-like cock, gradually swiveling herself and the dog around on the stage so that all the surrounding viewers might see clearly what was happening, letting them observe how she pressed her stubby tongue hard against the end of his cock, how her teeth gripped and shook him, how her lips slid up and down his length. After one complete circuit, she rose lithely, went to the chair and knelt down in front of it. She parted her thighs, stretched out her arms to their fullest extent till they rested on the edge of the seat, and bent at the hips so that her back made a straight, horizontal line while beneath her the firm juts of her breasts hung in hand-attracting curves. A short whistle to the Great Dane brought him to his feet and up on her back, leaning on her, his feet between her knees, his red prick shining against the black crack of her ass. Poised on one hand for a moment, she reached down beneath her thighs and grabbed him, pulling him into her waiting cunt. She replaced her hand and the dog began to fuck her, darting rapidly in and out of her for no more than half a minute until he had brought himself off in her with a series of fast, jerky strokes, while she let herself sag till her nipples brushed the floor of the stage.
As the watching crowd clapped, the dog got down and the woman rose to sit astride his shoulders, toes barely touching the floor. She bowed in each direction, and the dog made a bowing gesture with his head.
The light went out and Melva presumed that was the end of the act. Adamms had still been drinking whiskey through this, and now he reached over and put an arm about her shoulders. "About all nigger women are worth," he exclaimed drunkenly, "but I'd sure like to play dog for your pleasure. Hey, how about it, honey?"
"Why, Mister Adamms, whatever would the President say if he heard you now?"
"Fuck the President ... Whaddya say, honey? And call me Robby."
"Think of your daughter, Robby!"
"Screw my daughter, she's not hot. I am. And I'm hot for you, Melva. Feel this. See!"
He grabbed Melva's hand and put it on the front of his pants; she discovered he really was aroused.
"Well, I don't know that I want you as a dog Robby, but why don't we go back to my place now and talk it over."
He accepted the offer with alacrity, and before long they were back in her room; he was supplied with a fresh bottle of whiskey, she with the African drug. She continued to lead him on though she got no pleasure from it. It was not that he was unattractive; he was in his early forties, rather short but in good physical shape, hair just beginning to recede, but she didn't particularly like his taste in sex nor his attitude toward blacks.
Now he insisted on going down on all fours and growling at her ankles like a puppy, and patiently she waited for him to take another drink. This would be his last, for this one contained the drug which she'd slipped in when adding ice.
"Show me a little something, honey," he pleaded, trying to look up under her black dress from his position at her feet.
"O.K., Robby," she said, bored. "But sit up and beg for it properly. And take a drink out of that glass before you spill it over the rug."
Adamms took a quick, deep shot of the drugged whiskey and, on his knees with his hands out like a dog with a sugar cube on its nose, looked entreatingly at her. She reached behind her head to the collar of her backless dress and unsnapped the catch, leaning back slightly so that the material in front would slowly slide down her body to reveal the soft white globes of her bounteous breasts, timing it so that precisely as her soft nipples rose like twin suns above the descending horizon of the dress, he would be hit by the drug. Sure enough, just as his wide-eyed, drunken gaze was about to propel him to his feet and at her, a glazed expression came over his face and he halted, remaining where he was.
Laughing, she shook the black material down so that she was bare to the waist, and stood in front of him. Quickly running through the customary phrases, she put him in the group's power and then, as punishment, beat her swinging breasts against his face till they, and it, turned rosy pink.
She couldn't be bothered at this time of night to further humiliate him but, throwing a robe over her shoulders and slipping out of her dress, told him to announce to his staff tomorrow that he was going to take an extended weekend vacation. He was to give them no details of his whereabouts, and return discreetly to Melva's hotel in the afternoon, bringing along Jo and a couple of suitcases. Restored to his previous drunken status, Adamms nodded and half-stumbled out into the Parisian dawn, looking indeed as if he needed a vacation. With a sigh and a yawn, she went through the communicating door and fell into Trevor's bed and sleepy embrace.
CHAPTER 11
Trevor meanwhile had been pursuing the acquaintance of Madame Thanh Vinh by posing as an English peacenik in search of a visa to visit North Vietnam on a one-man peace mission. He managed to get himself invited to a cocktail party given at the North Vietnamese delegation's mansion and soon got close to the lady whose body he was after. And it was truly a desirable body at that, he thought to himself as he pleaded his false case, using all the charm and guile he had at his command to seduce her into a closer relationship.
He'd dismissed her husband from his mind when he'd been introduced to him; in M'wadi's phrase, "an ineffectual little squirt." It was easy to see that Madame Thanh was really in charge of the action, even here at this effete cocktail party and in spite of the unstylish, lackluster way she dressed. Though some members of her own group were attired formally in Western-style clothes, and others wore plain, ordinary Vietnamese dress, Madame Thanh was clad in rough, homespun peasant pants and jacket, and even wore a Mao cap on her head. She used no makeup except perhaps for a touch of pink at her lips, and her hair was lost under the high-crowned enveloping hat. Although it was as hard with her as with other Orientals to guess her age, Trevor knew that she had been born in Hanoi, of a poor family, thirty-eight years ago, rising to her present position within the Party by means of her intelligence and wit. Though undoubtedly she enjoyed sexual pleasures, she had scorned to use her body in her ascent by occupying the bedrooms of the powerful, and had traded off her own position with that of her husband, who'd been a minor Party figure until she got behind and pushed, the times then not being ready for a woman with overt power.
Her baggy garments made her look chubby, but Trevor suspected a leanness beneath them to match her rather gaunt, hungry-looking face. She had the attractiveness of a half-starved, miniature Vogue model, her black eyes great round pools in the soft tangerine of her taut-skinned otherwise blank-expressioned visage; but the eyes themselves were loaded with keen interest. Her English was perfect if pedantic, and she spoke with just a trace of a French accent. Altogether a remarkable woman and, since he had absolutely no prejudices against women older than himself, Trevor looked forward to the achievement of his assignment.
"You say you have copies of petitions, with thousands upon thousands of signatures from Peace Groups all over the world, in your possession, which you wish to take directly yourself to Hanoi," she stated rather than asked. "Such documents would be extremely interesting to my government."
"Too bloody right they would," Trevor grinned to himself. "All those names and addresses would make the sucker's list prize entry of the century for your propaganda and espionage apparatus!"
Keeping his expression eager and convincing, he said aloud, "Oh no, Madam Thanh, I have the original petitions with me, all pleading an end to the conflict and pledging to work on their respective governments to get them to allow North Vietnam a more than fair shake in a new government, unoccupied by any foreign power, South Vietnam. We'd like to see the bloody Americans get out of there like the French did finally. Another reason we'd like to see an end to all this stupid trouble is that then again the rest of the world could be freely treated to the company of the charming Vietnamese women, so admirably represented by yourself."
"Oh, you find us attractive?" she asked, arching her pencil-slim eyebrows. "How gallant of you to say so, though I suspect you merely mean to be flattering me to your purpose?"
"Not at all, Madame Thanh. I pay you, and your female compatriots, nothing but a sincere compliment. I do, indeed, find Madame attractive."
As he spoke Trevor looked at her meaningfully. She tilted her head and looked up at him from her five feet of height, a quizzical smile forming for the first time on her slightly sensual lips. She indicated the clothes she wore. "Even in these? Even though you can see no more of me than my unbecoming face? Even though you, an Englishman, an ex-master of most of the world, can still not find it difficult to co-opt the, shall we say, services of willing, so to say, slaves of, ah, desire?"
"Madame, as to the last, you are right, but mutual pleasures enjoyed are so much more satisfying and delightful than those experienced by only one really willing partner. And as to the first, well, then, 'One has only to perceive the single first ray of the rising sun to realize the beauty of the dawning day.' "
Madame Thanh inclined her head gratefully in acknowledgment of the compliment he had paid her by using a translation of one of her own country's proverbs, and deep in the dark luster of her eyes a white spark ignited. "Thank you, that was most gracious of you, Monsieur, ah ... ?"
"Please make it Trevor, Madame," he said boldly.
"Ah, then, Monsieur Trevor, could I inspect these documents of yours?"
"But certainly, Madame."
"You can bring them here, perhaps?"
"Well, frankly, I would sooner keep them where they are, in my hotel. They are invaluable and irreplaceable. Perhaps Madame might arrange ...?"
"To visit you? But of course. But when might be convenient for you, Monsieur Trevor?"
"Why not tonight? Perhaps Madame will grant me the honor of offering her dinner? Oh, and, of course, your husband."
"My husband? Oh, that man has no interest in the sort of thing we are discussing," she said contemptuously, glancing across the room to where he stood listening to a harangue from some Soviet official. "He is, how shall I say, impotent ... and lacking ... in so many ways." Her words were artless enough, but her eyes spoke her meaning to Trevor. He inclined his head.
"Tonight I shall call on you, then," she continued.
"I shall give my address to your secretary then," he replied, preparing to leave, but for the first time she seemed animated and clutched at his arm, looking hastily around to see if her gesture had passed unobserved. "No, no, give it to me now. I must be, ah, discreet. It would not be well for one in my place and position to be so obviously engaged in calling at the apartment of a foreigner ... a bachelor, too. Oh, sometimes I am so tired of all this formality, and I yearn for the simplicity of the peasants' way of life. I must come to you secretly, even though I shall be furthering the cause of my country and my Party by convincing myself of the genuineness of your credentials."
"My credentials shall be fully displayed to you, one might say," he said, all but winking at her. "I promise you I'll prove their reliability and be of sufficient size and weight to justify your visit. Till tonight then!"
He quickly gave her his address, made a motion to kiss her hand to which she nodded no, and took his departure, inwardly gleeful. A few dummy documents had been made up in case some inspection proved necessary, but he hoped to have her disarmed and in his power before she was too deeply involved in her "official" business.
* * *
All went well and according to plan. It was eight and already dark outside when he heard a soft rap at his door. He hurriedly thrust his feet into a pair of sandals he used as slippers and, dressed informally in black slacks and sweater, went to admit her. She slid in quickly and turned to watch as he locked the door behind them. In an effort to disguise herself, she was wearing a large enveloping cloak of white terry cloth that brushed the floor, with a big hood that fell forward over her eyes. He stood behind her to help her off with it and was somewhat disappointed when he saw that beneath it she was clad in the same drab costume as earlier, complete with the large-billed cap. He hung up the cloak and ushered her into the main room, the door of his bedroom suggestively open to display the black satin sheets and pillows he'd organized for the bed.
When he joined her, she held out her hand. "Now you may kiss my ... hand," she said. He took both of them into his and kissed their backs, then turned them over to kiss her small, tangerine-tanned palms, letting his tongue protrude through his lips and just touch the soft skin. Greatly daring, still clasping her hands, he leaned forward to drop a kiss on her brow, nudging the cap up a little as he did so. She made no objection but, on the other hand, did not respond other than with an amused but excited glow in her dark, large, wet eyes. He led her over to the couch and sat beside her, then offered her a drink, which she accepted. For a few moments they talked of small things, places he'd been, things she'd seen, and then he reached out for her hand, pulled her close to him, and kissed her full on the lips. Her eyes softened and relaxed, and she gave as well as she received, pressing her lips to his, opening her mouth in a moment, and thrusting her tongue in between his teeth. Then she sat back and regarded him.
"Is it time to look at your, ah, credentials?" she asked, laughing at him.
"I think perhaps later, after dinner," he said.
"Dinner? There is, then, to be dinner too?" She tilted her head at him.
Trevor had had a light, salady dinner prepared and sent up earlier, not wanting them to be disturbed at all by waiters. He had placed it in the refrigerator hidden below the small bar which stood against one wall, but he was in no mood to eat right now. He pulled her toward him and again kissed her, open-mouthed, until they were nearly out of breath. Her face was flushed when he spoke to her.
"Madame Thanh is an accomplished osculator," he said, adding, "and I'm sure she's equally accomplished in all the amatory arts."
"Please?" she said inquiringly.
"I think you are one of the world's greatest kissers, and that you are just as skilled in other love-making techniques."
"You are most kind to say so ... and I trust I will live up to Monsieur Trevor's expectations."
"Just plain Trevor, Madame Thanh."
"Not so plain, but handsome, in my humble estimation. And I cannot bring myself to say 'just plain' Vinh, but nevertheless Vinh is what I would have you call me." She leaned forward and in turn kissed his rugged, bronzed forehead. Standing up, she looked down at him as he lay on the couch. "I see that you, at least, are not one of those deranged Englishmen who insist on dressing for dinner," she said.
"But, my sweet Lady Vinh, I observe that you are dressed for the factory or for the fields, rather than for food. It is not a very flattering costume."
"Oh, but my dear Trevor, I thought you were content to see the dawn and imagine the day. Oh well, I hope this will be my only disappointment," she went on, shrugging her shoulders and making a mock moue of discontent.
Matching her mood, he rose to console her, wrapping his strong arms around her small body, feeling the padded texture of the jacket beneath his fingers while she leaned against his shoulder. She looked up at him, a glint of mocking amusement in her black eyes.
"Perhaps there should be two dawns on this day," she said and, with a quick kiss on his lips, pushed him back to recline on the couch, and went to stand on the thick pile of light blue rug. She wore sandals like his own, he noticed, but now she deftly took them off and stood for a moment, gravely observing him, digging her small toes into the luxuriant softness beneath them. Then, turning her back, she did something at her front that caused her pants to slip down. She stepped out of them, still with her back to him, and began to unbutton the jacket, which hung down to the backs of her thighs. With a shrug she shook the quilted thing off and turned rapidly about to face him, standing with arms akimbo. All she wore was a pant slip, rather old-fashioned in design, with long, loose, fluttering legs but fitted otherwise tightly to her. It was of sheer yellow silk, trimmed at breast and thigh with an embroidered dark-green border, matching the narrow straps that went over the thin shoulders. Her breasts, he saw, were high and small, wide apart and each perfectly firm and round, like half apples. The rest of her, except for the roundness of her arms and legs, and the slightly accentuated curves of her waist, was like the body of a young boy, flat, supple, lean.
Rising, he went over to her, looked deeply into her defiant eyes, and took her into his arms again. This time he experienced a much pleasanter sensation as he let his hands rove over her back, feeling the hard, flat slabs of her buttocks and the sharp bones of her hips. She clung to him fiercely, almost desperately.
"Do I please you, Trevor?" she whispered harshly. "Tell me, am I not still young and ripe for loving?" She looked up into his eyes and ground her pelvis hard against the hardness beneath his belt. He let his hands slide down her back till they came to the flesh of her thighs, then brought them up until, under the silk, he clutched the hard balls of her ass, and lifted her up till they were eye to eye.
"My Lady Vinh, you are most desirable, and I desire you. You're as old and young, as experienced and fresh as time itself."
Her great black eyes blazed with gratitude, and she threw her slim arms around his neck, pulling his head down and thrusting her lips against his, expertly prying his mouth open with her long, snakey tongue, running it around in search of his own. At the same time, still resting her weight on his hands, she brought her muscular thighs up and clamped them about his waist, pressing her silk-covered crotch against his buckle. He nearly lost his balance but recovered to enjoy her ardent embrace. She still wore the outsized cap, and he raised one hand to take it off but, still kissing him, she shook her head no and muttered urgently in her throat. Shrugging, he ran his hand down the hard ridged valley of her spine until it entered the crack of her behind, the feel of the silk sending him into ecstasy. Through it his fingers played along the short track of tissue upstanding beneath her body, not quite reaching her unseen hole, and in his mouth he felt her hot, darting tongue respond with fresh quivers and digs. Her body strove to attach itself to him at all points where they touched, straining and wrestling to feel him against her. She wanted sex badly.
Breathing heavily, she at last slipped down and feverishly began to undo his belt buckle. While she worked, he pulled his sweater over his head and looked down at her slight figure as she unzipped his fly and tugged violently at his pants till they dropped to his ankles. Shaking her head in vexation, she took his sandals off, then dragged the pants free. Then she was up against him once more, this time with her hand urgently but smoothly sliding into the top of his jockey shorts until she had a hold on his prick. While one hand fondled his knob and squeezed his balls, the other slid down his back and smoothed his hairy butt. Her busy lips were kissing his furry chest like a bird pecking at a window, while he was content to hold her against him and caress her thin shoulders. Slowly he moved them into the bedroom, she standing on his feet, not letting go of him, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell on top of her. In a minute they rolled apart and he looked down at her as she lay, yellow on black, atop the satin sheets. She smiled up at him, then, catching at his thighs as he knelt, pulled herself over until again her hands could easily reach him. She dragged at his shorts and pulled them to his thighs, her eyes lighting up as his large, erect prick sprang out above the elastic.
Letting go of the shorts, she seized him and began to pump him with both hands. He moved in on her until he loomed over her animated face and she continued to fondle him with expert fingers. He started to move the straps down off her shoulders and she rolled over onto her stomach, letting him slide first one thin green band and then the other down her arms. Leaning on her elbows, she rolled her cheeks against his prick, nuzzling it with her nose, twitching her eyelashes against his hardness, light as a butterfly. As Trevor worked his hands under the tight silk, he noticed that though she rubbed him with her face, apart from a few, puckered-lipped kisses, she did not use her mouth on him, and he noted the fact for future reference. By now he'd eased the material down to her hips and raised them so that he could drag the garment to her thighs; all the time she dreamily pressed his aroused warm flesh against her skin, squeezing his length lovingly.
He got to his feet, bouncing on the soft springs, and bent to run the smooth yellow silk down to her fine, firm ankles and off, while she did the same for him before straining herself to take hold of his knob once again. He clasped her ankles and pulled up. Straightening, she hung suspended from his hands, with her own hands around his flesh, while he swung her in slow arcs until, turning her over, he let her drop onto her back. When he knelt again to examine her loveliness, ruffing his hand through the long, sparse black hairs that made even more naked the pale tangerine skin pulled so tightly over her pelvic bones, she bent one knee and half-rolled over to push her flat belly against his hand. She sat up, took hold of his wrist to press it against her crotch, letting her slender thighs sprawl wantonly wide apart, and pulled his head down to her high, well-spaced, soft breasts. Her nipples were small and very dark, almost black, and their skin was rough and broken to his tongue's touch as he rasped at them. While the rest of her body was springy and supple, with not an ounce of unnecessary flesh, her breasts were soft as bags of silk to his lips, and when he brought one hand up to toy with them, he found they had no body, no solidity, like true bags, so that he could pull them out into long, boneless horns or press them flat into her till she looked like a boy. As his hands roamed over her body, searching out every last recess and plain, she writhed beneath him on the black sheets. When he kneeled between her legs and held her down by the wrists, she struggled until she had arched herself to balance on the back of her head and the soles of her feet, reaching out for him with her bare, brazen belly.
He played with her as he would have with a child, deliberately holding himself in and concentrating on heightening her desire. He crushed her cruelly to him, driving the breath from her, then, standing astraddle on the slippery surface of the bed, seized her by the wrists and pulled her up the length of his body. Once her feet swung free, he boosted her up and let go, catching her at thigh and throat as she fell back, to hold her out like a tangerine arrow before him, her tender breasts dangling until he could not resist lifting her over his head and dropping them like grapes into his mouth. He dropped her again to catch her across his arms, but this time she rolled over and clutched him around the neck to rain damp kisses on his face, while her hips ground at him, her nest of black hair hard on his hipbone.
They fell to the bed together and, as he kissed one breast and massaged the other, his left hand in her crotch, she reached behind her head and took hold of his prick, squeezing unmercifully. They had said nothing, but both were beginning pantingly to let the other know the experience was supremely enjoyable. While her small fingers worked wickedly upon him, he thrust one of his own between her legs and up into her vagina, which sent her into a burst of fresh snorts and jerks. She was hot and wet to his touch as he explored, feeling out the tiny ridges and nodules until at least he backed out and let his thumb gouge at the hard prong of her clitoris. She began to bounce and slide around on the bed like a thing without a mind, her eyes wide-open and staring, her small ass humping up and down like a pressure pump.
Trevor wanted to cool things down a bit, so he removed his hand from her crotch and released her breast, letting himself fall on top of her and nibble at her ears. Confound the cap ... it was in the way! He tore at it and quickly found that it was secured to her hair by two large pins. As soon as he attempted to withdraw them, Vinh began to struggle with him, calling in a sharp voice for him to stop. He grinned down at her, enjoying the wriggling, firm flesh squirming against his body; he grabbed her wrists with one large hand to hold them, quivering, on the black satin pillow. At his groin her heaving thigh almost did him in while her other foot drummed unmercifully but not too painfully on his calf. He gritted his teeth and persevered at his task, which was not made easier by the violent way she flung her head from side to side. But at last the pins were free and he roughly pulled the cap off.
As he stared down in amazement she ceased her struggles and, astonishingly, began to cry, cursing him through her tears. Madame Thanh Vinh's hair was silver, a beautiful, lustrous silver which burst out in a cloud as the cap came off, the silver of scratched lead, the metallic silver of a new coin. It had been coiled beneath the cap and kept in place with bobby pins. Trevor shook the woman by the shoulders to make her stop crying.
"Hey, Vinh," he said, "what the hell's the matter with you?"
She refused to meet his eyes, but after a while he was able to make out through her sobbing voice that she was ashamed of the premature whitening of her hair, and thought that she would become a laughingstock both to the public and to her lovers. Only her husband and a handful of trusted intimates knew her secret. Why not dye it? It turned out she was too vain or too proud or too self-contemptuous to use such an artificial device. As she blurted this out, she seemed resigned to the fact that their little affair was over and that he would no longer want her.
"Good God, woman," he exclaimed, "you must be out of your skull to think such a thing. You look truly exquisite, Vinh, really you do. Here, come lay here while I fix you."
He pulled her over to lie with her neck across his thigh and he raked his hands through the wealth of hair searching for pins. She began to take heart from his obvious sincerity and the light of attraction in his eyes as he worked. In a moment her little tear-stained face was washing itself on the hot flesh of his prick, pressing it against her skin with one hand while the other toyed delicately with her clit. Finally he thought he had them all out, but he picked her up and shook her about to make sure. Laying her down again, he straightened her legs, crossed her arms under her breasts, and combed the silver hair out with his fingers, making a great corona on the black satin, while she lay passively staring up at him with her deep-pooled eyes.
"Fantastic," he told her, and went to fetch a mirror so that she could see herself.
"You really like it?" she asked dreamily, doubtfully.
"You are at least twice as desirable as before, Vinh," he assured her, taking the mirror away. He parted her ankles and lay down between them so that his head hovered over the sparse black hairs at her crotch, then reverently lowered his mouth until he could kiss her dark lips. She sat up and wired her fingers into his hair as he began to tongue her. "No-no-no-no," she whispered, as if shocked, so he butted her in the belly with his head and began to move himself up along her, kissing her every inch of the way, rasping his tongue over her smooth skin until she was one palpitating, flowing vehicle of desire. When at last his tip was nudging between her thighs, she expertly reached down and took hold of him, placing him at her very entrance. Then, with a half-twist of her hips, skewered herself on him. As soon as he felt the hot wetness safely about his flange, Trevor drove smoothly in, not all the way, still wishing to care for her pleasure as much as his own. She swung her wiry legs up to clasp his hips between her thighs and locked her ankles across his butt. The way now clear for anything, the Englishman slid his knees up and pushed himself up onto his hands; Vinh, nuzzling with her lips at his throat, pulled herself up to him, entirely free of the bed, to clasp her hands behind his shoulders.
In this position he began to rock back and forth, the end of each movement either sending him a bit further into her, or driving her a little more down along him. She had a narrow cunt, and it took several pleasurable minutes before Trevor could feel firm flesh at his tip, though meanwhile she deftly let her inner muscles run ripplingly all along his hard prick like ten sets of tiny fingers pressing at him. She slid her belly over the hairy skin of his, sometimes letting herself hang down and then smacking up against him in a manner he found enticingly delicious. Beneath his eyes the shining silver of her hair hung down like streams of rain and formed a pool under her head. He became suddenly aware that she had sunk her teeth in his ear and was breathing rapidly and harshly against it. In a second he deposited her flat on her back on the black satin sheets and, with one arm under her shoulders and the other under her waist, began to let himself drive all the way into her, backing out almost to her lips before delivering a smashing stroke that rapped his hard and heavy balls against her ass. As he'd surmised, she was ready, and her small body began to respond to him, bucking and writhing and climbing as he fucked her; with a low moan she began to come, spending in gulps of smooth, hard-driving rhythm that perfectly matched his own outpouring. In-out-in-out-in-out-in-out-in-in-in-in-in-INININININI! And they were stuck together with their hot spicy essences, clutching one another with abandon, thrashing nakedly on the black satin sheet, stroking, kissing, with random, spontaneous licks of desire.
Vinh presently dozed off, holding onto his arm, but he gently pried her fingers loose and went to wash up. He set out the salad dinner and fixed drinks, then carried her easily into the bathroom. She sleepily awoke as he set her down on unsteady feet, and he told her to make it snappy.
When she returned, freshened up, her now proudly displayed wealth of shining silver hair like a waterfall down her back, she asked if they were not in any way going to dress for dinner. He laughed at her as she sat down cross-legged on the couch beside him.
"Lady Vinh has perhaps heard of, or even read, a book with the title of The Naked Lunch?" he asked, then added to her nod, "this, then, will be ... 'the undressed salad'."
They were having such a delightful time, he almost regretted the necessity of slipping Madame Thanh the African drug in her drink. But business was business, and the lady was far too shrewd to let herself become involved too deeply in an affair, and far too ambitious to let a lover influence her decisions where country and Party were concerned, so regretfully he gave her the stuff. He told her to get showered and dressed, gave her a hand to get her hair in reasonable shape and stashed away beneath her cap, and stood her before him to receive his instructions, first running through the set orders covering whose power she was in, how often she should drink from the phial he gave her, and so on. Then he addressed himself to the immediate situation.
"Tomorrow, Madame Thanh Vinh will remember that she has a lover's assignation with Trevor the Englishman which will occupy her for a very long weekend, and with that in mind will take the necessary steps to make a discreet and is possible secret departure from her husband's and delegation's side. She will require no more than one small suitcase which will contain several changes of clothes of a less Socialistic nature than those Madame is now wearing. Clearly understood?"
The woman nodded silently.
"Right then. Hold those thoughts in your head ... and meantime revert back to the person you were an hour ago."
She shook her head as though to chase away a cloudly though; then, with a rush, she was in his naked arms, for he had not bothered to dress again.
"Oh Trevor, Trevor," she whispered in his ear, "it has never been like that for me before, though I have had several lovers of your race. I shall wait impatiently until the next time we meet and, of course, I will assure my people that your ... your credentials are impeccable!"
Giving her a farewell kiss, he put her cloak around her and ushered her out. When she had gone, he leaned back against the door, shaking his head whimsically and gazing down, not unadmiringly, at his impeccable pecker.
CHAPTER 12
Trevor was never, ever able to wipe the memory of In the morning Trevor sent a coded cable to Umphala in Stockholm and asked that the plane be at Orly ready to fly out early the following day. Melva was a bid miffed that he'd screwed his Vietnamese prot�g�e, but she was intrigued by the long silver hairs she found in the bed and mocked him for laying an old broad.
"Wait till you see her, Melva m'luv, before you knock it. If you're half so good a fuck when you're her age, I'll be grateful," he grinned at her.
"Huh, what makes you think I'll still be available when I am as old as she is? I'll probably be trying to turn on some rich old man of ninety if I go the way you're going!"
"Touche! Here, want to come fence with this?"
"You keep that thing away from me. Trevor! Trevor! Nnnnaaauuuooooooo ... Goddammit, we've both got work to do ... No, Trevor, no ... Oh, very well then, you randy bastard ... if you can catch me and stick it in without using your hands. O.K.?"
"Fuck you with both hands behind my back? I'll, ah, have a shot, luv!"
* * *
Late afternoon saw them ready to receive Robby Adamms and little Jo; Vinh was not due till the evening.
When the American couple arrived, Trevor was introduced as a "next room neighbor" Melva had met in the bar. It was noticeable that Adamms, still under the suggested impression that he was there voluntarily to make it with Melva, was put out by his presence until Trevor suggested that Jo come along to his place and help him mix a batch of drinks. The aide readily agreed and was almost too keen to get his daughter off the premises so he could be alone with the redhead. Trevor winked at Melva and politely guided the bored youngster out of Melva's suite.
As soon as they left, Adamms moved in on his red-haired compatriot.
"I don't know why in the hell you insisted I bring my daughter," he said, "but I'm glad the Englishman was around to take care of her. Can he be trusted? I wouldn't want anything to happen to her."
"She'll be O.K. And a man in your position does need a chaperone, surely?"
"Chaperone, shmaperone ... who cares, now that you're around? I don't quite know how you managed to get me off on a vacation with you, but I'm sure looking forward to it."
He reached for her, placing one paw on her bare shoulder, trying to put the other around her waist.
"O.K., big boy ... that's enough, right there," she said, backing away. She zapped him back into her power and took over his mind. He stood there, dumbly. Melva knew Trevor would be taking his time with the drinks and with Jo so she figured she might as well use the period for the benefit of the cause. She got out the three cameras, angled to include different parts of the room, and set them up on remote. Then she turned to Adamms.
"Now why don't you just go over there and sit on the edge of that chair, and take your chopper out," she said, beginning to undress. "That's it. Now, as you watch me, you can start to jerk yourself off. I want to see how big you can go, Robby, so don't run out of steam, hear!"
The aide dutifully did as he was told, pulling his sagging prick out with one finger, while Melva deftly stepped out of her shoes, pulled the yoke-necked blouse over her head, and dropped her elephant bells to the floor, leaving her naked as a babe. Where she stood was not in camera range, so she threw herself into every kind of erotic pose she could think of to turn Adamms on, pressing the remote triggers from time to time to get a complete record of him sitting there with his fly unzipped and his rather pasty prick clenched in one rapidly jerking hand. Under his ministration, it grew exceedingly in size, Melva noted. It was equipped with the regulation Protestant foreskin and well-balanced, conformist bollicks-altogether a useful tool to either party involved with its operation. When it was fully aroused, the loose skin drawn smoothly back and the tip almost glowing with a scarlet flush, she considered it time to administer the coup-de-grace. Taking care that her head was not in the shot, she stepped closer so that the viewer of the subsequent pictures could see what a lovely, fuckable wench the man was peculiarly bashing his cock over. Her collection complete, she made him put it away while she slipped into her clothes again, and left him to sit there until Trevor signaled his return.
Meanwhile, Our Man In The Movement started off by playing the role of the "typical" Englishman to perfection, even dressing the part in white bush shirt, loose-knotted ascot, khaki jungle pants and sandals. As the young American girl preceded him into his suite, he looked at her approvingly. Prepared for her somewhat mysterious "holiday," Jo was wearing tight blue imitation velvet pants and a jacket to match, with eight large brass buttons, wide lapels, and flared bottom which gave her a somewhat nautical appearance. Her ankles were bare, and pretty, and she wore heeled blue strapless sandals. Her cap of curly gold hair, close to her head, helped sustain her healthy, young and vibrant image. Now that she was out of her father's presence, she chattered brightly, if nervously, as she helped Trevor mix the drinks, wondering aloud, with many wild solutions, where the short vacation with Dad was going to be.
Her almost childish prattle was beginning to get on the Englishman's nerves, so he decided to wipe her out immediately. Handing her a drugged Cola, well-iced but nevertheless potent, he proposed a break and took his own drink over to the couch. In a moment the odd, dreamy look came over her face and when he called sharply for her to come over to him, she obeyed with docility. He told her to finish her drink and put the glass down; then, as a test, he asked her what the "dirtiest" word she knew was.
"Shit!" was her immediate but smilingly admitted response.
Trevor nodded. She was under. He recited the creed to her and had her repeat it back, then proceeded to catechize her for his amusement.
"O.K., Jo ... now, why do you think 'shit' is the dirtiest word you know?"
"Well, because it just is, that's all. It's ... it's obscene!"
"Hhmm, shit should be obscene but not said ... O.K., now tell me why 'fuck' isn't 'dirtier'?"
"Oh, Trevor, there's nothing wrong with fucking. People do it all the time!"
"But, of course, they don't shit all the time. Hey-ho, what fools these mortals be! But what do you know about fucking, Jo? Have you been fucked, or are you still one of the fast-vanishing breed of virgins?"
"Well, yes and no, Trevor. Actually, no and yes."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Well, I've never had more than a boy's fingers in me, but when I was a lot younger and we were fooling around at school, one of the girls got too excited with a candle and took my cherry!"
"Hah, another torch of freedom, eh? Well, little Jo, technically a virgin has to be untouched by the hand of man, so you're disqualified on the first count. But how come you never let a boy into your pants? Seems like a logical next step in the game."
"Oh, I'd never do that! I want to get married some day, and I don't want to be spoiled for my husband!"
"But, honey lamb, if I tell you I want to fuck you, you'll cooperate, won't you?"
"Oh yes, Trevor, anything you say goes with me. And anything the other people you mentioned tell me, too!"
"That's a relief. For a moment there I thought our sexy sorcery had slipped up. How old are you, Jo?"
"I was just fourteen last month, Trevor."
The youngster stood passively before him, her hands behind her back. Trevor had neither the time nor the intention at this stage of the game to slip it to her, but she did turn him on with her wide, blue, innocent eyes and her trim little figure in the blue velvet.
"Have you ever seen a man-sized cock?" he asked.
"No, Trevor, I haven't. But they have to be bigger than the boys have back home ... I can't see where a girl could ever enjoy them. Even the candles are larger and longer, and we only used candles from the little old country store, just like everybody uses."
"Oh, I can tell you're a swinger, Jo. Would you like to see a full-grown donger?" he said, smiling at her. At her eager nod, he added, "Well first, why don't you get comfortable for a minute and take those little old hot pants off?"
Trevor watched with twinkling eyes as she stepped out of her strapless sandals and began to unzip the back of her pants. In her bare feet she stood about five-nothing-same as Vinh, he reflected-and he noticed with amusement that she childishly stuck her tongue in one corner of her mouth as she concentrated on the recalcitrant zip. But in a moment she had succeeded and began to slide the pants down her thighs.
"Hey, let me help," he said, and she acquiesced while he let his hands brush down the furry, blue, velvet-like material that covered the globes of her cute butt. Slowly he eased the pants off her slender legs until she was able to step out of them. He told her to get her shoes back on, then to lift the skirt of her long, flared jacket, and he was rewarded by the sight of a plump little Venus mound softly concealed beneath tight, light-blue panties whose legs, cutting high up her crotch, were white lace-trimmed, like something a doll or a small child might wear. He touched his knuckles against her mound and felt the cushioning of her pubic hairs beneath, crisp and thick, like an unused straw mattress. He had her sit on his knees, facing him, then got her to unhook his belt and unzip him. He laughed at her disappointment when his tabescent tanned tool tumbled out.
"Come on, lamb, you know what to do about this situation," he whispered, and promptly she leaned forward, took his prick into one small soft hand, and started to run her fingers caressingly along him until he stirred and stiffened to her delicate touch. Her eyes began to grow larger as he continued to grow; meanwhile he reached out and began to unbutton the eight brass discs of her jacket, all of which were functional, he discovered. Beginning to enjoy himself immensely, he left the last, top button fastened and instead transferred his fingers to her thighs, running his fingernails up against her satin-cream skin until she stirred uneasily and her grasp on his cock became tighter and her strokes faster. She seemed fascinated by his size and brought her other hand underneath his balls to squeeze and fondle them, leaning down to examine the way he was put together, putting the tip of her pinky into his hole, a gesture which sent delicious shocks through his entire system. Trevor undid the last button and in one movement pushed the jacket down off her slender young shoulders. Beneath the blue velvet garment, the youngster wore only a nylon bra, blue and lace-embroidered like her panties, through which her full, soft breasts moved to her breathing. Not wishing to have her busy hands removed for a second from his now fully upright prick, Trevor fumblingly unfastened the straps of her bra, then pulled her close so that he could slide his hands between her fair, warm skin and the blue satin as he unsnapped the clasp at the back.
Slowly, gently, he pulled the bra from her, and whistled at the pleasant view that met his eyes. Her pink little nipples were only just beginning to harden within the smooth, blushing aureoles. He took each of them between finger and thumb and lightly rolled them around, tugging softly at them until he felt them turn to hard, tiny balls of rubbery flesh; he toyed with them, letting them quiver, pushing them back into the now heaving breasts to be slowly released to his fingers, bouncing the twin white globes smackingly against his palms.
Jo was excited by this time, and again her tongue stole to the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on playing with the large hunk of flesh within her dextrous fingers. She let her fingertips tickle around his inflamed flange and traced odd, extravagantly titillating designs around his outstanding veins with her trim, sharp nails. He was beginning to ooze and wondered how the child was doing in that department, and he was surprised when she wiped the flat of her hand across his tip and, with the resulting smear of spunk, lubricated her other palm so that now she could ride her fingers up and down his ten inches without causing unwonted friction to his skin.
He parted his knees so that she had to further widen her thighs, and again he let his fingers play on their satin-soft insides, until he slid two fingers under the edge of the white-lace trim of her blue panties and felt the hot, moist dankness of her curly hair.
"Just a minute, honey," he said, and eased her off him. She pouted when he made her let go of him, but stood mutely while he finished the job of stripping her, dragging the jacket down her arms and the tight-fitting panties down her legs. When she stood nude and nubile before him, he slipped off his own pants and pulled her down to work on him some more. At first she crouched beside the seat, her head hovering near the prick which so fascinated her, rolling him like putty between the fast-moving palms of her hands, her thumbs brushing against his over-sensitive tip. Without making her lose her grip, he pulled up one long, young leg and moved her so that as she knelt on the other leg he could examine her precious little unfucked honey box. And it was well worth the study, Trevor excitedly concluded, for her unused lips protruded like a trumpet's bell, sturdy enough, for all their softness and flexibility, to be fingered and pulled at, a circle of tender flesh, a ring of muscle, poking through the glinting golden pubic hairs like an extinct volcano's crater shrouded by a sun-caught forest. When he explored with a finger and touched the hard red core of her clitoris, she jerked away.
"That hurts," she said. "We never used to play around with that, whatever it is."
"You just hush up, young lady, and let your Uncle Trevor do his thing. I promise you you won't regret it."
Never been turned on by her little clit! Trevor shook his head at the thought of all the pleasures the nymph had been missing these past years!
He pulled her entirely up onto the couch, on her back, and pushed one leg behind him so that her foot rested on his shoulder, and proceeded to initiate Jo into the complete mysteries of finger fucking, driving his long, lean digits deep into her, and letting his thumb palpitate the node between her upper labia. He was amazed to see that her lips began to extrude still further until she had a positive pink horse collar down between her thighs, now throwing off altogether the tightly wound golden underbrush. The insides of the crater were wet and winking at him as he let his firm fingers wander in its depths, and she let her other leg fall loosely to the floor in a silent urge for him to delve still further through the widened gateway. But instead, slowly and gently withdrawing despite the way she moved down upon him, he lowered his head and took hold of her clitoris between his teeth, rolling the piece of gristle along between them, carefully pulling, softly nipping, until her belly went wild against his forehead. Opening his mouth, he kissed her, lip to lip, then let his tongue slither and wash at the tender entrance. Immediately he felt her own lips meet around his flange and her tongue lick and lave, pushing strongly down into the core of his prick. He reached down between them to take one superb little breast in his hand and finger her hard and erect nipple. In his nostrils he smelled the heady, spicy musk of her oils, and his long tongue was gripped by her contracting muscles. His balls roiled and ached for release. She suddenly clamped her healthy young thighs around his neck and held his head clamped against her. But as a flush of musty milk swept over his palate and he felt his own hot surge begin to build up in his root, the girl jerked her head away from him and fell back, still pumping at his prick with her small, soft hands. Trevor gushed forth in a high, narrow trajectory, and his fountain of plenty descended in creamy drops on Jo's face and breasts.
Despite the thrill of the experience and the relief afforded his desires by his physical expenditure, Trevor could not help but be a trifle annoyed by her sudden and unexpected cop-out. Pulling the girl's still vising thighs roughly apart so that she slid off the couch and hit the carpet on her ass, he sat up and stared accusingly at her.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he demanded.
"Do what?" she asked, blinking her round blue eyes at him.
"Pull me out of your mouth, that's what!"
"Oh, but I never let that happen. It's dirty!"
"Yet you let me slobber into your cunt and suck you off ... what d'you mean, dirty, you silly little bitch?"
"Well, if you like doing that, you're entitled. But I never do!"
Bemused, Trevor wished he had the time to properly instruct her further in some of the finer details of erotic etiquette, but for the moment he had to content himself with the minor revenge of forcing the youngster to suck him out and lick him dry before dispatching her to the bathroom to wash her face and body. And yet somehow, despite his command over her, she still was able to pop off at the disgusting spray from his terrible, terrible prick ... and accused him of a lack of control!
She did agree, however, of her own accord, that his cock was truly splendid and ten times better than she'd ever expected such a thing to be. She was off boys for good, now that she'd seen the real thing.
The Englishman was thrown so off balance by all of this that he merely phoned Melva to warn her of the child's imminent arrival and sent Jo off to her father alone, taking with her the promised drinks. He threw himself furiously into a long, hot bath, and later, when Madame Thanh Vinh showed up as promised, he couldn't even be bothered to screw around with her.
Melva was no consolation when, after they'd herded the three "guests" into his bedroom to wait, he told her of his adventures with Jo, laughing out loud and refusing to take the matter seriously. Disgruntled by the whole performance, Trevor took to whiskey and an oath to swear off female company for the rest of the evening, leaving the gurgling Melva to her own devices.
CHAPTER 13
The castle outside Stockholm was not crowded even though they were now all installed-Queen M'wadi and Prince Umphala, Melva and Trevor, Erika and Mei Lin, the four apethes, Ram, Adamms and his daughter Jo, Madame Thanh Vinh, Sarah Chikowski and Yusup Ali. This was the first day after the arrival of the contingent from Paris, and so far the "guests" had been kept separated and had not been introduced or even mentioned to each other. Now M'wadi decided they should all learn why they were in this place, and she called a meeting in the main dining hall, a large, wood-paneled room with a long refectory table running down the center, a score of high-backed wooden armchairs, and benches and sideboards lining the walls. The guests sat around the lower end of the table while the Queen's staff, except for the apethes, were clustered at the other. Two of the apethes, Arandwy and another, stood waiting at the doorway.
The tall, platinum-silvered, sooty-black Queen quickly ran through the introductions; it was noticeable that the looks exchanged between the Egyptian and the Israeli, the Americans and the North Vietnamese were anything but cordial. M'wadi, of course, had expected this and observed their withdrawal. She stood up from the chair she'd been lounging in and leaned forward, her magnificent peacock robe flowing from her shoulders, the main note of color in the otherwise drab hall.
"Now listen, all you dumb motherfuckers," she began in her great husky voice, "there are two main wars going on at the moment, and it is my intention that you guys use your respective influences to stop it. And, on the principle that it's harder to hate a neighbor than a stranger, you're going to be strange but practical bedfellows, more neighborly than which it ain't possible to be. And while you're here at the moment because of my applied sorcery-or chemical know-how, if you prefer-I aim to have you get to know one another well enough not to wish to see the continuation of these petty squabbles between your nations.
"You, Adamms, will strongly endeavor to get the United States out of its missionary role and put its resources squarely behind the United Nations. You will not immediately get your country out of South Vietnam-that would lead to bloody massacres as anyone but an idiot can foresee-but you will allow the U.N. to appoint a commander-in-chief for your armies, which then will revert to mere police status in that unhappy land. Free elections will be set up, with the governments of South Vietnam and North Vietnam allowed to propagandize as much as they like short of sheer coercion-that's where the U.N.'s policing will apply. And, mark this, any South Vietnamese who fears a Communist take-over of his country will be allowed free passage for himself and any of his family who cares to accompany him to the United States or any other part of the world he selects, and he will be provided, at the expense of the U.S. government, with a fair dollar value of any goods or property he is thereby forced to leave, free tuition for all members of his family in the language of the country he chooses, plus a minimum of $1,000 for himself and $500 for each member of his family. I'll give you the details before you leave.
"The point is that if 5 per cent of the population-about half a million, approximately the same number who have sought asylum in the U.S. from Cuba-decides to emigrate, and things work out roughly to one head of family and three members, then the amount involved in bonuses will total only $312,500,000, mere chicken feed compared to the price you're paying to keep the war going. Treble that amount, if you like, to take care of other expenses, and it'll still cost you less than a billion bucks.
"And you, Madame Thanh, will be required to accept the conditions I've laid out for Adamms; furthermore, should your regime be elected to power, you will see that the U.N. policing force is allowed to stay as observers for a period of not less than seven years. Any instance of political murder or assassination for revenge by agents of your Party will be met by the International Court together with an automatic fine upon your Party of not less than 5,000 U.S. dollars, from which resource any family survivors will be taken care of. At the end of five years, another series of free elections will be allowed by your Party, with independent or other political party representatives standing in opposition to your Party, if any wish to do so, and with the U.N. policing to guarantee the fairness of the elections on all counts. Again, I have prepared a document which will inform you of all the details.
"For you, Miss Sarah Chikowski and Mister Yusup Ali, I have arrived at a different solution. Briefly I will trace the series of errors that has occurred in your part of the world.
"In the first place, recorded history up until the end of the First World War may be taken for granted as an example of all that happened in the world up until that time-namely, change. Borders have shifted, cultures have become redundant and have been superseded either peacefully or violently, but most of the change has come about through the use of power by the parties directly involved, except in cases of colonialism. This same colonial paternalism was originally responsible for the carving out of Palestine under the British, a third party not directly involved in the Judaic-Islamic question. Palestine, as it was then set up, should never have been formed in that way. The British should have pulled out altogether and let the Arabs and Jews do whatever they wanted.
"After the Second World War, the State of Israel should never have been set up. The European Jews had no more right to flock to Israel than the first settlers who moved to America, or to Africa, or anywhere else where they were not under the governance of the peoples who ordinarily resided there, and certainly not without their invitation. The Palestinian Arabs had absolutely no say when the goddamn Jews moved in on them. I kinda wish all the fucking Catholics had found themselves in a similar situation and had demanded that Italy be turned over to them. Or if all the Buddhists in the world, from Japan and China and all of Southeast Asia, had gone to starving India on the same grounds, or all the WASPs in the States had split back to Europe. On the other hand, you goddamn Arabs should have had enough sense not to let a rabble-rousing bum like Nasser and his predecessors talk you into continuing some kind of phony jehad ... ain't nothing holy about any war. If you people are too dumb to see that the only reason for this pretended display of faith on the part of your leaders is because they're scared to let you see that, with the same sort of resources, a neighboring country can really do something for its people and progress on the world scale, instead of getting itself milked by an elite's cynicism, then you need to look around you and learn. Why the fucking hell d'you think Sukarno was so uptight about Malaysia? Because Indonesia, with all its resources, hadn't nearly the standard of living and the per capita income that the Kuala Lumpur Federalist Government had been able to get for its people.
"Egypt and the other Arab countries shouldn't have rattled their swords at Israel; the Israeli shouldn't have behaved like a bunch of Middle Ages pirates; the U.S., and France, and Britain and Russia should not have jumped into the scene and fostered the situation, or sponsored it, or even sympathized with either side. The United Nations should have been strong enough by this time to get in there and knock the children's silly heads together. But all of this is past. What you two are going to do, like it or not, is to cool the whole thing as soon as you can use your powers and get your governments together.
"Both of you will see that your armies are entirely disbanded. Who in hell is ever going to attack you, in this day and age, apart from your present situation? You, Yusup, will end the present regime, by assassination if necessary, and set up a benign dictatorship which will last until such time as you have instituted and supervised a massive educational program which will get every last Egyptian-whoa, hold that-Arab kid in the U.A.R. into school for a minimum of ten years. And also you will revise the-Islamic faith and take away its power, something like Ataturk did for his country.
"You, Sarah, will get your armies pulled back to your country's borders and sweat it out from inside, since we can't erase the too distant past but can make sure that your conquistador-like enterprise of three years ago is not rewarded.
"That's about it, folks, except that, of course, the United Nations will make certain that neither of you starts the same kind of thing again for the next few decades, until we're all comfortably dead. Details later, as with the others. And now, on with the fun and games. Adamms, come here!"
Slowly, as if numbed by the heavy words just laid on him, the American pushed his chair back, rose, and walked down the length of the table until he stood by the White Queen's side. She grinned evilly at him, looking him up and down, then spoke: "Don't remember me, do you, Adamms?"
"Why no ... no ... I don't recall meeting you ..." he replied, stammering.
"Well, you cocksucker, you got my ass kicked out of school so your daughter not this one, the other one- wouldn't get contaminated by my niggerish presence. Now do you remember?"
The man thought for a long moment. "I do remember an incident when I had to suggest to a principal that it would be better if some black African was sent off to another school," he said finally.
"Yeah, brother, that was me. And I'm going to make you regret it, hear? O.K., Umphala, Ram-you know what to do. Jo, you go with the nice gentlemen, now. Mister Nigger-hating Adamms, do you like black meat?"
The Black Prince and the Indian pilot got up and waited for little Jo to join them, then led her out of the hall. Adamms stood dumb and unprotesting, but shook his head to her question. The White Queen shoved her chair back with one powerful motion and spun it around till she faced him.
"Well, Adamms, just remember to keep your disgust in the back of your mind while you do what I tell you to do. First, you can kiss my foot. Go!"
She roared with laughter as he bent one knee, removed her sandal, and put his lips to her big toe, wincing as he did so.
"Fine, that's a great start. Now, just climb up on the table here and take all your fucking clothes off."
Looking around in bewilderment, Adamms vaulted onto the long table and began to divest himself of his suit, his shoes and socks, his shirt and his underclothes, until he stood bare and barren before the others. M'wadi called the two apethes and ordered them up onto the table where they, too, stripped, giggling as they turned themselves around to display their fine, voluptuous young bodies. As they turned, their breasts bounced and joggled and their shiny black skins shone in the dim light of the hall. When they were stark, M'wadi had them face each other and place their arms on each other's shoulders, then bend at the waist and back away, until they looked like an exquisite, exotic pair of matching book ends. The large, shining, voluptuous black mounds of their behinds stuck out deliriously, and both Melva and Trevor enjoyed the spectacle so much that, under the table's covering edge, she quietly slid her hand up his thigh until she had his prick in her hot palm, and he drove his hand beneath her large butt and worked a finger into her through the cloth of her skirt, causing her to wriggle delightedly.
Adamms, meanwhile, had been standing forlornly, his penis in a state of complete abjection, dangling down from him like a thick, short piece of white spaghetti, his hands nervously clasped over it, trying to ignore the amused stares of the others.
When the two nubile chicks were poised, their large breasts swinging down from them as they continued to giggle, M'wadi looked at Adamms again.
"O.K., sport, kiss their asses, and make a good job of it, too."
Reluctantly the pale-skinned man bent and began to kiss the girls, setting his lips to their black melons and, under the direction of the Queen, moving in until he covered their little brown assholes and delivered smacking kisses that caused the pair to increase their merriment until their cheeks and tits shook like so much blackberry jello. They were told to arch their backs even more and push their pretty butts out further, and M'wadi had the American run his tongue down between their unprotected, widely parted thighs until he reached their slits, which readily opened to accommodate him. It was obvious that, despite his former protestations and probably against his conscious will, his sexual instincts were becoming aroused, for now the spaghetti had turned to hard macaroni and his proud prod stood out from his pudgy belly for all to see. After some moments, M'wadi dismissed the giggling girls; they jumped down, picked up their clothes, and vanished. She had Adamms drop down off the table and again stand before her. She considered him for a few seconds, then lay back in the chair, and, with long, powerful legs stretched wide, pulled up the hem of her colorful robe until presently the fine silk beard of silver shone in the shadows of her sooty-black thighs.
"Now you can kiss my cunt," she said in her deep voice, and beckoned to him.
All this while Erika and Mei Lin, clad respectably enough in plain loose shifts, had been hovering around taking photographs, and now they both moved in for some close-up shots of the American aide going down on the African Queen.
Adamms dropped to his knees, tentatively reached out to place his hands on her splendid thighs and inched forward. Doing nothing to conceal his reluctance, he gingerly lowered his head to her broad, firm belly, at the same time walking his fingers along the satin of her inner thighs until he touched the long white veil of her pubic hair and parted it so that they could all see her dry lips. Swallowing, he brought his lips down until at last they touched her and he gave a light kiss to her labia.
"No, you bastard, I want a real humdinger of a kiss. I want to feel your hot lips on me, lover boy, and I want your tongue in me. Come on ... suck!"
The American licked his lips and looked up at her once, imploringly, but she relentlessly shook her head. Again he lowered his head between her magnificent legs and began to kiss her crotch. Out came his tongue and into her purplish crack it went, in and out, around and around, tasting her dew. M'wadi raised one leg, kicked off her sandal, and began to play with his hanging prick with her toes, scratching at him with her nails, lifting his balls on her instep, until once more he was hard and stiff. Balancing herself on the balls of her ass, she bent her other knee and raised her leg to swing it over the arm of her chair, forcing her thighs apart as far as they could go. Adamms continued to press his face against her, rolling his head against her sooty-black belly and the silvery hairs. Watching him munch on the Queen, Melva was reminded of the scene with the dog a few nights ago. At last Robby had his wish and was being a dog to her nigger, though he didn't seem to be enjoying it much. Nor was M'wadi, apparently, for, after a couple of minutes of having his slobbering lips eating at her, she contemptuously told him to get up, and casually covered herself with her cloak.
"O.K., Trevor," she said, rising lithely and stretching her magnificent body so he could see her breasts ripple beneath the peacock-colored robe, "you know what to do next. Adamms, you stay here and do as Trevor tells you. The rest of you follow me."
She led the way through the halls until at last they came to a gallery that looked down into the enormous greenhouse, and she invited them to take their seats in a row of chairs set close to the low railing, enabling them to see right into the glass-surrounded room. Reaching behind her, M'wadi turned out the lights, leaving them in darkness except for the brilliant rays that shone in the greenhouse. All the glass windows had been treated with some substance to make them look foggy, and the Queen explained that the portion they were looking through was actually a one-way mirror, so that anyone below could not see them.
Presently they noticed Trevor wheeling in a peculiar kind of chair, with no arms and with the seat, back and footboard all run together at an angle of about forty-five degrees. To this contraption the naked Adamms was strapped at ankles, wrists, waist and throat. A gag had been placed in his mouth and he stared about him wildly. Trevor placed him at the entrance to a small glade in the artificial jungle so that the spectators could clearly see him, and he overlooked a clearing of maybe fifteen feet in diameter in which lush grass and bright, colorful flowers grew in profusion. Trevor waved up at the mirror-window and then left the American alone.
In a few moments he joined the rest, arriving at the same time as Umphala, and they drew up chairs and looked down over the rail. Immediately a naked Ram, carrying an equally naked but unconscious Jo in his arms, entered the clearing.
Trevor cleared his throat. "Just to explain what is happening," he said, "Jo is in a suggested trance from which she will awaken momentarily. She will not see or be aware of her father, and will imagine herself alone with Ram. She will think she is a new Eve and that he is her Adam. Ram, of course, is just playing a part and nothing is being suggested to him. As an aside, you might be interested to know that the whole scene is being photographed so that we have a little blackmail we can put on Ram, but he knows nothing of this. It's just that he has a thing about blondes and means to make the most of his opportunity with Jo. Jo, incidentally, has never been fucked, though she's no virgin.
"Master Adamms, there, her father, has temporarily been restored to his 'normal' state and is fully aware of what is happening, though later we shall convince him it was only a dream, a very real dream. Our Queen, M'wadi, intends that he should see what to him represents a terrible crime-the sight of his little, untouched daughter obviously enjoying the sexual prowess of a man with dark skin, a colored person, as he would put it.
"That, then, is the plot of our little playlet, though there is an encore. So, prepare to enjoy yourselves, friends ..."
CHAPTER 14
Below them Ram laid the sleeping Jo on the grass where she remained curled up, as natural and innocent among the flowers as any wood nymph, while he sat himself down beside her, his lean, dark-brown body oiled and gleaming so that he looked like a young god.
Taking her by the shoulder, he pulled her over on her back, then spread out her arms and legs until she made a delightful X with her tanned body against the luxuriant grass. Behind them, the youngster's father helplessly and silently raged, pop-eyed, and Ram began to run his brown hands over her body, tracing curves around her breasts and ruffling the tightly curled golden hair at her joint.
In a moment she awoke and looked around her; then, catching sight of Ram, she sat up and hugged her knees, pressing them against her full round breasts, looking up at him as he crouched beside her with her big blue eyes wide and round from under the cap of golden hair. They exchanged a few words which their audience couldn't hear, then Ram stood up, feet apart and hands on hips, twisting slowly this way and that so that the artificial suns above them made bright rays gleam on his handsome, muscular body. Then she, too, rose, and showed herself off to him, provocatively turning around, sticking out her cute ass, and peering at him over one shoulder. He professed indifference, it seemed, and pretended to walk away, but she trotted after him, her little breasts bobbling delightfully, and put herself in his way. She ran her hands up the front of her body, slowly caressing her thighs, slipping her fingers through her golden bush, stroking upwards over her plumpish belly until, cupping her breasts in her palms and lifting them up, she offered them to him. While she continued to stand like this, he reached out with both hands and delicately touched her nipples, teasing them until they grew hard, pinching them between finger and thumb and pulling them out toward him so that at last she was forced to follow them and move closer to him.
Between his legs his large mass of brown flesh curved, drooping, only in the first stages of erection. Within seconds after her young hands shyly reached down to touch him there, he began to grow, straight and hard, so that she dropped to one knee, taking her tender nipples from his grasp, and looked at him. He stood still, smiling, while she examined him, letting her young fingers try to circle his girth, without success, carefully pushing back his foreskin, working her little finger into the end of his hole, gently squeezing at his ball case, fanning her fingers through the fine shrubbery of glinting blue-black hair. To the onlookers above, he seemed fully aroused by now, and his wand stood stiff and staunch as a spear, ready to do his bidding in an instant. Instead, he said something to Jo which caused her to blush, and then she put her honeysuckle lips over his tip and began haltingly to suck him into her. "That'll larn her!" thought Trevor.
The Indian's dark-skinned prick was almost too big for the teen-ager to gobble, but she strove mightily to force him into her gullet, brushing her golden-blonde head against the coarse, wiry hairs of his belly as she went to work on him. Presently the still smiling Ram hooked his fingers into that same yellow, shining crop and pushed her down hard onto him until she began to shake her head-which must have done wonderful things for him-and to wriggle her plump little fanny, and to stamp her foot. He relented and, taking her by the ears, pulled her up and off him; then he put his arms around her to embrace her young, tanned body and crush her breasts against his chest as he bent to kiss her on the lips-those same cupid's cushions that seconds ago had been settled around his cock, which now, moistened by her saliva, was jammed between the two figures on the grass. Twisting one lean leg behind her, they toppled to the ground and, still entwined, they rolled over and over, crushing the bright flowers, until they were almost at the feet of Jo's white-faced father who was trying to struggle free from his bonds and spit his gag out, with no success.
Soon the wrestling couple broke apart, laughing, and while Ram lay on his back, relaxed except for the stiffness of his tool, the young girl rained kisses on his magnificent body, admiring every muscle, every cranny, rolling him over to slide her tongue in the crack of his ass, with her own luscious ass and breasts bouncing like fruit on the bough. When she reached his groin, she pressed her child's face against him and slid her lips all around the thickness of his prick, circling it, clambering across his body. While she lay stretched out along him, pecking at the muscles of his thighs, romping his upstanding prick through her golden hair, he began to part her labia like a peach, sliding his thumbs into her, twitching her little clit so that even the watchers above could see her pink portals stiffen and protrude, rolling back on themselves to allow her tender inner flesh to appear. Ram seemed fascinated by this charming aspect of her, and he began to run his finger rapidly around the circumference of this juicy red crater until Jo, trembling like a chased doe, started to beat at the soft earth with her hands, and to kick her feet, but he clamped one arm across her and continued to torment her. Just inside her orifice, the sides of her tube began to clench and expand, little bubbles of moisture popping along the fleshy junction, and Ram sent two long fingers sliding smoothly into her. Then, holding carefully onto her, he rose to his feet and held her plump rearward cheeks against his belly, slid his sticky fingers around her belly, down into the golden curls, and up into her sweet little cunt, and ran his own bulging prick between her thighs so that inches of it stood out in front of her. Urging her to fondle and work on him with her delicate, plump fingers, he turned around so that they faced the girl's enraged father from a few feet away, treating him to the sight of his fourteen-year-old daughter frigging a "colored man" and in turn being frigged by him, to their mutual and obvious enjoyment.
Ram grinned at the man's silent expostulations and let his free hand fondle and squeeze the twin apples of her breasts, bringing her nipples out like small red thimbles, quivering with expectation. Strained on tiptoes, young Jo washed her plump round butt against the dark, firm belly of the Indian, her hands pulling at him with all her might and will, knowing only that in her world nobody existed except herself and her Adam.
When the girl was one great trembling, writhing heap of desire, Ram set her down on her back on the grass and, leaning over her, began to sink his shaft in the open-mouthed quiver of her quim. Once his great flange had safely lodged itself behind her thick labia, he made one powerful thrust that all but hid him from sight, then began to quickly and easily stroke in and out of her, a great dark piston, already well-lubricated by her lapping tongue, punching into her untouched tunnel of love as though he were driving a railroad through a mountain. Each powerful lunge rocked the girl so that her legs jerked and her breasts rolled, while she, with her lips apart to reveal her pearly teeth, stared blindly up with her big blue eyes, until soon her arms came up and around to seize his shoulders, her legs wrapped lithely around his, and she began to move in time with him. Another minute and, with a wild thrashing of her body, it was all over, and she hugged him fiercely to her, grinding her hips against his, arching her back to smack her fair white belly up against his dark-skinned one, nuzzling her fresh, soft face into his throat, flexing her toes and fingers against him, rocking gently from side to side.
And her father watched and suffered in silence and physical impotence.
They rested luxuriously for minutes, Ram on his back with his half-limber prick balanced at his crotch almost comically, Jo with a knee angled across his belly and an arm about his neck, raising herself to let him fondle one small breast. He whispered something in her ear. Above them Trevor spoke.
"He's now telling her that watching them all this time is the serpent in the Garden of Eden they've got going for them down there, and it, he, is in the guise of a bound man. Ram's saying that before this, he has been invisible, but that Ram has rendered him visible and has captured and trussed him. The only way to banish the evil thing, he's saying, is for her to offer her only once-fucked body to the being, making sure it remains tied up, naturally, but freeing it from its gag so that with her own ears she can hear the Devil try to pretend it is her father. She must ignore this, arouse the creature's lust, and take his evil essence into herself, where it will be transmuted to good and be rendered harmless, as will he. Then, as soon as she removes herself, the thing will immediately disappear.
"This last part, of course, will be done by a previous suggestion made to her by Prince Umphala before he sent them out into the garden. Now watch, please, and remember that all of you may be treated in the same way ..."
Jo got up, pulled up a bunch of grass, and began to wipe herself, looking casually behind her at "Satan," her father. When she was clean and fresh again, she plucked a few flowers and placed them in her hair and, with a girlish laugh, did the same for the reclining Ram. Then, with a bunch of long-stalked, big-eyed daisies in one hand, she strolled across the few intervening yards and looked down at Satan, trussed to his angled chair. She eyed him quizzically and shouted over to Ram-probably something to the effect that the old Devil had done a marvelous job in counterfeiting her father, Trevor interpreted to the others. Ram replied, nodding his head vigorously, and sat up to watch the action as Jo returned her attention to the furious man. Tossing the flowers carelessly on his body, where they rolled down until they caught at his limp, lackluster lance, she deftly unfastened the gag and threw it away. As soon as the indignant American began to speak, she mockingly put her fingers to her ears, then leaned down and slapped his face, hard, twice, evidently telling him, from her stern, threatening posture, that he would get the same again, or worse, if he continued. But he continued to babble on, though more quietly, until, clambering up his inclined body and kneeling, probably painfully, on his paunchy stomach, she stuffed one nubby little breast into his open mouth. Naturally the man bit down on it-naturally for him, her disturbed father, that is, but it took her by painful surprise and she gazed down at him with rueful shock as she massaged her poor bruised nipple. Then she slapped him hard again four times, with all the strength of her young, healthy arms, until he seemed stunned. She slid back down his body until she was able to straddle him with her feet wide apart on the ground and her cute little golden bush was hard up against his knees, slowly running her hands up and down the length of her body, lovingly, caressingly, swaying her hips slightly, pressing her neat nooky against each patella in turn. Her nude, tanned body with its tantalizing apple breasts and melon buttocks was a glorious sight in the artificial sunlight that radiated from aloft.
Picking up the long-stemmed daisies with one hand while the other continued its amorous exploration, she let the flowers barely brush his naked skin, running circles around his belly and slowly drawing near his flaccid penis until finally the soft petals were playing lightly upon its flesh and, despite himself, he began to stiffen. Perhaps he had overheard Ram's story to Jo, but whether or not he knew precisely what her plan was, he evidently feared the worst, for now the amused onlookers above could see that he was muttering away under his breath, maybe even praying, with his eyes closed. But still his prick grew in size and substance under his young daughter's artful ministration, and it seemed he could do nothing about it. When he was fully filled out, but still half-limp, she ceased to tickle him with the flowers and, breaking them off a few inches down the stem, thrust them between her thighs and into the closed lips of her little honey box, presumably no more turned-on by Adamms' prick than Melva and M'wadi had been previously. Placing her hands on his hips, she eased herself up his legs until she straddled his thighs with her feet dangling and the large-eyed daisies at her golden crotch. Then she took hold of his tool and went to work in earnest, rolling him expertly around between her soft palms, squeezing his balls which she had to pull out from between his clamped thighs, and now and then bending her gold-capped head down to titillate his tip with her pointed, flickering tongue.
The American was white with shock, but doggedly continued to try to dissuade her, no doubt cursing himself at his inability to prevent what she was doing and to prevent his own physical reactions. After all, she was an extremely fetching sight in her nude single-mindedness, even if she was his daughter, and his flesh was more than willing regardless of the state of his spirit.
In practically no time, she had him hard and erect in her hands; without letting go, she slid her innocent-wise lips down him and began to suck and blow, no doubt twiddling her tongue into his hole at the same time. Her nipples were no more than half-started and from time to time she would touch herself and squeeze her tiny cherries. Now Adamms' head turned to one side, and the spectators could clearly see that he had given up and was letting himself become turned-on, for his lips were pulled back over his teeth, his eyes were closed, and he breathed heavily through his nose. At his center, his prick quivered and, judging the moment right, Jo pulled out the flowers with one deft movement, raised herself up high to kneel temporarily on her father's hips, placed his thick white prick beneath her, and dropped her waiting cunt over him, taking all of him into her in one swift gasp, letting her body's weight drive him home. She winced once, then settled back, arms on her thighs. The watchers above could see the skin of her lower belly ripple and the curly golden hairs wave like wheat in the wind as she let her vaginal muscles flex and clench on him. Impatiently she leaned down and slid one hand in under her ass from behind so that she could fondle and squeeze his balls, pumping him like a bellows; with a wild, jerking motion of his whole body, the strapped and tormented man spent with a force that almost bounced her of! him. Again and again she rippled her muscles like a snake, and again and again he gasped and jerked until, satisfied that she'd sucked out all of his evil, she vaulted off Satan and walked away, turning once and raising her eyebrows at his sudden and surprising disappearance.
Meanwhile her father, his fine white cock swaying gently with his breathing, and still oozing occasional drops of sperm, groaned to himself, rolling his head.
Ram, his strong brown arm about her soft, young, fair shoulders, led Jo away. Trevor rose. "Well, folks, that's the show for today. Our friend Robby will remember this as a bad dream, and little Jo will remember only making glorious love to Ram, though she will never quite be able to recollect the circumstances. And now, Queen M'wadi, I think you want to say a few words?"
The tall black woman stood up. "Tonight, after dinner, each of you, and that includes Mister Daughter-fucking Adamms, when he's recovered, will be given the details of my various solutions to your countries' problems. You will study them, commit them to memory, ask me any questions that puzzle you, and destroy the papers. Once the plan is locked into your mind, you will not be able to forget it and must try your utmost to put it into operation. That will be part of my continuing suggestion to you which will last long after the effects of my drug have worn away.
"Before you leave here, the day after tomorrow, I will implant another suggestion that will temporarily take care of your feelings about all this, but several days later it will be left up to you to decide whether you actually enjoyed your stay here and in good faith go forward with the plan, or whether you work to the same ends with the knowledge of my, hah!, blackmailing capabilities hanging over you. You know what I can do with my wealth, my contacts, and all those beautifully candid shots of you in my files. I may add that before you have left, I will have triplicate pictures made of those I already have. They will be stashed elsewhere for automatic release to the world should anything, uh, unfortunate happen to me.
"But tomorrow I want all of you to relax and enjoy yourselves. I will completely uninhibit your minds so far as sexual repressions, desires and any shyness or reserve you may have and, folks, we are going to have an orgy, directed by me!"
CHAPTER 15
Trevor was never, ever able to wipe the memory of that memorable orgy out of his mind.
During the morning the four house guests had, somewhat grudgingly, gotten together and talked out the propositions put forward by the White Queen for their various countries, and the situation was more or less amicable at lunch. Following the meal, a rather sketchy repast, the apethes had served wine, beer and hard liquor to the gathering and, for those who preferred it, some good grass. Though Trevor and Melva took a few drags to honor M'wadi's suggestion, they preferred to stick to liquid stimulants, as did all the others except Vinh, Yusup Ali and young Jo. Before long the group began to get relaxed and boisterous, and significant looks began to be exchanged among the various members. As soon as the time was right, the Queen nodded to Trevor, Umphala and Ram, and stood up, followed by the three men.
She began to stroll out of the hall, collecting Melva and Jo on the way and, while Trevor stayed to supervise the program, Umphala tapped Mei Lin on the shoulder and spoke with Sarah and Ali, the four of them also leaving. Ram brought the remaining three- Robby, Vinh and Erika-close to him and began to speak in a low voice. Dismissing the four apethes to their allotted places, Trevor went after M'wadi and her small flock, whom he knew would be waiting in the greenhouse.
Jo had had enough grass and lay stretched out on the turf half-asleep looking, to Trevor's eyes, like a virgin awaiting her unicorn. For a while he discussed with the Queen and Melva the possibility of the success of the plan, quietly drinking, and then he suggested to Melva that they go look at how the other two groups were getting along. M'wadi, stretching her long legs beneath her customary loose-fitting long gown, told them to go ahead, so he pulled the red haired girl to her feet and, putting his arm about her waist, they left.
The old gymnasium was their first point of call. They crept discreetly in to find that Erika, wearing only a black leotard, was idly swinging on the ropes while Ram, still in shirt and slacks, was making sure that Robby and Vinh were getting together. Motioning Melva to silence, Trevor quietly led the way around the wall till they came to a couple of benches in the shadows, and they sat down to watch.
Ram was talking, an ironic tone to his voice: "Now look, you two, since your countries seem so set on getting the rest of the world involved in your fighting, why don't you both have a friendly little battle now, and get it out of your systems, eh? Here we have a ring, and Erika and I will be your seconds, and we'll make our own rules. Tell you what! Mister Adamms, since you are, after all, a man, you must stick to using your hands only-open-handed and not hard, of course; Madame Thanh, you can use your feet in the style of fighting your people are accustomed to. O.K.?"
Almost bashfully, Trevor observed, the American and the Vietnamese agreed, self-consciously giggling. He suspected this had been previously "suggested" to them, and he watched with interest, squeezing Melva's hand, as Ram called sharply to Erika. With a graceful swoop, the big blonde swung herself down beside them. The Indian told them to get into the ring and went to douse all the lights, except those directly over the white canvas, before joining them. He indicated their corners and, choosing to second Vinh, left Erika to deal with the American. His principal was wearing a rather gaily-colored, long, slit-sided tunic over a pair of white belled pants-the sort of costume more normally associated with South Vietnam than the North-and, of course, a matching, coolie hat of straw. Standing behind her, he tore the hat from her head to reveal the great wealth of silvery hair which she normally sought to conceal and, diving into it with his fingers, removed the pins so that it rolled down her back in a great wave. Sliding his brown fingers under the split of her topmost garment, he deftly unsnapped her bra and threw it to the floor somewhere outside the ring to join her hat. He lifted her out of her strapless sandals, unwound the cloth at her waist that held her pants up, then dragged the pants down her slim legs until she could step out of them, leaving him free to unbutton the tunic at the side and rip this from her, to reveal her at last naked except for a diminutive pair of silver panties-nothing more than a crotch piece and a couple of circling cords-that matched her fine hair and set off the hard slimness of her tangerine-colored body.
Meanwhile, in their corner, Erika had quickly unzipped Adamms' pants and pulled them off, unknotted his tie, and taken off his shirt to leave him in socks, shoes, and jockey pants of a most violent yellow. Footwear was rapidly taken from him and he began to dance around barefoot, fists raised in a boxing stance.
Vinh contented herself with grasping the ropes and doing Umbering bends which sent her knees almost into her flat breasts with each crouch. As Trevor saw when she stood and turned, the straps of her silver panties had disappeared from view altogether in the crack of her ass. Ram found the gong, hit it, and he and Erika sent the other two out into the center ring without any kind of preliminary instruction or warning. For a minute or so it was pretty boring, with the yellow-and silver-crotched antagonists walking warily around each other under the bright lights, but once it started it was soon over, much to Trevor's disgust; he'd hoped the ugly American would get severely trounced. The first move came when Vinh let herself be backed into the ropes and then, like an arrow, launched herself off from them, twisting in the air so that her tiny outstretched foot connected with Adamms' throat. Surprised, the American staggered back and almost lost his footing but recovered quickly enough so that when little Vinh had turned around to close in, his left hand shot down and out to catch her a ringing slap just above the hip. She came in under his guard like an elf and gave him a chop across the ribs which made him wince and drop his hands to hold her in a clinch. Ram made no effort to break this up, and so as Adamms continued to crush the fragile South Vietnamese woman against him, mashing her shallow breasts against his barrel chest, she was reduced to chopping and poking at him with stiffened fingers in the lumbar region. Either he had no feeling there, or else his layers of fat insulated him from her short-range blows, for they had no effect on him. Suddenly Vinh slid her hands up between their bodies, hooked her fingers over his shoulders and lifted herself up, at the same time bending her knees around his hips, and tried to lever herself out of his clutches. This almost threw him off balance again, and so he shifted his grip to beneath her almost totally bare butt, linking his fingers together beneath the narrow silver cord that parted her cheeks.
No doubt thinking he was going to bust her straps, the agile woman pushed down with her feet, entangling her toes in his jockey shorts, with the result that they slid still further down his hips and let his hairy ass hang out. In retaliation for this blow to his dignity, Adamms changed his grip slightly, hooked his thumbs into the split of her flat butt-not so flat now that she had it shoved out behind her through the strain-ran them under the hidden cord and, with a quick, strong downward jerk of his wrists, succeeded in breaking it so that, as she wriggled, the ends hung free and clear below her. With a half-angry, half-excited gesture, Vinh rapidly ran her hands down his belly, stuck her thumbs hard into it and, as he involuntarily let her go, dropped lightly to the floor and yanked the front of his shorts down low on his thighs. His close contact with the woman had done something for him, for his white prick sprang out of its confines and wavered there between them as if sniffing the air for its rightful prey. Staring at the thing, the woman moved as if to slice it at its root, but the American backed hastily away, covering himself. And then, as she spun away from him with her silver hair floating out around her in a great cloud, and the dangling, useless crotch of her silver panties flicked up to expose her bobbing ass, Adamms reached down, slipped his pants to his ankles and ripped them off, and said, in an eager tone: "Frankly, my dear, I'd rather fuck than fight. Let me get at you and I'll ream you for sure, but I'll let you do the fucking so we'll come out even-steven."
With that he began to chase her around the ring, she every now and then making an ineffectual attempt to slip through the ropes. Ram and Erika began to applaud, and gave a cheer when at last the American had the woman cornered. Lifting her under the armpits so that her struggling legs dangled, he let himself fall on his back and brought her down on top of him. Though she still seemed to struggle, Trevor could see that within seconds of his getting his mouth against hers, the writhings became slower and sensuous, and it wasn't long before she was reaching back down between them and gently squeezing her captor's white knob.
The Englishman praised her manner of letting herself be captured. Melva agreed; this was the way to win a war!
Since it was obvious that Ram, who had already managed to insert a finger into Erika through the thin, stretched material of her leotard, was about to make it with this new-found blonde, Trevor took Melva's hand and led her off to the dining hall, to see what had transpired there.
The Black Prince had wasted no time in subtleties with his group. He'd obviously dispatched them all to their rooms to strip and perfume or decorate themselves, doing the same himself, and then brought them back to the hall.
The child-like Mei Lin had again lacquered her sharp nipples, her toe and fingernails, and had lavishly added green makeup to her eyes, giving them an even more Oriental and mysterious look than usual. She'd also applied extremely long green lashes to her lids which hovered over her black eyes like strange dragon-flies. She even wore green lipstick, and these touches against her otherwise naked saffron skin turned her into a pocket-sized goddess.
Yusup Ali was buck naked, as was Umphala. Sarah, otherwise completely nude, had chosen to add multiple strings of white pearls around her throat, all but masking her breasts, and around her hips so that they hung nearly to the floor, ringing her like a glittering, glowing belt; smaller strings were at wrist, ankle, thigh and upper arm. With every step she took, she clicked like an abacus in a whorehouse on Friday.
When Trevor and Melva slipped into the room, unacknowledged by the others, prim Sarah was up on the gleaming black table, doing a most lascivious version of la danse du ventre, with her hands behind her neck, pink-nosed nipples hard out through the veil of pearls, waist held well in, thighs spread, and belly thrust, gleamingly white, at her audience, the swinging pearls below tantalizingly doing a now-you-see-it-now-you-don't with her choice nooky. In a moment Mei Lin had catapulted herself onto the table and she began to cartwheel and cavort around the other girl, her naked, hairless, green-touched body flickering like an ivory wand dipped in jade.
Both Umphala and Yusup were upstanding, in every meaning of the word, hands on hips, legs astride, eyes fixed on the dancing pair on the table top, though Trevor sensed the Prince knew he and the redhead were in attendance. The black tree and the coffee-colored bough were both hard as wood, though the royal thing had size, weight and reach over the Minister.
Knowing the proclivities of the foursome-the Israeli lesbian, the Egyptian ass freak, the African and Chinese insouciants-Melva asked Trevor: "How in the hell is Umphala going to work this little lot out, since he has to get the chosen-people chick and Nasser's asser together?"
The Englishman shrugged, absorbed in the sight of the jiggling girls. "Don't know, luv, but I'll bet you a fellatio to a cunnilingus that he works it out just perfectly!"
"You're on, Trev," she said, reaching up under his African robe to grasp his waiting penis. He responded with a squeeze of her thigh through her silk gown, and they leaned forward to watch.
They weren't long in learning. And Trevor won his bet.
Umphala had no doubt set it up in advance with Mei Lin for, still dancing but no longer somersaulting, the tiny Chinese girl let herself gradually move closer to Sarah, advancing in a sinuous, sliding glide along the wooden surface, hips subtly rolling, hands far above her head so that her breasts were turned into enchanting ovals from whose centers the green-tipped nipples stared out. Presently she was toe to toe with the other who was leaning far out behind her with her head parallel to the table. Thrusting out her small belly, the Chinese girl brought the two sets of thighs together and then began to lean over her partner so that when Sarah writhed upright, she found herself in intimate contact with the Oriental. The pair slowly began to move together in rhythm, a dreamy look appearing in the eyes of the Israeli, Mei Lin's thoughts and desires hidden under her enormous green lashes.
Straightened up, Mei Lin was far shorter than Sarah, so in a moment she placed her thin arms on the pearl-bedecked shoulders and strained herself to tiptoe until they were pelvis to pelvis, the slightest move of their swaying bodies grinding one against the other. Sarah lowered her head and kissed the younger girl full on her green-lined mouth, and brought her arms around Mei Lin so that her white hands roamed freely up the yellow back from buttocks to neck, pressing hard, not ceasing with the by now almost imperceptible wavelike motion of her body. She made no objection when a slim foot slid behind her ankle and gently toppled her to the black table top, and even helped when her tiny lover tried to ease her heavier body over on top in the active position. Mei Lin spread her slender thighs and Sarah, one arm under Mei Lin's middle and the other under her neck, her lips still fastened to those beneath, pushed her thighs even further apart and steadily ground her brown bush against the bald cunt below. Pink nipple to green, white belly to lemon, brown hair entangled with the black, the two girls rolled against each other, pressing, arching, fondling.
The sight of Sarah's exposed, muscular ass was apparently more than Yusup could bear, for he was soon clambering up on the table, his circumcised tool waving like a battle flag before him. He fell on his hands above the two at first, and let himself be stimulated by the heaving bodies beneath him; then, sitting back on his knees, he parted the cheeks of the Israeli's ass and laid his long thin rapier between them. Proving that he was indeed a past-ass-master, he delayed no more but, laying himself out upon them again, he grabbed Mei Lin's shoulders and, through her, penetrated his cock into Sarah's defenseless rectum. The woman gave a shudder and looked startled but, as the Egyptian fell into their rhythm, she relaxed and let him help her thrust against the Chinese girl's now open-mouthed cunt, exposed with every forward stroke they made, soft brown lips moist and sucking.
Once Yusup was solidly embedded in Sarah's upturned and working butt, Umphala, with a broad wink at Trevor, lithely swung himself onto the table, stood behind the trio, then went around to its head. Placing himself on his side, the Prince began to force his enormous prick between the kissing lips of the women, who did not cease their tonguing, sucking lavishments but continued to deal with his hot, purplish flesh as if it were some kind of elongated toy they were lover-like playing with. Presently, when his prick was well lubricated from their lips, Umphala withdrew, went behind them all again, reached down with his huge hands to thumb apart Yusup's quivering, hirsute flesh, and placed the tip of his great tool into the aperture, straight as an assagai to its mark. The Egyptian screamed once, softly, as the Prince's hot prick began to penetrate him, and then his ass began to buck and writhe as cheerfully as that of Sarah's into whom he was pronged, so that poor little Mei Lin had to cope with a veritable symphony of rhythms, at the bottom of the roiling, multi-colored heap. But from the happy expression on her face when Trevor and Melva, on their way out, leaned over to look, she was feeling no pain at all.
As they made their way back to the greenhouse, to see what was happening, Melva continued to hang onto Trevor's expectant prick as if afraid she was going to lose it forever. He, on the other hand, was afraid that he was going to lose it for eternity if she didn't quit holding on so hard, and the couple, staggering, remonstrated all the way.
Trevor was relieved to discover, as their feet hit the green turf of the greenhouse, that Melva did retain some of her normal shyness, for she released her grip on him and contented herself with an arm around his waist as they approached the glade where they'd left M'wadi and little Jo. He was not surprised to find that the Queen had made good use of the interval by getting the American teen-ager to turn her on. Neither was he surprised to discover that, with her usual royal laziness, M'wadi was doing nothing for the girl. The platinum-haired, sooty-skinned mistress of all their fates and chieftainess of all their libidos had allowed herself to be divested of her colorful robe and now lay naked, her great, coned breasts with their purple nipples hard, her silver-bearded crotch bare for all to see, and her long, slender, powerful thighs parted darkly against the green grass.
Jo, dewy-eyed and innocent-looking, lay stretched on her stomach, her golden-capped head resting on one broad black leg, and her finger hidden to the knuckles beneath the silky, silver maidenhair fern beneath the firm but full unpolished-jet belly. The Queen had not thought to tell the girl to change, nor had circumstances dictated that she divest herself, so that she wore what she had worn at lunch. Waiting for M'wadi to say something, or to indicate a course of action he should follow, Trevor again inventoried the blonde nymphette's costume, bringing to mind what he had seen earlier.
Her tight, curly, truly golden hair had been freshly combed and set so that it clung closely to her scalp and continued the curve of her chin and cheeks; she was a kind of wide-eyed, blue-eyed Joan of Arc with a succulent, sensual, pouting upper lip that would have made that Maid a hotter-flamed martyr. She had chosen a see-through blouse of transparent blue nylon with cop-out patch pockets that hid most of her fair young breasts, and over this she was wearing a sleeveless brown suede vest that matched her micro-miniskirt with its broad, fantastically buckled, gold-chained belt. Her long, slender, tanned legs were bare, but deep-heeled hide boots, carrying on the color scheme of vest and skirt, hugged her snugly from knees down. Something about those dark-brown boots and the young girl's blonde hair conjured up for Trevor an odd memory of his sister Kate, now back in Matabi. "What was it?" he thought. "Hair of similar hue, short skirt, fourteen years old, or thereabouts ... but especially those close-fitting brown boots!" He remembered that Kate had looked most extraordinarily sexy in those boots, and he wished he'd introduced her then into the delicious pleasures of complete sensual joy. But the teen-ager under scrutiny now was certainly not going to be so deprived.
He recovered his somewhat bemused senses to discover that he was himself under the ironic scrutiny of Her Majesty, Queen M'wadi of Matabi, legendary White Queen of West Africa. As he caught her eye, she glanced from him to Jo and back again, amusedly inquiring. With a rapid look from the corner of his eye at Melva, who still clutched his hand, he nodded. The Queen winked at him, yawned, stretched out her voluptuous limbs, and looked at the redhead.
"Honey," she said, in her sultry, husky voice, "would you like to come here and take over from this amateur, fumble-fingered, So'thun' chick? I reckon I've nailed the Adamms family as much as I want, 'ceptin' I aim to get myself even with the other cocksuckin' daughter some day. But I kind of feel that way again, and you's about the best chick they is aroun' these pahts jest now. O.K., Melva honey!?"
Trevor grinned to himself at M'wadi's lavish "colo'd gal" approach. And he could hardly contain his laughter when the buxom redhead turned as though to ask for his sanction, even though both of them knew that, apart from the Queen's word being law to them, Melva did not exactly dislike getting into intimate situations with M'wadi's king-sized frame and imperial-sized sensuality.
He shrugged his shoulders, and looked almost soulfully into her eyes. "O.K., luv," he said in her ear. "You know what it means to us both to please her and, what the hell, how can I be jealous? She's a sheila, not a ... ah, what-do-you-call-it ... ah, cat!"
Almost purring, M'wadi watched as Melva pulled her robe over her head to reveal her short-waisted, big-breasted, naked pink figure; and as Trevor, ever the gentleman, reached down to offer his hand to the nubile Jo, who, glad to be back with male company again, rose with alacrity.
CHAPTER 16
As he led the young American girl off into a more sheltered portion of the man-made paradise that the greenhouse represented, Trevor had but one thought in his mind. Melva was most certainly the best female he'd come across (or in!) so far in his not unadventurous life, but there was a certain thing he had to get sorted out with little Jo of the discriminatory and deprecatory tastes. He let her lead the way through the artificial subtropical foliage, admiring the sexy sway of her hips beneath the short brown skirt, and lusting at the sight of her tender young legs revealed between the swinging skirt and the tight boots.
In half a minute they reached a simulated sandy area from which sprang cacti and long, thin, olive-green dune grass. Jo turned to ask his approval and he nodded. With a sigh of relief, she threw herself down on the soft ground and rolled over to look at him. But he was not in a mood right now to appease her "suggested" uninhibited desires.
"Stand up!" he ordered, brusquely. He eyed her so intimately up and down, taking his time, that, despite her release from morality, she blushed crimson.
"All right, my little would-be virgin on marriage, take my robe off," he said. As she reached for the hem of his garment and carefully drew it up over him, he regaled her with what she had said to him that night in Paris, and with what she had subsequently done with Ram and her father.
He bent to make it easier for her to pull the flamboyantly-pigmented thing over his head, and even so was able to look down into her big blue eyes. When he was naked, he told her to spread his robe out on the sand and, when she had meekly obeyed him, lay on his back to look up at her. He was feeling so intellectual about all this that he was only half-hard. Crossing his hands beneath his neck to make a prisoner's pillow, he told her to stand over him. When she came stiff-leggedly to straddle him, he looked up under her brown skirt and saw only shadows.
"Pull your skirt up! I want to see what you're wearing!"
Dutifully she obeyed so that he could see a thin, almost transparent strip of blue panties hovering between her hips.
"Take 'em off! Remember that you are a young girl of fourteen, about to do something special for an older man," he suggested.
Her face suffused with color, little Jo hiked up her skirt, slid her hands into her panties, and wiggled them down her hips and thighs, and meekly kicked them from her slim young ankles. He made her kneel over him and pull her skirt up, so that he could see the golden cross-hatching hairs that strove vainly to conceal her but twice-penetrated quim. He had her, still kneeling and leaning over him, unbutton her see-through blouse so that there was no longer any need for her to utilize her patch pockets to tease. She slipped out of the brown vest, the shirt and the skirt, so that at last she had only the gold-chained belt buckled about her slim, tanned waist, and the brown boots that encased her to her knees. By this time he was as hard as a bachelor at his best friend's wedding, and so he made her roll him into sheer and utter delight between her hanging, swaying, pendant young breasts. As she crouched over him, he brought his knee up to touch and press against her close-curled golden crotch until he could feel her oozing moisture on him.
Then, turning her around, he made her take his prick into her small, pouting mouth, and suck at him. Holding himself in, he enjoyed the feel of her pearly little teeth as they dug into his rubbery flesh; the touch of her pretty tongue as it probed questingly into his hole; and the warm caress of her lips as they rolled up and down his length like a massage. Her hot breath sent him into transports of delight, bloating him out like a balloon as she blew him out. Her golden cap tickled and mingled with the coarse, harsh black hairs of his belly. He could see beyond her through the rounded fork of her ass as she bent over him, against the soft part of his thighs her loose, dangling breasts swung ...
And then abruptly he turned her over and stared down at her naked, golden body and the brown boots, fingered the gold chains at her waist, winked to himself at the open-eyed entreaty of her protruding, questing, pink-lipped dripping cunt, and thrust himself deep into her mouth until he could feel her gullet swallow and seek to take him in. Down, down he drove, feeling her tongue reach out to flick like a frog at his roots, sensing her strain to somehow bring her dewy lips down until they could touch his balls ...
And then he spent into her, forcing her to accept into her throat the hot white sperm that she had despised in Paris. Gloriously he jetted and fountained, knowing by the involuntary clenching of her teeth on his tool that she resented the imposition but knowing that eventually she would come to seek it out as a delicacy.
Presently he felt his cold balls roll around her sweating forehead, and he rolled off, exhausted.
To his cynical surprise, he came to his senses to find her desperately sucking him, her bare ass bobbing before his eyes. His schooling had been excellent, and from here on out she would be a cocksucker extraordinaire, which would, he knew, please M'wadi!
* * *
The following evening the five "guests" (four of whom were reconciled to each other and to M'wadi's policies to end their stupid conflicts), sure that the only two races, or countries, or political polarizations lay between the sexes-plus the American's newly awakened and enlightened, sexually, and thus politically, free daughter-flew home to solve the current situation. "Meanwhile," said M'wadi, as Umphala, Melva, Trevor and their latest co-optees listened, "there is going to be further use of Erika, Mei Lin and the four apethes ..."
Not-the-least; and certainly not forgetting, thought Trevor, as he laid with a will into his red haired partner that night-and seeing the chick standing naked at the foot of his bed with a broad grin on her face and a broad cunt between her even broader black and shining hips-good little old apethe Arandwy!