I could feel the excited man's cock swelling in my grasp from my firm up and down tempo, and I kept jerking, harder now, until I felt his tremors begin. Then, I softened my touch, running my thumb over the tip of his manhood ... toying with the hole at the top until some pre-seminal fluid warmed my hand-then I got back to serious business.
Men always got thrills they hadn't bargained for when Gabriel surprised them by caressing their cocks on the plane. They always made sure they flew on her airlines which took them straight to ecstasy.
CHAPTER ONE - Gabriel
My name is Gabriel Du Champe. I am twenty-eight years old and a Libra. I am an airline stewardess and work for World International Airways. I've been with the company for almost seven years and since I am usually senior I bid for the New York-London flight and almost always get it. This is important to me because I have a fiance in New York and a fiance in London. I usually have a fiance in New York and a fiance in London even though they might not always be the same two men. A "fiance" usually lasts for about two years-if he's good, that is. They're very exciting when new, but after a year or so they've run through their bags of tricks and funny stories and their biographies begin to fade. It's at this point that they begin to insist that I finally quit my job, which is important to me, to marry them and settle down to a life of quiet contemplation, weekly sex and daily diapers, which is important to them. That's when I start looking for another fiance!
Currently I have the best parley of my career, with Bob in New York and Noel in London. Two beautiful men, both inexhaustable fuckers, both devoted to me. It works this way: My flight is 602, leaving Kennedy at 8 PM EST, arriving Heathrow, London at 8:35 AM, GMT. Since I try to avoid jet-lag, I leave my watch set to New York time, which makes it 3:35 AM at London touchdown. I'm usually in bed with Noel, fucking his brains out, by 5:30 AM, NY time. Then after about six hours sleep I awaken to an evening at home with Noel, or an occasional night out on the town, starting at about 12 noon, according to my New York watch. We're back in bed by 8 PM, NY time and after four or five orgasms and about five hours of deep sleep, I'm ready to leave for Heathrow and the return to NY. My return flight is 609, scheduled for 11:15 AM London time. At take off, my watch tells me it is 6:15 AM in the Big Apple. By 3 PM EST I am in bed with Bob, fucking his brains out. He has to take a break from his photo studio in order to do this, but I insist on being fucked at the end of each run ... it's kind of a good luck charm.
Of course there are many exceptions to the routine I've out-lined. Quite often, I'll spend time shopping or sightseeing or "adventuring" in London, and quite often Bob is too busy at the studio to meet me for our afternoon fuck. Then too, there is the occasional extra-curricular sex session ... but more about that a little later. It boils down to a twenty-four hour (plus) turn around in London and a forty-eight hour (plus) turn-around in New York. I've succeeded in making the whole thing a series of pleasure trips! The beauty of this arrangement is that neither of my two "fiance's" knows about the other!
I think I might be in love with Bob ... I mean, no one has lasted as long as he has ... three years! A world record with me. He is my fifth New York "fiance," so you can gather how long the others lasted. Three years and I still feel as if I'm cuming every time he so much as kisses me! He excites me more than any other man ever has! He makes me laugh and he knows my moods and he even brings me breakfast in bed. He's funny, intelligent, creative (both in bed and out), and he loves me for something other than my body ... a demand I've never even considered making.
As for Noel, he's new, only about five months old. A lovely chap with upper class breeding and a wry sense of humor. He's a writer of spy and intrigue novels and is currently in fashion. He's made a fortune from his last two books, both of which are soon to be filmed. Of course, I'm the perfect thing for him-I don't make demands of any kind, particularly demands on his time. He knows to expect me "home" every third day and I serve as a kind of holiday from his writing. Underneath it all, Noel has a lovely romantic soul. He professes to love me and surprisingly I think I am falling in love with him. Actually, I am ideal for him. With me he can have his cake ... me, and eat it too ... which he does, with gusto! He is beyond doubt the best male eater of pussy I've ever experienced. I hope he lasts.
The reason for all this is that it's nice to have something to come home to and it's even nicer to have some one on both sides of the Atlantic. Unlike most of the other stews of my acquaintance, I'm not forced to live in a plastic hotel room on one side of the pond and a stews-nest shared with two or three other girls on the other side. During my first year as a stewardess I lived exactly that way, sharing a two bedroom apartment with two other stewardesses. I very shortly got tired of the panty hose hanging in the bathroom and the bitchiness of one of the girls, Fran, her name was. It just wasn't home, I mean there wasn't even enough closet space. I was really more comfortable on the other end in a hotel room in London. At least there I had privacy.
Because I'm French, Parisian by birth, privacy is quite important to me. I value it highly. Even though I've been an American citizen for almost four years now, I am still possessed of a sensuous French soul. This inspite of the fact that I speak in the American idiom and sometimes come on like an American. These are habit patterns picked up since I started flying for World International, almost seven years ago. I'm French from head to toe and that includes all that lovely stuff in-between! Two facts: my accent is barely discernable and I make love like a Frenchwoman. You'll soon see what I mean.
I'm beautiful, with very long, shiny, jet black hair and full breasts tipped by two sensitive, pink nipples that when aroused are almost half an inch long. And, all it really takes to arouse me is the delicious, gratifying knowledge that a man, even one single man on the street, is developing an erection while looking at me. Then my juices start flowing! Sweet, pungent juice gushing to such an extent that by the time I arrive home I have to change but of my wet panties! That's because my lovely little pussy is shaven and there is no pubic hair to catch and absorb the moisture.
And while I'm on the subject, I really have to admit that I have a beautiful cunt. I know it may sound immodest but I've heard it from so many men, so often that I've come to believe it myself. Of course, the proof is in the pudding, so to speak; I mean, I get sucked almost as much as I get fucked. Something is attracting the men down there! At first I thought it was my Calendre ... that's the perfume I use, very sexy stuff, it seems to react fantastically with cunt juice, which I'm certain is a catalyst for the perfume. The hornier I get, the more spicy and sweet the Calendre!
As I said, I thought it was the perfume, so for a period of almost a year I stopped wearing it, but the compliments continued as did my batting average with cunnilingus. So I'm convinced I have one of the prettiest pussies in the western world ... I'm just being honest. You know, when you've got it, flaunt it! Right? And I take good care of my beautiful pussy. I exercise muscle control every day. I've reached the point where I have enough control to project a ping-pong ball across the room! In fact, even when I'm wet and juicy I have the ability to tighten up to where my cuntal muscles can offer considerable resistance to the withdrawal of even a tiny finger! You really have to pull to get it out and then when it finally emerges it does so with an audible pop!
My clitoris is not quite an inch long but I'm working on it. Exercise can work wonders! Bob says it's like a juicy little cock and he loves to watch it come erect. He usually brings about this phenomenon just by blowing on it two or three times.
Well, as you've no doubt guessed by now, my cunt is my pride and joy. My delicious little educated pussy! I'm even proud of its taste! I mean I've never used those flavored douches that have become so popular or attempted to disguise its taste in any way. I want to taste like me and the most I've ever done was to use, on rare occasions, a douche of rose water which applies more of a scent than a taste, although it primarily just enhances the natural scent. As for perfume ... hmmm! The idea of perfuming one's cuntal area with expensive magic is to me the height of sensuous cosmetology ... how about that?
Of course, the reason I'm shaven is because I want my soft, warm, pretty pussy to be seen and not hidden behind a wiry black bush.
As you've no doubt surmised, I'm somewhat of an exhibitionist and ... well, when I'm standing there, naked in front of a man, my legs together, my eyes locked onto his cock, savoring the sight of it as it grows thicker and longer? I can usually feel his eyes gliding erotically down the curves of my body. Then, when I'm certain that his discerning view has finally descended to the inevitable hairless triangle, I part my legs slowly ... ever so slowly, opening my cunt lips ... spreading them to reveal just a hint of wet coral flesh. Then my impudent little clitoris comes erect as his cock comes erect, gradually making itself known. Try that with a hairy cunt! Impossible, right? Anyway, that's when the guy generally grabs me and buries his head between my legs! My Shick Injector is the best investment I ever made! And I keep everything soft and nice with Johnson's baby oil and powder (I'd be happy to give the Johnson people a testimonial to that effect, if there are any of them out there). I realize that ladies with pubic hair get sucked also, but certainly not as consistently arid as well as I do.
I've a firm ass and long, well-shaped legs. My ass is also one of my pride and joys. Two firm balloons, not too large, not too small, not too hard, not too soft; squeezable, with a long, deep valley separating the two pneumatic cheeks. I love to feel fingers or tongues gliding back and forth across it ... and oh! to be diddled lightly between the cheeks with a wet tongue daintily passing over my asshole! Or better yet a long, hard cock fucking in the deep furrow, rubbing back and forth across the little puckered opening! Noel, my London fiance, cums that way sometimes.
At times I believe my ass is even more sensitive than my breasts. I'm speaking from limited experience really, because I've never been fucked in the ass, not even by a finger. However it's nice to know that I still have some virginity to lose.
Actually, the fact that I'm an anal virgin is somewhat strange since most of the men I meet are very attracted to my ass. Bob has tried once or twice, but his cock goes soft before it can be inserted. He maintains that he hurt a girl very badly once in trying to fuck her ass and he can't seem to get it out of his mind. (Bob has a horror of inflicting pain that dates back to some Korean War incident that he refuses to talk about.)
Well, anyway, I've yet to be fucked in the ass, which is somewhat unusual considering the fact that most of the groovy men I feel attracted to usually turn out to be leg-and-ass-men as opposed to tit-men. I'm pleased at this, because men who are more attracted to a pretty ass then they are to big breasts are usually better men. They are, more often than not, more sophisticated, more intellectual, more witty and in general better lovers than those guys who are looking for a tit to suck on. At least that's been my experience.
All of this goes to prove that I love sex ... love it! The feel of a big, hard, juicy cock! The voluptuous feeling of grabbing a man's hard ass-cheeks as he pumps his juice into me! The bitter-sweet taste of gism on my tongue! The tender thrill of a rock-hard cock as it parts my cunt lips and enters slowly, slowly! The electricity of a wet tongue across my naked clit! All of it; the thrusting, the hardness, the softness, the flowing juices; nibbling and licking and fucking and sucking ... I love it all! All! And then the cuming, the overpowering spasm of a giant cock spewing wonderful white cream! In my cunt, on my face, between my breasts, over my buttocks, in my mouth! I want to feel it, to drink it all in, to wallow in it!
CHAPTER TWO
So, back to that day six years ago when I decided that the "stews nest" was not for me and that what I really needed were men to live with, preferably in something at least approaching luxury. The particular month I speak of had me flying New York-St Thomas. It was nice, I'd been a stew for about two years and St. Thomas was the best run I'd gotten so far-it was winter in New York. Also the company was expanding that year and taking on new stewardesses and because of that I had enough seniority on the St. Thomas run to finally get out of Tourist Class galley for the first time and find myself in First Class cabin, an improvement resulting in less work and more intimate relationships with the customers (there are fewer of them in first class). Incidentally, I don't mean sexually intimate-that came quite a bit later.
Well, one morning our flight didn't get off because of weather in the Caribbean. It seems as if there is a peculiar type of clear air turbulence at low altitudes which occasionally plagues the American and British Virgin Island area. Because of the extremely short runway at Harry S. Truman Field on St. Thomas, landing becomes impossible, or almost so in the buffeting, invisible winds which have been known to switch direction almost 180 degrees in thirty seconds! All of this, on perfectly clear sunny days. At the best of times, the cockpit crews and the more sophisticated passengers consider H.S.T., which is just barely adequate for the equipment we use, one of the hairiest landing approaches in the business. The landing-abort-line is painted on the runway just a short distance from the end and since the approach is over water onto a runway right can be somewhat of an optical problem. Of the nine trips I made there, all were pleasant except the first. We encountered violent turbulence during the approach, overshot the abort line, touching down about 25 yards beyond it, and took off again into even more violent air directly toward a large hill at the other end. The Captain fought her around again in a steep bank and attempted another approach, but was waved off about a quarter of a mile from touchdown by the tower who informed us that the wind had shifted and now we were landing in a very off-again on-again erratic cross-wind. We diverted to St. Croix which doesn't have the problem and it was four hours before the phenomenon cleared up on St. Thomas. Fortunately, this strange turbulence doesn't occur very often and the pilots, who are totally aware of the approach and runway problem, exercise extra caution when coming into HST. It helps to explain why there have been very few landing or take-off fiascos.
Since these periods of turbulence can last for many hours in that part of the Caribbean, and since our Captain had recently experienced the results of such turbulence it's easy to understand why flight 312 was postponed. It was eight-thirty in the morning and to be safe the flight was rescheduled for two-thirty that afternoon. That totaled up to six hours and I'd be damned if I'd spend them sitting around the airport. I decided to go home, back to the "stews nest," which was twenty minutes away in Queens, and wash out a few things.
I parked the Mustang in front of our apartment building. It always reminded me of a prison somehow, a stark, unadorned and functional five-story pile of new brick. We lived on four, about halfway down the hall, between the incinerator chute and the two elevators. I went in quietly because Ellen, one of my two roomates had just returned from her Mexico flight and was probably sleeping. Fran, my other roomate, was standing-down for a few days, but had been out when I left at six that morning ... probably shacking up with some creep ... I really hated that bitch.
As I entered the living room, I heard a buzzing sound coming through the slightly opened door leading to the bedroom I had been sharing with Ellen for about two weeks. She was new, replacing another stew who quit a month earlier to get married. Well, the buzzing continued and I kind of took it for granted Ellen was shaving her legs or drying her hair or some such, and was awake, so I just barged on in. She didn't hear me. She didn't hear me because she was too busy. She was too busy to hear me because she was stretched out on the bed with a vibrator shoved halfway up her cute little snatch!
I watched, fascinated. She was in the process of fucking herself with it, one hand shoving it in and out, the other toying with her clit. I could see the lovely gleaming pearls of cunt juice, clinging to the shaft of the electrified dildo. It was the first time for me. I mean, I had always figured myself for a voyeur, but had never experienced an actual live performance. Outside of a few situations in which there were conveniently placed mirrors, I'd never viewed a sex act of any kind ... well, movies, stag reels as they were called, but here was the real thing!
As I watched, Ellen withdrew the vibrator and placed it on her clit, drawing it slowly back and forth. My juices started to run as she threw her head back and cupped one of her firm, pouting breasts. She was cuming! By this time I was standing there rubbing my own cunt through my dress. Quickly, I raised the skirt, and through the sheer nylon of my panties began to stroke my clit. I remember the sudden aberrant thought which flashed momentarily through my feverish brain; I was being stimulated by a woman ... just watching her was enough to set me off! I'd never had any kind of a dyke experience, except of course in fantasy, and there was a moment of guilt-panic. The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come and I was left with the tantalizing knowledge of my hungry pussy. I rubbed delicately as Ellen, her red mouth wide open in erotic urgency, shoved the white electric cock deep into her cunt and grasped her throbbing clit between two fingers, squeezed it hard, jerking her hand at the same time in a rotary motion, pulling at her clitoris and distending it like some pendulous bit of agonized flesh.
By this time, the juices were literally running down my inner thighs and I was digging in with a vengeance. My right hand was fucking my bright red panties right into my soaking pussy while my left titillated my hard clit, fingers pressing and rubbing up and down. Ellen suddenly pulled the vibrator out of her gaping cunt and started sucking on it, lapping her juices off its hard white plastic surface. I gazed into her pouting pink pussy which seemed to have a life of its own. I could actually see it throbbing! She licked and sucked on the buzzing vibrator, moaning in a hoarse, faraway voice as she came.
And as she came, I came, my entire body shaking in the grips of a delicious exaltation. I held tight to my cunt as the orgasm diminished, slowly, slowly , ... I must have sighed audibly in the midst of my passion because suddenly Ellen expression replacing the passion of just a moment before. I removed my hand from my soaking pussy, shivering slightly in the orgasmic afterglow as a drop or two of love juice trickled down my leg. Ellen, crimson with embarrassment, attempted to raise the sheet over her nudity.
"Gabriel!...." She was totally non-plussed, her hands frantically pulling at the tangled sheet. "You left over an hour ago...." she said, her voice a harsh whisper, her breasts heaving from the activity of just a moment before.
"My flight was postponed till two-thirty." I explained, smoothing the front of my skirt over still-twitching thighs.
"Oh ... I'm so embarrassed! I mean, I don't know what to say to you!"
"Don't be ... really, Ellen. If it will make you feel any better about it, I do the same thing myself ... quite often, actually."
"You do?"
"Of course, silly, most girls do. Surely you know that."
"But I always thought you had such an active sex life ... with men, I mean."
"I do, but the more you get, the more you want. At least that's the way it is with me. If I'm getting fucked regularly, I masturbate a lot. When I've gone without it for awhile I'm not stimulated enough to masturbate. Aren't you the same way? ... C'mon, I'll bet you had a hell of a sex scene last night. Am I right? It turned you on thinking about it so you tossed off ... correct?
"It wasn't last night, it was the night before in Mexico City, but you're right."
"It must have been a terrific fuck."
"Oh, it was, Gabriel, the best, the very best. We fucked for hours."
"Tell me more," I said, walking over to the bed and placing my hand on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes and asked, "You really want to hear about it, Gabriel?"
"Yes, tell me everything, baby."
"Well, I met him on the flight, his name was Frank, Frank Harris. He was tall, about six feet or more, not very handsome though, kind of rugged ... like a tall Bogart, know what I mean?"
"Yes," I answered as I pulled the sheet slowly, ever so slowly, from off her heaving breasts. "I get a perfect picture of him." Ellen's nipples were two hard, pink peas, surrounded by dark, lush aureoles. I found myself staring at them and wondering why I was being so affected by the sight of the cream-colored rotundity, the softness, the firmness of her twin love mounds! It was really getting to me, as was the warm wet sound of her droning, erotic voice. I couldn't understand it! She was a woman ... I was panting after her as if she were a big-balled, hard-cocked male stud! Something I didn't know about myself was surfacing.
She was saying, " ... and then we went to a lovely place for dinner. There was dancing, latin at first, but then another band came on and we were dancing close, very close ... people don't do that much anymore. Ohhh ... Gabriel, it was so romantic! The group was playing old romantic tunes, like 'Our Love Is Here To Stay' and, 'Quiet Nights' ... Bossa-novas and ballads, it was so nice and slow and warm. And then at one point I felt the bulge up against me ... his cock, his big lovely cock, pressing up against me ... I ground my body into it and he placed both hands on my buttocks. God! my ass seemed to have a mind of its own! That's a funny place to have a brain, isn't it? But my ass was rolling and humping in five different directions, slowly ... all by itself, causing my groin to rub and rub and rub against the cock-lump in his pants! Ohhh ... then we stopped moving and just stood there swaying. I don't know how this affected the other customers in the place, but I really didn't care at that point! I mean his cock was throbbing against me in time to the music! Did that ever happen to you? I mean a cock in rhythm to the music?"
"Yes. It's a real turn on, isn't it?" I looked down at Ellen and smiled and then very gently rested my right hand on her breast. She glanced down at it and then back up into my face, returning my smile and closing her eyes. I reached under my skirt, to find my pussy still wet through my sopping panties. I rubbed gently over my extended clit Ellen's eyes opened wide and she watched fascinated as I began to masturbate again.
"Ahhh ... Gabriel, you weren't kidding me to makes me feel better, you do jerk off, just like I do. How nice, how sweet."
"Of course," I panted, "I even own a vibrator just like yours."
"The vibrator wasn't mine, Gabriel, I borrowed it ... it's yours. I was looking for a safety pin and ran across it in your top drawer. Hope you don't mind, darling." She squirmed on the bed, pressing her breast up into my hand.
"With any one else I would, baby ... I mean a vibrator is a personal thing, like a toothbrush, you can use it any time, any time ... Ohhh, feels good...." I had gotten under the panty leg and holding my cunt lips open with two fingers, I was frigging my throbbing clit with my thumb. Meanwhile with my right hand I cupped Ellen's breast, delighting in the smooth pneumatic feel of it. Her distended nipple was punching a sweet hole in my palm.
"Ohhh, that's so nice," she moaned. "How does it feels it feel for you?"
"It feels wet, juicy," I answered, "It's crying out for a stiff cock or a soft tongue. My whole body feels ready to erupt through my juicy fuck it nice ... fuck your sweet, wet cunt nice, nice!"
"Ohhhh, yes ... I'm fucking it, baby...." Gently I pinched her nipple and I could feel the tremor pass through her body.
"Do you still want to hear the rest of the story?"
"I do, Ellen, but first...." I released her turgid nipple and reaching down, pulled the sheet completely off her quivering body, exposing her luscious flat belly and her cute little blond bush which glistened with pearls of love.
Gently I took her hand in mine and placed it on her pussy. "Now," I said, "continue your story."
"Ahhh, I'm so wet, Gabriel ... I'm soaking!"
"The story, Ellen." I watched fascinated as two of her fingers seemed to disappear.
"Well," she said, her voice quivering, "We went to his hotel, The Presidente. He, Frank I mean, had a suite ... I think it might have even been the Bridal Suite, it had mirrors in the ceiling over the bed. He kissed me as we entered and it seemed as if the kiss must have lasted for an hour ... because when I awoke from it we were naked on the bed ... naked, pressed close."
While Ellen talked I removed my clothes. Her hand was making slow circles, with two "missing" fingers, submerged deep into her hungry cunt. Her hips made lazy eights on the bed.
"I reached down," she continued, "and grabbed his cock. It was made of stone flesh ... so hard ... ahhhh my cunt tingles when I think of it! That beautiful, long, thick, throbbing cock! Look, look Gabriel, how my cunt is fluttering!" She removed her fingers and pressing outward on her sodden labia, spread open her pussy. I could see a faint palpitation of succulent cunt tissue. She ran her wet fingers over and under her pussy lips, rolling them back and forth. "Ahhhh, Gabriel ... it feels so good!"
"Did he fuck you, baby?" I asked, removing the last vestige of my clothing, my sopping wet, red panties.
"Oh yessss!" She was rubbing her clit furiously now. "He fucked me for hours ... hours! First he fucked me doggie fashion and I thought I'd go nuts! I mean, he had my ass raised up high and my legs spread and his balls were beating against my clitoris! It was amazing ... the sensation!" At this point, Ellen opened her eyes again and looked up at me. I was completely nude, my hand buried in my hairless crotch. "Ohhhh Gabriel, you're beautiful!" She cried. "Look at you ... Ohhh Gabriel!"
I stood over her, gazing down on her wriggling curves, my cunt less than a foot from her passion-stricken face. Her eyes darted downward, stared fascinated at my hand as each individual finger jerked and slithered and undulated against a separate portion of my love box. "Tell me, tell me more ... then what did he do?"
"Oh, Gabriel, darling! You really want to know, don't you? It thrills you to hear about it ... me and Frank fucking and fucking and fucking!"
"Yes it does!" I cried and I knew that I was lost in her sex. I realized that. I was identifying with every throb, every tantalizing sensation Frank's, prick had created in her! With a shock I also realized that I was identifying with Frank too! I was momentarily shocked at my reaction to his girl, this soft, creamy love symbol that was Ellen.
"Tell me the rest!" I cried.
She closed her eyes, and continued; "He fucked me on a chair. I sat on him with my legs straddling him. It was marvelous ... I could look down and watch his thick cock going in and out, in and out. It was such a delicious sight. And I was in control. I sat on his lap, with back to him and he was pinching and tweaking and squeezing my nipples while I rode him. Ahhhhh my cunt, it's so fucking wet." She moved her hand from her pussy, and with a pink tongue proceeded to lick her own love from her fingers. Then, looking up at me, a fucking into her mouth like a small prick, she "Let me taste yours ... please."
I inserted two fingers deep into my dripping pussy and then with a thrill I can't describe, placed them gently on her watched fascinated as her tongue emerged curled itself around my slimy index finger, lapping hungrily.
"Ahhhh," she sighed, "Delicious, lovely cunt juice ... you taste beautiful!" She took three of my fingers into her mouth and began sucking oil them. It was almost as if my fantasy of a moment before had come true!
"Fuck my cock fingers with your mouth Ellen!" I cried. "Suck my prick fingers ... suck ... suck!" It was amazing! For the first time I was getting a strong feeling of what it must be like for a man! My fingers had literally become an extension of my cunt ... a prick, a hard, stiff prick pumping in and out of Ellen's cunt mouth! My fingers were throbbing, jerking spasmodically like a cock getting set to spew out hot globs of creamy gism! My fingers were cuming!
"Ohhhh baby ... suck!" I screamed out as it happened. It was an orgasm which rocked me by it's suddenness. I fucked my fingers furiously into her mouth feeling the soft lips caressing them and a hot, wet tongue curling around and flicking against my fingertips.
"Gabriel, Gabriel!" Her voice broke through the veil of my sensual afterglow; I smiled down at her as she squeezed, gently, my now flaccid fingers, "You came," she said, "You came in my mouth with your fingers! I've never experienced anything so erotic."
"Neither have I."
"Come here, Gabriel, on the bed. I want your body to touch mine. Come, and I'll tell you the rest of my story. My adventure with Frank Harris." She moved, making room for me as I lay next to her, my head cradled on her arm, our hips touching. I could feel the ardent warmth of her body.
"He came in me twice," she stated. "He had a funny way of cuming, he twitched and shivered a lot, you know? Most guys come in big spasms, but Frank drew it out. Instead of a few seconds, his orgasms were longer ... almost five minutes. It was great to cum with him because each little twitch, and there were hundreds, would push me a little further over the edge."
"Sounds delightful."
"And then he did something I've never heard of before. I was sucking his cock and just as he was ready to cum, he pulled out. I remember telling him that I wanted him to shoot off in my mouth, but he didn't pay any attention to me. He held his cock in one hand and spread the opening ... the tiny little opening at the tip ... Ohhh God! Every time I think of what he did next, I feel like my whole fucking body is one huge tit! He placed his opened cock ... that little opening right over my nipple! His cock was grabbing my nipple! I was fucking his cock with my long hard nipple! And then he came. I could feel it squirting all over my breast but the wildest thing of all was the sensation, in my fucking nipple, Gabriel! It was like a wet pressure building up behind his pinching cock head. And then the cream just oozed out from around the sides. Have you ever heard anything so exciting?"
The bed was rolling gently due to the rotary motion of Ellen's hips as I looked at her and asked, "Which breast, baby? Which nipple did he swallow with his prick? Show me where he came."
"The right one, this one," she said, cupping it. It was an offering. I leaned forward, and for the first time in my life placed my lips around the soft aureole of a woman's breast. My tongue skimmed lightly over the hard protuberance and I felt her body jerk spasmodically.
"I wish his cum juice were still there," I muttered, my tongue fluttering gently over the small bit of erectile tissue. "Ohhh, I'd love to taste gism on your breast!"
"Suck it, Gabriel ... ahhhh, suck, suck...."
"Your nipple is like a tiny cock, baby!"
Ellen was pressing me close to her, squashing her soft but firm breast like an inflated pillow under my avid mouth. "Take my cock in your mouth. Lick it, suck it! Ohhhhh, your tongue!"
Her hands were fluttering like two sensuous butterflies across my back as I suctioned her nipple, pulling it, stretching it, running my hardened tongue across its stiffened tissue. I felt her hand reach around and cup my breast, she squeezed it and caressed it, her palm teasing the hard button, his fingers curving its sensitive globularity. And then, pulling my mouth away from her succulent ovid, she raised my lips to hers, her delicate hands on either side of my face, caressing. Her long tongue slithered into my hot mouth. I licked her lips and our tongues embraced.
"Lay, back Gabriel darling," she whispered into my mouth. "Lay back darling, I want to make love to you ... I want to taste you, eat you ... everything...."
She eased me back onto the bed, her mouth still on mine, her tongue fucking through my softly pursed lips. My body tingled as I felt her fluttery tongue lapping its way down to my swollen breasts. She flicked a turgid nipple and then, lowering her head, engulfed as much of my tit as she could, running her hot, snake-like tongue around its sensitive aureole. Then, her hand on my cunt, her fingers gently spread the soft pink lips. Delightful agony! Her fingers, tantalizing the fuck-flesh of my itching labia ... never quite touching the throbbing clit just millimeters away.
"Ahhhh, Ellen," I sighed. "My cunt ... my fucking hot cunt ... do it! Play, baby, play. Feel how wet it is for you. Fell how it opens for you, baby!"
"It's beautiful ... beautiful pussy. It's so naked, so lovely. Ahhhh ... feel my fingers fucking you!"
"Fuck it ... fuck it ... fuck it!" I heaved on the bed, my hips thrusting, fucking back at her ardent, plunging fingers. Her thumb was now pressing against my twitching clit. She moved it in a rotary motion, creating soft friction over its throbbing surface. And then, grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed, her fingers still in me, she wriggled downward over my undulating body. Placing the pillow under the twin globes of my throbbing ass, she spread my legs as far as they would go.
"Open your cunt for me Gabriel. Open it, hold it open for me." I reached down and spread my cunt lips for her.
"Watch, baby. Look at me!" My eyes, enraptured, went slowly to hers. She was kneeling at my feet, removing the two fingers buried deep in my cunt. I watched, as she slowly bent forward, her right breast cupped in her hands. My Body jerked spasmodically as her lustful breast came into contact with my open pussy!
"Ellennnnnnn! Your tit in my cunt!" I screamed. "It's in my cunt, my cunt! Ahhhhh! Oh baby, baby ... put it all in, all of it!" She was sliding her lush ovoid back and forth as I strained to open my love box as wide as I could.
"Your cunt is doing things to my tit, Gabriel. I can feel everything, your whole cunt loving my breast! Ohhhhh Gabriel, is it good?"
"It's wonderful. Put the whole thing in! Put it in as far as it will go, baby!"
We both watched as half her breast disappeared into my gaping, hungry love mouth. She moved her body in circles, her tit reaming my cuntal tissue as my whole body began to erupt in a paroxysm of lust.
"I'm going to cum ... to cummmmmm!" I screamed.
"Cum, Gabriel, baby. Oh please, please cum, I want my tit to feel you cum. Gush it out! Cum- cum-cum!"
We looked into each others glazed eyes as the overwhelming sensation spread from my convulsing crotch throughout my body ... to my toes and tits, my undulating ass and its puckered opening. My fingers were cuming, my mouth was cuming, my armpits were cuming! I twitched in jerking rhythm to the pulsating throbs of my erupting cunt! Then suddenly, in the midst of everything, Ellen removed her breast from my palpitating pussy. It was a sudden vacuum which left me momentarily empty, my orgasm searching for direction, like a radar antenna scanning for a target. And then I felt her mouth. My world exploded into a million twirling, flashing, orgasmic spastic particles!
"Eat me! Ohhhhh, you lovely, beautiful cunt-lapper ... eeeehh, I'm still cuming! I'm going to cum and cum and cum forever in your fuck-mouth, you hot wild fucking suck bitch! Suck my fucking pusssssssssssyyy! Eat me, suck me tongue me ... ahhhhhh, sink your cock tongue in my wet fuck mouth pussy! Elllennnnn!" I pushed her head down hard, almost drowning her in my pussy juices. I was completely off my head, my body convulsed, my cunt disgorging gallons of hot serum into her avid, suctioning mouth.
I suddenly felt that I had to have a part of her in my mouth. I cried out: "Ellen, bring your ass around ... come baby, on my face ... suck me while I suck you ... ahhhhh, baby, that's good. Make me cum again. We'll cum together ... give me your sweet cunt to suck, bring it here, here to my sucking mouth." She came around, her body over mine. I looked up into her pouting, pink pussy framed in lovely silken blond pubic hair. My tongue twitched with expectation. This would be my first time at pussy eating and I was dying for it.
"Here's my cunt, Gabriel," she muttered into my pussy while slowly lowering her steaming crotch onto my face. "Suck it, suck it." she moaned, her voice muffled by my pussy flesh. Then suddenly her hot sloppy cunt was all over my face! I felt for her clit, my tongue exploring juicy folds of her passion box.
"Eat it, Gabriel. Eat my cunt, eat, eat ... suck it!" she screamed into my pussy. I found her clit and taking it between my lips tweaked it rhythmically with my tongue. The taste was spicy, aromatic. I'd never tasted cunt before, and I felt that from here on in, I was hooked.
Succulent twat syrup cascaded into my lustful mouth ... her cunt was boiling over. She cried out and I could feel her tremors. "I'm cuminnnnggg! Ahhhh, feel me cum!" she cried, raising her head from my crotch and then diving again into its pulsing wetness.
We came together, both of us crying out into the heat of each others twitching twats. It seemed as if Ellen had my entire cunt in her mouth as my tongue flicked her clit at a million cycles a second.
A hundred years later, I raised my dripping face from between her now relaxed legs. She did likewise, and we sat, smiling at each other. "That's the first time for me, Ellen, it was lovely," I said, stroking her wet thigh. "Was it the first for you?"
"No. I've loved a few women before, but just a few. It's a wonderful thing if it's right ... like making love to yourself, almost. I mean everything is so familiar, so soft and gentle."
"I'll bet it is, you cunt-lapping little bitch!" came a voice from the doorway. Ellen and I sat up, startled. Fran, our other roomate, was standing in the bedroom door, her mouth set in a grimace of disdain and hate. Standing next to her was a man I took to be her date of the evening, his bare cock hanging limp through the opened zipper of his pants. A silly embarrassed grin lighted his face. I saw pearls of gism glistening on the end of his flaccid tool and as I watched a long thin stream, like a silky strand woven by a spider, descended from his cockhead to the floor.
"And don't give me that shit about it being the first time for you, Gabriel," she continued. "I've suspected you for a long time, you dyke bitch!"
"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.
"Long enough."
"I don't doubt it," I said, grinning at her boy friend as she walked to the bed and wiped her sperm-laden fingers on the white sheet.
Ellen lay huddled under the sheet, her face frozen in an expression of shocked embarrassment. I made no such concession to Fran but instead lay there, naked and exposed, my satiated body proudly exhibited, my head resting on Ellen's covered hip. As Fran raved on I wet a finger in my steaming pussy and raised it to my lips. As I licked, Fran's boy friend ran his tongue over dry, nervous lips, his eyes boring into mine. Fran, in her stupid rage, noticed nothing. She was saying, "Both of you will get the hell out of here or...."
"No, I said. "It's you who will get the hell out of here. Who in the fuck do you think you are, busting into a person's bedroom? What Ellen or I do in the privacy of our room is our business, you sneaking bitch!" I really let her have it. Aggression was the best policy in a case like this.
"Why should I leave? I'm not the one who's done wrong...." Her voice indicated that she was somewhat shaken by my refusal to be put on the defensive.
The boy friend turned to her and said, "I don't see why you're so upset Fran. She's right, you know."
"Fuck off, you creep!" She turned to him in a rage; "Put your prick back in your pants and mind your own fucking business!" I glanced down, he started to obey her but was having a hard time of it, his cock had hardened somewhat, obviously from my machinations. I caught his eye and cupped my breast, watching his prick go to full erection. It didn't take much; I felt proud. Fran flipped.
"You dumb bastard!" she screamed at him. "That dyke may get it hard but if you had any sense you'd know she is incapable of doing anything about it, so get it the fuck back in your pants! She only digs girls, stupid!"
It was at that point that the straw broke the camel's back. The moment of truth had arrived! Quickly I flipped over on my belly, and rising up on my knees presented my naked ass to Fran's date. As I turned to look at him over my shoulder I heard both Fran and Ellen gasp in surprise. I beckoned to the guy with my head, smiling at him and wagging my ass in the air. He grinned even wider and taking three steps forward had his prick inserted in my juicy love portal before anyone even knew what had taken place!
"Larry! You bastard, what are you doing?" screamed Fran.
"That's obvious," he replied. "I'm fucking this lovely lady."
Once more, over my shoulder, I turned to him. "My name is Gabriel Du Champe," I stated, pumping my ass slowly back and forth as his cock pistoned in and out.
"I'm Larry Worth," he said. "Pleased to meet you," He was cool. Expert that I am, I could tell by his movements that he knew how to fuck. The only problem was his pants, which prevented me from feeling fully his hard, muscular legs as they slapped against my ass. Well, you can't have everything and the satisfaction I was receiving from what I saw of the confusion and dismay on Fran's face, was worth a much greater sacrifice. Larry and I continued the casual fuck, paying little attention to her ravings.
"I'll get you!" She yelled. "I'll get both you dyke bitches if it takes me ten years! When I'm through with you, your reputations won't be worth a tinker's fuck!" Her face was livid, saliva drooled from the comer of her mouth and tears of rage had caused mascara to run down her cheek. "I'll get you both fired from the company ... I can do it, Godamit!"
Larry was taking short strokes, causing little titillations of pleasure to course their way through my heaving body. During a momentary lull in the torrent of Fran's rage I asked, "Larry baby, did you ever know a dyke to fuck this well?" As punctuation, I alternately tightened and relaxed my cuntal muscles around his thick fuck-stick.
"No, Gabriel, it's never been known for a dyke to have a snapping pussy like yours ... actually I've never had a straight chick who could do what you just did ... Christ! Do it again!" I did.
At this point, Ellen finally spoke. Raising herself up on one elbow, she placed her hand on Larry's (which was braced on my ass) and introduced herself. "I'm Ellen Shaw."
"Pleased to meet you, M'am," he answered, plunging in to the hilt.
Bob stopped fucking, pulled his cock out of me and said, "Excuse me, ladies." He turned, walked three paces to Fran and without a word hauled off and slapped her hard across the face! Ellen and I stared in total surprise as Fran, tears of rage and fear running down her mascarad cheeks, picked herself up and stormed out of the bedroom. A moment later we heard the front door slam.
"Now, where were we, ladies?" he asked, removing his clothing.
A few minutes later he had his cock buried once again deep in my pussy. I was on my knees and Larry, now naked, was fucking me from behind. Ellen, crawling out from under the sheet, squirmed her way beneath my undulating body, her head facing toward Larry, the junction of her thighs spread just below my panting mouth. Larry pounded away into my suctioning cunt as I lowered my head until my lustful lips finally came, once again, into contact with her aromatic pussy. I took her clit between my lips, tantalizing it with my tongue as Larry thrust his powerful fuck-tool all the way.
"Suck my balls baby," he moaned. "Ohhhhh yes! Suck and fuck me!" I gasped with pleasure as I realized that while I was eating her cunt, Ellen was sucking on Larry's plunging balls.
"I'm cuminggggggg!" he cried.
I raised my head and with barbaric urgency called, "Cum in Ellen's mouth! Squirt your hot gism into her mouth ... Larryyyy! Ahhhhh!" I felt myself exploding!
"Yesss, Larry," screamed Ellen. "In my mouth. Cum, cum!"
"My cock is ready, it's full of cream ... soon ... Aghhhh!" I felt the sudden emptiness as Larry jerked his spewing tool out of my cunt and jammed it between Ellen's enraptured lips. It was divine! Ellen grunted and the three of us came together. A few seconds later, with cock foam dripping from the comer of her mouth, she twisted around and with her tongue transferred Larry's load into my hot, ravenous mouth.
Later, he came in Ellen while I reamed his puckered anus with my tongue. It was something else I'd never done before and I must say it was a sensual delight. But suddenly it was after twelve noon and I realized I must get back to Kennedy for the delayed takeoff. While dressing I watched Ellen trying to bring some hard life back into Larry's soft prick. She was having little success.
"Listen to me," he said. "I've got a great idea."
"As good as the ideas you demonstrated this morning in bed?" I asked.
"Better, much better."
"Impossible!" said Ellen.
"No, seriously," he continued. "I want you two girls to come and live with me, I've sot a large apartment, lots of room and it's a hell of a lot better than putting up with Fran. How about it?"
"Terrific!" cried Ellen, still pulling on his wet flaccid dick.
"I don't know...." I hesitated.
"Look, Gabriel, if it's your freedom you're worried about, forget it ... there's no problem. You can do anything you want, fuck other guys, anything. Come and go as you please."
"OK," I said. "Providing we pay you what we're paying now ... rent, I mean."
"I don't need your money. It's silly...."
"No, it will help us retain our independence, How about it, Ellen?"
"I agree ... Yes, we should pay you rent, Larry."
"Ok, I'm not going to argue," he said. "Look, my cock is getting hard again! That really seals the bargain!"
"We'll seal it with sticky cock cum," said Ellen, running her thumb over his concupiscent cock head.
So it was arranged that Ellen and Larry would move my things into his pad while I was away. Goodbye to the Stews Nest and all Stews Nests forever! When I got back from St. Thomas, I moved in and the three of us lived together for about six months until Larry proposed marriage to me. Ellen moved out, but we remained the best of friends. She and I still make it on rare occasions and from time to time find ourselves sharing flights together. In fact, she is currently the First Class galley stew on 602, my London run this month.
As for Larry, he was the first one in a string of New York "fiances." He lasted for two years and was followed by George, then Jerry and Mike and finally Bob, who is the greatest of them all. In fact, I met Bob Potter while having lunch with Ellen three years ago. Its funny how Ellen continues to bring me luck, isn't it?
CHAPTER TWO - BOB POTTER
It's the grooviest thing there is, being engaged to a sexy lady who above all else loves to fuck. That's Gabriel. We've been engaged for almost three years now and it keeps getting better! How long can that go on? We've done everything there is that can be done between two fucking adults in at least 200 different ways. We never run out of variations and I'm beginning to think we never will! I'm seriously thinking of having a chandelier installed in our bedroom. (Of course, that would mean drilling through the mirrored ceiling to get at the beam, but what the fuck, it's only money!)
We've even made it twice on commercial flights, first class, of course. Gabriel was flying as a passenger. The first time, during a flight to Miami on Eastern, we removed the arm rest and she laid across me as if she were sleeping in my arms. Her dress was up and we were covered with a blanket; it was a simple thing to zip my fly open and slide in. Christ! It was funny! I mean here we are fucking like mad in a 707 up 30,000 feet, passengers and stewardesses passing up and down the aisles, all the lights still on and no one was wise! Not that Gabriel would have minded, she's such an exhibitionist she would make it in Macy's window if I'd let her! The point is that we can fuck without moving our bodies and that's what we were doing on the airplane. Gabriel's cunt is amazing, she has fantastic muscular control and once you get your cock into her she can literally jerk you off with her pussy muscles! The finest snapping pussy in the world, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and watch Miss Du Champe shoot a ping pong ball out of her cunt! She never misses the target, ladies and gentlemen ... Gabriel the eighth wonder of the world! No shit!
I'd better start from the beginning and tell you how we met. I'm a photographer, I've got a good-sized studio operation in New York in the twenties right off Fifth. Among other things I do a lot of shooting for the better men's books, like Playboy and Escapade and these days, Oui and some of the other new magazines. Now naturally, I fuck around with models from time to time, but not nearly as much as one would think. I realize that the general public attitude about guys such as myself who shoot this stuff is that we screw our brains out with every broad who walks in off the street. Wrong. That's the fastest way to a reputation that can ruin your business. Suddenly one day you'd find yourself with no models because the word got around. But every now and then there's a chick you have eyes for, the sexual tension builds nicely during the shooting and you begin to feel the mutual vibes kind of meshing. Now when this happens, the shooting itself is a groovy sexual trip and the whole photography session becomes pre-coital play providing hours of mutual erotic stimulation.
The idea, in order to get great pictures, is to allow the sex tension to build up. You should never actually make your pass until the photography has been completed. Fuck her with your camera and if it works, she'll fuck your camera back and the resultant photographs will be erotic as hell. That's a secret of the trade I've just given away.
One summer day a little over three years ago, I was having lunch with an agency art director at Frank and Eddy's when a gorgeous chick, sporting one of the all-time great asses, entered and sat at the bar. She was wearing a kind of Arnel pantsuit that clung to everything, but since her back was to me as she walked in, my initial impression was based solely on her ass, to which the Arnel clung as if it were soaking wet. Those fully packed, rotating, luscious globes swinging from side to side in fuck rhythm were so hypnotic that I lost track of what my lunch partner, the schmucky art director, was saying and unknowingly consented to shoot his campaign for half of what the job was worth!
Of course, by now you've guessed that she was my future fiance, Gabriel. Right, but it was a full twenty minutes before I got even a glimpse at her frontal configuration. She had entered with a girl friend and the two of them ended up at the bar to wait for a table. I just stared at Gabriel's long black hair and her pliant curves and ignored my martini and striped bass with salad and my client's tedious description of how he wanted his product shot, which I seem to remember was a spray deodorant or some such garbage.
She had a good back, as they say, strong and lean with just enough meat at the shoulders, hips and thighs. Even sitting down, Gabriel was all curves! In the three years I've known her, I've never been aware of a straight line on her body-everything curves and bends; there are no angles, no abrupt lines, just curves, gentle and severe, and mounds and globes and smoothly rounded edges.
Just as our waiter was delivering the coffee, Gabriel and her friend rose from the barstools and drinks in hand, turned, to walk to their tables. Well, you have to understand ... I mean, I'm an expert, I've seen hundreds of beautiful naked women, but I've never seen anyone as naked as Gabriel, even when she's dressed! And that afternoon in Frank & Eddy's she was as naked as I've ever known her! I just sat there marveling, offering up praises to the manufacturer of Arnel. It was a bloody miracle! God bless static electricity or whatever!
I glanced around quickly to see if any other men were reacting as I was, but true to form all the guys in the joint were playing it cool and looking down at their chopped liver platters. That's what women's-lib has done for us! I mean a beautiful woman, obviously dressed to enhance her sexuality, to turn guys on, to be looked at ... a woman who for all intents and purposes is proud of her body and wants it to be appreciated-when a woman like that walks into a joint these days most of the "liberated" men look the other way so as not to be accused of chauvinistic piggery!
Well, meet Mr. Hog! That's me! It was instant erection. I didn't even attempt to be surreptitious about my intent, eye-bulging stare. I started at her head and worked down. She had wide eyes -rimmed with what I later found out was kohl, a cosmetic favored by hour is and other Arabian exotics. Gabriel's mouth was wet, it was always wet because her lips were always parted and her sexy tongue was constantly darting out to taste her own lipstick. Her neck was long and gracefully curved, her head erect, her shoulders back ... we used to call it good posture, remember? (That's a phrase that went out with good character.)
Nevertheless it stood Gabriel in good stead by causing her breasts to thrust forward in such a way that the blouse material was clinging to the undersides of her two perfect orbs. In dead center were nipples, doing their damndest to punch holes through the blouse. He belly was not quite flat; I mentioned before that there were no straight lines on Gabriel. No, her belly curved outward ever so slightly and because of the three-quarter view I had, I was able to follow the resultant, barely perceptible inward curve till it merged with the diminutive outward swelling of her mound. I stayed there awhile and then started back up, following the long sweeping line of her right hip and then it happened ... a barely perceptible movement, a slow billowing like a gently rolling wave in the sea, followed by another and yet another. She was signaling with her midsection! Minor-key belly dancing! The undulations carried themselves down to her groin and then back up again to her breasts whose nipples now seemed larger, if that were possible. Then, lifting my gaze, I found her eyes grinning into mine! I raised my old tired martini in a toast.
All of this took less than fifteen seconds. Gabriel had stopped in mid stride in order to give me a better view and now she turned as if to say something to the bartender. Once again I was face to face with her opulent buttocks! She flexed each cheek separately one time and then was gone, following her friend to the table.
"Hey, Potter, for Christ-sake will you get your eyes off that broad for a minute and listen!" It was my lunch partner. I mean, shit, he was paying for the food and drink so I should at least pay attention, right? Wrong! Fuck him and his lousy deodorant campaign! You see a girl like that only a few times in your entire life! I felt like I had already fucked her just by looking at her for a quarter of a minute! What would it really be like?
"Listen to me, Grey," I said. "I've agreed to do your damned campaign at a ridiculous fucking price and you're also getting a rake off, arranged by my fucking, bribing rep, correct?"
"Cut it out, Bob, some one will hear you! What do you want from my life?"
"I want your tie, your nice corny red and blue striped tie!"
"C'mon, let's be reasonable, what the hell are you talking about?"
"We are talking about your fucking tie. If I don't get it right now the deal is off and you can start all over again with another photographer."
"You serious?" His mouth was twitching.
"I'm serious, pal, so now let's have it...."
He took it off and I carried it over to the buffet where I created a lovely bouquet of celery stalks and bread sticks wrapped in a checkered napkin and bound, ribbon-like, with Grey's ten dollar silk necktie. I placed my card under the bow and handed the whole thing to Max the waiter along with a buck for his trouble. I watched him as he walked it over to Gabriel's table but I didn't wait for the reaction. I hustled Grey out of there and headed down town to my studio, fingers crossed.
CHAPTER THREE - BOB POTTER
She walked into my studio just two hours later. I had been sure that she would, so sure, in fact, that I had not only let my assistant take off, but I'd also cancelled a very important shooting session. She walked in, her hips rolling, her eyes on mine. When she got to within six inches of me, she stopped, and then, so close that I could feel her sweet hot breath on my face, she said, "I'm Gabriel Du Champe."
"I'm Bob Potter."
"Yes, I know."
"You're alone...."
"Yes, my friend had other things to do."
"You're beautiful."
"I know." A faint breath of musk-like scent pervaded her immediate area. "Are you going to photograph me?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Nude?"
"Yes." I marveled at her manner. It seemed implicit from talk usually indulged in as part of the game was not necessary in this time and place. Without another word she proceeded to remove her clothing which consisted solely of her outerwear; no bra, no panties, no hose. As I had assumed in the restaurant, she had been totally naked under the thin fabric of her pantsuit, which she let fall carelessly to the floor.
Once again I surveyed that magnificent body and once again, as in the restaurant, but this time without the camouflage of clothing, I watched the undulation ascend, like a sea wave, from her hips, through her belly and up to her two perfectly matched, plump love melons which even as I watched, quivered in silent greeting. Her crotch was completely shaven, forming an explicit "V", two dark lines converging perfectly on a field of creamy beige. The embossed pink crease of her slit began less then an inch above the conjunction of the two crotch lines and as I watched, she parted her legs slightly, thrusting her hips forward so the closed slit transformed itself into a moist coral opening.
"Like what you see?" Her voice broke into my erotic reverie.
"Very much."
"Are you hard?" Her eyes dropped to my crotch and to satisfy her frankly expressed curiosity I flexed my prick muscles, causing the massive lump on my left leg to jerk spasmodically. "Lovely" she breathed.
"I've been like this since I first saw you and that's hours ago."
"I'm flattered."
I led her into the shooting area. While I was loading up the Minoltas she draped herself over my casting couch, her eyes intent on mine, her leg dangling over the edge of the cushion, causing her naked cunt lips to-part slightly. It was a delicious spectacle and as I watched, she caressed her breasts with delicate, fluttering little touches and smiled at me, her moist tongue flicking out from time to time to wet her lips.
I loaded Kodachrome II in the two SRM motorized bodies and turned on the strobe bank. I led her over to a woven straw chair, which I draped with sheer fabric. I used a window flat for the background, placing a second bank of lights behind it and a few large potted plants beside and behind the chair. From the prop closet I obtained a pair of black stockings, red garters and a large, floppy, straw hat. She put them on.
"Is this how you see me?" she asked.
"Yes, I see you as being the most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes on. Look here ... in the lens ... always in the lens, that way you'll have eye-contact with whoever looks at the finished pictures." I squeezed off three quick exposures, about two seconds apart.
"When I look in the lens, does it give me eye-contact with you also?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll say things to you with my eyes." She caressed her breast and her eyes said; Fuck-Me, Fuck-Me! My camera answered; snick ... snick....
I shot her for half an hour, stopping only to change film. Her body moved like the well-lubricated sex machine I had come to believe it was. I was working with a 100mm lens, so at no time was I less than seven or eight feet from her, and because of this the sexual tension was becoming almost excruciating. My cock was bursting out of its confines and I was beginning to feel the wetness caused by a copious lubrication discharge. I looked down at myself and could see the small wet stain on my poplin pants. Her eyes followed mine and she grinned, saying, "That's lovely. I see you supply inspiration to your models."
Snick ... snick ... snick ... Her hand descended to within an inch of her hairless pussy ... snick ... Eyes closed, lips pouting, Snick ... Snick ... Other hand resting on her breast, the nipple hard, erect like a . Snick ... snick ... snick....
We broke. I reloaded and when Gabriel returned from the dressing room, I had her lay on her back in a nest of solid-colored pillows. Her body formed an erotic "S" shape as she lay looking up at me. There was a faint buzzing sound, which I couldn't quite place. She smiled.
"The buzz is coming from me, Bob. Every little bit of inspiration helps, right?" She reached down, parted her love lips and withdrew a tiny one cell vibrator from within the confines of her oily, pink pussy! She passed it up to me, holding it in front of my face as I kneeled to adjust cushions. I leaned forward slightly, and opening my mouth, inserted its vibrating head between my lips and licked. It was ambrosia!
She said, "That, really turns me on! Lick it Bob, lick the cunt juice!" I did and then I stood up and she inserted the little love monster in her cunt again, slowly so I could watch it ooze in, like a milk white cock. Then I straddled her with my legs, and standing above, her body upper torso filling the frame, I proceeded to shoot.
Her hands snaked up my left leg till they reached the large lump which had been threatening to burst the fabric wide open for hours. She out-lined its shape with two gracefully caressing fingers, and then while one sensual hand fondled lightly, another, more practical one, went to my fly. She proceeded, with great skill, to pull down the zipper, reach in and maneuver my turgid cock through the complex barrier of Jockey shorts. Suddenly my prick was exposed to the fresh air and to the enraptured stroking of my horny, buzzing model, who lay between my legs staring hungrily up at its bulbous rigidity.
Snick ... snick....
"I like your cock."
Snick....
"It's so big!"
Snick....
"You know, cocks differ more in thickness...."
Snick ... snick....
"... than they do in length."
Snick....
"Yours is as thick as they cum."
"How does your cunt feel?"
Snick....
"My cunt feels marvelous...."
Snick ... snick ... snick ... snick....
"The little friend in there is doing a fine job! Ohhhh, it's good!"
Snick....
CHAPTER FOUR - GABRIEL DU CHAMPE
Bob and I have been going together for three years and I'm sure that during that time he hasn't fucked around too much. How could he? I keep him drained! To give you an idea of what I mean, he came four times last night and once this morning. Last Sunday we stayed home in bed all day and he made it seven times! I barely got to Kennedy in time for my flight. Now, a guy getting that much is probably not fucking around with other girls too often. We once figured out, for a gag of course, that Bob ejaculates two quarts of fresh gism a year!
It's not that I'd mind it if he fucked around ... might actually be exciting and stimulating to our sex lives ... as if we needed it! But my fucking around does keep things stimulated, and believe me, I fuck a lot of guys outside my two fiances. I'm sure Bob would kill me if he found out, but the way I look at it is that I feel very secure; nothing is going to break us up, until I'm ready. If Bob discovered my extracurricular sexual activities our relationship might be bent a little but it would never break. We're too closely cemented for that. Sex is just one aspect of a very groovy relationship.
The reason I make it with other men is simple: I'm just turned on by variety. I know that may sound silly, in a way, but I dig fucking total strangers. The excitement of making it with a man who doesn't even know my name, who I'll never see again and who I stone out of his fucking mind, is for me a very groovy sex trip! Every man is different, they act different, they dig different things, even their cocks are different! For example, for years I've been trying to make up my mind which I dig more, circumcised or uncircumcised cocks. Really! They both have their advantages. An uncircumcised cock can sometimes act like a plunger when it's thrusting in and out of you, it kind of creates a suction ... very nice. It's also fun to handle because things happen to it. I mean, it's fun to watch the head emerge ... peek-a-boo! And when you're sucking an uncircumcised cock there's more to manipulate with your tongue. Circumcised cocks have their points also. I think they're prettier, for instance, and not as sensitive, so guys who are circumcised can last longer.
However, all cocks are beautiful! Even after they've just been fucking and are kind of laying there limp on the man's leg, kind of smiling at you! I love them all, big, small, circumcised, uncircumcised, curved right or left, old or young; it doesn't matter as long as the guy it's attached to is groovy and a gentleman.
So you can see that fucking only Bob, even though we have a marvelous and exciting sex life together, would not be enough-for me. I need more and right now I'm on the variety kick. As long as I have the need what harm is there in satisfying it?
To give you an example, I left Noel's house in Chelsea about ten this morning to do a little shopping at Harrods, a large, department store. Well, I found what I wanted and boarded a descending elevator on the fifth floor. A goodly number of people boarded on the fourth and by the time we reached the third, the elevator was packed. As we headed down I felt something poking me in the ass and, turning to see what it was, met the eyes of a very distinguished looking middle aged man. He blushed under a well groomed beard and attempted to pull back, an action I though was really cute. I mean I had embarrassed the poor bloke, and it occurred to me that his initial contact had been involuntary. I smiled at him and turned toward the front again and then very casually stepped back until once more I felt myself against him. It was just a matter of flexing my buttock muscles and before we got to the second floor I felt his hard cock against my ass. This time he didn't attempt to pull back but instead began to cooperate by flexing his well-educated prick muscles. I began to wish we were descending from the London Postal Tower instead of a mere couple of floors!
Finally the door opened at the street floor. As I was walking away I felt a hand on my arm and found it to be my 'lover' of a moment before. He grinned sheepishly and said, "You would be in my debt forever if you'd just let me carry your shopping bag, young lady."
"Is it that important to you?"
"Very important. Actually it's urgent! It's obvious that I can't walk across the main shopping floor of Harrod's in this condition!" I glanced downward to see a large six inch lump laying on his left leg. We both laughed and he continued, "Unless you can think of some other method of concealment."
"I'm not very good when it comes to concealment."
"So I see."
"But I'm sure I can think of a lot of other ways to handle the problem."
"Lovely! I'm sure you can, but none of them would be suitable in this environment!"
"We could get back on the elevator!"
"No, I've got a much better idea, let me carry shopping bag and then we'll see what you can accomplish in the taxi."
"The taxi that is going to carry you to my flat, Miss...?"
"Just call me Gabriel." I handed him the shopping bag.
In the cab he introduced himself as Harry Flemming and said that he was in business. By the time we reached Park Row I had my hand inside his pants, gently massaging the head of a very handsome cock. We turned into Jermyn Street and his hand started to work its way up to my wet cunt, but I stopped him, telling him to wait. Then, reaching under my skirt I inserted two fingers into my saturated pussy and held them to his lips, saying "Suck my cunt fingers, baby!" He sucked and licked my wet fingers and I felt the first beads of lubrication emerging from his cock. I ran my fingers down under his balls and squeezed gently, receiving for my delicious efforts another drop of semen. Taking my wet finger from his cock I smeared the sweet stuff over my lips and pulled his head down for a long wet kiss. He licked the small amount of gism off my lips and, with his fingers now on my cunt, started to fuck my mouth with his tongue. I moaned with growing passion and tightened my lips. In a flurry of activity I had his cock out and proceeded to slowly jerk him off, holding it just below the head in a tight ring of fingers.
He breathed words into my mouth and I shivered with desire as two fingers held my clit in their grasp while another rubbed it lightly, delicately. "You're exquisite ... your quim is a marvel! I can feel everything ... everything!"
I braced my knees hard up against the front seat, spreading my legs as wide as I could to give him access. He put three fingers in my cunt, it was like a short hard prick ... in ... in! ... in! Then out! In and out! I was reeling with lust! His thumb pressed on my clitoris, harder now! ... faster! I brought my legs back until my knees were pressed against my swollen breasts.
"Your sweet little pussy is so wet!" he moaned, his fingers now up to the knuckles in my hungry pussy. "Fuck my hand, roll your ass and fuck!" I was squirming all over the seat, my hand now jerking faster on his iron cock. Spasms of pleasure were overcoming both of us! I could hear his breathing, faster now, combined with the squishy wet sound of my soaking pussy. I was whimpering softly as if in mortal agony, my sobbing body jerking like a puppet on a string. "Cum with me Gabriel," his voice a throaty whisper. "Cum, cum! Together let's cum, fuck my hand!"
"Fuck mine!" I replied, and then it started to happen. I could feel his cock swelling in my grasp and I slowed to a lesser but firmer tempo, jerking harder now, pumping steadily with quick decisive jerks until I felt the tremors begin. Then I softened my touch, running my thumb over the tip as a gush of hot cum juice spurted out, over my hand, over his trembling cock ... wet, sticky, delectable white cream! It set me off like a slow bomb! Everything went out of focus, it was a deep soul-satisfying climax as he plunged his fingers into me faster and faster, like a human vibrator! My whole body shuddered in release, the tension building and then relaxing in a drawn out ecstatic series of body-wrenching tremors!
I whispered to him, my voice quaking: "Rub your gism into my cunt." A moment later I his hand-as he followed my erotic instruction. He rubbed the lovely stuff into my labia, over my clitoris and it was like an after shock; I shuddered with passion as a string of small explosions descended down my spine.
When I returned to the world I found the driver's eyes staring into mine through the glass partition. His face was a grimace of passion. Harry said, "We got him so excited, he's jerking off."
"How long have we been stopped?"
"We arrived, my dear, at our destination five minutes ago, but I'm afraid we have to wait until our friend the driver is finished. It just wouldn't be cricket to interrupt him now, would it?"
"No, but at least he could stop the meter!" We both laughed and I said, "Harry, tell him to open the street door and stand close to me ... I've got a surprise for him."
"In lieu of a tip?"
"Sure, you idiot ... fast before it's over!" Harry slid open the window separating us from our passionate driver and delivered my instructions. In less than a moment the door on my side was opened and he stood there, big hard prick in hand. Though it was the middle of the day with passersby on both sides of the street, none of us gave a damn. It was, I must admit, doubtful that anyone, unless they made a special effort, could see what was happening, but I doubt that the same could be said for Harry and myself a few minutes previously. However, observation was the furthest thing from our minds as I reached out to hold the driver's cock. As I grabbed it he released a long sigh and closed his eyes, hunching over slightly so that his head rested on the front seat back.
Harry said, "Jerk him off good, my dear, you've got another big load coming to you." He reached around and held my breasts, his fingers pinching the nipples. I worked on the cabby's cock, one hand grabbing him firmly just under the bulbous circumcised head, the other pushing up gently under his balls. There's a secret spot there that most women don't know about and a lot of men are not aware of. It's just at the base of the balls, a little to the north of the anus. An extremely sensitive spot that if handled properly can create a powerful sensation. In this particular case I was pressing inward with my thumb in counter rhythm to the jerking motions of my other hand.
The cabbie lasted about one minute. When I felt the inevitable swelling I turned and smiled at Harry. "Soon, now. You know what to do?"
"Yes, I know."
The driver screwed up his face and cried; "I'm ... cummmming!" Harry reached out and placed his cupped hand under the cabbie's spewing cock. I pumped hard, tightening and releasing my clenched hand rather than jerking back and forth. I'm sure I was successful in getting every ounce out of his giant balls!
"Catch it all, Harry!"
"Yes, I'm getting it all, Gabriel. Waste makes want, right?"
"It's a flood!" I cried. The driver was coming like one of those old-fashioned hand pump wells, spurt after spurt! I'd never seen anything like it! "My God! he's a fucking gism factory! Cum baby, give it to me! More ... more!" The sight of his massive ejaculation was getting to me. I felt, with a shiver of expectation, a small orgasm starting in my rectum and spreading in waves throughout my body. With one hand Harry was pinching my nipple and with the other he was collecting squirt after squirt of lovely hot gism! "I'm cuming too, Harry! Now! Now! Ohhhh babbbbbyyyyy!" I felt it deeply inside as Harry rubbed and massaged my cunt area, opening the lips and smearing the cabby's cum over my labia and clitoris; spreading my pussy mouth so the gism seeped in deeply and then rubbing the excess into the soft skin of my crotch ... After a few moments I calmed down and taking Harry's hand, still gleaming with gism, cleaned it with my tongue. It was delicious.
CHAPTER FIVE--GABRIEL
It was a big house in Mayfair. As we entered, a pretty but very young girl wearing the shortest possible French maid costume greeted us and took Harry's umbrella. As she bent over to deposit it in the umbrella stand, she revealed a pair of extremely sheer, pink panties which exposed not only the lovely deep furrow between her buttocks, but also somewhat more than just a hint of her silky pubic hair.
"Very interesting, Harry ... your house, that is," I said.
He caught me staring. "Oh, you like Betsy?" he asked. Then, smiling broadly at me, he answered his own question. "I'm sure you do. She is a pretty little thing, isn't she?"
"She is, yes."
"Betsy, come here," he said.
She turned, a serious, questioning look on her face. "Yes, Sir Harry?"
"This is Gabriel Du Champe. Miss Du Champe is very pleased with you."
"Thank you, Ma'am," she said, executing a charming curtsy. "You're most kind Ma'am."
"Tell Miss Du Champe how old you are, Betsy."
"I'm just thirteen, Ma'am."
"And...?" he asked.
"I'm a virgin."
"Would you like Miss Du Champe to see your body?"
"I'd be most pleased, Sir Harry."
"Then hop to it, young lady ... quickly, quickly."
I watched in sheer amazement as the child, with not a hint of self-conscious embarrassment, removed her costume. Under it, she wore nothing but the semi-transparent panties, which now, as she faced us, revealed what had only been hinted at before: a sparse blond bush barely concealing the sweet pencil line of her quim. I stared with just a touch of envy at her barely matured body, the small but perfectly formed breasts, the hint of baby fat at her waist and hips. But most of all, her skin. It had the soft, smooth flawless texture of a baby's ass. I longed to touch it.
Harry must have been reading my mind. He asked her, "Would you like Miss Du Champe to touch you, Betsy?"
"Oh, yes, I'd be most pleased if she did."
"Well, possibly if you asked her...."
She turned to me, that same serious expression on her face and asked, "I'd be most pleased if you'd touch my body, Miss Du Champe."
Fascinated, I reached out tentatively and cupped her breast gently in my hand. Her response was immediate. With a quick intake of breath, she clamped her eyes shut. I felt barely perceptible tremors of passion through the smooth, slightly damp, milk-white skin of her breast. I was amazed! It was as if I'd pulled some sort of erotic trigger simply by touching her lightly on the breast!
"Miss Du Champe seems surprised at your reaction, Betsy," said Harry. "Would you care to demonstrate to her how quickly you can have an orgasm?"
"Ohhhh yes sir!" She trembled as my fingers strayed to the underside of her small pouting breast, caressing the utter silkiness of her skin. I was in a state of total fascination with Betsy. It was as if she were a sex toy, an erotic plaything for oversexed adults such as myself to fondle and pet.
Harry laid a hand on my arm. "Gabriel, tweak her nipple," he said, "but just once, mind you."
Betsy's nipple was erect, a fat, pink protuberance surrounded by a sweet, somewhat darker, puckered oval. I flicked my index finger, striking it near the top. The effect was almost shattering! Betsy went into orgasm immediately! Her body was taken over by a series of spasms that seemed to start at her shoulders and descend to her knees. Every inch of her was quivering. She stood, hands clasped to her sides, eyes closed tightly, her lower lip caught between strong white teeth; a twitching, pulsing, throbbing mass of orgasmic flesh! But not a sound passed her lips! I was thunderstruck! I placed my hand flat on her undulating belly, feeling the vibrations ... slowly I descended till I touched the outer fringes of her pubic hair. Then, glancing at Harry for his unspoken approval, I dipped a finger into her honeyed little pussy. I ran the full length of the slit, luxuriating in the feel of her smooth labia, until I felt under my exploring digit, the hooded presence of a magnificent clitoris. It was large, quite large. It took me a moment to realize its immensity; my estimate is over an inch!
"My God!" I said, aloud. "The biggest clitoris in the entire universe!" I was suddenly aware of her hands fluttering delicately against mine, her body throbbing like a jungle drum....
"We exercise it," said Harry.
"What?" I asked. "Exercise...?"
"Betsy's clit, my dear. It receives daily stretching exercises."
"My God!"
"We hope to achieve two inches by the time she's sixteen."
I removed my questing hand and watched her as she descended the plateau. "She's wonderful," I said, and then turning to Betsy, "Betsy, you're wonderful!"
"Ohhh, thank you, Ma'am." She was breathing heavily in the afterglow of her magnificent cum.
"Do you ever smile?" I asked.
"Yes, I smile M'am ... often." Her serious countenance belied the statement.
"Betsy," asked Harry, "What do you like doing more than anything else?"
"Oh, that's easy, Sir Harry." Her face blossomed into smile, displaying two rows of even, pure white teeth. "I like sitting on your face!" And with that, she broke into a totally charming fit of laughter. In a moment I joined her, overwhelmed by the incongruous innocence of her joy.
"I knew that would bring on a smile," chuckled Harry. Unable to control my emotions, I swept the child into my arms and pressed her to me. I was dying with affection for her, a reaction half maternal and half sexual. Her arms went around my neck, pulling my head down with those little fluttering hands. The kiss was sweet, soft. She ran her delicate tongue around my lips and then, withdrawing it, sucked mine into her mouth. I pressed her tighter, lowering my hands to her buttocks as the vibrations began once more. Again she was cuming, this time in my arms! I helped her, fucking her mouth gently with my tongue, dipping my finger into the crevice between her plump buttocks. She shuddered, her ass quivered under my touch.
"Cum, Betsy," I muttered into her open mouth. "Cum, you darling child!"
"Ohhhhh yesssss, Misss Du Champe! I'm cuming now, Ma'am!"
The orgasm took two minutes to run its course. I held her till the twitching quieted. Harry seemed pleased. "It makes me happy that the two of you have taken so well towards each other," he said.
Eyeing the now familiar bulge in his pants, I said, "It's quite obvious you're happy, Harry." I squeezed Betsy's hand in mine, she responded by squeezing back. "I'm very curious, Harry."
"About what, my dear?"
"You mentioned earlier that Betsy receives daily exercises to increase the size of her clitoris,"
"Ah, I see, you're interested in such treatment for yourself?"
"Wellll...."
"If I recall, from out little tete-a-tete in the cab a few minutes ago, you have a perfectly whizzo clit."
"I know, but...."
"However, if you want to submit to our treatment, it would take years. Of course we'd be delighted to have you."
"Really? What's involved?" I asked.
"Well, you know, one can't use massage, physical massage that is. It would have a tendency to create insensitivity after a while, and I'm certain you've noticed that Betsy's clitoris, like the rest of her, is anything but insensitive. So physical or manual stretching is out. We use a device I invented. I call it a Magnaclitometer. It uses suction. Along with that there is a daily clitoral application of wheat germ oil ... vitamin E, you know. In fact, we use the oil on Betsy's nipples and anus also. Betsy's been at it for two years now. Are you still interested?"
"Hmmm ... yes. Maybe something could be worked out," I answered, half joking.
"You'd be a delighted patient, wouldn't she, Betsy?"
"Oh, yes Sir, she would."
"But getting back to wheat germ oil," he continued. "It's the sex vitamin, as you probably know. It has another function as a cosmetic aid. We find it keeps the skin smooth and pliable when used in large amounts. It's even been found useful by the medical profession in eliminating scar tissue. As you can see, the sexual function of the stuff parlays very nicely with the cosmetic function. For example," he said, turning to Betsy, "Bend over, .my dear and show Miss Du Champe your bung hole."
Betsy obliged, bending over and spreading her cheeks. Her little anus was a pink unpuckered rosebud; the skin around it glowed with a pearly osphorescence. I've rarely seen anything more beautiful! Once again there was the feeling of silk-like flesh, completely free of blemish. I glanced over at Harry and was surprised to see his large rampant cock extending straight out through his unzipped pants. Without a word, he stepped behind Betsy, lined his tool up and with one motion of his hips had it buried to the base in her darling little asshole! It seemed to slide in with almost no resistance, much like a cock slides into a well lubricated cunt. I knew, however, that there was no lubrication involved in this case, at least none that I could see on Harry's cock as he pulled it half way out.
"Watch closely," he said. I locked my gaze on the stretched opening. It seemed to have a life of it's own! Betsy's anal ring was expanding and contracting around the fat prick inserted deep within it! The contractions were anything but subtle. I was reminded of the mouth of a pet goldfish I used to own.
Betsy, of course, was having her third orgasm during all this. This one seemed to be the most intense of the three. As I watched, Harry reinserted his hard cock all the way. He spoke over the moans and groans of Betsy's passion, "If I stayed like this for another few minutes I'd cum. There's no doubt about it, believe me. Betsy has the most educated, the strongest sphincter muscles in the world. She has complete control over them." His eyes closed momentarily and there was the hiss of a rapid intake of breath. "Ahhhhh, that's so marvelous!" he groaned. "As you can see, neither of us are moving ... correct Gabriel?"
"Correct," I said, feeling the gush of hot pussy juice beginning to trickle down my leg. It was all getting to me.
"Neither of us are moving," continued Harry. "But I'm on the receiving end of a superb fucking at this very moment! Her sphincter muscles are literally jerking me off! What you're seeing from the outside is only the tip of the iceberg, my dear." He withdrew slowly, as the girl went through another series of tantalizing convulsions. "Shove your fingers in, two of them," he ordered. "You'll see what I'm speaking about."
I complied, inserting two fingers into her ass. The internal flesh spread smoothly to allow me entrance. Then I felt it! It was like a hand had grabbed both my fingers in its grasp and was squeezing ... letting go ... squeezing ... letting go; like a human pump, expanding and contracting. The movement was in two directions, at right angles to and along the axis of my buried digits, combining the actions of a rotary and a piston pump. Strong! No wonder Harry would have cum if he hadn't pulled out when he did!
"Amazing!" I exclaimed, withdrawing my fingers.
"And now I'll give you the rest of the house tour, if you'd like," Harry said.
"That would be lovely." I answered. "But I doubt if any of it could live up to what I've already seen." I watched Betsy get back into her brief costume and then helped zipper her up in back.
"Sir Harry," she said, "Lady Sarah is in her room and asked me to tell you to join her there, when you come in."
"Is Sheldon home?" he asked.
"Yes, he's in the garden."
"Thank you, Betsy, and would you be so kind as to serve tea in her Ladyship's room."
"Yes, Sir Harry," And then with that serious look on her face, to me, "And thank you, Du Champe." She curtsied prettily.
The house was somber, a throwback to the latter part of the nineteenth century. I don't mean to indicate that it was filled with acquired antiques, and recreated or purposely decorated to reflect that period. Harry Flemming's house was an original. The hundred-year-old furnishings it contained, it had contained for a hundred years. The real antiques, the suites of armor, the ancestral portraits, the Persian carpets and so on, had also been installed a century ago, when Harry's grandfather had first occupied it. There was a generous use of oak paneling, large fireplaces (now, according to London legal edict, used only for electric fires, those ugly imitation flame devices so favoured by Englishmen ... God only knows why), and heavy, badly proportioned Victorian furniture. Everything was overstuffed and overdone. There didn't seem to be room for a single added gewgaw or gimcrack. And yet, with all its overbearing heavy-handedness the house had something lacking in most modern abodes these days. It had a total ambiance. It had character. It was England at the height of its glory! And there, in the large dining room, presiding over the long, highly polished table, was the symbol of it all; a giant painting of Queen Victoria in all her severe splendor. Suddenly, I began to understand Sir Harry Flemming's house. Suddenly, I liked it very much.
The library was by far the most inviting room on the ground floor. The centerpieces were three magnificent world globes mounted on heavy, ornate wooden bases. The nearest was the world as it appeared in 1865. Large portions consisted of blank spaces. The entire area of Sub-Saharan Africa was marked UNKNOWN. Here was a map of the world manufactured before the days of Burton and Speke and Stanley. The second globe showed the world as it looked shortly after the turn of the century. A world that reflected the will of the last autocrats; the Kaiser, the Czar, the Hapsburgs, the Ottoman Turks. A goodly portion of it was colored pink, the tone used to designate the British Empire. It seemed as if a third of the world was pink. The third globe was current. Pink no longer designated the British Empire. There was no British Empire. The huge blank or pink areas of Africa as depicted on the earlier globes were now rainbow hued, a dozen colors delineating the confines of new nations.
Harry waited patiently as I spun the globes. He was obviously pleased at my interest. "I'm a map freak," I said. "A strange interest for a female I guess, but with all have our hang-ups."
"So far, I've found every one of your so-called hang-ups totally fascinating.
"Wait till you see the rest of them, Harry. We've only just skimmed the surface."
"I'm looking forward to the pleasure." He perched on the edge of the table while I browsed amongst his books. Everything was there, from James Bond, to Chaucer. There was a fortune in first editions, but it all seemed functional. Unlike a lot of private libraries, this one seemed to be read.
Then, grasping the edge of one of the cases, he swung it around to reveal a small hidden room. Glass-enclosed bookcases lined three walls. "This," he said, "Is my pride and joy. It is the largest collection of first edition and privately printed Victorian pornography in existence. The wall on the left, for example, contains the original manuscript of the Erotic Adventures of The Third Duke of Bathsire, an ancestor of mine. You are of course, free to browse any time you wish."
At the foot of the long curving staircase he pointed out the portrait of his great-great-grand-father, the First Duke of Bathshire. As we climbed the stairs there were other portraits extending up the hereditary line. Harry had little anecdotes about them all. When we neared the top, he stopped before a painting which bore a staking resemblance to himself.
"And this," said Harry Flemming, "This is my Grandfather, Sir Norbert. A more delightfully evil man never existed. He was a complete rogue! Actually, I'd give anything to be able to emulate him, but ... well, the times are wrong for kind of thing. I was born a century late."
He looked at me and sighed. "Sir Norbert Flemming, Third Duke of Bathsire, fathered at the very least 30 illegitimate children. Of course, he supported most of them to some extent. There are still a few who receive regular remittances from the estate ... it was in Sir Norbert's will that illegitimate unmarried females be supported for life. There's a little old lady in Boston and two others, I believe, living in the London East End, who continue to receive the original ten pounds sterling every month. Not much these days, I'm afraid.
"But he was a rogue! Cheated at cards, or at least he was accused of doing so. He ravished any woman who moved across his line of vision. He had a passion for very young girls and it was the scandal of London one year when it was found that he was having three of them kept for his own personal pleasure, by a madam in Limehouse. He bought eleven and twelve year olds as virgins and kept them for a year or two after they were deflowered. Got him cashiered from his regiment ... and it was the right regiment, too. It had taken him to Balaklava into the Valley of Death. Later he struck Lord Raglan at a garden party and challenged him to a duel, but his friends insisted he was drunk and the incident was hushed up. Great grandfather had a penchant for small boys also. There was that incident in Alexandria ... but I'm boring you with all this and Lady Flemming is waiting. The tea is probably cold by now. Shall we?"
CHAPTER SIX - GABRIEL
As we entered Lady Flemming's large sunlit room, she rose from her chaise lounge to greet us. She was a tall woman, big boned in the English fashion, with a superb posture and great style. She seemed to be in her middle forties, but from what I could see of her body through the sheer negligee she was wearing, well proportioned and quite well preserved. Obviously a woman who loved life, exercised regularly and controlled her diet.
She took my hand in hers and asked, "Who have we here, Harry?" We smiled fully at each other as Harry made the introductions. I couldn't help glancing down at her breasts, which were clearly defined under the nylon. They were surprisingly erect for a woman her age. I was sure she shared a mind-reading talent with her husband, when she said, "If you're wondering, Gabriel, what an old bat like myself is doing with such a magnificent pair of tits, wonder no more ... purely surgical. Had 'em done two years ago. A few other were done also, but I'll tell you about them another time. Come, my dear, the tea is already cold." She took my hand and led me to the small table by the window.
So far, I hadn't gotten a word in edgewise, but I instinctively liked her. There was an open friendliness about her, a brutally frank humor that turned me on to her. Hairy seated himself between us as she poured the tea.
"Where have you been keeping this lovely girl, Harry? Has he been having a naughty, secret affair with you Gabriel?"
"Just a short one, Lady Sarah," I answered. "We only just met this afternoon."
"I've been showing her the house," said Harry.
"Ahh yes, then you've probably met Betsy."
"Yes, when we first arrived, about a half hour ago."
"What was she?" Asked Lady Flemming.
"The maid," answered Harry.
"That's nice," said Lady Flemming.
"You mean," I asked, "She's not always the maid?"
"Oh, goodness no," said Lady Flemming. "That would bore the poor little thing to death."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Betsy demonstrated some of her talents for Gabriel," said Harry.
"She's a wonderful little girl, isn't she Gabriel?" asked Lady Flemming.
"Fascinating," I answered. I was suddenly struck with the total impact of the bizarre situation I found myself in. Just a little over an hour ago I had met this man for the first time in a crowded elevator in Harrods, and after assorted sexual adventures with him, a cabbie and a strange, probably schizoid child, I found myself sharing a civilized tea, in a lovely sunlit room nutty woman whose husband, just fifteen minutes ago, had had his cock shoved up the ass of the "wonderful little girl" we were discussing so pleasantly! I just sat there, sipping tea out of the fine English bone china cup I'd been handed and gave myself up, like Alice in Wonderland, to the unreality of it all! If nothing else, I was enjoying myself. In fact, I suspected that the ensuing afternoon and evening was going to be the time of my life!
"Penny for your thoughts, my dear?" asked Lady Flemming.
"Well, I was just wondering about Betsy not always being the maid."
"Ah," said Lady Flemming, "A good question. You see, Sir Harry and myself are throwbacks. Real Victorians, actually. And you know, of course, that deep beneath the highly moralistic, crushing Victorian social and sexual culture was a sexual underground the likes of which the world had not seen since Roman times."
"Totally bloody amoral ... delightfully so, I must add," said Harry.
"It was," continued Lady Flemming, "a time that produced an entire pornographic literature of considerable volume. Much of it was actually literature."
"Far superior to what's being done today," added Harry, "Despite the so-called permissiveness."
"Well you see, that's what made it so attractive. During the Queens reign nothing, absolutely nothing was permitted. There were even people who covered piano legs!" Lady Flemming smiled broadly and poured more tea. "It's true," she continued. "Women, so-called decent women, were completely locked out of sexual enjoyment. It was even considered indecent to expose their bodies to their husbands! This created the necessity for an entire subculture of women whose prime function and total occupation was to give pleasure to men. And I might add, give pleasure to themselves also. Their lives were dedicated to sex. And because society permitted nothing, at least officially, anything one did was gratifying beyond measure. The analogy is one of stolen sweets tasting better than sweets honestly come by."
"You mean, my dear, forbidden fruit is sweeter" said Harry.
"Correct, love. I stand corrected. Well, to continue, on the one hand were the decent women who considered their bodies objects of shame. Women who were oriented by "civilized" society to consider sex a necessary evil, whose only function was procreation. On the other hand, there were their husbands who found themselves caught in this very same Victorian trap. Many of them actually went through life without ever having seen the nude female body. Now, on the other hand...."
"That's three hands, Sarah," interrupted Harry.
"Well, you'll have to bloody well live with them," she stated, taking my hand in hers and looking sternly at her husband. "I'm certain that Miss Du Champe is not quite the stickler for detail that you are, are you my dear?"
"Certainly not," I agreed and in the process, became her ally.
"Now, where was I?"
"On the third hand...." I said.
"Ah yes! On the third hand were the women who supplied the missing ingredient. The whores, the ladies of the night, the Grand Horizontals, the mistresses, the courtesans, the filles de joie; all of them, the amateurs, the professionals ... all of them contributed, were part of a vast sexual underground where anything was permitted. Hard to believe now, but it was we British who perfected sex."
"We're a very talented race, you know," broke in Sir Harry. "We also invented radar and the jet engine."
"Well, we didn't actually invent sex," continued Lady Flemming, "But we certainly improved on the existing model. It's obvious, really, but take such delights as bondage, sadomasochism, fetishism, pornographic photography and literature, child deflowerization; all of these things existed long before the British came on the scene but it was we who perfected them, we British who...."
"We English, my dear," Harry Hemming interrupted.
"Yes, he's right, we English," continued Lady Sarah. "Or even more precisely, we Londoners. It was the London sexual underground that created an art form out of what used to be considered tacky sexual perversions. It was the London sexual underground, during the last half of our late lamented Queen's reign, who created the real sexual revolution, almost a hundred years ago."
"A sexual revolution, I might add," said Sir Harry, "which makes the current one appear like child's play. What you have today is not a real sexual revolution at all, but a gigantic, international commercial venture."
"There are no real taboos today," said Lady Flemming. "How can you have a sexual revolution unless you have taboos to revolt against?"
"It was the Victorian sexual ethic and the sexual taboos it created that fashioned most of the sexual symbolism existing today," said Harry.
"Which symbols, for instance?" I asked.
"Certain types of clothing, for example. Corsets, boots, high heels."
"That would make the Playboy Bunny a Victorian sexual symbol, right?" I asked.
"Certainly," said Harry. "The tight corset, the breasts squeezed upwards like toothpaste out of a tube, the six inch heels. The entire Playboy image is one of Victorian sexual taboos. The basic idea of displaying the nude female body as a sexual artifact is practically an invention of the Victorian underground.
"Forbidden fruit, once again," said Lady Sarah.
"Precisely! Hugh Hefner himself is a product of the Victorian mores of the American Middle West. His centerfold Playmates are directly out of that milieu; innocent, virtuous, the girl next door, degraded, her body naked for all to see. There are innumerable works of Victorian pornography wherein the innocent, lovely lady is trapped and denuded by the hero-villain. The untouchable violated, virtue and purity outraged and profaned! Of course, the victim eventually joins her violator in the fun and games and sometimes even helps him find fresh victims."
"It's still rape, pure and simple, isn't it?" I asked.
"Not quite so pure and simple," said Lady Sarah. "Sex to the traditional, decent Victorian woman, any sex other then with her husband, in the dark, for the sole purpose of procreation, was a fate worse than death! A phrase, which incidentally was invented by the Victorians. She would lay there, in the dark, her heavy wool night dress pulled up just far enough to allow her husband access to what was probably a painfully dry quim. The only position she was aware of was missionary. It would seem to me that that was a fate worse than death! You see, the rape fantasy, as expressed in the pornography of the time, was an educational device. Really! The villain's purpose was not only to gratify himself, or to master his virtuous victim, it was also to educate her in the joys of sex. To initiate her, so to speak. Since even the display of her naked body was a degradation to the upper or middle class decent female-married or single, mind you-her initiation was not an easy thing. It was incumbent upon her to fight to the death! The gentleman ... well really, he wasn't considered a gentleman ... had to persist until she finally gave in, a concept still with us to this day. Of course sometimes she would be tied down while she was being violated and some times she would even feign unconsciousness. Both methods, of course, relieved her of all responsibility to fight to the death, and in many cases, she was just forced to lay there and enjoy what was being done to her. Of course, we're talking mainly about fantasy, as expressed in Victorian pornography, but as in most times and cultures, the fantasies reflected realities to a large extent."
"It is true, however," said Harry, "That the greatest of all the Victorian taboos related to women actually enjoying the sexual act. The catch is, that this only applied in real life to the upper and middle classes. The lower classes were already living a fate worth than death. The Industrial Revolution saw to that. Practically all of the whores and other horizontals came out of the lower classes."
"And they had nothing to lose but their chains," interjected Lady Sarah.
"Quite," agreed Sir Harry. "Their condition, economically, socially and otherwise, was so bad that whoring represented in most cases an improvement in their life styles. They had nowhere to go but up. Certainly, a life on one's back was better than a life of sweat and tears in a miserable hovel, working for starvation wages. The working class were almost slaves in this country. It wasn't till after the first World War that things began to improve. So a young lower-class girl could do far worse than becoming a whore. Of course there were others, other horizontals, as Sarah calls them. Many gentlemen kept mistresses, usually girls from the middle class, daughters of merchants and the like who wanted to improve their station or gain influence or property. There were actresses and music hall performers who were quite liberated sexually, and much sought after by what used to be called Stage Door Johnnies ... thus the term "John" in the American whore idiom, by the way. There were also upper class women who broke away from the restrictive sexual code. They were the true erotics ... they had to be, the social sacrifice was just too great for them to be motivated by a lesser need or desire. And of course, the domestics, usually naive girls from the country, who had a much greater knowledge of sex then their mistresses since they'd seen barnyard creatures copulating. There were many downstairs maids who presented a wet quim and a plump arse to the master of the household! They were constantly being pinched and patted and fucked on the kitchen table after the lights were extinguished for the night."
"Aha!" I exclaimed, "I'm beginning to understand."
"Yes, Betsy" said Lady Sarah. "You see, my dear, she's Harry's niece. Her parents were killed in an aircraft, accident a year after she was born and we accepted the responsibility to raise her. It Was Harry's idea to raise her as the most sexually gifted women who ever lived. We're both doing our utmost to achieve the goal."
"Incredible!" I was certain by now that they were both totally off their rockers. I was completely fascinated, however, and if you had to be nuts, what a great way to go!
"Lady Sarah and I have devoted our lives to sex. We're in a way throwbacks to what someone once called the Victorian underbelly. We've even managed to initiate a few others into our little fraternity of lust. Anything goes here, nothing sexual is taboo in this house."
"But getting back to Betsy," said Lady Hemming, "She's an extremely bright child. She has an IQ of 180 and already speaks nine languages, including Yiddish and Urdu. Speaks them like a native...."
"How would a native speak Yiddish, my dear?"
Lady Sarah disregarded the question and continued, "Betsy has entered into the spirit of things marvelously. From time to time she assumes various Victorian sexual roles; it's a sort of game to her and we all play games here. If you get to know us, you'll be exposed to quite a few of her fantasy roles."
"I'll be damned!" I exclaimed.
"No doubt you were given a demonstration of her sexual talents?" asked Lady Sarah.
"Oh yes, I was very impressed. She has the most sexually sensitive body I've ever imagined ... or she's the greatest actress."
"No, it's true, in fact we face a problem because of her sensitivity," said Lady Sarah. "It can become quite a trial to find oneself having orgasms on the slightest pretext. Just yesterday she came on the number five bus and rode three streets past her stop! Terrible! We are now in the process of teaching her how to control her sensitivity. Did you see her clitoris?"
I breathed deeply before answering. "Magnificent!" I exclaimed.
"Gabriel has expressed an interest in developing hers," stated Harry.
"Well I'm thinking about it...."
"We'd love to have you," smiled Lady Flemming. I was certain they would.
CHAPTER SEVEN - GABRIEL
Later, we walked down a long corridor to "The Room," a large, almost cavernous chamber with no windows, lit with innumerable Tiffany lamps which imparted a warm glow over the furnishings and the acre of oriental carpeting. At one end was a magnificent Victorian billiard table with immense carved griffen's feet and a vast expanse of impeccable green felt. The table was at least half again as large as tournament size. In the center of the chamber, dominating everything, was a ten foot square platform with an ornately carved roof and deep velvet drapes tied off at all four comers with gilded ropes. The platform was upholstered and covered with what seemed to be at least twenty highly colorful pillows. It was a gazebo. It was a stage. It was a bed. Harry and Sarah called it an Oriental Booth. At two comers, pointing inward and downward at the bed were small TV cameras. Somehow it didn't take much imagination....
The other end of the room was taken up with what looked like gym equipment, some of it against the back wall and one strange-looking device suspended from the ceiling. Once again my imagination remained untaxed. The rest of the furniture consisted of a half dozen couches and chaises, an enormous number of large cushions and three large, wheeled chavell mirrors which could be adjusted to any angle. The ceiling was quite low, a little under seven feet it seemed, and completely mirrored. The total effect was that of a large, sensual cavern. Just a few moments after entering it through the large double oaken doors, I felt an almost uncontrolled desire to remove my clothing. It was a room to be naked in, a room in which to commit unspeakable sexual acts. I laughed silently at myself: there were no such things as unspeakable sexual acts! This was the nineteen-seventies, not the eighteen-seventies! The Victorian madness of Lord and Lady Hemming seemed to be catching.
While Harry was pouring us drinks at a small bar behind the billiard table, a good looking young man, tall, with tousled blond hair, stuck his head in the door.
"Ah, there you are, Mother. I heard we have a guest." He spotted me and smiled charmingly. "Good evening," he said.
"Good evening." I returned his smile. He was dressed in white slacks and white jersey pullover and was quite handsome. I guessed him to be about twenty or twenty-one. Lady Sarah introduced us as he surveyed me in great detail from head to toe. As usual, I was very affected by that kind of attention and appreciation and gave him his money's worth, absent-mindedly caressing the inside of my thigh, throwing my pelvis out and wetting my lips. I was rewarded with an erection that grew rapidly before my eyes under the tight fitting white trouser leg.
"I like our guest very much." He grinned even more broadly. Then as Harry passed the drinks around, Sarah introduced us. He was their son. His name was Gerald, but I promised myself I wouldn't let that get in the way of what I suspected was to be a deep friendship.
"Where have you been all afternoon?" asked Lady Flemming.
"In the garden, mother. Lilly was there, we talked."
"Lovely girl," she said, sipping on her whiskey. Have you fucked her yet?"
"That doesn't sound like a son of mine," said Harry. "Get on with it, boy, what's keeping you?"
"It's not that at all, Father. I've got her, but I have a feeling I can build her up more ... maybe for The Room. She's really taken to pornography."
"Ah yes, that's more like it," said Harry. "Think she's safe?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"It would be lovely to have her here," said Sarah. "Do you believe she's virgin?"
"She says so. I believe her."
"Lovely," repeated Lady Sarah.
I was beginning to accept the reality of this sexual wonderland when Betsy appeared and I had to start all over again! She came in the dressed in a black-lace Merry Widow and black garter to which was attached a real rose. Her breasts, no longer seeming so small, bulged out the top of the tight bodice, revealing her pretty pink aureoles. Once more I was in never-never land, but I was sure the feeling would pass. All four of my friends were looking at me hungrily. Betsy seemed to act as a sexual catalyst to all of them ... and to me also. I realized as I felt the hot gush of pussy oil running down my leg once more!
Lady Flemming turned to her son and said, "We're about to show Miss Du Champe some of our tapes. Do you care to stay?"
"Oh certainly, Mother," he said, eyeing again. I felt the results of his stare reverberate my moist pussy. My nipples sprung to life.
"And you, Betsy?"
"Certainly." Her voice was sharp, it had a commanding tone. To where had the servile maid of just an hour ago disappeared?
"Well then, perhaps the two of you would be kind as to help our guest disrobe while father and I set up the tape deck."
Gerald and Betsy went to work on me. There wasn't much to remove, actually, just my pantyhose and shoes, but they took their time. As the dress fell away, Gerald clamped his lips my right breast, sucking the extended nipple deep within his hot mouth. A bolt of erotic electricity shot all the way down to my twitching pussy as I felt his tongue rapidly tweaking the erect tissue. I moaned in sudden pleasure-pain as Betsy, with a sudden gesture, pinched down hard on the other erect nipple. The mixed feeling was excruciating; the soft gentle flutterings of Gerald's hot, wet tongue on my right breast, and the brutal, pinching fingers of Betsy on my left. Pain and pleasure set up an alternating current of delightful agony. I realized that two more minutes of this and I would burst! "My God! What a team!" I cried.
"The teamwork has just begun," said Betsy. "There are four of us, you know." With that, they released my breasts and proceeded to remove my pantyhose. The garment dropped around my feet, immobilizing me in its tangle. Betsy began nibbling my ass cheeks with teeth that felt like they might belong to a baby tiger. With a rapid motion she pulled my legs apart, almost knocking me down in the process. I felt her mouth sucking on my anus at the same time that Gerald's tongue found my erect clit.
"Come, children." Lady Sarah's voice seemed to come from a great distance. I was saved by the bell, I thought, as we walked arm in arm to the huge ten-foot square bed.
The two TV monitors were mounted in the ceiling of the giant bed platform and one had to lie on one's back to view them. I stretched out luxuriously as the others removed their clothing ... all except Betsy, who only removed her sheer black panties. Soon they were with me, stretched out on all sides, with my body as the center piece. I stared at Lady Flemming's amazingly well preserved figure. "The best cosmetic surgeons in the world," she said, "Are responsible for what you're looking at, my dear." She was up on one elbow, smiling. Her breasts were just inches from me, so I reached out and touched. They were firm, resilient. She took my hand in hers. "Here, feel this Gabriel," she said, drawing my hand down to her steaming crotch. "Just insert your fingers." I complied, pressing three fingers all the way up her well-lubricated fuck canal. It was like the vagina of a twelve year old! Tight, extremely elastic. "And I've had two children," she said.
"It's a work of art, Lady Sarah!"
"Thank you, my dear." I started to my fingers, but she placed a gently restraining hand on mine.
"Two children?"
"Yes, the other was a boy also, two years older than Gerald. He didn't fit in with our life here. Lives in Australia now." There was sadness in her voice.
"Well, I really feel you must be complemented on your cunt. Lady Sarah," I said as the lights dimmed slightly and the two TV monitors came to life over our heads. I wiggled my encapsulated fingers for emphasis and the show began.
CHAPTER EIGHT - GABRIEL
I lay there on my back, a colorful pillow under my head, leisurely finger fucking Lady Flemming. From this vantage point, not only could I view the TV monitors, clustered directly overhead, but I could also see the entire gazebo (or bed) reflected in the mirrored ceiling built into the structure. One of the TV screens showed an overall, wide view of the action and the other a narrow or close-up view. It was strange to realize that I was viewing and enjoying a tape made on the very bed on which I was reclining. It was even weirder when I glanced over at the two cameras and noticed that their ruby lights were lit, signifying that even as we watched the recordings of an earlier day, we were also being taped! That, plus the reflection in the overhead mirror which was casting back to us the now image, created in me the feeling of being deeply immersed in a kind of multi-media erotomania!
"There is sound, also," explained Sir Harry, "but I rarely play it. I find it quite distracting, really."
On the screen, Lady Flemming was being gamahuached by a large white poodle. I'm not generally turned on by such things, but the general ambiance must have been getting to me. I found the sight quite exciting. She was spread-eagled, with the dog between her legs, two small figures on this immense bed. Looking closely I could see her hands clenching and unclenching to the beat of her passion. The close-up monitor was centered on her head and her torso to just above the hips. She must have centered herself exactly right as both cameras had fixed angles of view. I assumed that the close-up camera photographed, more or less at random, anything that happened to fall within it's province. Her face in the close-up monitor was beautiful, like the rest of her; the flesh was firm and wrinkle-free. The black and white image of her enraptured mature face, the flicking tongue, the eye contact (she was staring right out of the screen) had its effect on me. My buried fingers increased their frequency, my thumb found her clitoris. Beside me, Lady Sarah sighed in ecstatic pleasure, while overhead she writhed and exploded in a spasm of cum.
Shifting my gaze from the TV screen to the overhead mirror, I saw Sir Harry moving around towards her Ladyship's feet. In a moment it became obvious what he intended, and to aid him I gently withdrew my fingers from her twitching quim and grasping her smooth legs just below the knee raised them till they lay folded on her abdomen. Harry slipped into position as I grasped his fat fuck tool in my hand and slowly inserted it into Lady Sarah's gaping cunt. She watched this whole operation in the overhead mirror and as her husband's cock, guided by my hand, slithered deeply into her, she caught my eye. We looked into each other deeply. She licked her lips and shuddered as Harry reached bottom. Then I felt my own legs being lifted in a similar manner. It was Betsy, beautiful in her black Merry Widow. With my legs resting on my chest, I could see in the mirror the hairless, smooth gaping entrance to my own love canal! I watched fascinated as Gerald got into position, his erect circumcised cock, strong, stiff, out-thrust, bobbing slightly from his body movements. It was strange seeing myself in this manner, knowing that others were also intensely watching, being affected. Knowing also that many many others would see the video tape and be sexually turned on ... I would be a part of Sir Harry Flemming's erotic library! Would I be the cause of some future cock springing to erection a hundred years from now? I had seen the tapes stacked in his porno library, amongst the century-old pornography, the memoirs, the yellowing picture albums.
In the glass above, Betsy took hold of her cousin's cock. She rubbed her thumb across the head, which seemed to dwarf her graceful hand. Then, holding it tightly, her fingers barely meeting around its plump circumference, she made the connection. I felt as if my pussy were boiling over, and with one graceful motion Gerald thrust his hips forward and was in me. I lowered my knees and rested my legs on his fucked into me with a slow, steady, quiet rhythm. Once again Lady Sarah caught my eye in the mirror.
"You have the most beautiful crotch I've ever seen," she said. She smiled, her eyes passionate slits as she took my hand in hers and squeezed. I suddenly felt great affection for this nutty lady who was being fucked so prettily beside me. I reached over and placed my lips on hers, drawing her long hot tongue into my mouth, feeling her smooth breasts tremble under my touch. Her hand descended down my body and as our tongues played against each other, I felt the delightful fondlings of her fingers on my clit, just an inch from her son's slowly plunging cock.
I turned my head to glance directly at Betsy. She was laying next to me on my left, staring up at the gazebo ceiling. I reached with my free hand and grasped her giant clit between two fingers, rolling it back and forth. She went immediately into orgasm, as usual. Her heavily painted red, sensuous mouth formed an "O" shape, her eyes clamped shut and her entire body went into a paroxysm of uncontrolled shudders! Gerald, lying under my legs on his side, reached a hand in under her quivering ass and thrust his fingers deeply into her anal canal. She literally detonated! Watching the scene in the overhead mirror again, I was suddenly overwhelmed. Despite the slow pace of the festivities an orgasm was building, slowly, beginning to spread from a small explosive point in my cunt ... spreading....
I turned again to Lady Sarah on my right. Our eyes met, she placed her hand on mine, squeezing it down on her breast.
"You're cuming, my dear, aren't you?"
"Yesss, oh yesss!" I answered quietly, directly into her mouth. She flicked her tongue across my lips.
"It's soooo good."
"Cum, Gabriel, cum."
"Yesss ... oh his cock!" The explosion was spreading, building. I felt Betsy's hand on my breast, squeezing my erect nipple, I reciprocated, squeezing and rolling her monstrous clit as hard as I could.
"Look at yourself, Gabriel," cried Lady Sarah, "Look up at the mirror, my dear!"
I opened my eyes to gape fascinated at the undulating image in the mirror above. I lay buried between my legs; I could feel her fingers sharing my love sheath with her son's cock! The two men fucking us were moving in a slow, steady cadence ... cocks thrusting in and out, in and out ... glistening from our cunt juices. I saw my own body writhing in orgasm! My right hand was pulling on Lady Sarah's turgid tit, my left grasping Betsy's giant love bud with four fingers, pulling, pinching, twisting! The young girl was fingers deep, deep in her pulsing ass hole! I watched it all, my body tingling, throbbing in the throes of a long, drawn-out explosion!
Next to me, Lady Sarah released a deep sigh. I turned to her to see her tongue flicking out over her lower lip, her eyes glazed...."Now you!" I moaned.
"Yesss, Gabriel, now me! Ohhh, that big cock in my juicy quim ... my fucking cunt! Fuck it!"
"Cum, cum!" I cried. "Cum with me."
"Ohhh yes, you darling girl! I can feel the cock in your cunt. I can feel it sliding against my fingers ... Ohhh Gabriel, I'm cuming! I love cock ... love it! Do you love cock?"
"Ohhh yesss!" I moaned "Cocks, cocks! Fat, long cocks covered with fuck foam ... in our mouths, in our cunts...."
"In our assholes!" She cried.
"Ohhh, your son's cock is so good in me!"
"Kiss me Gabriel ... kiss me...." I released Betsy's clitoris and twisted around to her, burying my tongue in the hot cavern of her mouth. We clung together as our men fucked us over the top.
A voice cried out. "I'm cuming, Mother. I'm cuming!" I could feel Gerald's cock growing in my burning pussy. I throbbed like a drumhead as I felt the first contraction deep within me.
"He's cuming," I muttered into Lady Sarah's open, gasping mouth. "Your son is cuming in me!"
"Yesss, Gerald ... yessss my darling boy, cum in her! Shoot in her cunt, my sweet son."
"Give it to her, my boy," cried Harry. "Squirt your spunk in her greasy cunt!" I glanced up again at the mirror, every particle of my being exploding. Gerald was inserted deep within me, his cock pulsing cream. With each pulse, each convulsion of his fuck tool, I detonated again!
We lay there, the five of us, our motors idling, peering up at the twin TV tubes. Both men were still fucking into Lady Sarah and myself. It was a lazy, lethargic fucking. Gerald was pumping in and out of his own spunk which, combined with my juices, seemed to fill me to the brink. Harry, though he still hadn't cum was moving his hips almost imperceptibly, his long cock stroking in and out of his wife's sopping pussy on the order of about one stroke every ten seconds. Betsy still lay on my left, idly toying with my breast. The only sound was the squishing of cock and cunt.
On the tube, a woman I didn't recognize was stretched out on her back, masturbating with an AC vibrator. She was holding the convex head tightly against her clitoris, moving it in small tight circles. The close-up camera was lined her mid section, and I could plainly see the juices oozing. Gerald appeared and with no warning whatsoever rolled her over on her side and fucked his stiff, handsome cock all the way up her ass! Another man, whose face I couldn't see, appeared next and rolled her onto her back and onto Gerald, who continued to cornhole her. The second man, whose body seemed vaguely familiar to me, began fucking her cunt. She became the comed beef of an animated, human sandwich! All three were working at it, hips and asses rotating in different directions. We could see her face over the shoulder of the second man, and once more a mere visual experience created in me a deep swelling, gushing excitement. The expression on her face was one of delightful agony! The cock buried so brutally in her ass was obviously causing her pain but nevertheless there was a feeling of satanic lechery about her, causing her to bear down hard and rotate her hips in an attempt to force every inch of the painful intruder into her tight anus. I was enraptured by the sight of it all. Pain and pleasure again!
"In case you're interested, Gabriel, the young lady was a virgin," said Sir Harry.
"An anal virgin, you mean?" I asked.
"No, a complete virgin. This was her first sexual experience."
"Friend of mine," said Gerald as he stroked quietly into my reawakening pussy.
"Gerald is getting pretty good at supplying us with virgins," said Lady Hemming. "Aren't you, dear?"
"Yes, Mother," he answered, pointing upward. "Gloria was number three."
"And we all hope that Lilly will be number four, don't we dear?"
The trio on the screen was now joined by Sir Harry, who arrived on the scene slowly frigging his huge prick. He placed himself in position with his huge prick. He placed himself in position with his cock resting on the young lady's lips. Her tongue darted out tentatively, licking around the cockhead and then little by little Harry fed it to her. Soon her cheeks were bulging as he mouth-fucked the pretty little thing. Then a fourth man! Placing her hand on his rigid tool, he directed her to jerk him off against one of her nipples.
The gazebo-bed was now a reeking, sodden mass of rabid, convulsive, pulsating fuckery! But there was one more to come. He was a large man, late middle-aged with a fat, jolly face and a roll of heavy flesh around his middle. Despite that, he wasn't really unattractive to me. I watched him on the screen as he went about trying to find an opening in which, or on which to present his rampant cock. There was none. The young lady was completely occupied with the four men already there. The fat, jolly man tried for an armpit but there was simply no room for him to maneuver. No vacancies! It was truly comical; I almost laughed Gerald out of my cunt! Then, because seemingly there was no recourse, he attacked what seemed to be the nearest target, the bucking ass of the second man. It was simply a matter of straddling the sandwiched trio, which he did with ease. In a flash he had his stiff prick in the second man's ass!
The second man, wiggled his rear, riding the girl even harder as he played back against the delicious fleshy staff shoved up his ass. He turned to look over his shoulder, probably to identify his fucker and at that point I recognized him! I really should have known when I first saw his muscular body on the screen. The way he moved ... but how could I possibly even begin to suspect? I watched dumbfounded as he grinned evilly at the fat man who, reaching down with both hands, spread the ass cheeks even wider in an effort to sink every inch of stiff meat into him. Yes, it was Noel! My Noel! My London Noel, who on the screen above me was having his ass fucked off by a jolly, Santa-like fat man; who seemed to enjoy it just as much as my lover and fiance; Noel Landers!
CHAPTER NINE - NOEL LANDERS
Gabriel considered our relationship an engagement to be married. On those rare occasions when social introductions were necessary, she usually introduced me as her fiance and was quite piqued when I didn't do likewise. It's not that I have anything serious against marriage, not even that I'm against marriage with her. She would make a terribly attractive mate. I'm really quite fond of her ... and not only in bed, if that's what you're thinking, though she is marvelous in the old hay, marvelous! No, she's charming, intelligent, sensitive, well-read ... a girl of many talents and great wit ... and as I mentioned, a bloody, bang-up whizzo of a fuck! Wouldn't mind her for a wife at all, love to have her actually. We're really quite jolly together, you know. The problem is that I fear my true sexual nature would probably repel her. It would be absolutely impossible to explain to her anything at all, if you know what I mean. About my true sex life, is what I mean to say. If she knew, she would bloody well clatter out the front bloody door and into her airplane back to bleeding, fucking America and I'd never see her again! And I really am fond of her, very fond of her, as a matter-of-fact.
For a while, in the beginning, less than a year ago, I thought of telling her about it all, of convincing her that a completely bisexual approach to love ... to sex that is ... was the most rewarding thing a person could involve oneself in. Sex, sex, sex, any kind! I fantasized sharing everything with her, my male and my female lovers, but as time passed, I began to fear losing her. I just couldn't abide the idea of seeing her express disgust or what have you. You see, even though I love women, and understand them thoroughly, I'd never actually had an extended, intimate relationship with one. In fact, I've never had an extended, intimate relationship with anyone. Didn't need that sort of thing, you know. Got along on my own without excess baggage ... that sort of rubbish. The awful thing that happened is that I think I fell in love with her! In my own way, I mean. The whole thing is really tied up in my fear of losing someone I adore. It's that simple, strange as it may sound. (I wouldn't dare mention any of this to my friends or to any members of The Circle.)
I met her at a party at Ronny's flat in Belgravia. Ronald Cook, my agent, had just returned that morning from New York towing two Yank stewardesses whom he'd picked up on the flight. They were both quite attractive, but one of them was damned attractive! Everyone there that night had their bloody sights on her, but old Ronny was really keeping her reigned in ... all to himself, the fuck! Despite the fact that he regularly bleeds ten percent from me, he never seemed to get around to making the introduction. In the state I was in, I would have been quite content with just ten per cent of her. She caught me staring at her a few times and after a while we started playing a jolly little game. She would strike funny, campy little sex poses every time I caught her eye. It really was quite funny, you know. I don't think any one caught us at it, not that it would have bloody mattered, but there was a kind of shared intimacy going on between us which after a while began to generate the old juices. We continued, for over an hour, sending and receiving mating calls across the crowded room, until finally, with eyes on mine and hips swaying like one of those Yank drum majorettes, she came to me, took the glass from my hand. Seating herself on the arm of my chair, she reached down and kissed me. The kiss lasted forever and consisted of a generous amount of tongue suckings and lip nibblings. When we both emerged for a breath of air, there was Ronny, my bloody agent, standing there a foot from us, glowering as if I'd stolen some of his great-aunt's favorite whatnots. The young lady, with a charming lilt to her voice, turned to him and asked, "Ronny, baby, is there a bedroom in this house?"
I don't think he got the point, or he stupidly got the wrong point, for as she reached out and held his hand, he smiled triumphantly and said, "Never thought you'd ask. Come along, I'll have you there in a jiffy."
She turned back to me, withdrawing her hand from Ronny's clutch. "Shall we?" she asked.
I picked her up in my arms, becoming in the process the object of roughly thirty pairs of eyes (half of them glazed over), and said to Ronny, "Beddy-bye time, old socks. Like to leave a call for about seven. Big day tomorrow."
It was a small mews house and I had a devil of a time carrying her up the staircase. Each time I attempted to put her down, she insisted on being carried and about halfway up she began sucking on my ear, which is probably the only part of my body I can't stand having sucked.
Finally we were on the bed in the rear bedroom. We had our clothes off in a flash and less than two flashes later I had my head buried in her delightfully aromatic crotch. I've never smelled anything like it, an uncanny mating of perfume and natural quim odor ... really set me off! I drew her entire left labia into my mouth and sucked on it like a lolly. Somehow while I was doing this, she got me turned around so that she too could suck. Her tongue was a joy, working its way around under the head of my prick, so I reciprocated by fucking my tongue as far as it would go into her juicy, sweet smelling twat box and proceeded to massage her clitoris with my lower lip. She rolled us' over so that she was on top and then took every inch of me into her mouth.
Beyond a doubt, she is the best, most talented cocksucker I have ever experienced, woman, man, child or beast! Everything seems to work at the same time, tongue, lips, teeth, throat muscles. I've always prided myself on sucking ability, but I feel now, I must bow to her superior talents. She had me gushing good English cream within two minutes! It seemed to trigger her also, for as I ejaculated deep in her throat I felt the rumblings and heard the moans of her orgasm. It was quite exciting, I must say.
I traded a Rothman's for one of her Marlboro's. Ifs an old custom, practiced between Americans and Britons ever since their stupid little revolution. Americans love to think their cigarettes are superior to any one else's. Britons foster this view because they are kind, considerate and polite. We actually do it as a kind of ritual, like natives from different provinces exchanging wampum or ju-ju beads. Cousins from across the sea and all that.
We lay there, the smoke from our two fags mixed symbolically. "Gabriel is the name," she said. "Gabriel Du Champe."
"Sounds French. What are you doing as a Yank?"
"I've only been one for four years, officially. But I've been speaking American for many years. I speak good, no?"
"Yes, and you suck jolly good too."
"Thank you, Mister...?"
"Landers, Noel Landers."
"The writer?" she asked.
"In person, live from London, England."
"You suck good, too ... for a writer. Put out your tongue." I complied. "Further, all the way," she insisted. I squeezed out another half inch. "My God! No wonder!"
"No wonder what?"
"No wonder that a few moments ago I could have sworn I was being fucked! You've got the longest tongue in the British Islands. Can you touch your nose with it."
"I can do better than that, madam." I demonstrated and she was appropriately impressed. "Ifs actually the longest tongue in all of Europe. I won the title at Baden-Baden last year. I'm currently in training for a match against the world champion, Serge Duptchefski. We'll be competing in Iceland next fall. I can let you have one pair of tickets. Good seats, you can bring your mother."
"And meanwhile you can train on my farm anytime, free of charge."
"Thank you, dear Gabriel."
"And now, I want you to fuck me. In fact I wanted you to fuck me the first time I set eyes on you, which was less than two hours ago according to Big Ben."
"That's an amazing coincidence, my dear ... amazing! I had the exact same desire at that precise time myself. I mean, I looked at you and said to myself, *I want to fuck that bird* It must have been three minutes after Ben struck the hour!"
"Uncanny. It checks out perfectly! Do you believe in extra-sensory perception?"
"Yes! How about fat-free yogart?"
"And sex after death?" she asked, sitting up.
"Certainly! Do you think the big bands will come back?"
"No, absolutely not!"
"Neither do I! How do you feel about Syndicalism?"
"It'll never work, people being what they are."
"Agreed! And now, the final test: What keeps you going? I mean, what single thing do you think holds the greatest promise for mankind ... a single item of faith, the one thing that can provide us all with a secure and peaceful future?"
"Snag-free panty hose!"
"It's glorious! We are soul mates! We blesh, we mesh! Quick, fuck me!"
She clambered on top of me, seated herself on my hips, grasped my urgent prick in her hand and frigged it slowly. Then, raising her ass off my thighs and sitting straight as a ram rod, she lined me up with her soaking cunt and very, very slowly lowered her body ... impaled herself on my stiff tool. We both watched it enter her body. When she was fully seated on me again, she began a slow ass-rolling motion, her hips making a small arcs around my midsection. We looked deeply into each other, as I reached up with both hands and fondled her firm plump tits. I began to move under her in counter rotation but she indicated for me to lie still and then as her movements came to a stop I felt her internal cunt muscles go to work on my throbbing cock. She was milking me!
"Do you like that?" she whispered.
"Yes, I like that. Christ, I like that!"
"I learned it from a pale houri in the bazaar in Samarkand."
"Next time I'm in Samarkand I'll give her a tinkle."
"You're a pleasure to fuck, you have a very nice cock."
"I got it from a randy bandit in the hills over Port Tuphic."
"Can you reach my tit with your tongue from down there?"
"Of course not, it's three feet from my oral orifice. Even Duptchefski couldn't do it. Maybe Steinberg in his prime, but even that's doubtful; you'll have to move a foot closer." I tweaked both nipples and then, taking them between thumbs and forefingers, pinched them lightly. Gabriel sighed and the internal squeezings got stronger. "You're wonderful, Gabriel," I said. "You're unbelievably beautiful, Gabriel. What you're doing with your cunt to my prick is indescribable, even by me, the greatest writer in the world, bar none. Fuck, darling. Fuck."
She raised her ass and the strong internal twitchings ceased as she proceeded to ride me. She kept her back erect, assuming a magnificent seat as once again we both glanced down to watch my cock withdraw to almost its full length, only to be swallowed again into her elegant quim. I reached down and inserted my fingers, felt my cock head as it plunged in and out. Then, withdrawing the sopping digits, I reached upwards and smeared the tangy oil onto her lips. Her tongue darted out lapping the remainder from my fingers and then I was fucking her mouth with them, keeping cadence with the increasing tempo of our fuck machinery. "You love to fuck, don't you?" I asked.
"Yessss, I love to fuck!"
"Fuck me!"
"Yessss fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" She rode me at a gallop, the one word repeated over and over again on each downward plunge of her enraptured body! "Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Her ass, heaving, plunging ... The pace faster, frantic, her head thrown back, mouth open! She was a rider in the wind...."Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...." A powerful jachammer! A pounding, beating mass of gorgeous, gyrating female flesh! "FUCK-FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK! OH sooo-ooonn! Sooooon! Oh Noel! Darling!"
"Cum! Cum, sweet baby ... cum, Gabriel. Give it to me! Fuck my ass off!"
I felt it start to happen. Every muscle in her body seemed to tense up and then soften. She was trembling, moaning, squealing! Her India rubber butt was bouncing off my prone body and bounding into the stratosphere causing my steel prong to piston almost all the way out and then all the way in till our pubes met with a resounding smack.
Finally she came to rest, my cock inserted to the hilt in her squishy quim. "Where am I? Who are you?"
"You are in the honored tent of Sheik Rashid Ben Hamidi and I am his Chief Eunuch, Gamal. You were brought here on camel-back from Al Qafar. The Sheik numbers you among the one-hundred most beautiful women in all of Arabia. Don't you remember? The beauty contest? You made the semi-finals, although personally I thought your arse somewhat skinny."
"Then where is the Sheik?" She asked, as she lowered the still connected upper portion of her dewy body, squashing her breasts against my chest.
"The Sheik rides against the infidel! The tribes all through the Jabal Shamar are in a state of unrest. He shall return, oh flawless one. You are well favored, the Sheik is the greatest fuck in all of An Nafud. They call him the Desert Stallion, he of the iron Zabrik! Be patient"
"I don't believe you, you're lying, lying, lying! Lies, all lies!"
"Do not provoke poor Gamal. I am only a poor eunuch. Remember, the Koran says, 'She who involves herself with the denial of the flame of passion will most surely singe the silken tresses of her cush.' One must bow to such wisdom."
"I knew you were lying ... my cush has no silken tresses! I demand to see the British Consul!"
"Ha ha! You arrogant British are all alike. Give me an American any day."
"Now I've caught you out in your stupid lies! How can you be a eunuch with your penis all hardened and elongated and stuffed up into my pussy? No self-respecting eunuch could do that! I know where I am! I'm in a brothel in Marseille. The white slave circuit! I've been spirited away from my traveling companions, the eight grade school teachers from Cleveland. You drugged me and dragged me here. Next the brothels of Ankara await me, from there to the Zeedyke, next the whore alleys of Hamburg! You've doomed me to a life of ... Hey, you crazy Limey, what the hell are you trying to do?" I was twisting us around in attempt to assume another fuck position without withdrawing my cock which was still hard, still firmly implanted. It was terribly awkward.
"You ever do this kind of thing before?" she asked, as I attempted to wrap one of her legs around my neck while rolling us over onto our sides.
"Took a course in the Army once." Never been really good at it, though."
"You're going to break all our bones!" She said, as I succeeded in getting above her without disturbing our connection. However, there seemed to be a problem with my left foot. It was in her face.
"We have nothing to fear but fear itself," I stated, solving the foot problem. But now there was an errant knee in the general vicinity of my coccyx. "Ahh, here's the little devil causing the jam up." I said, pulling her wrist back.
"Owwwwch! You can't turn a person's wrist in that direction! You're mad! A looney fucknut personage! Help!"
"Shhhh, quiet ... you'll wake the Master ... ah there, that's better, won't be long now!"
We lay there, a two-headed pretzel. "I count five legs," she stated.
"Count again."
"It's still five."
"Let me count...."
"How many did you get?"
"Same as you, five."
"Noel, you've got another woman hidden in this bed!"
"Let's count again...."
"If she doesn't leave, and leave immediately, I will!" At this point she began to giggle. I finally got us sorted out. I was above her, she was on her back with her beautiful legs raised, wrapped around my neck. As I entered her, sliding into her well-oiled quim, she ceased giggling and released a long, drawn out sigh.
"Ohhh, that initial feeling of a hard prick sliding in me ... it's heaven." She wet her lips, sliding her tongue along the plump surface. "Sometimes I think it's the best part of the whole thing." Then she opened her eyes, looked at me and started giggling again. "I can't help it Noel, really I can't!"
"It's certainly not what one would call encouraging," I said, feeling my cock going limp inside her.
"Ohhh Noel, don't go soft ... please, I'm sorry darling, really. I want you to fuck me, I do, desperately. It's just that everything is so damned funny!" More giggles, she bit her lip in a valiant effort to stop. And then it started with me; first a tiny snicker fought its way past my clenched lips. Then a titter which I fought against. No use, I lost, the titter won and quickly seizing its advantage changed itself into a chuckle. I gave up all hope of control as a deafening guffaw broke through and then the dam had burst! We both lay there, my now limp prick laughed out of Gabriel's flowing, naked quim. We were laughing our bloody heads off, for no reason I could define. Hysteria!
In a minute or two, we were both gasping for breath. "We must get serious, Noel," she groaned through the laugh tears.
"Yes, for God's sake, we have important work!"
"OK ... no more. No more. Look, I've stopped laughing, right?"
"Right!" I said, holding back an errant guffaw.
"Right. We're both fine now. No more. See how easy it is if you use discipline and self-control?" She looked at me. I looked at her and suddenly the whole damnable giggle thing started all over again!
Later, when we had quieted down, I replaced her legs on my shoulders, and very gently and quietly, for we were drained from laughing, Gabriel began to frig my semi-hard prick. I leaned forward slightly, letting my ballocks come to rest on the luscious open mouth of her cunt and lovingly toyed with her turgid tits.
"It's lovely like this," she whispered.
"Yes, and I feel I've known you for a thousand nights."
"I could fall in love with you, Noel."
"I think I'm already in love with you."
"Really?"
"Really. What I mean to say is that if one must fall in love, there is absolutely no reason I can think of why it shouldn't be with you."
"You're starting again, Noel."
"Sorry."
"Oh, it's getting hard. Your cock is getting hard in my hand. That's such a terrific feeling...."
"Yes, I know."
"Know what?"
"That it's a terrific feeling."
"How would you know that, you're a fella."
"Wellll, I play with myself, frig myself like anyone else." For just a moment I thought she had caught me out.
"You have such a strong, beautiful cock."
"Flatterer!"
"No, really, you do. I'm an expert."
"Then thank you for the compliment. What's so beautiful about it?"
She glanced down. "It's fat. Having a fat cock is important, more so than having a long cock."
"I have a long tongue."
"Shut up and listen! Cocks differ more in thickness than they do in length. Yours is almost as thick as they come."
"Almost?"
"Yes, there's this man in the city of Archangel. At the age of one hundred and eight, his fully erect penis measured eleven inches in circumference."
"You're starting again," I said, pinching her nipple.
"Hmmm, that's nice. Are your nipples sensitive?"
"Yes."
She reached up with her free hand and ran a finger over my left nipple. I reacted quickly as my nipples are exceedingly sensitive. It's only in recent years that I realized this. I went through a good portion of my sex life thinking they were ticklish.
"Look! They pop out just like mine." I squirmed in exquisite agony as she released my erect prick and now with two hands proceeded to pinch both my equally erect nipples, "I love a man to have sensitive nipples; they provide two more toys to play with. Ohhh, it really looks like you enjoy that!" She sucked in her breath sharply in an automatic response to my fervid reaction, "Ohhh, look at you!"
The entire top part of my body was heaving! Two sharp pleasure electrodes were transmitting erotic shock waves into the tiny buds of erectile tissue. "Do it harder ... squeeze harder!" I cried out, reaching with both hands for her breasts. Her eyes were wide, staring into mine. Her breath was coming faster, her chest heaving. We pinched each other's nipples, harder and harder! It was like a contest, a game. The pleasure turned into pleasure-pain! And then she came!
It was a small orgasm, not nearly so massive as her last one. With her body trembling, her eyes locked onto mine, she whispered, "I'm cuming now Noel." She shuddered and gave me her fingers to suck.
A moment later I began frigging my stiff cock against the miniature, swelling flesh of her clit, watching as she caressed her own body. Her hands wandered .under her breasts as if weighing them, then strolled to her flat belly, pushing the flesh downward toward her crotch as if to stuff more of it under the head of my bulbous, frigging cock-head.
"Put it in, Noel," she whispered, tightening her legs around the back of my neck.
I inserted the head, feeling the helmet pass between her soft cunt lips. "There, darling. Take It."
"Slowly, Noel, I want to feel it all." Her cunt muscles were pulsing, grabbing my cock with their gentle fluctuations. It was all softness, her sucking quim drawing me into her. "Ahhh, if only we could trade places, if only you could feel what I feel. Delicious, I can almost taste you ... slow , ... slow. Ahhh, now you're all the way. Do you like it, Noel?"
"I love it. Your cunt was designed for my cock."
"It was, it was."
"It's excruciating, Gabriel. I'm going to fuck you slowly, lovingly." I stroked back till my cock-head almost emerged from her quivering wetness. Then, slowly back into the sheath. Her position, lying on her back with both legs raised and resting on my shoulders gave me superb access from the rear. It allowed for total penetration. The target was well defined, standing out from between her thighs, an open, pink mound; .luscious, succulent, the mound of a goddess ... of Venus, surrounded on all sides by the soft damp flesh of buttocks and thighs. From where I knelt behind her she was all cunt. I pumped into her unrelentingly as her captive ass made small circles.
"Are you going to cum in me, Noel?"
"Yessss."
"Where is it now?"
"It's in my balls now, but soon it will be in my cock, filling my cock so I can squirt in you."
"I feel like I'm one huge cunt. My whole body is a cunt. Fuck my cunt, Noel."
I shifted slightly, raising my position so that the upper surface of my tool would rub her clitoris. I was practically fucking dawn into her now and her legs were bent at a harder angle, squeezing her tits. "I'm deep, deep in you Gabriel. Do you feel how deep I'm in you?"
"Your cock is deep, it's all the way ... ohhh! My cunt! I'm all cunt. Call me a cunt, Noel...."
"You're a cunt. Your whole fucking body is one huge, spewing, gaping cunt." I dropped down again, my cock now entering her from a lower angle.
"I feel your balls bouncing against my ass. Ohhh Noel, spread my cheeks so they bounce on my asshole. I want to feel you there."
It was difficult but I managed. I grasped both ass cheeks and spread them as wide as I could. "There," I said, "Can you feel it now?"
"Yes! Your balls, your balls, your balls! I feel them hitting my asshole! I've never been fucked in the ass ... someday I want to be fucked in the ass.
I started to withdraw my cock in order to transfer it to her waiting bunghole. She was aware of my intention immediately and stopped me.
"Not now, not today, Noel. Today I'm all cunt ... cunt ... cunt." She trembled. I was becoming aware of her orgasm cues and knew she was close. "Where is it now, Noel?" she asked...."Where darling?"
"It's in my cock now, baby. It's building, I can feel the pressure building."
"I'm going to cum with you."
"Cum with me."
"Now?"
"Yes!"
Her trembling increased in tempo. My cock, unhurried, had not changed its beat since the beginning. I pulled savagely on her ass cheeks as I felt my first spasms. I held the pressure back as long as possible, forcing it to build. "Soon ... soon baby," I moaned.
"I'm cuming now," she whispered.
"Where?"
"Everywhere ... ohhhhh Noel, darling! Everywhere, my cunt, my fingers, my nipples, my neck, my mouth! Everything is cuming. Everything is cunt. Cum now Noel ... cum with me darling ... "
"Yes ... here ... now...." My balls tightened, my cock convulsed as I spasmed a load of spunk deep within her. Then another and another....
"Ohhh baby, I can feelllll it ... ahhh yes, shoot more in me!" Our bodies throbbed in ecstatic cadence. "I want all of it," she cried. I gave it to her.
CHAPTER TEN - NOEL LANDERS
Gabriel has been living with me ever since that night, nearly a year ago, when we met so explosively at Ronny's party. Actually, she's only here one day out of four, the flight turnaround being about twenty-four hours, and I have grown terribly fond of her. So much so, that if she walked out of my life I'd probably end up a total faggot, as they say in America. She has become the "Bi" in my bi-sexual. I would be totally happy if I had the self-discipline and courage to make her the whole thing. I mean, she's certainly enough sex to keep the average man happy and contented with his lot. All I've managed to sacrifice are those meetings of The Circle that occur on days when she's in London. Well, as I've said earlier, if she knew about it, I'm fairly certain she'd walk out on me. Can't say I'd blame her.
Meanwhile, when she's here life is a total joy. We do everything together. Some evenings it's dinner and the theatre, or a party with friends. Other times we stay in bed for almost the entire twenty-four hours. What I like best, (other than our sex together, of course) is our waits. London, my town, is one of the world's most magnificent walking cities. Most of it is at eye level, unlike New York for example, which is a horrid Dali landscape at eye level and is meant to be seen from afar.
The best walking hours are late at night. Gabriel and I have spent hours, usually during pre-dawn, strolling through Mayfair or along the embankment and so on. I've been taking these walks alone for most of my adult life, and until Gabriel came along, I've been perfectly content to do so. But she's so perfect for me, so bloody compatible with my moods ... we think the same, we laugh at the same jokes, engage in the same style of wit ... I really do believe I'd be lost without her.
This morning she arrived on time. We had breakfast and then a long playful bath together. Then, around noon she went out to do some shopping. She'd said something about some sweaters at Marks and Sparks and then Harrods for a gift; friend of hers with a birthday or some such.
I did a few things around the flat and then sat at the typewriter for a few hours. Before I realized it, it was six o'clock. Where was she? Gabriel was usually very responsible, she will normally call if she's late, or detained. Then it was half past seven and I was quite concerned.
The phone didn't ring till eight. It was her. "I've been worried about you. Where in heaven's name are you? We had theatre tickets...."
"I'm sorry, Noel, forgive me."
"Where are you?"
"Are you sitting down?"
"No, I'm standing, which is exactly what I intend to continue to do. Now, where in the hell are you, my sweet?"
"I'm at Lord and Lady Flemming's ... hello? Noel ... Noel are you there?"
"Yes, Gabriel, I'm here, I was just in the process of sitting down. I don't suppose there's any possibility that I heard you wrong?"
"I doubt it"
"Oh." It was out in the open, finally. Well, everything ends sooner or later, "How did that come about, darling?" I asked.
"Sir Harry tried to cornhole me in the elevator in Harrods."
"Yes, that's Harry. Listen Gabriel do you...."
"And I saw a wonderful film in which you seemed to be the star. Oh, Noel!"
"Well, I guess that sooner or later you had to find out." I felt absolutely devastated. I didn't want to lose her. Suddenly I realized just how important she was to me. "When will you be by for your things?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I take it you'll be leaving me, what with...."
"Leaving you? Why? I mean, do you suppose this matters to me in terms of how I feel about you? Noel ... Noel, can you hear me?"
"Uhh, yes, darling. I thought you'd be turned off me if you ever found out."
"How could I? I love you, darling. One doesn't go around breaking off one's engagement because of a little innocent buggery ... does one?"
"No, I guess one doesn't." I felt elated, I felt as if I were capable of heavier-than-air flight without an aircraft! "Especially," I continued, "When one is the most wonderful girl in the world!"
"Flatterer!" she said. "But I am angry with you. Why didn't you tell me about all this long ago? I've been having a terrific time here. Harry and Sarah and Betsy the nut and Gerald, they're all mad. I haven't enjoyed myself so much since...."
"Oh, you crazy Americans are all alike!" I was overjoyed. No more secrets; Gabriel and I would share everything.
"Lady Sarah told me to remind you there's a meeting of The Circle here tonight and that you should hustle your little white ass over. Or do you want me to come home, Noel?"
"What would you rather do?" I asked.
"Oh, that's easy, I'd rather stay here, but only if you're with me. The idea of sharing this insanity with you is totally mind-boggling! I feel like it's Christmas. Please, Noel? Pretty please?"
"I'm on my way, ducks. Don't start without me." I hung up, jumped three feet in the air and did a triple double summersault into the net!
CHAPTER ELEVEN - GABRIEL
Noel arrived twenty minutes after I spoke to him on the phone. He treated me like a long-lost friend whom he mistakenly thought had died in the trenches. At about this time the other guests were arriving. When we were finally all seated for dinner there were eighteen of us, including the host and hostess. Since I was the guest of honor, I was seated next to Sir Harry at the head of the table. Noel sat on my right. The Circle welcomed me with a toast and we laid to on the best poached salmon and roast pheasant I have ever eaten.
The guests ranged in age from about seventeen to sixty. There was a member of Parliament, a well known female pop singer, a cab driver, a greengrocer, an aging film beauty who would be easily recognized, and the young female who was deflowered in the film I'd seen earlier. The sexes were very close to being evenly divided. I was told that the total membership was about thirty, but that it was very rare for all of them to show up at the same time.
Table conversation was based on the general topics of the day. There was absolutely no way of knowing that this distinguished, sophisticated gathering would soon be writhing together in orgiastic fun and games. Every one was impeccably dressed. Betsy was nowhere in sight.
I was deep in conversation with the gentleman across from me concerning the US dollar devaluation. He was a fairly well-known economist of somewhat unorthodox persuasion and I was finding him quite interesting when he stopped in mid-sentence, tilted his head back, closed his eyes and groaned under his breath! It was disconcerting, to say the least. My initial impression was that he was in the midst of a coronary. No one else at the table seemed to be paying him any attention and moments later he returned to our discussion as if nothing had taken place at all! Then the very attractive young lady next to him, who had been introduced to me as his daughter, jumped in her chair as if some one had goosed her. With studied elegance she laid down her knife and fork, pressed both hands against her breasts and let out a long deep sigh. Again no one paid much attention. The gentleman next to her, a wirey little guy, whom I had been told was a jockey, was next to react He slumped low in his seat and stared abstractly around the room, seeing nothing through glazed-over eyes. It was then that I realized where Betsy was and what she was doing!
My turn arrived during the salad course. I felt Betsy's hot hands snaking up under my short skirt, pulling it back so that her mouth could make contact with my pussy. I spread my legs as much as possible to afford her better access. Her tongue probed briefly, opening me up as it called forth a gush of cunt lubricant. Then her mouth withdrew and a moment later I felt an intense cold-hot sensation on my cunt lips. Something hard was being shoved in. An ice cube! I sat through salad clasping my legs together, shifting in my chair, activating the hard little cube into a sensuous device which I maneuvered around with my cuntar muscles. Five minutes later it was all gone, the only remaining evidence a small pool of water at my feet.
The remainder of the night, the next five or six hours, are with me as a series of impressions. Suffice it to say that as you the reader have no doubt ascertained by now, I have had in a few brief years a fairly sophisticated series of sexual experiences. I had assumed that I understood sex, was aware of my own physical reactions, likes and dislikes, and my desires and hang-ups. I felt I had experienced (with one major exception) just about all there was to experience sexually. I was wrong. If there was some way to measure sexual response, some unit that could be used similar to the erg or ohm or lumen, it would be found that during those six hours of my initial experience with The Circcle I experienced more "units" of sexual pleasure than during all my previous sexual experiences ... all of them put together!
After dinner I was lifted in the arms of four or five men and carried over their heads into The Room. I don't remember my clothes coming off, but I do recall standing under the ministrations of eleven women, whose lips and tongues lapped and sucked every palpitating inch of my squirming, twitching flesh. This was the start of my initiation into The Circle. I was the main event!
The woman laid me put in the gazebo-bed. They ate me, every inch of me. They slithered their wet cunts across my tit flesh and sat on my face with my tongue reaming their cunts and assholes. I recall Carol (who later became a best friend), the daughter of the economist, fucking me with her tightly-clenched breast ... running it up and down my slit, trying frantically to stuff it into my cunt which was being held open by two other women. Then Lady Sarah had Carol's tit in her mouth, while others took over my cunt, licking, sucking, drawing cascades of pussy grease that boiled over and dribbled down between my arching buttocks.
I don't recall any specific orgasms; it's my impression that I came once and kept cuming all night. At least a few times I found myself listening to screams of passion, cries of obscenities ... it was my own voice.
I looked up at a squishy cunt descending onto my face, I didn't know whose it was, but it was flavored heavily with mint ... I ate, sinking my face deep into the steaming aroma. Later, much later, Carol kissed me tenderly and I was lifted bodily and carried off.
I found myself bound to the pool table. A soft pad had been placed under me, but I was totally immobile. I was on my back, my hips over the edge of the table, legs spread as painfully far as they would go. My arms were bound together at the wrists and tied down also. I was informed that according to the initiation rites, every man present was required to drop a load into me. My position was ideal for this-all the man had to do was stand between my spread legs and fuck. A blindfold was placed over my eyes.
I didn't attempt to keep track, but I found out later that I received the discharges of 12 men. One after another they lined up between my legs and fucked into my hot, steaming cunt, disgorging globs of gism ... squirting, bursting in me! My naked crotch and inner thighs were sodden with the sticky, thick white spunk. It mixed well with my own effusive flow of cunt juice cascading like an oily river out of my floating pussy. One after another they fucked me, each cock different from the one proceeding it. Hard, thrusting, pistoning cocks, never ending, never stopping, fucking into quarts of gism left there by cocks that went before. I am a cunt! I AM A CUNT! An open cunt! Everybody put your cock in me ... thrust in me ... ream me with your hard, fat pricks! Spurt your cream into me! cum in me, piss your gism into my open cunt mouth! Fuck me with a thousand pricks! I'm a fat, deep, hairless, open, gushing CUNT!
Later, with the mask removed and the bindings loosened, Lady Sarah licked my crotch and thighs clean. Carol kissed me tenderly. "How do you feel?" she asked, slowly caressing my breast.
"I don't know. I think I'm still cuming. Ohhhh Carol, the feeling of being tied down ... you can't move, there's no defense, nothing. You're just a gaping cunt. It's marvelous ... God!"
"You've lovely, Gabriel."
CHAPTER TWELVE - GABRIEL
Sir Harry announced to all present that there was a virgin to be deflowered. All eyes turned to me.
"How do you know?"
"I told them," said Noel.
"Oh, Noel ... I wanted it to be you."
"It will be, darling."
"Make her ready!" called out Sir Harry.
Once again I was tied down, this time, however, on my belly, with a pillow under my hips to raise up my ass. There was a Chevell mirror placed so that I could watch the proceedings. It started with Betsy, clothed head to foot in black rubber and wielding an ugly looking whip.
"No!" I cried. The first blow was excruciatingly painful. I squeezed my eyes shut and yelled. There was a pause, and I realized that the expectation was far worse than the reality. I kept silent after the second strike. There were two more, and then a series of little flickings around my cunt lips.
The sensation set me off. To my surprise, I went into orgasm. Soothing lips and tongues cooled down the heat and a moment later, I felt my ass cheeks being pulled apart. In the mirror, I could see Dorothy, the young girl who I'd seen deflowered on tape earlier, kneel between my parted thighs and sink her face into my ass crevice. The sensation was breathtaking. She reamed me, her long tongue popping through the ring and fucking my anus like a small, wet cock.
Then, I saw Sir Harry applying KY jelly to his fingers. As he shoved them in I stiffened, contracted. Someone called out, "Relax, loosen your sphincter." I tried. I just let go and let everything hang loose. The finger in my ass was good. He thrust in and out and then began to rotate, reaming my asshole. Soon there were two fingers and then three. I began to look forward to Noel's cock.
They placed me in one of the "gym" devices at the end of the room. It was a kind of bosun's chair with a hole cut in the bottom allowing my entire ass to protrude. I was strapped in and then hauled up a few feet. Below me, I could see Noel, stretched out on his back. Betsy was sucking his cock, her head weaving up and down. She stepped back to reveal his massive, fat tool pointed straight up at me. Slowly I began to descend. There were two "aimers" lying beside Noel, Carol and one of the older women. One was to direct Noel's prick, the other to guide the chair. In a moment, contact was made. The head of his prick was entering the portal. My own weight was doing all the work, pressing me downward to be impaled onto Noel's noble cock. The pain started as his prick entered my asshole. It got worse ... I bit my lip to fight back the tears. Farther and farther in ... I willed myself to relax. He must be halfway by now! The pain! I instinctively tried to pull away, an action which created tension, tightened me up ... I willed myself to hang loose ... loose ... loose. Suddenly, everything broke through! It was as if a barrier had broken. Noel's cock was no longer fighting its way! I touched bottom and they pulled me up a few inches and then, suddenly, dropped me again. The pain-pleasure was instantaneous. I came and furiously started to frig myself. He was two-thirds in now and the chair was locked off at that height. It started turning, swinging around on its axis, screwing my anus around his prick. The turning action wound up the rope, pulling me upwards. When his cock was almost withdrawn, they let it twist the other way and I began to screw downward, revolving rapidly. I screamed out my orgasm as Noel came in my ass.
After a rest and some refreshments, three of us, Carol, Noel and myself, found ourselves in a circle on our hands and knees. Our heads were close together as we exchanged three way kisses. Behind me, fucking steadily into my tight, brand-new asshole, was the little jockey. Fucking Noel's ass was Gerald and directly behind Carol, his long tool stroking out of her anus, was her father.
"Is it good?" she asked.
"Ohhhh yes," I replied. "The feeling ... being filled up like this, I never knew it could be so good."
"My Daddy is reaming me with his cock ... I want to see you fuck my Daddy, Gabriel. Ohhhh yesss ... I'd like to see my Daddy shoot in your mouth, I'd kiss away all the spunk...."
"Fuck back at him ... move your ass, Gabriel," said Noel. "Give him your asshole."
"Is it good for you, Noel?"
"Oh yes, Gooddd ... he's up against my gland."
"Oh fuck him, Noel," said Carol, rotating her ass.
"He's getting ready to cum ... Cum baby," I said to the jockey.
"Come in her ass," Noel cried.
"Is he cuming now ... now?" Carol panted.
"Yes ... ohhhh yes, he's shooting ... he's bursting in me ... Kiss me, everybody!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - GABRIEL
I don't really know how I got through the flight back to Kennedy. I don't remember any of it, really. When I got home, Bob was waiting for me. I was exhausted but the moment I walked in the door, he grabbed me and pulled me into the bedroom. I kept insisting that all I wanted was a hot bath. (I really needed a douche.) He'd have none of it. In less than two minutes, he had his clothes and mine laying in a pile on the floor. I protested and struggled feebly, but before I knew what was happening, he had his head buried between my legs.
"Hey," he said, looking up at me, "What's that strange flavour? New perfume?"
I was angry. He should have waited. Besides, I convinced myself, maybe the truth won't hurt. "What you're tasting, Bob, are the multiple discharges of twelve men."
He looked puzzled. He fought for words and came up with: "Impossible."
"No, it's not. There were at least twenty shots of gism deposited in my pussy last night ... actually less than ten hours ago, probably a little stale now. And if you'll taste my asshole you'll be aware of three or four more."
"Stop kidding."
"I'm not kidding." I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Sit down Bob, I've got a story to tell you."
I told him the story.
When I'd finished, he looked at me, a crooked grin on his face. Then, slowly sinking down between my legs, he started to drink from my cunt.
Two weeks later, I received an invitation from Sir Harry and Lady Sarah to go sailing on their yacht in the Caribbean. It was, they told me a 110 foot motor sail. Betsy and Gerald would be along. Among the invited guests would be Noel and Carol and her Daddy. I accepted and asked if I could bring two friends, who I was sure would fit in and might prove to be interesting new members of The Circle. The Flemmings agreed. The yacht was based in St. Thomas and the cruise was scheduled to commence in about a month.
I made two more trips to London, and during one of the layovers attended, with Noel, another Circle meeting. It was just as exciting as the first. There were two initiations that night, one of whom was Gerald's little virgin, Lilly.
Bob expressed eagerness when I suggested the yacht cruise. He seemed hot on the idea of meeting Noel and the Flemmings. In fact, he'd been talking about making a special trip to London, if he could obtain an invitation to The Circle. He was caught up in the whole thing.
I switched to the St. Thomas run two weeks before the cruise and pulled a few strings to get Ellen on the crew. She also expressed interest when I told her about the cruise, so she arranged to take her leave when I did. We were all set! However, there's many a slip....
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - GABRIEL DU CHAMPE
We took off from Kennedy on time at 10:20 in the morning. Ellen and I were strapped into the jump seats in the small first-class lounge section and Bob was seated just across from the first-class galley, behind us. The fat little 727 was almost totally loaded with passengers; even the first-class section was fully occupied, a rare thing indeed. I still sweat take-offs, even though I've made thousands of them safely. It's a terrible habit, but I count seconds during the roll, though you'd never know it from looking at me; I project a perfect image of cool and casual confidence. First, I count off to VI; that's the point of no return on any take-off and though it varies from flight to flight, depending on type of aircraft, ground temperature and gross weight; I've gotten pretty good at judging where, during the take off run, it occurs. It's a rough guess, of course, but it keeps me occupied. If there are any problems during a take-off, such as engine failure, control mal-function or whatever, the Captain must abort before he reaches VI; after that point, he, at least theoretically would run out of runway before he could bring the aircraft to a safe stop. However, I've heard many pilots state that, despite the stringent FAA regulations relating to VI decision speeds, there are specific types of emergencies in which they would toss the rule book out the window. Much better to go off the end of a runway than to attempt to reach flying speed with a blown tire, or a multiple engine failure, or become airborn despite a fire warning. So, I count the seconds to what I believe to be VI and then start counting again, until I feel the landing gear retract. It is a long minute.
We served drink orders shortly after take-off. Bob had a double martini, and promptly fell asleep, muttering to me not to disturb him with lunch. Poor baby, I'd really worn him out the night before ... three good solid fucks, and then three hours later, at wake up time, I'd welcomed the new day by giving him the blow job of his life.
By the time Ellen and I got through with lunch service we were just a little over an hour from ETA. I went up front to serve the crew. Bob Barns, the pilot engineer, ordered shiskebab, Fred Lowell, the co-pilot, was satisfied with just a piece of cake and some coffee. Our Captain who, as required by regulations, was not permitted to eat while the co-pilot was eating, opted for the filet of sole. I served Lowell and Barns and when they were finished, brought Captain Maxwell his fish.
The flight was going smoothly; clear, unturbulant air all the way down to the sparkling blue and clear water 36,000 feet below us. Bob was still sleeping, every now and then mumbling those little indecipherable mutterings I had gotten so used to. He slept with one hand resting on his lumpy crotch and I could well imagine the erotic dream-ball he was having. I felt a momentary flush of horniness just looking at him and wishing I were physically involved hi his fantasy.
Ellen and I were making small talk over coffee in the galley, when it happened He was tall, fairly good looking, about 25 years old with long but neat hair, dressed well in a conservative blue suit and a somewhat restrained tie. He'd been friendly and polite during the flight and as he approached the galley and leaned casually against the bulkhead, I welcomed the diversion of a little conversational banter. I thought I knew the type. It was quite obvious he had eyes for me, an attitude I always appreciated in good looking, sexy men.
"Hlya, how about a little drinky for a famished man?"
Ellen smiled at him and said, "We aim to please."
"Vodka tonic, right?" I asked.
"Wonderful! You remembered!" He had a somewhat disconcerting, high pitched voice, which, though it didn't totally destroy the image of a virile, well hung cocksman, nevertheless went a long way towards bending it. But I could see that Ellen was interested. She handed him his drink and I noticed a small, almost imperceptible hip rotation as she stood there smiling at him. That, plus the equally significant signal of wetting her lips constantly, never failed, to give away the fact that Ellen was aroused. On a less crowded flight, she might have locked herself in with the guy and initiated him into the Mile High Club! Nevertheless, it was perfectly obvious that if he played his cards even halfway right, he was going to have a very active bed partner that night.
"Lovely flight," he said. "The food was superb and both you girls are a sight for hungry eyes ... if you don't mind me saying so. What more can a man ask for?"
"Are your eyes really hungry?" asked Ellen.
"Not now, but they were starved before I boarded this flight."
"You going on holiday?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess you could call it that."
There was something about him that didn't seem quite right, some subtle, malignant evil in his voice, and way back in the depth of his eyes. I was annoyed and just a little fearful for Ellen when she asked, "Where will you be staying on St. Thomas?"
"I haven't got a reservation ... this was just a spur of the moment trip for me. Made up my mind this morning, you know?"
"You're going to have a problem," Ellen said, "It's the middle of the season." I knew what she was getting at and was about to change the subject. Our passenger beat me to it.
"Wait a minute, and I'll show you girls something ... you'll see why I won't have any problems tonight. Hang on, be right back." He walked up the aisle toward his seat, giving me just enough time to tell Ellen that I was beginning to think there was something wrong with the guy, and that she should forget it.
He was back in a moment with a black leather attache case. "Here you are girls." He set the case on the galley counter. His actions were quick and precise, almost military. "I've got a terrific thing to show you." He snapped open the locks and raised the lid of the case just far enough to reach m with his hand. "Ready?" he asked.
"I can hardly wait," said Ellen, her cute little pink tongue licking wet, juicy lips.
"OK!" He reached into the attache case and drew out a large vibrator. It was the dildo type, made of plastic and colored in a kind of pink flesh tone. I glanced over at Ellen and could see that she finally shared my opinion about our passenger, an opinion that had changed during the split second she gazed into his face as he held up the vibrator for us to admire. He was an idiot. My earlier feelings of evil were replaced by the utter certainty that the man was a total schmuck! I mean, did he expect us to grab the dildo and proceed to masturbate, there and then, because the mere sight of the thing in his hand turned us on? What kind of stupid shit was this? I felt very strongly that I had been insulted. Ellen looked crestfallen; her cocksman had turned to crap. We stood there literally gaping at this schmuck as he pulled another vibrator out of his case. He held both of them in one hand while with the other, he sipped from his half-finished drink. "Nice, huh?"
"I think," I said quietly, "It's almost time you went back to your seat." He seemed not to get the point; he just stood there, gently caressing the two vibrators. My earlier feeling of there being something wrong about him returned.
"Now let me tell you something about these two goodies, girls. This one on the right contains only one battery, instead of two ... aha, you say! It is underpowered ... wrong! If you took it and inserted it gently into your pussy and then turned it on by rotating the switch on the bottom, you would end up having the thrill of your life ... I mean it, girls! You see, the battery is connected through that switch, to an awful lot of mercury fulminate Oh ... very sensitive, very powerful!"
"Oh my God!" whispered Ellen. She clutched my hand tightly in hers.
"Now this other little mechanized cock contains nothing more than a stick of dynamite. If I turn the switch on this first one, the dynamite will also go off. The fulminate, fuse will set it off, even if its three feet away. Nice? There's no metal at all, except for the electrical contacts, and the explosives are disguised as batteries ... they checked me right through. Clever?"
I was shaken. "Very clever, Sir ... now if you'll just put them back in your case and go back to your...."
"Enough of this shit!" His face went brutally red as be grabbed Ellen by the arm. She winced from the pain of his grip. He continued, "Now what I want you cunts to do is very quietly escort me up to the flight deck so that I...."
"You blow us up, you also blow yourself up ... I think you're a fucking bluff!" I said quietly, as my gorge rose in anger, an emotion that was alternating with fear.
"You willing to gamble your life and all those others?" He pointed behind him and grinned. "I'm gambling that you're not willing. I'm betting that no one on this airplane is willing to take the chance that I don't mean what I say!"
"I have to call the Captain," I said, trying to keep my voice under control.
"No, don't call the Captain. We are going to the cockpit ... now!" His face had gone death white and glancing down at his now-trembling hands I began to believe his contention that he was willing to take us all with him down in flames. "No tricks with the fucking intercom, cunt!" Now that he was committed, he was almost manic! The suave, smooth talking son-of-a-bitch from just a few moments ago had been replaced by a kamikaze killer! I was terrified and, from the looks of her, so was Ellen, except I didn't show it. I have a knack.
"If we don't call the flight deck," I stated coolly, "there is going to be a problem. They keep it locked from the inside and I've got to knock to be let in. The person who opens the door is not going to know what's going on and he may blow the whole thing, thinking you're a drunken passenger or something, try to give you an argument ... it can get messy."
He thought a moment, then grinned tightly and said, "You're a smart girl. OK, call him."
I got the flight deck on the intercom. "We've got a hi-jacker, Fred." I said it in the same tone of voice I would use to announce a minor problem in the cabin.
"Straight?"
"Straight. It's not something I'd usually kid about."
"Where is he?" Fred Lowell's voice suddenly assumed a hard diamond-cutting edge. He was doing what he was trained to do; respond to an emergency. Four years as a Navy Carrier pilot had given him the credentials.
"In the first-class galley with Ellen and me ... he wants to come up to the flight deck," I answered.
"Stand by." There was a pregnant pause in the communication. Fred Lowell was obviously consulting with Captain Maxwell. A full minute passed, while the hijacker finished his drink and toyed with his deadly dildoes. Finally Fred came back on.
"What's he carrying?" he asked.
"Bomb."
"Bring him up, just you and him. Leave Ellen in the galley and do your damndest not to alert the passengers."
I turned to the hijacker and explained the Captain's request concerning the passengers. He agreed and the two of us, with me in the lead, walked up the aisle toward the flight deck. As I passed Bob I saw he was awake. He nodded at me groggily and was about to say something when I cautioned him with a look. He appeared puzzled, but then I was past him and opening the cockpit door. The crew had unlocked it. I stood aside and let the hijacker precede me. As he entered the cockpit he removed the two bombs from his pocket, where he had secreted them during our walk. I closed the door behind us. He just stood there grinning his tight grin. Captain Maxwell turned and looked up at him.
"Dynamite, Captain," he said, indicating his deadly dildoes.
"OK, I'll take your word for it," the Captain said. "What do you want?"
"That's what I like ... no fucking around, right to the point! Good, I'll tell you what I want you to do. Listen, I want you to land and refuel, because where we're going, we're going to need it. I also want the anti-hijack interlock on the rear door disconnected. I want two parachutes, a chest pack and a seat or back pack put on board ... and, now listen carefully ... one million dollars!"
"You're crazy!" Barns said, Ms voice quietly earnest.
"Cool it, Bob!" said Maxwell. It was obvious that the Captain was going to play this one straight, at least for the time being. He wanted nothing to aggravate or unnerve the hijacker. He looked into his eyes and said, matter-of-factly, "I have to contact San Juan."
"That sounds like hanky panky," said the hijacker. "We're scheduled for...."
"St. Thomas," interrupted the Captain, "Does not have the facilities for what you're asking."
"Balls! You're up to something! Fuck around and I'll blow us all to hell ... I will, God dammit!"
"Let me put it this way; St. Thomas would have a hell of a job putting together a million in cash."
"Oh ... yeah, well...."
"It is also almost impossible to take off from St. Thomas with a full load of fuel. We fuel up in St. Croix for the return flight."
"OK ... OK, San Juan, then ... go ahead, clear it, tell 'em what I want."
As Maxwell was contacting San Juan, I felt the hijacker's hand on my ass. We had our backs to the door, so none of the crew were aware of this, My initial reaction was to slug him, the bastard, but then, like a slowly rising dawn, an idea started to light up, very dimly at first, the dark cave we were all lost in. I pressed back against his hand and wiggled my hips slightly, just to let him know he was on to something. He looked at me and leered.
"What's your name?" I asked, pushing back hard against his hand.
"Funny girl ... you're funny! You really think you can get away with that shit?"
"No," I said, feeling his hand cup my left buttock, fingers descending into the deep crease, through the thin material of my miniskirt. "We should have something to call you by ... it would make things easier all around."
"Call me Smith ... how's that?" His hand released my ass and a few seconds later, I felt it crawling up inside my skirt. I spread my legs slightly to give him better access. I was sure that given half a chance I could get the guy horny enough to where he'd be totally preoccupied-and a guy with a stiff cock and cunt on his mind is vulnerable, as every woman knows.
Captain Maxwell was raising San Juan on. the radio. The cockpit crew were using headphones, a ploy to prevent Smith from hearing San Juan. He didn't seem to notice, so I assumed he was either ignorant of usual cockpit procedure, or the erotic preoccupation created by his secret digital manipulation of my steaming pussy was having its intended effect.
"San Juan, this is TIA one-nine seven...." The captain's voice carried the impersonal tone of modern radio communication. "Inbound to St. Thomas ... pause ... we have a hi-jacker, San Juan ... pause ... small dynamite bomb ... pause ... request landing San Juan International ... pause ... affirmative, over ... pause ... 36,000 about to start descent ... pause ... , negative, San Juan ... pause ... negative ... pause ... hi-jacker is demanding one million dollars and two parachutes put on board ... pause ... negative, San Juan, over...."
Smith's thumb and forefinger were gripping my clitoris while two other fingers were gliding back and forth across my sopping labia. He leaned a little closer and whispered into my ear, "I'm going to fuck your little pink ass off before this is over ... right baby?"
"Yeah, I'd love that," I whispered back. "When?"
"Soon."
"Where?"
"Wherever ... in the John, in the galley, on the cabin floor, who gives a fuck where?"
"I'll recline one of the seats in first class and sit on your fat cock!" I whispered.
"Crazy!"
"When we leave San Juan, after we get rid of the passengers, we'll have all the room we need ... you can fuck Ellen, too. She likes you and she's the world's best cocksucker!"
"What's that about getting rid of the passengers? Who said I'm going to let the passengers go?"
"I just took it for granted...."
"Don't give me that crap! You try to con me, I'll shove one of these dildoes up your ass and turn the switch!" His fingers squeezed painfully.
The first of what I suspected was to be a series of moments of truth had arrived! I pressed back, hard, into his hand, trapping it between my gushing cunt and the bulkhead. "There's something I'd much rather have up my ass, but it ain't going to happen in front of a cabin full of passengers," I said, panting into his ear. I reached around and after making sure that the crew had its attention elsewhere, squeezed the hardened lump of his prick through the thin fabric of his lightweight pants.
"This'll fit much nicer than that vibrator ... ohhhh, put your fingers in, finger fuck me ... slow ... ahhhh that's nice...!" Surprisingly, it was getting to me, a little more of this and I figured I might lose control of the situation! It occurred to me what a cunt I was and I grinned secretly to myself.
"You're really a wise-ass bitch, aren't you?" It was a rhetorical question, but I answered it by wiggling my ass into his cupped palm, two fingers of which I felt searching for my puckered anus. I reached back and helped him find it His fingers were slick with oily cunt juices and soon two of them were being shoved brutally into my rear love canal. I almost popped ... right then and there I almost let go! It was sheer will which kept me from screaming out in passion as I fought down the orgasmic convulsions! His voice was in my ear, I could feel his hot breath on my cheek as I strained to decipher the words. "Ahhhh, baby ... you love it, don't you?" And then, "I'll tell you, we'll let the passengers go ... better that way for more than one reason. They'll only be under foot ... the crew will be plenty."
I felt like sobbing in victory. I'd won the first round and, except for Smith and myself, no one on the flight deck even knew there had been a contest!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - GABRIEL
Captain Maxwell made a routine landing at San Juan. Just before the base leg I had convinced Smith that in order to disembark the passengers smoothly, I had better be in the cabin. He let me go and I closed the flight deck door behind me and as casually as possible strolled down the aisle to Bob, who now seemed wide awake. Ellen, standing in the galley, saw me and I signaled her to stay cool. The one thing we didn't want was to alert the passengers.
Bob said, "Ellen told me."
"I hope she didn't tell anyone else," I said. "We want to get the passengers off as smoothly as possible."
"Just me and I'm staying aboard."
"No, Bob ... he's dangerous. If he flips...."
"Just one passenger, I'll convince him."
"We'll see." It was stupid to argue with him at this point. I said, "Come into the galley."
Ellen was calm. "What's happening?" She had followed normal routine and the galley was closed down. I brought them up to date as quickly as possible. I even told them about my little session with Smith, feeling the tingle of sexual afterglow as I did so. I could still sense the throbbing fingers in my avid asshole!
Then, as briefly as possible, I out-lined my plan. I've got to give credit to Ellen, she was scared but she endorsed my idea, she would play it to the hilt, so to speak. Bob was worried and had a difficult time trying to hide it. He was concerned more for me than anything else and he insisted again that he intended to stay on board. I melted with love for the guy. I scooted him back into his seat just as the Captain's voice, calm and with great assurance, flowed from the P.A. speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Due to runway problems at St. Thomas, we have been diverted to San Juan. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you but I'm sure that the problem will be cleared up quickly and you'll be on your way again. Meanwhile World International has arranged to make your delay as painless as possible. Thank you."
As we turned into the final approach I made my announcement; "Ladies and gentlemen, please extinguish all cigarettes and raise your seat backs to the straight-up position. We request for your own safety that you remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete stop. We will be using the rear exit to disembark. Though your trip is not over as yet, I would like to join with Captain Maxwell in offering my apologies for the unavoidable delay we are all being subjected to and thank you for flying World International."
I strapped in next to Ellen. "Why the rear door?" she asked.
"Smith insists on it," I answered. "It's the best deal for him. He can watch it from anywhere in the airplane and we won't need a mobile ramp."
"Aren't we taxiing to the terminal?"
"No, we'll disembark the passengers on one of the taxi strips."
We touched down, and a few seconds later as the engines reversed I glanced out and noticed an ambulance and two busses racing up one of the strips. Those vehicles were the only ones Smith would permit within 100 yards of the aircraft.
The passengers disembarked with no incidents other than a dozen or so questions about why they were leaving the aircraft so far from the terminal. Ellen and I fielded the questions as best we could but I was somewhat concerned about how the two stews in tourist were handling things. From where I was standing, at the temporary bulkhead separating first and tourist, I could see them on either side of the rear door. Behind me, I could sense the presence of Smith standing in the open flight deck door. The passengers, about one-third of them, were still in the aircraft, making their way to the exit. To accomplish what I had in mind required speed and stealth; I had just a few minutes at best. I ducked into the galley, out of Smith's line of sight, and grabbing a pencil scribbled a quick note on a cocktail napkin: 'HIJACKED, GET OUT. Using the pretense of checking empty seats, I made my way rearward toward the departing passengers. A glance over my shoulder ascertained that Smith's attention had been, for the moment at least, diverted into the cockpit. Praying that my luck would hold out, I handed the folded napkin to the last passenger in the line and in as calm a voice as possible asked him to hand it to one of the stewardesses by the door on his way out. Without waiting for a reaction, I turned and headed back up the aisle. My luck held; I made it back into the first class section before Smith turned his head.
Bob was slumped down into his seat, well out of Smith's line of sight. I realized that nothing I could say would convince him to leave the aircraft. He smiled at me and got a well-deserved frown in return.?
I watched as the passengers filed out the rear door. As the last one, the man to whom I had handed the note, approached the exit, he stopped for a moment and then, grasping the two stews around their waists, propelled them through the opening and down the steps. Smart man, he obviously had read my scribbling on the napkin and rather than waste time by passing the note, had simply taken matters into his own hands.
Smith flipped "What the fuck's going on!" He was screaming, his face livid, both hands clutching the fused dildo. (The other, obviously the one loaded with dynamite, was protruding from his breast pocket). "Who told those bitches they could leave? So help me ... I'll kill all of you!"
"Take it easy...." I said.
"I give the fucking orders!" His hand was clutching the dildo, fingers white and trembling. The other hand grasped the bottom ... one turn was all that was needed, one quick twist and...."I'll blow your guts out ... all of you!"
"Take it easy," I repeated, "You don't need them, you have us, Ellen and me and the crew. What good would two more do you?"
"Shut up, bitch! I command this airplane, not you, not the Captain, nobody except me! From now on nothing happens unless I command it to happen!"
We sat on the taxi strip for almost two hours. During that entire period Smith stood in the open flight-deck doorway, dividing his attention between the cockpit and the cabin while just eight feet from him, Bob, unobserved, slouched in his seat. The aircraft was fueled up while two mechanics came on board to disconnect the rear door interlock, so that it could be opened during flight. The rear hatch on the Boeing 727 opens from the underside of the aircraft and is provided with its own ramp. It has, in the past, been used by hijackers as a bailout exit because its belly-aft position precludes the possibility of a parachutist striking the tail or some other structural part of the aircraft on the way out. A few years ago, in order to prevent hijackers from taking advantage of this, all commercial 727s were modified so that the door could not be opened in flight. Smith had ordered this interlock removed.
When the two parachutes were placed on board, Smith suddenly demanded four more. Grinning in his usual evil, paranoid manner, he stated that if there were homing devices installed in the chutes, they were going to present the authorities with an unsolvable tracking problem. He meant to drop four of them out of the airplane at random, hundreds of miles apart, the fifth and sixth, he'd be wearing. He seemed to be totally unaware of the gross error inherent in this plan. It was my turn to smile.
Finally, the money was placed on board. As demanded by Smith, it consisted of large, old bills, packed in a suitcase. He ordered Ellen and me to count it. The suitcase was opened at his feet and we counted out exactly one-million dollars. Most of the bills were thousand-dollar denominations, except for about 100 five-hundred dollar bills.
We got off the ground at 3:54 PM. Five minutes later, Smith discovered Bob. It was simple, Bob just sat upright shortly after the wheels left the ground. Smith's reaction was a double take and then, "Where in the fuck did you come from!"
"Been here, right here ... never left...."
"Right there?" Smith was trembling with rage, fighting to hold himself in.
"Yup, fell asleep...."
"You're a dead man! You cocksucker!" Smith screamed. "I'm going to toss you out of the fucking airplane!"
"No you're not." Bob's voice was calm as he casually lit a cigarette. "I'm staying on board...."
"You're a fucking dead man!" Smith interrupted, his voice hysterical.
"Let's look at the facts, Mr. Smith," Bob continued. "You want to eject me out the back of this aircraft, you've got to open the door, strangle me and then drag my dead body to the rear of the plane ... You can't do that, Smith."
"Like hell I can't!"
"You can't do that and still hold onto your bomb. Funny thing about your bomb, I've noticed that it would take two hands to set it off. You've got to twist the bottom. How are you going to kill me, no-handed? You put that bomb down and we'll take you ... there are six of us."
"Fuck you ... all of you! I'll blow this fucking plane out of the sky! Don't play games with me, you son-of-a-bitch!"
"No games, OK ... Why don't we just all relax. You've got your money and your parachutes."
Smith peered at Bob, his lips compressed with hate, eyes glinting. "You a fucking sky marshal?" His voice was calm, his words precise. I found that far more frightening than his usual hysteria.
It seemed to have gotten through to Bob also and he answered quietly, the bravado gone from his voice, "No, I'm Gaby's fiance."
"You wanted to be a hero and protect your interests, is that it?"
"Right"
"How do I know you're not lying? Can you prove it?"
"What do you need for proof?"
Smith grinned. "Any distinguishing marks on her body that you'd know about?"
"Yes, now that you mention it," Bob answered, smiling back at the hijacker. "She shaves her pubic hair."
Smith turned to me, but I was way ahead of him. I was already removing my clothing. Bob's identifying statement was right down my alley; it fit in perfectly with my plan. I looked directly into Smith's eyes as my breasts were bared. I smiled and watched as his eyes dropped and then, very gently, I reached up and pinched both nipples. A few seconds later, with fingers hooked into my panty hose, I began to lower my skirt ... slowly. I glanced over at Bob, who winked, indicating to me that he understood and concurred. I returned the signal. As my vaginal area came into view, Smith seemed to salivate.
He turned to Bob and wetting his lips, said, "Your girl has a fantastic looking cunt, old buddy."
"Thank you," said Bob, still smiling.
"Maybe it will wipe that smile off your face if I told you that I knew all about her hairless pussy! I was finger-fucking her on the flight deck! How does that grab you, lover?"
Bob's smile didn't waver. "To really appreciate it," he stated, "you've got to taste it."
Smith looked confused. "I've got work to do...." He turned on his heel and strode into the cockpit.
The first of three checkpoints announced by Smith was to be Aruba. He made it quite clear to the captain that he was totally familiar with all three checkpoints from the air and that there was no way he could be fooled. He stayed on the flight deck and as we passed over the island we took to be Aruba, Bob went forward to check. He returned a few minutes later to tell us that Smith had announced Maracaibo in Venezuela as the second checkpoint. The three of us waited, seated in the lounge section, drinking vodka tonics. I kept my clothes off. According to my plan there was no reason to put them back on. After a while, I realized that it would be advantageous for Ellen to be naked, too. Zero hour was approaching! Bob and I both shared a mutual erotic appreciation of her softly rounded body as she undressed. Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it), I was feeling horny. The hot desire to watch while Bob fucked her pretty little snatch ... to see her face registering orgasm ... to feel her oily tongue in my mouth while my lover's fat cock was spewing globs of hot cream into her.
My lustful reverie was broken when Bob said, "You're beautiful, Ellen!"
"Thank you," she said, unconsciously stroking her inner thighs.
"Ellen has the sexiest little body in the entire universe," I said. "She's too much , ... just look at those sweet breasts and that little red bush! Bob ... wouldn't you just love to...."
"Yeah...." whispered Bob.
"You're wrong, Gaby," she said, "You have the sexiest body."
"Let's call it a tie, honey. I don't feel like arguing."
"Right on!" Bob said.
I reached out and caressed one of Ellens breasts, running my thumb across a hardening pink nipple. "How nice."
Bob looked a little surprised. He said, "It seems to me like you girls have made it together in the past ... more secrets, Gaby?"
"You found me out!" I answered, smiling at him. "Do you mind?"
"No ... hell no! I'm just a little bugged that I didn't know about it before ... think of all the fun I've been missing out on! Very bitchy and selfish of you, Gaby."
"I'm sorry," I said, as Ellen placed her graceful hand between my legs, slowly insinuating a finger into my damp pussy. "I didn't know how you'd take it ... at least not up until recently."
"I would have taken it very well ... it's sexy as hell!"
"Would you like to watch us?" asked Ellen.
"Christ yes!" he answered, "but it's hardly the time or place ... You almost made me forget that we're being hijacked by a total fucking nut!"
I took his hand in mine and squeezed it tightly.
"You're wrong, it is the time and place. You forgot my plan ... what we talked about in the galley."
"Yes, but...."
"Its already worked. I sexed him into letting the passengers go."
"It could be dangerous," he said. "I don't want you or Ellen to get hurt"
"It's a risk, but it's worth it"
"I think so," said Ellen, "I'm ready willing and able."
"From what I see of this guy," I said, "you better be ready, willing and able also, Bob."
"Yeah ... well there's a first time for everything, isn't there." He looked pained, poor baby.
Ellen's hand was still buried in my sodden crotch. Three fingers had worked their way up into my love canal and were very slowly being pistoned in and out. I reached out and fondled her breast as she said, "Getting back to what you said, Bob ... what would you like to see us do?"
"Everything! I'm really a voyeuristic son-of-a-bitch."
"Name it! Give us a request," Ellen panted. "It really turns me on to be watched ... I'm an exhibitionistic bitch."
"We aim to please," I said. I turned and kissed Ellen deeply, burying my tongue in her hot, hungry mouth.
"Suck her cunt, Gaby ... I want to see you suck her!" Bob's voice seemed to come from a great distance.
Ellen's tongue fluttered against mine. She muttered into my mouth, "Yes ... oh yes, Gaby ... suck ... suck me Gaby." We were leaning against the galley counter. She sat there, her beautiful head thrown back, her soft breasts being caressed by her own hands, her legs spread, revealing the pouting pink pussy that literally throbbed as I watched it.
"Go, baby ... suck," said Bob. I turned to see him standing next to us, his naked prick extended like a giant, fleshy pole through the zipped-down opening in his pants. His hand was working slowly back and forth and had already succeeded in creating small pearls of white cum which clung to the bulbous cock head.
I lowered my head to within an inch of sweet Ellen's soft ambrosial quim. "Spread the lips for me, darling," I whispered. Her fingers appeared, pressed against the gorged labia on either side pulled gently ... I watched ... her ravishing cunt opened like a beautiful pink flower. Tentatively, I reached out an exploring tongue ... quivering, dripping saliva onto Ellen's already flooded pussy. She heaved forward, bringing my entire mouth into contact with the luscious open flesh. I pulled back, teasingly, allowing just the tip of my tongue to come into contact with the erect clitoris ... just barely in contact ... quivering, tweaking lightly against the arrow of erectile cunt flesh. Her fingers pulled, stretching the lush opening even wider. My tongue was a vibrating, electric pussy probe, transmitting tactile shocks. With each millisecond contact, I could hear her moans, her fervid, soul-stirring hungry pleadings as my tongue moved downward and like a turgid mini-cock insinuated itself with thrusting rhythm; slithered in and out of her dripping love hole. I tongue fucked Ellen, as my hands reached around and cupped the firm melons of her ass cheeks. She spasmed when without a single note of warning she felt my index finger thrust brutally up her ass ... all the way! I fucked her anal passage slowly and as I buried my face completely into her sweet wet fuck-fruit I lost all perspective of where I was ... of the world ... of hijackers and suitcases filled with fortunes in green currency. Sucsucksucksucksucksuck ... gone was the reality of Smith and his two vibra-dildo bombs, of the aircraft, of the crew up forward, flying their course between Smith's checkpoints. I was zeroed-in, zonked out ... Cunt! Fresh, spicy, slimy, loving cunt! I took Ellen's clit into my mouth, suctioned it, fluttered my tongue hard against its swelling flesh. It was a living thing between my lips. Her hand rested on my head, pushing me down, down into her burning wet sex machinery as she fucked back into the finger I was twisting and plunging into her tight, rosebud ass hole!
From somewhere, somewhere out there I heard them, their two voices blurred together. Ellen, Fuck me! My ass, my cunt! Suck ... ohhhhh...."
Bob, "Eat her, Gaby baby...."
Ellen, "Yes! Ohhhhhyes, eat me! Eat me, Gaby."
Bob, "Look, Ellen ... look at her mouth on your cunt! God, it's so beautiful ... Open up your eyes and look, Ellen baby ... watch her suck you,"
Ellen, "Yessssss! Ohhh, she's so beautiful, Bob, she's soooo good. Ohhh, your cock! Jerk it off .' ... jerk it Bob, cum on me when I cum."
Bob, "In your mouth...."
Ellen, "No, I want to see it. I want to watch it shoot. Cum on my tits. Jerk off against my nipple ... here baby ... take my breast, I'll hold it for you! Ohhhh...."
Bob, "I'll shoot hot blobs of gism all over your fat tit., .yeahhh."
Ellen, "Jerk it, Bob! Jerk it ... jerk it off! Ohhhh, Gaby! Your finger up my ass ... fuck me baby, suck me and fuck me and suck me and fuck my ass!"
I felt Ellen building to her explosion. Her hips were rolling, her entire pelvic area a heaving undulating flesh mass. I shoved another finger up her tight anal canal and now there were two. My own cunt was pouring forth cascades of fuck-honey, dribbling a hot, sticky trail down my leg. I reached down and started to frig myself, running an index finger back and forth across my hardened clit. Everything was going at once, I was an undulating, sucking, finger fucking, frigging sex machine! Soon ... soon it was all going to happen ... the three of us were going to cum, to explode, to detonate cock foam and pussy juices all over one another ... NOW! I felt it happening with Ellen! I bit down lightly on her monstrous clit, feeling the shudders begin, the pulsing, throbbing signal of her orgasm. At the same time I felt it building and swelling in myself, like a hot cum bubble. As I erupted, I glanced up to see Ellen's hand furiously jerking Bob's cock against her fat, turgid breast. Her other hand was holding the tit tight up against his huge tool as with a series of spasmodic convulsions it spewed forth globs of creamy white slime onto her stiffened pink nipple. We were all cuming now! I held Ellen's clit firmly between my teeth and fucked into her ass furiously. Then, at the height of her convulsions, I stilled the two fingers in her anus, and bent them back and forth slowly, as if to scratch an internal itch. Bob's hot discharge was dribbling down from Ellen's breast onto her belly. I released her twitching clit and gradually worked my mouth up through her silken pubic hair. I was soon lapping Bob's pungent gism from her soft belly. I licked my way up to her breast, tasting the piquant sweet-salty syrup.
I felt Bob's hand on my quim, heard him say: "Gaby, kiss me baby."
I turned to him. "You like it, don't you Bob? The taste of gism."
"It was you who introduced me to it, Gaby."
"Come and get it ... you'll taste cunt juice also ... gism and cunt juice from the same mouth, Bob...."I kissed him deeply, probing his mouth with my tongue, while he licked my lips clean.
Smith's shrill voice whipped out over the engine sound and brought our erotic kiss to an abrupt halt. "Beautiful sight! Two bitches and a bastard!" He was standing in the aisle, four feet from us. He was naked, except for three large money belts strapped around his waist. There were two others strapped high on both thighs. He was slowly manipulating his flaccid, uncircumcised prick and smiling at us. "I liked the show," he said. "So much in fact that before I leave this crate I'm going to give one of my own. That was your idea Gabriel, remember?"
"Yes, it was my idea." Suddenly, as if faced with the reality for the first time, I was scared. I felt the aircraft turning, and glancing behind me out the door window I saw what I took to be Maracaibo sliding under our left wing. We were banking south.
"That's right," Smith said, noticing my reaction to the aircraft's change of course. "We're headed to our next checkpoint, a little village called Cano Chiquito, in Colombia. While we're at it, we're letting down slowly to my bail-out altitude of 4500 feet, just to bring you up to date." He continued frigging his soft tool.
"Where are you going out?" asked Bob.
"You'll never, know chum, you'll be on the flight deck-unless of course you're a bad boy and don't cooperate, in which case you'll go out with me ... except you won't be wearing a chute. That goes for all of you!" He grinned evilly. "As you can see, I don't need both hands to set off my little friends anymore, so don't get wise heroic ideas." Both bombs were now taped to his right forearm. We could see now that it was much easier for him than before, all we had to do was reach with his left, and twist the bottom of the fuse dildo. It seemed totally unreal to me that he would ever do so, particularly now when he was so close to freedom. Nevertheless, I knew that this was a very unreal personality, a psychopath. It's impossible to figure such people in this kind of reality situation. I shuddered as I felt the plane start to descend.
He ordered us out of the galley, keeping his distance. Then, going through the galley equipment, he found what he was looking for; it was a knife we used for slicing fruit. He now had a less universal weapon, a weapon with which he could be selective. We sat in the lounge and watched him open the suitcase and proceed to stuff the money into his large, commodidus money belts. As they filled up, he took on a grotesque appearance, his middle bulging grossly, his thighs, each one distorted with two tightly strapped stuffed money belts, gave him the appearance of a weird, semi-truncated elephant. When he finished the transfer, there were still some bills left over. He removed a folded lightweight nylon coverall from his attache case and quickly filled the large special pockets with the remaining cash. He laid the coverall aside with the obvious intention of donning it later. He looked up-at us with a satisfied expression, on his face which quickly turned into a leer when he spied a naked, hairless quim between my spread legs. I started to frig myself, casually, in an attempt to get him turned on again. I had no fear; his cock, which had been soft for the last ten minutes, sprung to iron hard, rigid attention.
"How much time have we got before you go out?" I asked, feeling Ms eyes on my wet pussy.
"Enough for what I have in mind, baby." His big prick was pointed straight at me. I watched, fascinated, as he pumped a small pearl of gismic lubrication. "There's an entire hour before you'll have to go onto the flight deck."
"I see," said Bob. "You don't want us in the cabin when you go out."
"That's right, bright boy," said Smith. "No one is to know the exact time I bail out. When I tell you to, you will all go onto the flight deck, shut the door and stay there for twenty minutes. At some point during that period I'll be saying goodbye, but you'll never know exactly when. In terms of navigation, if the Captain doesn't know when, then he can't possibly know where."
He seemed proud of his plan. Bob, an earnest, admiring expression on his face said, "Ingenious, really ingenious. I take it that's what the extra chutes are for?"
"Correct. You're not as stupid as I thought you were. I release them one at a time and if there are any homing devices folded into them it'll really fuck up the authorities ... right?"
"Brilliant!" Bob answered.
"They won't be sure of where I am. Our cruising speed will be reduced to 300 miles an hour when we cross the last check point, which means that within the twenty minutes we'll be covering over a hundred miles. That's a lot of search area to cover in a short period ... I'm not going to hang around, you know. That's rough country, it'll take them days ... and I'll be long gone."
He reached down, grasped his iron hard cock firmly and placed the knife next to him on the lounge table, motioning to Ellen. "Come over here, baby ... come here and suck my fat juicy cock ... your friend told me you're a great cock-sucker ... come here and prove it." Then to Bob; "And you, Mr. wise ass ... out of your clothes. I've got plans for you also!"
Bob and Ellen proceeded to do as ordered. I watched, my hand curled tightly around my steaming cunt.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - GABRIEL
Ellen spent five minutes licking Smith's big cock before finally taking the bulbous head into her warm mouth. I stared, my hand toying lightly with Bob's prick as Ellen's pink tongue slithered tantalizingly up and down the length of the hijackers rigid tool. I prayed silently that she would remember our plan, which was to keep Smith from cuming for as long as possible so that he would build to a monster orgasm; a tremendous release of tension that upon exploding would leave him vulnerable for a few seconds. I was concerned because despite herself and the conditions that prevailed, Ellen seemed to be lost in the sheer joy of sucking. Knowing her as I did, I was aware of the fact that with a cock in her, Ellen had a tendency to forget everything; who she was, where she was and what was going on outside her own little world of cock and mouth and cunt and tits and asshole! If she made Smith cum now, all was lost. Bob wasn't quite close enough to accomplish anything ... I tried everything ... I prayed and waited and watched. If she kept her head she'd be able to control him. A good, accomplished cocksucker can feel a man's orgasm approaching long before he finally spews out the creamy results. She can control the situation, pace her action, tighten up just under the head or at the cock root ... it's an art and both Ellen and myself were accomplished performers. It was simply a matter of not allowing oneself to become distracted.
Ellen was moaning deep in her throat as she slurped all around the fat cockhead. She licked just under the head, her tongue curled into a soft point. Smith's eyes were slits staring into mine. I glanced downward to see Ellen frigging herself. She was squatting, her hand was between her legs and from my position behind her, I could see fingers rotating slowly on her soft, wet quim. As I watched, an oily index finger crept back to her anal rosette and thrust all the way in. Ellen's succulent buttock ovoids quivered as she jerked them spasmodically in counter-rhythm to her fucking fingers, fingers that were now plunging in and out of her two throbbing love portals. Then, suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, she engulfed Smith's pulsing fuckstick in her hot hungry mouth! She took it all the way until her face was buried in his wiry, matted black pubic hair."
Smith began to piston his hips in and out, fucking Ellen's face with avid fury. He was sure to cum momentarily! Something had to be done! I released Bob's cock as he inched forward slowly, in order to be within striking distance when the moment came. Smith noticed, he screamed. "Stay where you are, you son-of-a-bitch!" He reached behind him and grabbed the knife, raising it over his head in a threatening gesture. Bob stepped back. Ellen, startled back to reality, had disgorged Smith's super-hard prick which waved, glistening with her saliva, in the tense air. He pushed her, she fell back on her rump, her mouth now empty of cock though still gaping open in fear and surprise. "Stay back, lover-boy ... I told you before to stay there! Try it again and I'll rip you open! I'll rip you all open!"
He was breathing hard but I was gratified to see that his prick had gone soft. Sooner or later, if my hunch was correct, Bob would be in a good position to overpower him. The idea was to have it happen during the moment of truth, when Smith's cock was spewing and he was at his most vulnerable. I crossed my fingers and prayed silently.
Smith seemed to calm down. With an evil grin leering from his smooth-skinned face, he crooked a finger at me. It was my turn! As I stepped forward, he made a circular gesture with his index finger. I turned and with my back to him, bent over and offered up my ass. But it was not my tight, puckered anus he targeted on. With one deft motion he plunged his fat fuck tool all the way into my unsuspecting pussy! In to the hilt! Instantaneously! Whomp! I didn't expect it, I wasn't, prepared for the sudden, brutal cuntal insertion! Because of our previous scene and the fuck-talk that had taken place, I was in the process of relaxing my anal muscles. My sphincter was ready for him but my cunt, though sopping with greasy lubrication, was not.
I had been struck by a powerful bolt of erotic electricity! Instant orgasm! Despite everything! The unexpected orgasmic shock passed through my body in screaming waves. I had been prepared to give Smith a cold and calculated screwing, holding him back from the peak building him up slowly so that when his final moment eventually arrived he'd be beyond reality. Instead I was bent over, my hands grasping my legs just above the knees, my ass undulating and thrusting back and forth hi wild abandonment! "Fuck me!" I screamed. "Harder! In my cunt ... harder!" My ass slapped against him, I could feel his balls crushing against my pummeling cheeks. All discipline was gone, I was a bitch in heat!
"Take it, cunt!" His voice was high-pitched, frantic. "I'm going to shoot in you ... Fuck it! Move your ass ... fuckitfuckitFUCKIT!"
"Ohhhhh yeah! Give it to me!"
"You want my load, baby? You want it?"
"Yesssss, give it to me!" I called out. "Shoot in me!" And then I realized with a deep shock what was happening! Quickly I glanced over at Bob and Ellen. They both stood, rooted to the deck. Ellen her eyes wide, stared at me as if hypnotized, her left hand idly diddling her dripping quim. Next to her, Bob, his prick extending like a rigid flagpole, clenched and unclenched his fists. He looked ready to spring and I wondered whether he could cover the eight or nine feet that separated us before Smith could recover from his orgasm. Meanwhile I fought to regain control of my own quivering body ... my fuck clouded, twitching, witless consciousness!
"Move your ass, bitch!" The strident voice behind me seemed to have jumped an entire octave. I pushed my ass back against him, feeling his wiry pubic hair mat up against my soft flesh. I rotated my rear while his convulsing cock remained fully engulfed, a fuck technique that precluded the pumping action which usually brings on a quick male orgasm. Nevertheless, Smith seemed to be digging it. Even as he pistoned back and forth I kept him firmly and fully implanted in my hot, twitching cunt, riding with him in both directions, rotating my ass to keep him interested but refraining from providing his rod with the kind of action that would aid in pumping the boiling gism out of his fat balls. He was building to a massive explosion, however, and the best I could do was to hold it off as long as possible in the hope that the longer the build-up the greater the detonation would be. The pressure was intense! I could feel it building in him as his hand, grasping the soft flesh of my waist tightened and loosened its grip with an ever-increasing spasmodic rate echoing the pulsing of the fat fuck meat encased in my rotating quim. Any second now ... I glanced over at Bob ... he caught my eye and I nodded, cueing him to get ready ... he was going to have to be fast, very fast! I was certain that Smith held the knife in his free hand ... Now, I abandoned my earlier technique, the moment of truth was arriving! I pistoned in counter-movement to Smith, causing his cock to draw almost completely out of my suctioning pussy and then slam home. I kept my hips rotating ... faster ... faster, my pussy was being reamed in a hundred different directions! Alternately I tightened and loosened my cuntal muscles ... I felt his first spasms....
"Smith, this is the Captain!" The deep, clear voice boomed out of the P.A. system: "We're approaching the checkpoint." I felt myself being shoved forward, felt the hard, fat prick suctioning itself out of my tight pussy ... plop...."If you'll check it out, you'll see Cano Chiquito on our starboard side. What now?" The Captain's voice had the effect of softening the cock which just an instant before was rampant with lust. I fought an irresistible tendency to break into a fit of hysterical laughter! The release of tension was so sudden that I found it hard to gain control of my own physical being. My body quivered, my hips undulated, my cunt continued its frenetic flutterings ... my fuck muscles persisted in their spasmodic contractions as if Smith's hard cock were still present! For more than just a few seconds my body was fucking ... fucking nothing! A snake with its head cut off, its body squirming, obeying reflex, nervous system commands ... I needed a drink!
I looked up to find Bob standing directly in front of me. He put a calming arm around my shoulders and smiled. "That was some performance, Gaby, he really had you going there for a few moments." My lips, of their own accord, ground against his.
"A very strange fuck," I said, resting my head on his shoulder. I could see Smith peering out a starboard window. He was obviously checking out the town of Cano Chiquito. I felt a soft hand on my buttock. It was Ellen. She kissed me lightly on the cheek and handed me just what I needed, a double shot of vodka on the rocks. A mind reader.
"Your ass is still twitching," she said. "I can feel it ... really feel it ... wow...."
"Let's change the subject, while we have the chance," I whispered. "We've got to get him soon.
"Yeah, I have a feeling we're running out of time," Bob answered.
"He still hasn't cum," Ellen whispered.
"I know," stated Bob, "He's got that big load in his balls. If there's tune...."
"We've got to turn him on, get him started again," I said, glancing down to see Ellen gently fondling Bob's hardening prick.
"If only I can get a little closer to him...." said Bob.
Smith motioned to us to leave the galley. We seated ourselves in the lounge as he called the Captain on the galley intercom: "This is Smith, over...."
"OK Smith." The Captain's voice possessed a cool, business-like tone as it was amplified throughout the cabin. "What now?"
"Turn due west. You are to hold that heading until you cross a river. It'll be the Meta River, check it on your map."
The aircraft banked sharply to the left and a moment later the Captain said, "Got it, this course will take us directly over a village called Puerto Nueyo."
"Right, that's where you hit the river. At that point your altitude should be 4500 feet, your speed 300 miles per hour."
"Roger."
"As soon as the river comes into sight, you are to notify me."
"Roger."
"And I want to repeat, once more; no one is to leave the flight deck. When we reach the river the people back here will join you and at that point, you are to fly straight and level for twenty minutes. Got it?"
"Roger."
"And allow me to use this moment to thank you all for a pleasant flight. Thank you all for flying World International!"
The voice of Bob Barns, our Flight Engineer, resounded through the cabin; "UP YOURS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Smith turned to us, the usual deadly grin on his face. "OK, who's going to volunteer to suck my cock?"
"Volunteer?" I asked. "All of a sudden you're mister nice guy, asking for volunteers?"
"Why not ... it's my going away present, how about that?"
"I'll volunteer," said Ellen.
"No fair, you've already had a chance," I said.
"OK ladies, let's not fight over my cock now...."
I stood up and walked over to him to hold his damp, stiffening prick in my hand. "Both Ellen and I have had a chance at this beauty...."
"Toss a coin," Smith said. "I'm sure we can find one somewhere."
"I've got a better idea," I said, cupping his sperm-filled balls in the palm of my hand.
"Make it fast, time is fleeting, and soon I must go bye-bye," he sneered.
"Well ... there's only one of us who hasn't had the opportunity to experience this magnificent tool." I hefted his now fully erect penis then proceeded to frig it slowly.
"I'd never have guessed!" exclaimed Smith. "What a great idea!"
All eyes turned to Bob. Would he? Here was our best opportunity to get him close enough to the hijacker. He smiled, and I knew. "I thought you'd never ask," he said.
"Welcome to the club," said Smith. "I dig it too. In fact, under other circumstances we could be a groovy sixty-nine."
"Yeah."
I stepped back as Bob moved forward. Smith held his own cock in his free hand. "One thing, old buddy," he said. "Hands behind your back ... got it?"
"Yeah."
"OK ... c'mere and suck my dick! I've got a big load and not much time."
Bob muttered, "Well, there's a first time for everything." He smiled at me.
Ellen grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly as we watched Bob, his hands clasped behind his back, kneel in front of Smith. Once again I felt the tension building. This was it! I glanced nervously at Smith's right hand, which rested on the table slightly behind him. Extending from under his clenched fingers was the glistening knife blade. Attached to his other wrist were the two bombs. Despite all this I felt a deep erotic thrill as without any preliminary licking Bob took the hijacker's rampant prick between his lips and then after just a moment's hesitation engulfed it! He literally swallowed the fat throbbing cock with one gulp!
"Suck it, you bastard!" groaned Smith through clenched teeth. He proceeded to piston his hips back and forth, fucking Bob's mouth with a slow deliberate rhythm, withdrawing his cock till he could see the bulbous head begin to emerge from between Bob's lips, then thrusting forward, feeding the massive instrument into its suctioning oral sheath.
Ellen, her voice just inches from my ear, breathed, "I've never seen one man give head to another."
"Does it affect you?"
"Really turns me on, Gaby ... that is, until I stop to think how much Bob must hate it."
"You sure of that?"
"What?"
"That he hates it?"
"Of course! I mean .' ... you don't think...." Ellen turned to me in surprise.
"Does it look like he's faking?" Bob's head was now bucking back and forth in counter-movement to Smith's plunging ass. His eyes were closed tightly, his adam's apple bobbing to the beat. Each time the hijackers cock filled his mouth his cheeks expanded like a trumpeter hitting a high note. I reached back and fingered Ellen's steaming cunt, which was sopping wet, boiling over with pussy foam. "Look at Bob's cock," I said. "Judge for yourself."
"It's hard, big and hard!"
We watched, fingering each other slowly and gently as Bob, with ever-increasing fury, fucked the hijacker's prick with his fervent mouth. Smith's buttocks were vibrating, a sign that the end was in sight. I tensed, released Ellen's slimy quim. "It's going to be soon," I said. "Get ready!"
"Suck it, man! Suck it!" Smith's voice was strident, a howl of approaching climax. "I'm gonna shoot in you ... suck it out of me! Suck my cock, suck it all!" He fucked into Bob's mouth a mile a second, while Bob rotated his head in tight circles, creating a double action like a woman does when she rotates her ass while being screwed. I took a second to admire his technique, marvelous for the first time out!
"Now man! Now!" screamed Smith. "Suck my spunk, you bastard!" All movement ceased as the hijacker rammed his tool all the way in. "I'm shooting! I'm cuming!"
I could see Bob's cheeks sucking in and out as he pumped the gism from the rampaging cock buried deep in his face. And then it happened! Smith, removed from all reality, forgot where he was! With both hands, he grabbed Bob's head and pulled him forward in order to force the last millimeter of cock even deeper. Faster than the speed of light, Bob reached up, grasped both the hijacker's wrists and pulled down sharply! Smith's still-spewing, saliva-coated cock was waggling in mid air? as Bob, with one quick fluid movement, using his head as a battering ram, caught him in the solar plexus. Smith went down like a sack of rotten potatoes, his abrupt shriek of rage segueing into a flatulent hiss of expelled air.
Our hijacker was on the deck, rolled up into a fetal position, gasping for the breath of life. Bob had a foot firmly implanted on Smiths left wrist, to keep him from setting off the dildo bombs taped to his right arm. I was there in a flash, calling to Ellen to retrieve the knife, which had so recently threatened us, from the lounge table. Breathlessly she handed it to me and I cut the tape, carefully laying the two deadly devices on the upholstered seat.
"Listen to me," Bob said. "Ellen, get some rope or belts or something, so we can tie him up ... You, Gaby, separate those two bombs as far as you can. One of them's the fuse for the other, so the further apart they are the better."
I complied, placing one bomb in the forward seat in first class and the other in a seat about three-quarters of the way down the aisle, in tourist. Bob tied the hijacker's wrist behind his back, and picked up the knife, placing the point against the gasping man's throat. "OK, Mr. Smith, whoever you are, the game is over now and time is fleeting." Bob's voice was pitched low, commanding. "I have a few questions and if you don't want to end up speared to the deck, you'll answer them."
Five hours and twenty minutes later, after a fuel stop in San Cristobal, Venezuela, Ellen, Bob, and three crew members and myself disembarked at the Miami International Airport. After a two hour interrogation by the FBI and a short press conference, we were comfortably ensconced in two large hotel rooms. Shortly after room service had picked up the remains of a much needed late supper, the three of us, barely able to suppress the hysterical laughter that had been building during the preceding three hours, unpacked our hand luggage. We laid out the results in neat piles on the bed. It totaled six-hundred and thirteen thousand dollars. There was another seventy two thousand contained in the money belt, strapped around Bob's waist. Later, we got out of bed and counted it again, just to make sure.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - BOB POTTER
I was busy for a few days depositing money in safe deposit boxes throughout Miami and Miami Beach. The girls were on official leave, and Sir Harry Flemming had been informed about our delay. He was holding the yacht in St. Thomas, waiting for us. There was a lot of publicity and a number of press interviews and FBI sessions. But in two days it was old news and we were on our own.
The whole thing had been Gaby's idea ... smart girl. She worked it all out. We let the hijacker go, after finding out his friends were waiting for him with a float plane to carry him and the money to safety in Brazil. We pushed him out of the airplane with over $31,000 stashed on him. Gabriel said, "Why be greedy? If he has a stake in the thing, then that's a good motivation for him not to get caught ... not to squeal, if he were angry enough or crazy enough to do so." We opened one of the chutes and sure enough it did contain a homing device. Assuming that all the chutes did, Smith was making a bad error in tossing them out the plane before he went out, though he couldn't very well toss them out afterwards. The authorities would know that the last chute was his. Simple. So what we did was toss the chutes from the aircraft, after he bailed out. All very close together, in an effort to confuse the time factor just in case the Captain clocked the exact time we showed up on the flight deck to wait out Smith's twenty minute order.
So now we have a lot of money between us. The girls say they are going to wait about six months and then quit. I suggested they stagger the times in order to allay any suspicion. Well, on to St. Thomas and the orgy cruise!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - GABRIEL
The cruise was lovely. Noel and I decided to get married while standing on the bridge watching the dawn come up over Montserrat. Bob found his level with the Flemmings. He got so carried away with The Circle that he actually proposed marriage to Betsy. She turned him down, but since he professed to love her and since he was the first to do so, Lord and Lady Flemming gave him their permission to take Betsy's virginity. We all watched the proceedings.
Earlier, one night off Jamaica, Bob was fucking Lady Flemming and on a whim, I brought Gerald to him. "Bob," I said, "Gerald would like you to suck his cock." Bob, looking flustered for a moment, obliged, taking Gerald's hard prong in his mouth, then mouth-fucking him to orgasm. As I say, Bob has found himself. He lives in London now.
Ellen and I pooled our money along with some of Noel's and purchased an island in the Carribean, off Tortola. We opened a small boatel and are doing well, in fact we almost have the mortgage paid off. The three of us sleep together in a big bed and every now and then, when some good looking boy who Noel digs comes sailing in, we add him to our bed population. Noel still likes a little of that now and then, and I like him to have it.
We spend one month a year in London as guests of the Flemmings. We fuck and suck our brains out for a month and then return home to our Island. Bob's writing is coming along fine. There is currently a big new book ... oh, and one other thing, Ellen is pregnant. We know that Noel's the father, but the kid's first name is going to be either Harry or Sarah.
