“You’re going to wear that poor thing out,” she said with a shake of her drying locks, and returned to her typing. “Another half hour, then watch out. I’ll screw that thing limp if it kills me. And what a lovely way to die.”
Wordlessly he sank to the floor, out of sight on the other side of the large Louis XIV desk. Suddenly she gasped with pleasure. Underneath the desk, he had hiked up her gown and buried his head between her legs. She clamped her thighs tightly around his ears, hoping to cut off his darting explorations. With a concerted effort she attempted to concentrate on the interview. His tongue lapped wickedly at her pussy, instantly inflaming it with an intense heat. The faster he tongued, the faster she typed. Soon her . fingers were flying, and she rushed to finish before all thoughts ceased and pure sensation took over.
She was fighting a losing battle when a discreet knock came at the hall door. She was so startled, she rasped, “Come in,” before she realized she had done so. The door opened and Caroline, her adorable downstairs maid—a fetching lass in a short black uniform—entered, carrying a yellow envelope on a silver tray. “Excuse me for interrupting, Miss Wildon,” Caroline said, glancing at Ricardo’s discarded swimsuit on the rug, “but this just arrived.”
Too heated to speak, Honey held out a trembling hand, grateful that the desk covered Ricardo’s lingual liberties. Shyly, Caroline approached and stood by the side of the desk, raising her knowledgeable eyes from Honey’s bountiful breasts. “Are you feeling well, Miss Wildon? You look terribly flushed.”
“I’m feeling sensational,” Honey managed to get out, and tore open the envelope. It was a telegram, and she extracted it with no small degree of apprehension. Before she could read it, a small groan of desire escaped her lips.
“Bad news?” Caroline asked with obvious concern.
Flustered by her own excitement, Honey glanced at the telegram’s message. It was one word. The word was SNATCH. “I pray not,” she murmured, and looked up at the lovely girl through glazed eyes. “That will be all for now, Caroline.”
“Very well, ma’am,” the girl said softly and, with a lingering glance, withdrew and closed the door behind her.
Clutching the disturbing telegram, Honey sank lower in her chair, pushing her flaming cunt deeper onto the eager face of the busy Ricardo. He had locked onto her love button with such urgency that she felt ready to dissolve in a conflagration of lust. “Oh, Ricky,” she gasped, and promptly flooded his face with joy juice. Paroxysms of pleasure wracked her torso and, eyes closed, she collapsed back into the chair, drained and released once more.
Recovering swiftly, she scooted upright. “Come out, come out, Ricardo. I have to leave at once.” That stopped him and, grateful for the cessation of cunning cunnilingus, she quickly composed in her mind the closing paragraph and typed it out, crossing her legs tightly to prevent any further interference.
He rose from the other side of the desk, grinning from ear to ear, his mouth still wet with her ambrosia. He smacked his lips appreciatively. “What you say?”
She ripped the last page out of her typewriter and switched the machine off. She had finished! And it was damn good, she was positive. “I must leave immediately.”
His grin faded rapidly. “Why?”
“My brother needs me,” she said.
Frowning with disappointment, he swore at length in Spanish. She rose, kissing him on the lips, tasting her own erotic residue. “I’ll drive you to the airport. If we have time, we can do it in the back seat in the parking lot. But, Ricardo, please hurry…”
2.
DIRK
From his work bench he grabbed the Hasselblad and snapped in the 50 millimeter, 1.7 lens. Checking the film’s ASA rating, he whirled to the nearly nude model lying on the expanse of white paper. The thick paper dropped in one continuous sheet from the giant roll on the ceiling rod two stories above, forming both the backdrop and the floor covering for his setup. With as much professional distance as he could muster, he eyed her through the new lens, feeling a decidedly nonprofessional stirring in his tight Calvin Klein jeans.
She was a sensational find, possessing an exquisite body and a magical, alluring face. Even as she stared back blankly into the camera, she projected a smoldering sensuality, an earthiness that reeked of carnality. Her incredible eyes hinted at untold secrets and a wildly lascivious nature. Black as coal, they dared him to make a move toward her. The invitation was so open, so boldly expressed, that Dirk was having a difficult time keeping his mind on the intricacies of his chosen profession.
He lowered the camera, vaguely aware that the Chuck Mangione tape on his reel-to-reel Tandberg deck was nearing the end. “Toni, let’s try a few with the blouse unbuttoned totally.”
She smiled seductively and sat up to do as requested. Wearing only white, French-cut bikini panties and a gauzy, see-through blouse of a soft tangerine color, Toni opened the last button, her gaze not wavering from his. Her rounded breasts leapt fully into view, their dark aureoles like another pair of tantalizing eyes egging him own. “How do you want me?” she asked, her voice as sultry as her obvious charms.
He swallowed, wtih difficulty. “Lean back on your hands, knees up. That’s it… now shift your shoulders… more toward me. Yeah…” He studied her through the lens. With her breasts pointing high, she looked as if she were offering them to the gods. And what an offering they were—full, round, perfectly proportioned, they reminded him of his sister’s—except that Honey’s were almost pure white, and Toni’s were the color of almonds.
Wanting more highlights on their soft fullness, he adjusted the “barn door” on one of the Fresnels behind him and, satisfied with the results, shot several more exposures. “Okay, slip off the blouse,” he said. Pretending nonchalance, he refilled her Baccarat goblet from the rare bottle of 1953 Schloss Eltz Trockenbeerenauslese. Shoeless, he squatted on the white paper to hand over the goblet. She took it with a grateful smile, looking up at him through her long black eyelashes. The come-hither glance piqued further the interest of his bird of paradise. For a long moment he could only stare back in anticipation, his mind racing ahead to explore the mysteries awaiting him. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.
“Much more relaxed than I thought I’d be,” she replied. “You make me feel quite comfortable, really.”
“Good. I told you it wouldn’t be difficult.” He tore his eyes from her dark-centered breasts and stood, making certain she caught a glimpse of the rising bulge in his jeans. Innocently he busied himself by changing the completed audio tape. The large Palladian windows behind him offered a stunning, panoramic view of the night-lit towers of the World Trade Center. “Any requests?”
“Whatever you like, I’m game for.”
“How ’bout a little Jean-Pierre Rampal?”
“What’s he play?”
“The flute.”
Toni giggled, her breasts bouncing provocatively. Hurriedly he racked up the new reel and switched it on. Soaring, lyrical sounds filled the large, nearly empty studio-loft. “Want any more weed?” he asked. “Snow?”
“Maybe later. That whiff is strong, huh?” She stretched her arms over her head, pushing her treasures up at him. “I can’t believe my very first photo session is with someone as well known as you,” she said coyly. “Ever since I saw that last layout in Esquire, I’ve always had a fantasy of posing for you.”
“See? Fantasies do come true.”
“Well… sometimes,” she laughed.
“Mind removing your panties?”
She hesitated, sudden doubt flooding her young face. Point of no return, he said to himself, and smiled encouragingly. Discreetly he turned his back and switched off the overhead spots, giving her time to adjust by herself. Only that morning he had discovered her, standing at a Park Avenue bus stop. With only one look, he had known she possessed that one quality for which he was constantly searching—pure feminine magic. It was an indefinable quality, something he had often tried to put into words but always had difficulty expl
aining. And yet he instantly recognized it whenever he saw it—a mystical allure, timeless, placeless, it went beyond mere physical beauty and transcended the normal definitions of feminine pulchritude. He prided himself on his ability to discover it, and credited his considerable success to his trained eyes. This beautiful young lady had never modeled before, yet when he had approached her, introducing himself by his card, explaining his desire for a session with her, she readily agreed. All this time he had thought it was his ineffable charm. Now he realized she’d known all along who he was.
He turned back to her and his bird suddenly took wing, fluttering valiantly to be free. Toni lay stretched out on her back, her breasts flattening into soft mounds, her long legs parted slightly, her black bush glistening like a satin pillow; one hand lay on a thigh, the fingers curved toward the unseen opening between her legs. “Perfection,” he said softly, and began snapping her pose from several angles, moving quickly from side to side, eventually standing near her head to shoot down the length of her womanly, arousing body.
As he snapped away, her hands moved to her breasts and she touched her dark nipples with intimate assurance, soon standing them to attention like dusky olives. His imprisoned bird jumped fully to life. “Open your legs wider,” he suggested, his voice hoarse with urgency.
Slowly she parted her thighs, and he quelled the desire to rush to her feet for a more satisfying view of what he had been longing to see. Instead he finished the roll with varying angles from her upper torso, framing several of the shots of her enticing bush between the hills of her large, puddinglike breasts. Changing to his fully loaded Nikon F3, he pushed down his straining bird and gulped the rest of his wine. He poured another glass and stole a glance at her.
Eyes closed, she had been busy on her own; one finger was tentatively exploring the furled opening to her vagina. Silently he moved to her feet and watched intently her digital dexterity. Delicately she was parting the umber-colored lips, revealing a slash of bright pink. He knelt and aimed his camera, quickly capturing several succulent shots too graphic for the kind of photos he allowed to be reproduced or published, but perfect for his own private collection. The more she probed, the more insistent his cock became, demanding the same personal attention she was giving her own genitals. Not wanting to alarm her, he refrained from whipping it out—but he continued to squeeze it inside his jeans while shooting shot after shot of the ever-widening tunnel in the black-covered valley. Soon he was flat on his stomach, aiming directly into the mouth-watering aperture, grinding his hardness onto the white paper. She had buried her middle finger deep inside to the second knuckle, and now withdrew it, bringing it to her mouth to suck the clinging moisture.
Accidentally he touched her foot and her eyes snapped open, searching for him with an unmistakable, unfocused gaze. It was lust if he ever had seen it. He grinned sheepishly and she opened her legs even wider. “What other equipment have you got?” she asked.
“Lots of mechanical gadgets,” he answered, scooting to his knees. “But my best piece is all natural.”
“Is it healthy?”
“And good for you,” he said, and placed his Nikon carefully to one side off the white paper.
She rubbed both palms over her thighs, bringing them down on either side of her black-fringed love trench. “Well, for heaven’s sake, bring it out. I’m all for anything natural.”
Pleased as punch, he unzipped his tight jeans and, with difficulty, extracted his full-grown bird. She raised herself up on her elbows to study it with a distinct smile of approval. “Well, bring it up here so I can test it,” she murmured.
Quickly he moved to straddle her trunk. His bird trembling, he waited expectantly for her next move. She took it in both hands; her touch was cool and assured on his heated, hard cock, which twitched as if straining to fly away. With maddening slowness she raised her mouth and repeatedly kissed its swollen head. Watching the exquisite, magical mouth mother his member, he struggled for control, wanting desperately to ram it deep into her throat.
Her luscious lips enveloped the knobby end, and he felt her tongue washing the underside, creating a dangerous tingling in his balls. She sucked it in, taking nearly all of it into the moist warmth of her willing mouth, then pulling it out again. “Not fair. I’m nude and you’re not,” she pouted. “You promised you’d do everything to make me feel at ease.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled and rose to his feet, shucking his jeans. After stepping out of them, he ripped off his socks and yanked off his Lacoste polo shirt. Nude, excited, he stood over her, his bird flying out from his groin at a hard angle. Her fingers had returned to her love canal, and he suddenly wanted to join them. Reversing his position, he placed his knees on either side of her neck and lowered his head to greet her pussy. Snaking his tongue out, he split her open like a ripe peach. She gasped, and he felt her mouth again clamp down on his prick, as if she were chewing beef ribs..
She tasted to him like Brazil nuts and smelled faintly of musk. The rippled edges of her twat led him directly to the hard island of her clit. Jamming it against his upper teeth, he flicked at it with his tongue, sending her hips into a squirm of delight. As she sucked on him, he teased and tormented her hard love button, pressing his nose deeper and deeper between the undulating walls of her juicy canal. Lost in the heady delight, he could have eaten her for hours.
Toni, however, was panting into his cockflesh, “I want it in me, I want it inside.”
Ever desirous to please, he jackknifed and aimed his bird for her love nest. Easing into her was like slipping into a tight, warm glove. For a moment he did not move, loving the sensation of being wetly enveloped, feeling the internal contractions milking at him. Lowering his weight fully onto her, he kissed her lovely face, closing her-eyes with his slippery tongue. Gradually he began to move his smothered bird, stroking slowly, drawing it nearly all the way out before plunging it deep again. Over and over he did this, raising ecstatic groans from her.
Raking his back with her fingernails, she clung to him, bucking her hips harder and harder, slamming their pelvises together, urging him on faster and faster. He picked up speed, his knees rubbing raw on the hard floor, his deep moans of pleasure mingling with hers adding a cacophony of vocal accompaniment to the Rampal tape bursting out of the Infinity Reference Standards speakers that had set him back twenty grand apiece.
The tingling in his balls hurled him quickly to the brink. He eased off the pace, wanting first to bring her ultimate satisfaction. He quickly realized he need not have been concerned, for she was screaming with release and he could feel great gushes of her liquids drowning his happy bird. Again he picked up speed, hurrying to his own destination, pleased with himself for achieving his two primary goals: first, to capture her magical essence on film, and second, to fuck the hell out of her.
He was just ready to explode with a magnificent orgasm when an all-too-familiar voice, disturbingly near, cried out, “Dirk, you bastard!”
He flung his head up toward the harsh-toned voice and caught sight of the flushed face of his beautiful sister bending over them. In delighted shock, his bird detonated inside Toni and he hollered in delicious agony, “Aghhh, Honey…” As he squirted his last feeble drops into Toni, he watched his sister spin on her heel and stride toward the living area. Her anger was as apparent as her gleaming, deep red hair.
It took several excruciating moments for him to extricate himself from Toni’s embarrassed embrace, explaining rapidly as he did that the unexpected intruder was merely his older sister. It was evident that Toni did not believe him. With cold, mechanical movements she gathered her far-flung clothes and marched into the bathroom. Relieved to hear the shower running, he hastily pulled on his Cardin robe of dark blue cashmere and padded toward the gorgeous figure sitting at the far end of the deep-cushioned, suede pillow-couch. In the otherwise dim area, a halo of light from the recessed fixtures overhead encircled her with brightness.
Honey did not look up as he approached, but conti
nued inhaling on the slim, hand-rolled joint. He could smell the sweet, thick aroma of sinsemilla.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” he said awkwardly, not knowing where to begin.
She snorted as if amused, and swung her gaze to him. “I could say the same to you, brother. Some emergency. I bust my buns to get here as fast as I can—fearing the worst, expecting to be met by tragedy and gloom. And what do I find? The pink ass of my horny little brother, frantically waving hello at me. I don’t know whether to be relieved or enraged.”
“It is an emergency, I swear,” he said, and sank down beside her. “I wouldn’t have wired you if it wasn’t serious, you know that.”
She exhaled a tired lungful of smoke, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized his face. “Well, it certainly can’t be too catastrophic if you still have the inclination to get your rocks off.”
He hung his head, guilty as charged. “I was trying to keep my mind off it. It’s the best way I know how…”
A bubble of laughter welled out of her, husky and warm, yet with a biting edge. “Dirky, why the hell the secret code? ‘Snatch’? That’s only for life-or-death emergencies, you know that.”
“It is life or death—at least I think it is. She begged me, pleaded, more with her eyes than her voice. She didn’t have time to say anything but, ‘Help me, please… help me.’”
“The beauty in your bathroom?”
“No. The girl in the park.”
She passed him the joint. “You’re talking to a reporter, not a psychic. Take a good hit and start at the beginning… as slowly as possible.”
He sucked in the sweet smoke, held it, and began speaking through clenched teeth as deliberately as he could. “Last Sunday I was in Central Park with my Nikon and the 850 telephoto lens. And this incredibly sweet-faced, super-sensational blonde—no more than sixteen, seventeen—captured and held my eye. She was everything I’m always looking for.”
Honey nodded wryly. “I should have known it was a beautiful lady. So what happened?
The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey Page 2