by Silke Ming
“It said that I’m about to devour your sweet, wet pussy.”
“Do it,” she pleaded.
“Raise your knees,” he said, pushing his shoulders under her thighs.
He noticed that she was still staring into the mirror.
“Are you turned on by what you see in the mirror?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Balanced on his elbows, between her thighs, he ran his rough tongue across her clit and down to her opening. One broad quick lick! The roughness of it against her swollen and sensitive parts forced her hips up to his mouth. He spread her legs even farther and sucked her sweetness, and she continued to watch his every move. He moved to her entrance and circled it with his tongue. She opened her mouth in a silent cry, as his fingers plunged deeply into her. Once again, their dazed eyes met in the mirror.
“Feel it,” he said, pushing her hand to his greedy cock.
“Put it inside me,” she begged.
He stood up and pulled her to him, and, taking his cock in hand, he gently fondled it. All the way down to his tight balls and then up again, while staring into her clenching entrance. She stared at the mouth-watering goodness he exhibited, and ran her tongue along her lips in anticipation. Then, widening his stance, he rubbed his broad crown around the entrance to her inviting pussy. Crying out, she lifted her hips and pulled him down to her.
“I’m going to give you what you want,” he said, rubbing his cock against her clit and setting her on fire.
“Beg me for it,” he ordered.
“Put it inside me,” she gasped.
He inched his shaft into her, just to the crown, steadily moving it around and around. Suddenly he withdrew and plunged it in again. Deep! They moved together in unison, neither one missing a beat. Pulling her legs apart, he positioned his hands on her knees and plunged his cock deep inside. “Talk to me, Summer. Do you like me fucking you?”
“Yes, Seamus. Yes.”
“Like this?” he asked, plunging his cock even deeper.
“Yes,” she groaned.
He pulled it out slowly, watching her face closely as he did so.
“No,” she begged. “Keep it inside.”
In and out, he kept teasing her until she could no longer hold back the orgasm brewing in her womb. Groans and ripples of satisfaction overtook her, and her body shattered like a fine piece of bone china.
“Yes, Summer, let it out. Tell me how you feel. Tell me what you want.”
Her convulsing muscles tightened around his thick prick, her hips grinding into his as words of passion flowed from her lips.
“Yes, move for me,” he shouted, as she shoved her hips up to meet his.
Her eyes closed tight, she exploded around his cock, clutching it with her tight muscles. Spasm after spasm pervaded her body, until she sunk into the mattress, totally depleted. He lifted his body from hers, and a drop of perspiration fell from his face onto her breast, which he immediately licked away. His wet, auburn hair clung to his forehead and onto his face. He stared down at her, unable to move, as her legs securely fastened around his waist, held him prisoner.
“Happy Birthday, Summer,” he said, smiling. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He turned on his side and pulled her to him.
“Would you marry me, Summer?” he asked, cupping her face.
“You can’t marry me or anyone else for that matter, Seamus. You are still a married man.”
“Not anymore,” he said, as his flaccid penis slipped slowly out of her.
“What are you saying?”
“I’ll show you,” he said, cupping his wet penis and picking his jacket up from the floor.
He handed her the letter he had received in the post then picked up a towel, which he moistened. He spread her legs and wiped her clean while she read the contents of the letter.
Chapter Seventeen
“So will you be my wife?” he asked.
“Of course I will marry you, Seamus.”
He hugged her and pulled her close.
“There is one person who will be happy about this,” he said.
“Who?” she asked.
“I was thinking about our housekeeper. She likes me and she likes you. At a time like this, I can’t help but think about my mother and wonder whatever happened to her.”
“You know a detective. You should turn it over to her. It seems to bother you, so you should start searching for her.”
“This is not the time for sad thoughts,” he said. “Look at him. He is ready again.”
“Greedy fellow,” she said, laughing.
“Can’t blame him. He knows a good thing when he sees it.”
She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, her nakedness reawakening all his senses.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To take a shower.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
As the water thundered down on them, they explored each other’s bodies, touching, feeling, tasting, and savoring the different smells. Aroma of bath gels, cologne, and musk! Standing in front of the mirror, he stood behind her and hugged her. Her body rebounded back to life from his gentle touch. She turned her head and kissed him and he returned it, long and passionate.
“I’m ready if you are,” he said, as his hands teased her nipples.
“It’s time to sleep,” she replied. “It’s after one o’clock in the morning.”
“It’s still your birthday and you accepted my marriage proposal. There are a hundred reasons to celebrate.”
He took a towel and dried her body, paying special attention to the intimate parts he knew would cause her to melt in his arms. Her body writhed under his expert fingers, and soon she was responding to his touch. He guided her from the bathroom and pushed her gently across the bed. He caressed her breasts until her nipples were taut. He lashed his tongue around the first one and her body froze in midair. He then caressed the second one, pulling them both together, nipping and gnawing each one.
Summer watched as his head moved from left to right and right to left, the excitement of it making her dizzy. She groaned, deep groans of pleasure, as his roaming hands started a downward trek. He took his overripe erection in hand and massaged it, all the while staring into her eyes. Just the sight of him shamelessly manipulating himself made her hungry for him. The thick veins of his cock jutted out prominently until they disappeared down under his tight testicles. He stretched out beside her on the bed, his head resting beside her knees, and his prick so close to her lips. Such a magnificent beast! She wondered how anything that looked so fierce could provide such intense pleasure. Her thumb circled the crown, wiping away the glistening juice which had settled on the tip, and a finger explored the thick vein which ran the full length of his succulent member. Propping herself on an elbow, her tongue followed the same route her finger had just travelled. He moaned, pushing his body closer to her.
“I like that,” he murmured.
“One moment,” he said, jumping up and pulling something from his overnight bag and placing it on the night table.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Please continue,” he said, pushing himself close to her face.
She ran her tongue up and down his shaft, stopping only to tantalize the tip. He turned on his side and positioned one of her legs over his head for better access then settled in for the ambrosia, which lay only inches away from his exploratory tongue. He opened the mysterious bottle, which he had placed on the nightstand, and with one finger, he lathered her sweetness with honey. He sucked longingly on his finger then turned his attention back to her. He lapped at her pussy, opening her swollen lips and moving his tongue to her entrance. Her body gyrated to his touch, making him lick her even harder, and with long, slow, calculated strokes, his ruthless tongue worked its way from her clenching opening, upward to her throbbing clit, removing all traces of the honey. He spread her lips apart, and the tip of his tongue weave
d its way into the valleys beside her clit, licking and sucking her. Muffled sounds emanated from her. She closed her legs around his head and moved to the rhythms of unheard music.
“Deeper,” he begged, pushing his hips closer to her face.
He was now lying on top of her, his fingers holding open her throbbing pussy while he licked and continued to assault her sensitive clit. His hips high in the air, and his shaft deep inside her mouth, he continued to thrust, turning his head to stare in the mirror at the erotic scene. He turned around, lowered his head, and impaled her with two fingers. Smacking sounds, popping noises, moans, groans, and cries of surrender overtook the quietness of the room. It was pure erotica as they both devoured each other.
“Ye-s-s-s-s-s,” she called out, as the tip of his tongue worked its way inside her and his thumb massaged her clit.
“Are you coming?” he asked, raising his head.
She did not reply. Her body stiffened, and she lifted her hips. His head sunk deeper into her, and he licked her into submission. In her sweet agony, her teeth nipped the crown of his cock. He pulled it away from her lips, but continued to service her, until she came with an earth-shattering orgasm.
“Was it good?”
“Yes,” she whispered, as she lay sprawled wide open across the bed, exhausted.
He moved his lips to hers and kissed her deeply, his hand stroking his thick erection.
“What should I do with this?” he asked.
“Put it in my mouth,” she replied, staring at it.
He straddled her face and embedded his pulsing cock between her lips. At first it was just the crown, then an inch, and another inch, until she had consumed his full length. He withdrew to the crown and slowly slid it in again. His body stiffened and she held him tight.
“I want to feel it deep inside you,” he said, quickly moving to his knees and positioning himself in front of her delicious pussy.
He thrust himself into her, withdrawing and then plunging himself in again and again.
“Oh God,” he called out, as sweet pangs of orgasm coursed through his body.
Soon his juices were slithering slowly down her sensitive walls, escaping through her vagina. His body continued to spasm, and he soon slumped on top of her. Only after his penis slipped out did he lift his body from hers, totally exhausted.
“I love you,” he said, hugging and squeezing her until she was almost breathless.
“We should get some sleep for the long drive home.”
“I want more of you,” he said.
“Uhhh,” she murmured, almost in dreamland.
* * * *
Although the roads were free of snow, it was still a long ride back to Whitney. Seamus drove ahead, constantly checking the rearview mirror for her progress. She was a good driver, but the car was new to her and he wanted her to be able to handle the vehicle efficiently. They were both relieved when the town of Whitney was within view. It was shortly after twelve when they turned onto the driveway at Port Collier Road. They climbed out and entered the home, not noticing that Millie’s pickup truck was not there.
“Millie, where are you?” Seamus called out.
When there was no response, he went to the door and looked out. Her vehicle was not there, but there was a bouquet of flowers on the coffee table and a well-stocked fridge for the coming weekend.
“I wonder what happened to her?” he said out loud.
“Perhaps out shopping,” Summer said.
He checked the mail on the table, and finding nothing of importance he took it to the studio, threw it on the desk and turned on the computer. He checked his e-mails and found there was one from Jean-Louis Baston.
“Summer,” he called out. “Jean-Louis has finally replied to my e-mail.
Hello Seamus and Summer,
I must apologize for not replying to your e-mail, but I was really busy. There are many tourists in Tahiti right now and I’m doing lots of flying between the islands.
When are you returning to Tahiti? It was really great to meet the two of you and I hope I will see you soon again. Hoana has departed for France. She met someone else and left with him. I guess I couldn’t give her exactly what she wanted at this time. Anyway I wish her all the best. She did come to see me before she left and I gave her my blessing. I know it was what she wanted. Hope you are both well and let me know when you are returning to Paradis.
Jean-Louis
“Just imagine that,” said Summer. “She has actually left him.”
“It was just a matter of time,” Seamus replied. “They both wanted different things.”
“He will find someone else. He is handsome and talented,” said Summer.
“He is also wealthy. He’s got that Gaugin painting.”
“He will survive. Men always do,” Summer replied, kissing his cheek and walking out of the studio
Seamus stared at the painting he had started before he had left for Sloane. It was a winter scene, which looked exactly like that outside his home, and after reading Jean-Louis’s e-mail, he was no longer in the mood for painting. He started to open the mail Millie had left on the table, all the while the contents of Jean-Louis’s e-mail going through his head. He thought of his good fortune in finding a woman like Summer. She was intelligent, beautiful and most of all, she loved him. He pushed his chair back and glancing up, his eyes fell on the back of the painting of his father, which he had temporarily stored behind the desk. He stared at it, wondering what he should do with it, when his eye caught a strip of white paper pasted onto the back.
What’s that? he wondered.
In his haste to remove it from its place of prominence, he hadn’t noticed the strip of paper. He got up and slid it from behind the desk. It was an envelope which had been glued to the backside. He opened it and stared at the contents. There was a key and a note inside.
My dear Seamus,
When you read this note, you will be a man in the later years of life. I want to explain to you the circumstances which led to the disappearance of my wife and your mother. When you open the trunk, everything will be clear to you.
Your father,
David Balsam.
His thoughts turned to the trunk. The trunk Toby had joked about the previous week when he was there. It was the same trunk which his father had left in the small alcove above the garage. He had never had any interest in the piece of furniture and never had any desire to open it and investigate the contents. Why had he done it in such a roundabout way? His blood pounded in his veins and he suddenly felt afraid. What information had he hidden in the trunk? His thoughts were disturbed when he heard voices below. Millie had returned, and she and Summer were talking.
“Seamus, what are you doing up there?” Summer asked.
“Be right there,” he shouted back.
He folded the envelope, stuck it in his pocket, and slid the painting back behind the desk. He stood on the uppermost landing and listened to the two women laughing. Summer seemed happy, and so did Millie.
“So where were you earlier?” he asked Millie.
“I forgot to get eggs for the weekend, so I had to make a quick trip back to Port Collier.”
“Are you all right?” asked Summer, turning to Seamus. “You are as white as a sheet.”
“Yes,” said Millie. “You look a little peaked. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, taking a seat at the table.
“Well, children,” said Millie. “I must be off. Enjoy your weekend and enjoy your dinner.”
“Is it that time already?” asked Seamus, lifting the cuff of his sweater and staring at his watch.
They watched as Millie put her coat on, lifted her basket, and went out to her pickup truck. The engine roared and she was gone until Monday morning.
“You don’t look like the man I slept with last night. The man who bared his body and his soul to me. Tell me what happened since we came back here.”
He took the letter from his pocket and hande
d it to her.
“Where did you find this?” she asked.
“It was stuck to the back of the portrait. I don’t understand why I hadn’t noticed it when we took it down.”
“Was that the same weekend the boys spent here?” she asked.
“Yes. Toby helped me to remove it and neither one of us saw this letter,” he replied.”
“What did he mean by, you will be a man in the later years of life?”
“I told you he said the portrait shouldn’t be removed until I moved from the home. I guess he was under the impression that I would adhere to his wishes and never remove it, until I was old and feeble.”
“This is quite astonishing,” said Summer. “Are you ready to look inside the trunk?”
“I don’t know.”
“When you are ready, let me know. I will help you.”
“Why prolong the agony?” he asked. “Let’s have a look and see what secrets are hidden inside.”
Chapter Eighteen
Together they lifted the old trunk and set it down on the floor. He pulled the old rusty key from his pocket and stared at her, then inserted it into the keyhole of the steamer trunk. It refused to budge.
“Maybe a little oil will help,” he said, dashing out of the little storage room and downstairs to the garage.
He returned with a small can with a nozzle and dripped a bit of oil into the lock and a bit on the key. After a few minutes of trying, there was a click. The trunk was now about to divulge its secrets. He stared at her before lifting the lid. She blew the dust away and he timidly lifted the lid. Lying on the top was a green piece of fabric, the significance of it he didn’t know, so he tossed it to the side. The photo of a little boy with red hair was the first thing they saw.
“Is this you?” Summer asked.
“I don’t know. It could be,” he replied, staring at the photo for a few seconds and continuing his search.
“I’m sorry, Seamus, but he seemed like a really strange man. Imagine going about this in such a strange and cruel way.”
He didn’t hear her. His focus was on the photo of a woman in a swimsuit, wearing a broad hat.