After the lesson, Honey returned to her room to await anxiously the return of the guards. When she heard the sedan pulling into the drive, she slipped downstairs, hoping to overhear their report to Henri, but the three men took a long walk on the deserted beach. Honey watched from the wide, covered veranda, desperate to know of their impending plans. Later that day, as the sun was sinking into the darkening sea, she was surprised to receive an invitation to join Henri and Kolina for dinner. The rarity of the occasion only increased her wariness. Throughout the many courses of the huge meal, she spoke only when spoken to and in general remembered her subserviant position. The caldareta-a thick stew of chunky lobster meat-was delicious, as were the many wines and the dessert of fresh kumquats drowning in heavy cream laced with Cointreau, but Honey barely tasted the rich fare. All she could think of was Dirk and the fate that awaited him. Complaining of a severe headache, she withdrew early to her room.
She slipped into her most revealing negligee, a sheer gown of icy blue, and waited until she could hear the guards going into their room down the hall. Throwing a plain robe over her shoulders, she padded over and knocked on their door. Tweedledum answered, his youngish face registering complete astonishment. Honey brushed past him into the room. Tweedledee, the head guard, clad only in a towel around his waist, eyed her from the open bathroom door, his muscular, hairy body like a hard exclamation point. She smiled invitingly. “Pardon me, but I am greatly concerned,” she began in French, all aflutter. “Kolina tells me there is a man in the village who has followed her around the world. I think she’s in danger.”
The head guard replied in his usual surly manner, “Do not concern yourself with our business.”
“But I am concerned,” she protested. “What does Monsieur Bouscaral intend to do about this man?”
The head guard laughed derisively. “Go back to your books.”
She turned pleadingly to the younger, who was eyeing the rise and fall of her unfettered breasts under her robe. “Please, I want to help. Where is he staying? Perhaps I I could go tell him he’s upsetting my charge and to please leave.”
“You want to help us?” the young thug asked with a leer.
“Yes, yes… anything.”
“Show us your tits,” he ordered.
Protectively she crossed her arms over her breasts. “I do not understand,” she murmured, as if shocked. “How can that help?”
The head guard wiped his wet hands on the towel around his waist, pulling it up high to reveal a muscular thigh. “You think you’re better than us, no?”
“Of course not,” she said defensively.
“Then how come you never talk to us,” the second guard said with a sneer. “Or let us be friendly?”
“I…I didn’t think you wanted to be friends,” she replied.
The head guard, his squashed face full of expectations, walked slowly to her, rubbing his hard, hairy stomach. “We want to be friendly, see?” Chortling, he grabbed his cock.
The younger guard laughed uproariously and began tearing off his clothes, throwing them around the room. “Yes, yes, we want to be your friends.”
She edged back toward the door. “Friends trust each other. Prove you trust me and I’ll be your friend. Tell me where the man who is after Kolina is staying.”
The head guard continued to rub the growing lump under his towel. “You prove first. Take off your robe.”
She eyed them for a long moment, weighing her options, then slowly slipped off the robe. She stood before them, her luscious body displayed under the sheer nightgown. The eyes of the guards bulged with surprise. “Mon Dieu,” the older one muttered.
The younger guard, who was down to his white briefs, shook his head disbelievingly. “All this time, and we never knew you had tits like that,” he pouted. “You’ve been hiding them from us.”
“And you both are still hiding what you’ve got from me,” she teased. “Come on, boys, don’t be shy. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Like marionettes controlled by the same strings, the head man dropped his towel, the younger ripped off his shorts. Deliberately she studied their fast-growing equipment, a faint smile of recognition on her lips. Then, with studied nonchalance, she tugged her negligee over her head and tossed it aside. Their eyes were glued to her hairless pussy, and slowly she ran her hands over her full breasts, which jutted out like snow-covered peaks.
“How come you’re bald down there?” the younger asked, licking his lips.
“I like the feel of it,” she said coyly, and thrust her shaven pudendum at them. “Want to pet my pussy?”
As one they pounced on her, their hands grabbing at her clean-shaven mound of Venus. “Easy, boys,” she urged. “There’s plenty for all.”
Their hard pricks, thick and stubby, poked into her thighs as they continued stroking her bounteous treasures. In spite of the circumstances, she felt a rising heat within her. Other than the one session with Kolina in the Tahiti sauna, she had been totally celibate for days and days. Grasping one of their hot dongs in each hand, she began pumping as they stood on either side of her. Each had a finger in her snatch, one jabbing her button of lust, the other delving deep into her cunt.
A wet mouth fell forward onto each of her breasts, and they jabbed and sucked as if there, were no tomorrow. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror across the room-Honey sandwich, her alabaster body clamped between two hairy apes. Their attentions to her long-denied body were creating an insatiable desire deep within her. Her legs began to tremble, and joy juice began to flow readily. She gasped and tried to maneuver them across to one of the beds. They clung to her by mouth and fingers as she inched forward, not missing a stroke on their blunt, hard tools. With a cry, she threw herself forward onto the bed, bringing both down with her.
In a tangle of arms and legs, she thrashed, trying to find a comfortable position. They were still sucking her tits and fingering her apertures, thrusting their penises into her hands with driving hips. She longed for one of them inside her and rolled on her back, opening her milky thighs wide. At once the head guard positioned himself between her legs, aiming his thick shaft and plunging it into her. At the familiar but never dull sensation, she groaned with satisfaction-then choked as the younger guard stuffed his hot dick into her open mouth and pumped like a rabbit.
Soon this younger guard pulled out of her mouth and scooted down, pushing her and the older guard over on their sides, freeing her soft white ass. She felt the young guard’s hot cock, slick with her own saliva, poke at her anus. She forced those muscles to relax and let him ease into her. Squeezed between the two hairy guards, one in her cunt, the other in her ass, she rocked back and forth with them, relishing the feeling of being completely filled again. They grunted and sweated on her, seesawing her between them. She was just getting into the swing of things, settling down for a long, satisfying ride, when the older guard popped a puny climax, followed at once, as if on direct orders, by the younger guard in her asshole. Not even bothering to bring her to climax, they yanked their stubby dicks out of her, jumped off the bed, and headed for the bathroom, congratulating each other on a fine fuck.
Shaking with her own unreleased tensions, she followed and found them sharing a large shower stall, with several jets of water streaming from all sides. Over their protests that they were going to be late, she slipped in between them. They ignored her and she finally lay down on the wet tiles, putting her open legs up on one of the walls and positioning herself so that one of the hard jets of warm water was aimed directly at her clit. Bouncing her hips at the sensational feeling, she quickly brought herself to a rousing climax, her squeals of pleasure echoing off the tile walls. The two guards busily soaping their bodies, stared down, mouths ajar, at this hot French teacher who did not need a man to get off. Then, with a smirk, Honey bounced out of the shower without even a goodbye.
In her own room, she hurriedly toweled off and dressed in her darkest clothes. Locking her door from
the inside, she clambored out the open window and carefully crawled along the wide ledge until she gained the safety of the upper veranda. Once there, she stood and ran down the exterior stairs to the garage. Crawling into the back seat of the dark sedan, she threw a lap robe over herself and waited. Not long afterwards, she could hear the two guards approaching, then climbing in, the auto starting and heading for the village. Holding herself as still as possible, she listened to the two thugs congratulating themselves on finally “fucking the shit out of that stuck-up piece of ass.” The younger one made a disturbing comment, however, saying he thought the schoolteacher was a hell of a lot like that hot bitch who had blown them in the Jockey Club’s first-aid room.
As soon as the car had parked and the two guards exited, Honey waited for several moments, then carefully crawled out. The sedan was parked deep in the shadows, in an alley next to a Moorish-looking hotel. In the distance a band was playing raggedly. At the alley entrance she spied the two guards strolling around the corner. Taking a penknife from her purse, she quickly jammed it into a rear tire, and as soon as the air started escaping, she ran toward the brightly lit street and slowed, checking their whereabouts. The pair were entering the hotel by the main entrance. She hesitated, wondering how she could get to Dirk before they did. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she pulled up abruptly-the guards were leaving the hotel. With a dash, she made the shadows of the alley. They passed by her so close she could have spit on them. As they moved on, one pulled out of his jacket a nasty looking snub-nosed revolver, flipping it open and examining the cylinders before packing it away.
Honey started after them, sticking close to the buildings. The band music drew closer, sounding more spirited. There were quite a few stroller’s about, well-dressed tourists and locals out for their evening promenade. She fell in behind one group who all spoke in Scottish brogues. The guards were half a block ahead, skirting a large plaza-like park, in the center of which a small military band was blasting forth. A large crowd had gathered and she could see the guards lingering by a tree, focusing their attention on one section of the audience. She scanned the crowd in that area and saw him at once. Dirk’s sandy blonde head towered over the others nearby. Her heart jumped into her throat. The Scottish tour disbanded, some moving into the park to listen, others continuing on up the street. She inched closer to the martial music, trying to think of a way to warn him. The music was so loud, with a heavy emphasis on brass and drums, that she was positive a gunshot would barely be heard.
Keeping a steady eye on the guards lounging against the tree trunk, she rummaged in her purse and found a scarf, which she tied around her head and under her chin. With that minimal disguise, she began moving in a heavy manner, changing her walk as much as she could, head down, as if weary from long hours working in a factory. Closer and closer she moved toward Dirk, fighting the desire to run to him. She glanced up to locate him, and cursed under her breath. He had moved off by himself and was standing at the rear fringes, surveying the crowd, his tall frame a perfect target.
She was fifty feet away when she detected movement from the guard with the gun. He had taken off his jacket, bunched it around the pistol, and laid it across his arm, propped on the tree trunk. He was aiming directly at Dirk! She shouted, “Dirk! Duck, dammit!”
He whirled in surprise toward her voice just as the pistol cracked. The bullet must have just missed his head by inches, for he immediately dropped to the grass. But he was searching for her. She started running toward the other end of the park, shouting over her shoulder, “Soon!”
She ducked into the crowd, and it was several precious moments before she emerged on the far side. It took her still more time to locate a taxi. Urging the old cabbie to drive as fast as he could, she collapsed into the back seat, her heart still pounding like the bass drum in the park. Outside the entrance to the isolated villa, she paid the driver handsomely and darted through the thick foliage to the beach. Once there, she skirted around to the front of the villa and noiselessly made her way up the outside stairs. The squeal of tires on gravel announced the hasty return of the guards. They’d been faster changing the tire than she had hoped. Scrambling along the ledge on her hands and knees, she climbed in through the open window and stripped off her clothes, climbing into bed just as the door was thrown open.
The overhead light flashed on, and there was Henri, in his bathrobe, flanked by the suspicious guards. She feigned sleepiness and asked groggily, “What is it, Monsieur Bouscaral?”
He cast a glance at her open window and at her clothes strewn about on the floor. “Get up. At once!”
“What is it?” she asked, and hauled herself out of bed, covering her nudity with a large corner of the sheet.
Henri whirled to the older guard, demanding, “Are you sure it was she? Positively?”
The head guard shrugged in confusion, looking to his companion for confirmation. The younger one was equally at a loss and muttered, “The taxi on the road back. It could have been-”
Henri glared at her. “Why are you breathing so hard, as though you’ve been running?”
“I’m frightened, sir… what is this all about?”
Her acting must have been better than she thought, for he waved his hand in agitation. “Get packed. We’re leaving at once.” With that he pushed the two guards out of her room, grumbling at them for having failed their duties. Relieved, she sank to the bed and tried to recover her equilibrium. Only one thing was certain in her mind, but it was enough. Dirk was safe. That was all that mattered.
16
HONEY
Rented in Iquitos by Bouscaral, the splendid, 159-foot private yacht chugged slowly down the moonlit Peruvian Amazon. At the aft deck rail, all by herself, Honey watched the moon’s reflection in the inky black water. Along the riverbanks the dense jungle pressed close; twisting vines overhung the sluggish waters. Occasionally, lights from the passing yacht would flash on the glowing eyes of animals hidden in the thick foliage, and she recalled some of the captain’s list of wildlife in the area, which included monkeys, tapirs, ocelots, and caimans.
Under different circumstances, Honey would have treasured the experience, luxuriously cruising the headwaters of the world’s longest river, surrounded by some of the most primitive and fastest disappearing jungle on earth. However, on this night she felt imprisoned in a floating cell, the infamous Henri Bouscaral her jailor.
Honey’s nerves were strained to their limit. Only her strong willpower and self-discipline had kept her from cracking thus far. Though the night air was heavy with the scent of tropical flora, all she was aware of was an overwhelming desire to protect the vulnerable Kolina.
Without warning, the bright moon suddenly blackened and the skies released a torrent of rain. Drenched instantly, Honey ran through the warm rain to her cabin on the upper deck. No sooner had she slipped out of her clothes to dry off when a piercing scream shattered the night’s stillness. It was Kolina, she was positive.
Hastily, Honey pulled on a robe over her bare form and dashed down the covered exterior corridor toward the continuing and rising shrieks of fear. Without bothering to knock, she burst into Bouscaral’s cabin suite and froze in shock at the bizarre scene that greeted her.
A naked, tumescent Bouscaral stood at the foot of the large bed, on which lay a deliciously nude Kolina. Between the girl’s supple thighs knelt a wizened, grizzled, and equally naked native man, as brown as a berry and as stringy as catgut. Proudly and with great determination he was attempting to enter Kolina’s cunt.
But this was not what Honey found so strange. Her gaze was fixed in riveted fascination upon the elderly Indian’s groin-from which sprouted two erect and quivering penises!
Honey shook her head, blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. No, the strain of the past days had not sent her over the edge; the old man did, indeed, possess twin cocks, equal in size though somewhat smaller than average, each as dark as mahogany, with a leek-like head. At once Honey knew that this was the
sole reason for Bouscaral’s hurried flight to this remote part of the world; he must have heard about this amazing old man through the underground grapevine of seekers of the unusual.
The proud possessor of this anatomical oddity was grinning toothlessly, completely unaware of Honey’s uninvited presence as he thrust his duplicate dicks at the poor girl’s passionless portal.
For her part, Kolina was too disoriented by the double assault to take note of Honey’s arrival. But not Bouscaral. He glanced up, first startled, then enraged. “Get out!” he barked.
Thinking quickly, Honey stepped forward with a seductive smile. “Oh, Monsieur Bouscaral,” she pleaded in a throaty voice, “since Kolina is so frightened, please let me take her place, I beg of you. The very thought of being pierced by this gentleman’s odd couple reduces me to a quivering mass of arousal.”
He stared at her as if she had just volunteered to fling herself overboard for a skinny-dip in a school of piranha. “You want to fuck this old man?” he asked in obvious disbelief.
“Oh, absolutely,” she purred as she inched forward to stroke first one, then the other of the delighted native’s dual appendages. “What is the American saying? ‘Double your pleasure, double your fun’?”
While Bouscaral wavered, considering her proposal, Honey seized the moment-and the two stiff cocks-yanking the elderly native off the bed. Throwing off her robe, she flung herself upon him like a she-wolf in heat, wrestling the horny old man to the carpet, throwing him flat on his back. Squatting over his bony hips, she took a prick in each and sat, thrusting the two organs deep into her. Gasping in sheer delight, she began to rock up and down, her heavy, full breasts swaying and bouncing over the scrawny chest of the startled but appreciative old geezer.
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