Captain Charming (Tales of 1001 Flights)

by Alice May Ball

And my canyon gave way to the flood. Cascades of tension broke and spilled a torrent of thrashing orgasm. His hot, hard length pummeled me, split me wide open as the pulses swelled along the length of his massive member.

  “Roger, YES!” I shouted, “Fuck me, Roger. Fuck me HARD!”

  His balls swung to beat against my mound as his pump cannoned bolts of hot cum to beat against my chamber and coat me, slick, sticky and warm. Again and again he hammered me and spurted gobs of luscious love.

  I reached back to lock my fingers in his hair and we subsided together, curled wet and trembling to the deck, locked around each other’s bodies. We were disheveled. Hot and wet, we nuzzled, wondered, and licked at each other. Our arms and hands stroked and soothed. We were two masses of a single being.

  I stroked his glistening wet hair from his face and kissed his cheekbones. My fingertips grazed softly over his stubble and into the cleft of his chin. He drifted into sleep and I planted kisses on his face as he dozed and I slipped away to join my Roger.

  The Lawn

  WE MARRIED IN WIMBUSH PARK. LORD Wimbush came, reluctantly. Clarissa and Mother came. Withers was there.

  At the feast afterwards I took Lord Chatterton of Wimbush aside and told him, “Cheer up, Father. Roger may be a bastard, but , for one couldn’t be happier. And he and I will be making the first ever successor to the title who is not a bastard.”

  And so we did. Then an ‘heir and a spare,’ as they say and four highly eligible daughters. Well, they’re a bit young to be eligible yet, but they shall be, soon enough.

  Mother’s disgraceful exploits

  PEOPLE HAVE ASKED WHETHER MOTHER’S ACCOUNTS were really as toe curling as I seem to have made them sound so, for the sake of clarity, I am including the story she told me of her doctor’s appointment, just in passing as I came home from school one weekday afternoon. Imagine that I then had to do my homework on the very couch that she described.

  Following that frankly disgusting tale, I shall give you her disgraceful account of her visit to London in her own words, from the letter that she sent me, and I shall omit none of its lewd and shameful detail.

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  Mother and the doctor

  THIS WAS WHILE I WAS AT school, and Mother was allowing her wings to spread, and to allow them to be spread, it turned out. After school one day, there were only she and I in the apartment. I think she’d had a drink and she started to tell me about her appointment with the doctor that afternoon.

  “As soon as I saw Doctor Masterman’s wide, strong hands spread on the desk,“ she said, eyeing me a little woozily, “I knew they could hold the cure for what ailed me. His tailored charcoal suit, his crisp white shirt and the burgundy silk tie were all the reassurance I needed.”

  I had the feeling other was going to tell me a whole lot of things that I should absolutely not be hearing. I pulled up a chair and got comfortable.

  “In his office,” she said, “Was a smoky fragrance of warmth and dark musk and faint scents of mahogany and old leather. Doctor Masterman’s boyish smile and his large, gleaming white teeth were eager, open. Puppyish.

  “Below his tousled golden-brown mop, wide cheekbones and a strong jaw was the frame of an athlete. He must still be a regular tennis or squash player, I thought. I considered the knotted ropes of his powerful forearms and the strength of his wrists as they poked out from under his expensive cuffs.

  Here was a fit and strong, highly qualified twenty-seven or twenty-eight year old man, with the dancing eyes of a gawky teenager. My breath halted at the soft rumble of his voice. “Sit down, Mrs Chatterton. Tell me what you need.”

  Mother poured herself another drink. “Right away I thought, oh, if only I could. If only I could just tell you that, Doctor. Inside my silk blouse, I felt flushed and hot. My big, soft breasts heaved like they were full to bursting.“ and she pulled at her blouse, perhaps to demonstrate. Maybe to relive the sensation. “My mouth was dry. Lower down, I was not. There’s what I need, Doctor. I moistened my lips. There’s my need and I wish you would fill it for me.

  “The way your father leaves me feeling, Honey, well, I have to do something about it. My stockings swished as I crossed my legs. My soft thighs, sheathed in dark silk, slid over one another. The point of my black patent pumps pointed at him. My fingers stroked the side of my neck. His eye twinkled.

  “‘Doctor,’ I said. My voice was breathy and almost hoarse, ‘I’ve been feeling low. Listless. I’m having trouble sleeping. I can’t settle myself or concentrate.’ I watched his neat eyebrow raise. His full lips parted.

  “He asked me, ‘Do you want me to give you something to help you sleep?’

  “I thought, Well, that’s kind of what I want. I wanted him to give me something, yes. But now I knew what it was that I really needed.

  “He wrote a prescription. He ripped it off the pad and a gasp caught in my throat. When I stood he rose with me. He gave me a professional smile, but as he touched my arm, a shock like an earth tremor went off deep inside of me.

  “I watched the sparkle in his eyes to see if it registered in him, too. I couldn’t tell, but it must have done. Surely.

  “I noticed the sly look that I got from the thin, neat blonde on reception as I left.”

  Why mother wanted to tell me about this seemingly unsatisfactory appointment, I could not imagine but as she took a nip of her brandy, she went on, “I bustled around the scented counters in Macy’s and Saks Fifth Avenue. I watched the birds circle around the branches in the park. The leaves were getting ready to fall. I took tea with a slice of lemon drizzle cake by a picture window in the Tavern on the Green. No matter what I did, I could not settle, I couldn’t relax.

  “The sugar rush felt good enough that I nearly ordered another slice, but I knew that I would only feel the same way again in fifteen minutes. The day was clear and beautiful, and I was blue as the sky.”

  Mother could be lyrical at times. Particularly a little way down the brandy bottle. She said, “By the time I got back to this empty, cavern of an apartment, it was after three. I was weary more than tired. I had a raging hunger, but I did not want food.

  “I called the surgery and the prim receptionist told me, ‘I’m afraid Doctor Masterman is just about to leave.’

  “‘It’s an emergency.’ I told her, ‘I must speak with him immediately.’”

  “When he came to the phone his voice was hurried and he said, ‘What can I do for you?’ and his voice, even with that tense cord of irritation, sang through my body like a waterfall. My thighs tingled at the sound of him. ‘Doctor, I feel awful. I’m short of breath. I feel weak and unsteady. I’m afraid. Can you come?’

  “He hesitated and I said, “Please?”

  “There was a pause and his voice was thicker. ‘I’ll be there shortly.’ I sat heavily on the chesterfield and I wondered whether I should loosen my clothing.

  “Doctor Masterson’s knock on my door was so loud it startled me. I opened the door, and there he stood with a black case in his hand. He filled my doorway. He was so big. His voice bowled right through me as he said, ‘Mrs Chatterton,’ and I was a little flustered as I showed him into the lounge.

  “He had me sit on the chesterfield and he stood over me. ‘This is highly irregular, Ms Beaton,’ he said firmly. His voice was so deep and strong, so commanding that my thighs trembled as I looked up at him. His nostrils flared and the smell of his expensive suit was quite intoxicating.

  “He instructed me,” She took a gulp of brandy, “‘Tell me your symptoms.’ He said.”

  “So I told him ‘I’m hot, Doctor Masterson. So very hot. I’m trembling.’ He surely could hear it in my voice. ‘And my heart,’ I looked into his told him, “My heart is pounding like a big bass drum.”
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  “I peered up into his watery blue eyes and he fixed me with them like tractor beams. My tongue pressed between my lips and my hips tilted forward. He reached out and lifted my chin. His big hands were warm and strong. He smelled clean, really clean. He lifted my head back and his hands pressed around my throat.

  “Heat pounded in my panties. I was sure he must be able to detect it. I peered up into his eyes. He gave nothing away. He said, ‘Can you stand, please?’

  “I stood. In front of him. So close that the heat of his body warmed my soft breasts. My eyes hardly came level with his chest. His strong, wide hips were in front of my blouse.

  “He said, ‘I shall have to examine you,’ and I said, “Please do. Be thorough. Be firm.’

  “He put his hands on my shoulders as he looked down at me. ‘I’m going to ask you to open your blouse.’ I smiled as I drew myself taller. My head cocked on one side as I waited. His brow furrowed.

  “His eyes narrowed and his voice tightened. He sounded impatient as he said, ‘Will you undo your blouse, Mrs Chatterton,’ Oh, yes. That would definitely work. I peered up shyly as I undid the buttons of my cream silk blouse, one by one.

  “My big girls heaved and I shivered as they came out into the cool and the light. My scooped, lacy bra presented my eager flesh to him. My lips pressed together as I peeked up at him.

  “He bit his lip. ‘I do need to examine you, Ms Beaton. I want to ask you to lie on the couch.’ I looked up at him. My eyebrow raised. He frowned. ‘Would you lie on the couch, please, Mrs Chatterton?’

  “‘It would be better,’ I purred, ‘If you told me.’

  “His nostrils widened as he took a deep breath in. Then he was stern as he said, ‘Lie on the couch.’

  “That worked. My stomach quivered as I lay down in front of Doctor Masterson. My open blouse fell away on either aside. I was definitely feeling a little better now, but this was a moment of truth. It isn’t every man who will properly appreciate a woman with a fuller figure.

  “I judged Doctor Masterson to be a man who did. The front of his elegantly tailored pants told me so. The hard, tightening bulge, to be exact, in the front of his divinely tailored pants.

  “My breath fluttered as I lay back.

  “He laid his cool hands on my stomach. His eyes danced. He opened his bag and he took out a stethoscope. I asked him, ‘Do people still use those, Doctor Masterson?’

  “He said, ‘I’m a believer in the old ways. Especially when they work.’

  “He put in the earpieces and laid the cold end on my stomach. ‘Your pulse is very strong,’ he said. My heart thundered. He moved the scope onto my breast and a long moan ripped out of my throat.

  “He frowned and asked me, ‘Does that hurt?’

  “I told him that it didn’t. ‘Not in a bad way.’

  “As he listened to my chest, my breasts rose and fell heavily with my breath. My neck and my chest flushed hot. As he listened to my chest, his face was near. My tongue moistened my parched lips. They tensed in an ‘O’ as I watched him.

  “‘Could I ask you to lie on your front, please.’ I looked in his eyes.

  “‘Better if you tell me.’ I said.

  “Our eyes locked for a moment and he bit his lip.

  “His voice was firm and he said, ‘Turn over.’

  “I sighed. The tip of my tongue pressed around the edge of my lips.

  ‘Turn over now,’ his eyes flashed as he said it. I bit the side of my lip and I watched his face as I turned over. His face and his pants. They were getting tighter. His bulge was swelling.

  Leaning on my elbows, I looked back over my shoulder as he lifted the back of my blouse. When he put the cold end of the stethoscope onto my back, I wriggled.

  ‘Keep still,’ he said. I wriggled again. I couldn’t help it.

  “He placed his hands firmly on my back. Then he slid them down.

  “My ass lifted. He said, ‘Now, Mrs Chatterton.’

  “I said, ‘Now, Doctor Masterson?’ and I lifted my skirt. Only a little. Just enough for him to see the tops of my sheer stockings. And a glimpse of my creamy thighs.

  “He straightened up. ‘I don’t think there’s anything at all wrong with you, Ms Beaton.’

  “I told him, “You can’t possibly be sure of that,” and I looked up at him with my best fluttering little-girl eyes, ‘There’s so much of me that you haven’t examined, Doctor Masterson.’

  “He said, ‘There’s no point in our continuing this, Ms Beaton.” And he was quite stiff about it.

  “I turned quickly to sit in front of him, ‘Imagine if you’d missed something.’ I said, ‘It could be a malpractice or something, couldn’t it? If there was something serious and you missed it?’ I watched as he wet his lips. ‘Simply because you hadn’t examined me properly?’

  “As I straightened my open blouse, my breasts billowed forwards. ‘Imagine, Doctor Masterson. All of the things you could be missing.’ And then he hesitated.”

  “‘Come on, Doctor.’ I said, ‘Be thorough.’ He moistened his lips. ‘Be exhaustive.’ I told him. ‘Be rigorous.’ He shook his head.

  “‘Alright.’ He said, and he took my chin in his hand again. This time he pulled my mouth open. He put a spatula on my tongue. He looked down, craned to see into my throat. ‘Open wide,’ he said. Obediently I parted my thighs.

  “‘Your mouth,’ he said, tersely. And I said, ‘Oh, Doctor!’ I opened my mouth wide and I reached up to put my hands on his hips.

  “‘Stop that!’ he said firmly. But it was too late. I had felt the heat of his throbbing bulge. And he had felt the tender determination of my eager fingers. My hands stayed right where they were.

  I pouted and said, ‘Make up your mind.’

  “‘That… that wasn’t what I meant at all,’ his face was coloring up, ‘And I’m sure you know it wasn’t.’

  “I said, ‘I’m not so sure that is what I know, doctor,” my eyes were on the soft fabric of his pants. My fingers smoothed the front. Pressed gently on either side of his hard swelling bulge. ‘It isn’t what your pants say. Something in here means business.’

  “I pressed more firmly. My hands relished the hard tops of his sinuous thighs. The small ridges of bone above them. The little clefts by the sides of his pelvis.

  I was about to slide my fingers around to scope the curve of his tight ass. ‘Stop it, Ms Beaton. It’s unethical what you’re doing.’

  “‘Only if it’s you who was doing it to me, Not if it’s me doing it to you.’ I looked up at him with an innocent smile, ‘You should hear the Single Ladies’ Ethics Committee on the topic.’

  “I peered up over his flat stomach, along the shimmering burgundy ribbon of his tie and over the steep mounds of his chest, into his glistening blue eyes. I rubbed up and down on his hips. Either side of the swelling ridge.

  ““Our ethical bounds,’ I blew again, ‘are pretty relaxed, Doctor Masterson,’ I licked my lip as my hands slid slowly closer together. ‘We err on the side of liberty.’

  “Now my index fingers felt it. The tremor shook through me. It was so huge. And so hot. And so hard. My left index finger slipped inside the fly. I dragged my nail up the zip.

  “My soft breasts shaped around his hard thighs. I inhaled slowly and drank in his dark scent. My head tilted back.

  “His hands came to grab the sides of my head. He wanted to pull me away. I blew hot breath on his fine prominence. It twitched. My eyes widened. My nail scraped down his zipper. It made a brrrrr.