Eroticon 3

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Eroticon 3 Page 9

by J. P. Spencer


  Her hand slipped down between them and pressed against the mound. Softly she moved her fingers under the towel, slipping them up until with a sudden stroking caress they had contacted with the fleshy heat of his organ.

  Avelino's hips recoiled automatically at the unbearable intimacy of the sensation. It took his breath away.

  But the fingers followed, stroking, stroking until he could bear to let them stay. He recoiled again as they roamed over his testicles. He began to gasp and moan, unable to control himself any longer.

  The fingers, so cool against his heat, were relentless. They drew themselves up and down his throbbing penis while the woman pressed her face at his, darting her tongue moistly into his mouth.

  His hips writhed, his mouth opened wide, he was suddenly overcome by an unbearable sweet pain behind his genitals. The woman, as if she divined it, suddenly grasped his penis in her whole hand and squeezed it in a rhythmic motion which brought little cries from him. The pain grew so that he could no longer bear it, his head rolled, he had to escape - and then with a cry of sweet agony he had suddenly gained release and his sperm was shooting all over the towel, the woman's hand and his thighs.

  She continued to squeeze and caress him until his passion had died and his organ deflated. She opened her beach jacket and nursed his head against her breasts while his breathing still choked in his throat. Lying against her, feeling too embarrassed to move or look at her, Avelino realised he had never had such a quick orgasm. He felt the more embarrassed, now, from a sense of failure. The woman had obviously wanted him, intended him to make love to her.

  She kissed his head, pulling his face close to her so that his lips brushed the smooth, glassy skin of her breasts. He felt depressed, but, as if she understood, she said softly:

  'We have plenty of time.'

  They lay still for a long time until the sun sank behind the cliff face behind them, although it continued to light up the sea beyond in a warm sparkle of azure. Even in the narrow ribbon of shade it was warm on the ledge. With the disappearance of the sun it seemed a little more secluded.

  Pressing his lips against her breasts, moving them over her abundant nipples, surprised at the situation every time he allowed himself to picture it from outside, Avelino felt a fresh stirring at his loins. A slow breeze of excitement began in his hips like the deep rumblings of a volcano long before it erupts. He was astonished at his ability to recover so easily.

  Between his legs he felt his penis rising again, felt it moving, apart from him, with an electric tingling as it grew and thickened. He kissed the cushioning breasts with greater passion and the woman responded, clasping his head against her flesh as if she would hold it there forever.

  He kissed the nipple, sucking it, the way he thought a child would. She drew in her breath sharply and gave a little cry. She slithered down against him so that her breasts now pressed warmly against his chest and her lips sucked at his. He in turn forced his tongue through her lips and her mouth opened wide to receive him.

  'Just a moment,' she whispered as he slithered his lips down her neck.

  He released her and she reached around them gathering towel, a cushion and her bathing costume. She arranged the articles under and around them before clasping him around the neck once more.

  As his passion rose afresh so that his whole body seemed fluid with fire, her hand wormed in through his towel again to caress his genitals. His penis rose yet more sharply at the contact of her fingers and he strained his buttocks together, crushing the weight of his hips towards her body.

  His hands now moved over the glossy-textured skin of her breasts and, bolder, down over her ribs until he was gently massaging the soft flesh of her belly.

  The woman's beach jacket had fallen wide open and she was naked and writhing her hips gently. With a deft movement, she untwisted the towel covering his loins so that it fell away and his pulsing, fiery-tipped penis shot into view.

  Avelino was too overcome now with the chill of anticipation to feel embarrassed. He felt as if he were being led by the hand blindly down into an inferno.

  With them both breathing as if they had swum for an hour, the woman caught one of his hands and moved it down over the triangle of blonde hair at the junction of her thighs. She moved it a little further still and then caught it between her thighs in a fleshy imprisonment. She clasped it with her thighs for a while, pressing, relaxing, rubbing, wriggling and then she let her thighs fall apart and kissed him fiercely.

  Tentatively Avelino tickled the inside of her thighs with the tips of his fingers, exploring, creeping up a little. She pushed her lips down toward his hand, trying to precipitate his progress. But at the sudden sensation of moist, soft flesh Avelino stopped, a little afraid of his ignorance. He brushed the moistness for some time while the woman panted. It became more moist to his touch.

  'Go on,' the woman encouraged him between gasps. 'That's right.'

  Avelino wormed his finger up against the softness and it opened so that his finger was suddenly gulped into her body. She dug her tongue into his mouth, whimpering slightly and he moved his finger right into her.

  He was trembling. His finger was right inside her. He could feel the soft contraction against his flesh. The moist channel in which he was pressing his finger and wriggling it around, opened out, seemed to grow larger and wetter as the minutes passed.

  'Come on - now!' the woman whispered sharply.

  She practically hauled him onto her so that he could feel the soft warmth of her flesh like a sensual mattress beneath him.

  His penis was somewhere down between her open thighs. It seemed to be too low to enter but he could do nothing. He felt overcome by a paralysis. His whole body was trembling and his hands, grasping her shoulders, shook.

  The woman drew up her thighs around his hips so that he could feel their soft, clasping pressure.

  'Move up a little,' she whispered.

  As he slithered achingly up her body, her hand came down under her thighs and met his penis in the shock of unexpected contact. She held it a moment, fondling it and then directed it at her open vagina.

  Avelino, eyes closed, his penis seeming to sing like telegraph wires, felt himself drawn against the central chasm of her body.

  'Now - push in,' she commanded softly.

  He pushed and felt the soft warmth of vague substance around the tip of his organ. And then there was a pressure and then a hot breaking through as he entered fully. The entry was such agony that he felt he wanted to cry. His lips breathed the word 'wonderful!' and other wordless sounds.

  The woman had gasped as he took possession of her and now, moaning, she pulled him higher still on her, pushing her sensual core down onto his stiff penetration.

  She kissed him now, clasping his shoulders as in a vice, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth as if she wanted him to swallow it completely. He felt her hips swivelling and undulating under him as his penis was squeezed in contraction, released slightly in expansion of her enclosing channel.

  Avelino's head rolled on hers as he dug deeper and deeper into her. His penis was like a great fire burning with a fierce heat. It was agony and bliss, unbearable yet indispensable, a dark nightmare and yet beautifully unforgettable.

  The woman pulled her thighs higher, level with his chest. She moved her hands down to his tensing buttocks and pushed them, exhorting him to move farther into her.

  Avelino gave himself over to the wild ecstasy. Embarrassment could play no part in such a sensual abandonment and soon he was aware only of his penis, tight and bursting, in her body, of her hands squeezing his shoulders, his back, his buttocks, and her lips with the mad abandoned tongue in his mouth.

  The woman grunted and groaned as she writhed nudely under him and it seemed so natural for him to breathe furiously:

  'I love you, I love you, I love you,' over and again as his face crushed hers.

  Avelino ground his organ into the coaxing passage with greater and greater strength until the hair at his
loins had met hers and there was no more length to go. Her hand came down again under her thighs and gently held his swaying testicles with a sensual shock which brought a fresh gasp from his open mouth.

  With his knees spread, now, on either side of her buttocks, he wriggled his hips like a dancer, ramming into the receptive channel from shades of angle, experimenting in a blind way for greater penetration, greater pressure.

  At one moment he became briefly aware of the sun on the sea, the shade on the rocks and the incredible fact of himself athwart this attractive woman whom he hardly knew, having intercourse with her.

  Below him her head was moving from side to side, eyes were half closed, lips mouthing, shoulders swaying in her passion. Head, eyes, lips, shoulders all an incredible, beautiful dream - and he plunged his head down once more to her and lost himself in the abyss of carnality.

  The woman's gasps began to grow more continuous and her hips began to jerk against him as if she had lost control of them. Her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders so that it hurt him with a pain which added to the sweet agony of the union.

  Her gasps became a long, soft whimper through which she implored him:

  'Come on, come on, come on.'

  Her further abandonment brought forth automatic echoes from Avelino. The feeling and sight of her lust-wracked body seemed to numb the whole or his body except for his loins. And there grew a great reservoir of sensation, gathering behind the sharp pain of his probing penis.

  'Quickly, quickly,' the woman breathed. 'Together, together.'

  She thrust her tongue again into his mouth and flickered it in and out, moving it along his lips.

  From the sweating numbness of his body, Avelino, panting uncontrollably, felt all sensation pulled down to his penis. It was the only part of him that had feeling. His gasps developed into wounded, agonised 'Oh's' as he thrust and thrust. He felt he could not get far enough into the woman with his one thick finger of flesh which could reach into her and make them one. Inside his loins he felt the growing of pain, growing, growing to bursting point. He cried out and the woman panted 'Now!' And then with a great shudder in his loins, the sperm was flowing with scalding warmth through his tube and spurting in needles of pain far up into the woman's belly.

  As his flood swept raggedly into her, she strained her hips up at him, crying out at her fulfilment, while her lips tried to fasten on his, failed in her excitement, and her teeth dug into his neck.

  His movements dwindled and dwindled while the woman's hips relaxed. Her thighs continued to clasp him and her hands to caress his neck until his final hip-jerk had passed and his body subsided exhaustedly onto hers.

  They lay together for some time with her stroking his neck gently. He noticed that the sun had withdrawn farther out to sea and he felt a slight return of his previous embarrassment. He was not sure how to move off her, although he felt he must be heavy upon her. Inside him, apart from the embarrassment was a feeling of wonder and achievement at what had happened. But he could not bring himself to look at her.

  'Look at me.'

  It was as if she had read his thoughts.

  'How does it feel to be no longer a virgin?'

  Avelino stared at her searchingly for a moment. There was a warmth in her eyes which melted his embarrassment and in answer he kissed her gently on the cheek.

  She laughed quietly, clasped him fiercely against her and then whispered:

  'We'd better have a quick swim before we go.'

  They swam naked out to the sun and afterwards he collected his clothes and they climbed the wall of hills which enclosed the town, to the little café with its open-air terrace overlooking the bay.

  The Altar of Venus

  One afternoon as I was lazily debating the advisability of commencing preparations for my return, my detective friend presented himself. We chatted a bit and then, putting on my hat and coat, I accompanied him downstairs, intending to have a parting drink with him before saying good-bye. We seated ourselves at a table in front of a little café, and ordered our favourite liquors. In the process of consuming these, my companion suddenly leaned toward me and whispered:

  'Glance over your left shoulder in a moment at the girl sitting at the table just behind you. I'll tell you something about her after we get away from here.'

  A moment later I glanced casually around. Sitting by herself sipping some coloured concoction through a straw was as neat a little Parisienne as I had seen during my stay in France. Apparently eighteen or nineteen years old, dressed in a very short skirt, her shapely legs clad in black silk hose, and wearing a blouse of white crepe-de-chine, so diaphanous that the pink, lace-edged brassiere shielding her exuberant bubbies was plainly visible, she formed a picture whose details registered themselves with lightning rapidity in one brief glance.

  Not wishing to be caught staring I turned away, and a few minutes later looked around again, this time concentrating my gaze on her face. It was entirely at variance with the extreme coquetry of her apparel, and the careless elevation of her skirt, for her features were demure, modest, almost angelic in their pure beauty.

  She was altogether too pretty not to awaken my instant admiration and after I had paid the account and we were out of earshot I exclaimed:

  'The sweetest little darling I've seen since I've been here!'

  My companion smiled cynically.

  'Sweet is right! Entirely too sweet. She's a crook.'

  'A crook?' I repeated, incredulously.

  'Yes, a crook. And a very clever one.'

  It seemed incredible and I could scarcely reconcile the facts as he related them with that demure sweet face and modest downcast eyes I had seen at the little sidewalk café.

  'And she'd have cleaned you of every franc you possess,' he answered with a dry smile.

  'I'm not so sure it wouldn't be worth it at that,' I added, as I recalled the multiple and diverse charms of the exquisite little houri which were visible to the eye, and mentally conjured up naked visions of others hidden beneath the silken trappings.

  'Ha!' retorted my companion, 'that's the funny part of it. None of the birds she snares ever gets as much as a feel of it. She's really married to this fellow she works with, and completely infatuated with him. All the suckers get for their money is to see her half naked for a few moments before the husband shows up. He's always right on time.'

  'How do they manage that?'

  'Some system of signals probably. We'll get them sooner or later.'

  After I retired that night I lay awake for some time thinking of the girl. There was something about her which had touched a responsive chord in my being, and it was not to be suppressed even by the undisputable charges of my detective friend. And the more I thought about her, the stronger became my desire. I even studied the possibility of making her acquaintance and endeavouring to win her affection, but the idea was discarded with the recollection of my friend's statement to the effect that she was deeply enamoured with her accomplice. Finally, just as I was dropping off to sleep, the gem of an idea came to me.

  The next day I called on my friend and told him I had decided to remain in Paris a week or two longer.

  'What's happened? Something new in skirts?' he asked, astutely.

  'No... that is... well, I'll tell you... that girl we saw yesterday...'

  'What!' he broke in. 'A waste of time, son. You couldn't open her legs with five thousand francs. And it wouldn't be worth it, even if you could,' he added, laughing.

  'Wait a minute, now, before you start laughing. I've got a plan. It may open her legs, as you so crudely put it, without costing a single franc!'

  'What is this plan?' he asked, cynically.

  'Before I explain it, I want a little information.'

  'What do you want to know?'

  'Do you know where she takes these Lotharios for their cleaning?'

  'She takes them to the apartment she and her husband occupy. They move right after each operation. We know their present location.' />
  'Do you know whether there are any other people involved, that is, have they any confederates who participate in any way?'

  'No; they work by themselves. They don't need any help the way they handle it.'

  'You said yesterday they probably have some system of signals that enables the man to know the exact moment to come in. Do you think he is already in the building, or does he come in from outside?'

  'I can't answer that but one of the men who talked to us after deciding that he had been 'framed' said that the fellow stepped into the room with an overcoat on and a travelling bag in his hand, as though he had just returned from a journey.'

  'Do you know where she could be found, in case I wanted to get her attention as a prospective victim?'

  'At any given moment, no, but she frequents cafés, in the neighbourhood we were in yesterday. But why waste your time and risk your money on a wild goose chase? Aren't there enough pretty girls on the streets of Paris without wasting time on this particular little crook?'

  'I'm not interested in street chippies. See if you can't find out whether the husband secretes himself on the premises during the preliminaries or whether he comes in from outside. The practicability of the plan I have in mind depends mostly on this one detail. After you find out about it I'll explain everything.'

  'All right, I'll try, you're just wasting your time, son. Don't do anything foolish.'

  'I'll not make any move without consulting you first. If you think it imprudent I'll drop it. I'd have to have your co-operation anyway.'

  'Well, I'll be in to see you tomorrow evening, and let you know if I've been able to dig up anything.'

  I was waiting impatiently in the lobby the following evening when he arrived, and as we seated ourselves in a secluded corner, I handed him a cigar, lit one myself, and waited expectantly.

  'I've got the information you wanted, son. The man comes in from the street. They either have their operations nicely timed, or else a signal of some kind is passed from the window, which, by the way, fronts on the street. Their rooms are on the third floor.'

 

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