by Noel Amos
The kiss continued across the street as Lucian tried to come to terms with the emotions that were now storming through him. The first he recognised as simple jealousy - if jealousy could ever be simple. Though he had wanted Nicole ever since he had set eyes on her, and his desire had increased tenfold through witnessing her antics with her husband, he had never felt jealous of Hugh. In fact, he took his hat off to him. For a fellow to have such a hot and eager wife after five years of marriage roused in Lucian only admiration.
But for that wife to cavort and display herself for another man - that changed things. If Nicole was going to play away there was an enthusiastic partner for mixed doubles just across the street. Now Lucian really was jealous.
Then there was the question of Hugh himself. The poor sod was probably on a business trip, stuck in a hotel off a motorway somewhere thinking his ever-faithful other half was pining for his presence. So was he, Lucian, now duty-bound to inform his tennis partner that Nicole was playing singles? No was the answer to that. Quite apart from anything else, how could he put it? 'Look, Hugh, I just happened to be watching your wife undress the other night when I noticed there was some other chap giving her a hand...' Which was true, Freddy now had her little skirt off and his strong black fingers were kneading the white cheeks of her bottom like dough.
Which brought Lucian to the question of Freddy himself. He liked him, everybody did. Freddy was an affable guy with a charming manner and an open wallet come drinks time. His family had fled from Timbanda after most of them had perished at the hands of the dictator before last. Freddy had duelling scars on his cheeks and a missing finger on his left hand. 'You wait till I write my book,' he often said to Lucian. 'It will make your hair stand on end to learn how I lost my family and my finger.' But as for things standing on end, what really interested Lucian about Freddy was his cock.
He guessed Nicole would shortly be finding it pretty interesting too, for she was on her knees in front of Freddy, pulling his shorts down his coal-black thighs.
When Lucian had first met Freddy, in the changing room at the club, the African was naked. He had stood in the shower, facing the room, conducting a loud conversation about the legs of Steffi Graf. He was not a big man, five-seven tall at most with a slim build - but his penis looked as if it belonged on a giant. It hung between his thighs like a black banana, as thick at the root as at the tip, there being no discernible bulge to the glans beneath the hooded foreskin. Unlike any other willy of Lucian's acquaintance, hanging there limp and detumescent it was a thing of power and beauty. He'd not been able take his eyes off it.
He'd seen it many times since for Freddy was proud of his symbol of masculinity. He spent a lot of time in the changing room, most of it with his prick on display. When Freddy undressed, the first items of clothing to come off were his trousers and underpants, and they were the last to go back on again. Freddy had the biggest dick in the club and, though his tennis was lousy, everyone knew he was the real cock of the walk.
And now Lucian would be able to satisfy his curiosity on one important matter - just how big did Freddy's dick get?
Nicole had uncovered it and, though Lucian could not see her face, her posture revealed the awe she felt. She fell back on her haunches, the delectable globes of her arse resting on her feet, to consider the discovery she had made between Freddy's open thighs. And now Lucian could see the dark glistening cock that was of such abiding interest to all. To his surprise it looked exactly the same as it always did, like a length of heavy rubber hose looping from the springy black curls at the base of Freddy's belly. This was curious. Any other male, he was sure, would have an upright member quivering like a tuning fork at the prospect of playing a symphony on Nicole's pneumatic flesh.
She reached out a hand and nervously began to stroke the sleeping prick, as if she were petting a snake. Freddy smiled encouragement at her, his eyes flashing. Gradually she became bolder, enfolding her fingers round the dangling pipe. It seemed to Lucian that she could not grip him all the way round. Then she lifted the head of the snake and her mop of black curls dipped. Lucian could not see her exploring Freddy's penis with her lips but he could imagine it only too vividly. Similarly he could not tell exactly what she was up to with her hands but he could guess. When at length she leaned back to admire her handiwork, Lucian saw that it had been effective.
At last Freddy's great cock was waking from its slumber. Nicole had let go of him and was now watching, doubtless in wonder and trepidation, as the beast began to stir. The mighty tool erected in stages, jerking up to the vertical in a miracle of genital engineering. It stretched up to Freddy's navel and beyond, dwarfing its diminutive owner. The gleaming tower of power thrilled and frightened Lucian from his vantage point across the street. God alone knew what it was doing to the naked and expectant Nicole who was squatting just inches below it.
Freddy said something to her and she got up and rummaged in her dressing-table drawer. Lucian recognised the pot that she retrieved - it was the one Hugh had used to rub cream into her bottom the night he had spanked her. Now Nicole stood with one foot up on the bed beside Freddy and began to anoint her vagina. She took her time smoothing lots of cream deep into her crevice. Lucian didn't blame her. The black monster between Freddy's thighs looked like an upright battering-ram.
There was further conversation between the two. Freddy's fingers were in Nicole's crotch, double-checking her lubrication work possibly, while she placed both hands on his weapon, pulling back the thick hood to reveal a bulging purple knob.
Preliminary negotiations over, Freddy lay back along the bed and Nicole climbed over him. She balanced on top of his cock for an age, it seemed, before she had the courage to bear down, thrusting the thick bulk up into her well-oiled entrance. Lucian watched the impaling from the rear - the globes of her milky buttocks jutting and pouting, the veined black column spearing up between her slim thighs, the dark-fringed orifice of her open-mouthed vagina swallowing and swallowing, inch by inch...
'Good God,' muttered Lucian to himself. Nicole had taken all of the giant member inside herself and now swayed on top of Freddy's body, plugged to the hilt. For a moment she was still, then she tried a little jerk, then another, raising herself up and down on the black pole in her belly. Then she began in earnest, lifting and sitting, her buttocks flexing, her pelvis grinding. Freddy's hands cupped her arse rounds and he helped the up-and-down motion. Lucian could see him palpating her cheeks and running his fingers into her crack, the stub of a finger on his left hand clear in the bright evening light.
They couldn't hold the position for long, Lucian reckoned - not without Nicole suffering damage. But first they changed up a gear and suddenly their bodies were clutching and lifting and heaving together in a blur until, with a shriek that was audible from across the street, Nicole announced her climax.
With two strokes Lucian erupted his frustration and lust and jealousy into his fist. He rested his forehead against the window ledge, panting hard, his eyes closed.
When he opened them he saw that Nicole was sitting on the bed with a daft grin on her face. Freddy was looking out of the window, idly scratching his big hanging testicles. His penis was as spectacular as before, wet and fully extended. When he turned towards the bed, his cock moved fractionally later than the rest of him, swinging in front of him like a great boom.
The grin on Nicole's face disappeared and another expression took its place - dreamy, lustful, compliant. Slowly, as if in a daze, her hand reached for the big glistening penis and she opened her mouth as wide as she could.
Chapter 30
When Monty Hastings announced to his wife that he was off to Venice to attend a writers' conference, Karen did not turn a hair. The fact that Monty would be café shopping in St Mark's Square, downing Bellinis in Harry's Bar and sleeping at night in a refurbished palazzo with the lapping of the Grand Canal for a lullaby was of no concern to her. It was well known that writers' workshops were all hard graft. She suggested that he took
his industrious researcher, Harriet Pugh, with him to ease the burden.
With those two out of the house, Karen turned her attention to the affairs of Blue Desire Books. Lucian had been nagging her - in the nicest possible way - to allow a visit from a photographer. It was all to do with 'packaging' and 'launching the imprint' and 'creating an image'. Karen was no fool, she knew he wanted a sexy photo of her to bung on The Novelist's Wife so whatever he wanted to call it was fine by her.
The photographer was an intimidating smoothy with a shock of dark bushy hair and a practised smile. 'Darling, you're ravishing!' he cried as Karen opened the door. 'I'm going to adore shooting you.' Karen had been relieved to see Lucian standing behind him. They'd only met once before but they'd talked so much on the phone since then she felt he was an ally.
'I'm Cliff's assistant for the day,' said Lucian as he carried some lights from the photographer's Range Rover.
'And I'm Karen's,' said Adele, pitching in and picking up a tripod. 'She's asked me along for immoral support. And, God, are you going to need it,' she added in a whisper to Karen as the two men hustled around with equipment.
'What do you mean?'
'I hate to think what you'd get up to with these two left on your own. They're really dishy.'
'Do you think so? That photographer guy is too full of himself.'
'Of course, he's Clifford Rush, he's famous. We've got big arty books by him in the shop. He takes really sexy photos.'
'Oh.'
'And your Lucian's got a lovely grin. I bet you really enjoy working with him.'
'He's OK but ours is a professional relationship, Adele. Hey, leave my skirt alone. What the hell do you think you're doing?'
'Just checking.'
'Adele, please! They'll be back any moment! Take your hands off me!'
'OK but tell me that this isn't pussy juice on my fingers? You're turned on already, you sexy bitch, and don't deny it.'
Karen didn't try.
Turned on or not, the morning session did not go well. There was a lot of hanging around while Cliff fiddled with equipment and made calls on his mobile phone. Then he took some staid shots of Karen posing in Monty's study which she didn't feel comfortable about at all.
Over lunch in the kitchen Lucian produced the cover design for one of the other Blue Desire launch titles.
'Talk about literal,' sniffed the photographer as he peered at the shot of a nude blonde posing in a rosebed beneath scrolling blue typography that read Naked in the Roses.
The women were more impressed.
'God, look at the expression on her face,' muttered Karen.
'I bet she's having an orgasm,' said Adele.
'You can't actually see anything.'
'But it's dead sexy.'
Cliff Rush cut in. 'I suppose it's not too bad but it's nothing to what I can do with you, sweetheart.' And he seized Karen by the hand and dragged her towards the door.
Lucian half rose but the photographer stopped him from following. 'Leave us alone, dear heart. This is the moment I earn the pittance your firm is paying me.' And he whisked Karen off upstairs.
Lucian watched him go and shrugged. Adele took a bottle of wine from the fridge and refilled their glasses. She looked again at the shot of the blonde in the roses.
'What is she doing exactly?'
He told her. It was a good story and she took in every word. 'So I was right, she is having an orgasm.'
'Yes.'
'And that's the kind of thing you want from Karen?'
He looked embarrassed. 'I don't know. I mean, is she game?' Adele just laughed. This sweet boy obviously didn't know Karen at all.
Clifford had set up in Karen's bedroom. As they entered the room he spun her around and pressed her up against the wall.
'This is it, darling,' he said; his hands squeezing her arms, his blue eyes gazing into hers. 'I want you to trust me completely. Give me your mind and your body for the next hour and I'll make you look like the sexiest woman who ever lived.'
Karen giggled but the mad-eyed photographer shut her up. 'Look, I'm told you've written a novel so hot that readers will spontaneously combust with desire. I want you to give me some of that. I want lust in my pictures. I want wild wanton sex. Can you do it?'
Karen nodded. 'I-I'll try—'
'NO!' Cliff roared and thrust his pelvis against hers. The hard bundle in his crotch ground against her mound, taking her breath away. 'I don't want you to try - I want you to give!' And he kissed her. She squirmed and wriggled. How dare he? She pulled her mouth away.
'Get off me!' she hissed.
'Great,' he said, suddenly releasing her. 'That's it! Give me some of that.'
'But I'm angry not turned on, you idiot.'
He grinned and she felt a sudden stab of sympathy for him. 'Who cares? You look damn sexy. I think we're going to have some fun.'
Karen wasn't sure about that but she wasn't sure about much at present. He was crazy and unpredictable and, she couldn't deny it, highly desirable. The skin across his firm jaw was smooth and his bottomless blue eyes were laughing as he took in her confusion. He pulled off his shirt to reveal a tanned and muscular chest.
'I always strip off when I'm working,' he explained, reaching for his camera. 'It's hot under these lights.'
That was true. Suddenly Karen felt oppressively warm. There was sweat under her arms and her breasts. It called to mind the heat of her locked room as she worked at her book. Then she knew what was expected of her.
'Yes!' cried Cliff as Karen's fingers found the buttons of her summer blouse. 'Oh yes, my darling, take it slowly and give me everything you've got.'
It was a frustrating afternoon for Lucian. He and Adele repaired to the parlour across the hall from Karen's bedroom to be on hand in case they were needed. So far they had not been and Lucian's attempt to sneak a look inside had been met with an emphatic instruction to 'Fuck off, darling, there's a love.'
'Genius at work, obviously,' Lucian said and Adele smiled without conviction, sipping nervously at her wine.
They conversed feebly about books and publishing and poor trade in the bookshops until they dried up completely, both of them mesmerised by the sounds filtering through the closed bedroom door.
Most of the noise came from the photographer: excited yelps of glee and shouts of 'Yes, that's it!' and 'God, you're gorgeous' and 'Oh darling, that's fabulous'. Then there were fewer discerning words and more frequent grunts and groans and squeals of vocalised excitement. And among the masculine effusions, feminine notes were heard as well: low moans and throaty cries and higher, long-drawn-out ululations that spoke directly to the throbbing prick in Lucian's pants.
Adele seemed deeply affected. As the sounds of Karen's excitement mounted, the girl's hazel eyes grew round and the breath was expelled in short gasps from her thin, curving lips. A pulse beat in her throat and her hands gripped her glass so hard Lucian feared it might shatter.
'Oh God, I can't stand it,' she cried suddenly. 'I'm going to stop him.'
Lucian caught her before she reached the door.
'No, Adele. Let him do his job. These photos are important.'
'But,' she moaned, her slender frame squirming against him, 'you don't understand. I want to be with her. She needs me.'
Adele was almost as tall as Lucian and her big eyes looked directly into his. The points of her nipples were hard against his chest through their thin clothing and his erect cock butted against her soft belly.
'You men are so vile sometimes,' she said. 'You stick together. I bet he's raping her in there and you're just an accomplice.'
A cry of excitement rang out from the bedroom. 'Yes, Cliff, yes!'
'You see, she's fine,' said Lucian, aware that their pubic mounds were rubbing together, the barrel of his cock seeming to fit directly into the groove of her hillock.
'I bet he's got it in her,' Adele spat. 'His big fat ugly penis. He had an erection when he dragged her upstairs. And you've had one all afternoon,
you filthy sod.'
'I'm sorry,' spluttered Lucian and tried to lever her belly off his.
'You see? You're sticking your thick thing into my tummy, you pig. I suppose you want to do me like he's doing her.'
'No!' he cried and attempted to disengage their bodies but somehow their loins were glued together. She was squirming open-thighed on him now and her face was flushed with anger or distress or - 'Oooooh!' she wailed - orgasm.
Lucian caught her reed-slim frame before she fell to the floor and laid her on the small sofa in the bay of the window. Her skirt seemed to have become caught high up on her long thighs and he found himself staring at her skimpily-knickered pubis. Brown curls poked from beneath the pink cotton and a dark wet line denoted the vertical spread of the folds beneath.
Adele lay limp and unseeing, making no attempt to cover herself.
Lucian drew the obvious conclusion as to his expected course of conduct.
'Oh God,' she wailed as he pulled the damp gusset free of her tangled bush and she lifted her hips to allow him to bare her completely. Her pussy smelt musky and sweet and her lips were long and curling. He teased them apart gently with a finger, right up to the hood of skin which peeled back at his touch to reveal the tiny stalk of her clit. He blew a gentle breath across the plain of her belly and her pelvis convulsed. This was a woman burning up with hunger for sex.
'Kiss me, Karen,' she moaned. 'Kiss my cunt, you lovely darling. Please.'
Lucian gazed at the moist and perfumed folds of this delirious woman's sex and contemplated the morality of bestowing cunnilingus under the guise of mistaken identity.
'Please, Karen, please!'
The pale thighs opened still further. The pretty pink lips wept with desire. Lucian had no wish to deceive but he could recognise an overriding need when he saw it. He bent his head to administer the kiss of life.