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Hawaii Five - Oh Ch. 01

By: adoration



I emerged from the water at Waikiki Beach around 7am on a Sunday morning and ran up the almost empty sands towards my towel by the hose down station. The place was nearly deserted because, although it was already nicely warm, the tourists and most locals were probably still in bed.

As I came out of the water, I had to readjust my black bikini bra, as my 38-inch boobs were in danger of falling out of the cups, not that there was anyone much to notice. My boobs, by the way, may be enhanced by minor surgery, but they're very, very impressive.

Picking up my towel I walked over to the shower area and found it occupied by a stunningly-built young woman in a lurid red bikini, the water coursing down her magnificent, athletic frame. She was dark-haired, like me - I'm part-Hawaiian, part French and I've inherited my mom's jet black hair and coffee-coloured skin.

I spotted a little gold ring on the young woman's left ankle. "Hi," I said, as nonchalantly as I could, "is that a slave anklet you're wearing, or simply a fashion accessory?"

The younger woman, who I took to be in her early 20s - I'm 32 - flashed me a stunning smile. "I'm afraid it's a fashion accessory," she laughed. Then, with a throw-away line which almost took my breath away, she added: "That's until I find the right mistress!"

I dropped my towel on a nearby table and tried very hard to put a light humoured reply in my voice as I replied: "Who knows? This might be your lucky day."

The beautifully built youngster picked up a towel and began to dry off, as I allowed the cool stream to play over my big breasts, my firm hips, ample buttocks and toned thighs. I work out a lot, and it shows on my 38-26-36 figure.

As I did so, I couldn't help but notice the younger woman eyeing me with interest. I switched off the tap and plunged into my plan of attack. "You live around here?"

She nodded, tying a sort of sarong around her lovely midriff, but leaving her lush breasts in the bright red bra on display. "Yup," she said, "I've got an apartment over on Kuhio."

I started to towel dry. "I've got a large house up on the hills looking down over Waikiki, it's above an art gallery I run," I informed her. "Care for a spin up there in my Porsche and we can have a cup of coffee?"

The woman smiled like an angel. "Love to," she said, and held out her hand to me. "Hi, my name's Sharon, I'm a bikini model."

I regarded her coolly. "Sharon, with a body like that, of course you are!" Then I introduced myself: "I'm Darla, I wish I had a figure like yours, but at 32 you can't always be so lucky!"

Sharon grinned. "You've got a smashing body - I only hope I've got a body like that when I'm 32, but I've got 12 years to go!"

The 20-year-old bikini model picked up her beach bag and we walked to my convertible for the drive up into the green hills overlooking the tourist mecca that is Waikiki.

"What sort of art does the gallery specialise in?" Sharon asked, as I flicked the Porsche up the twisty roads leading to my place.

"Erotic art," I explained, "mostly female nudes. Nudes with a sort of, how shall I put this?" I paused, then added: "Ladies with attitude."

"Sounds highly charged," said Sharon, as the wind streamed her lovely black hair out, giving it a natural dry.

"We'll have a stroll through the gallery while coffee's percolating," I suggested, then we wheeled into my basement garage where I parked the Porsche and we went into the house. 

As I put the coffee on to brew, Sharon said: "This sarong's a bit damp from my bikini bottom, OK if I take it off?"

Stupid question, I thought. "Go ahead," I answered, "I'm taking off my shorts, they're getting wet, too."

When we were both attired only in our bikinis - hers was much briefer than mine, I might add - I led the way downstairs, across my veranda porch, down a little walkway and into my gallery, which faces out onto the street.

I flicked on the lights and said: "Take a look around. Any questions, fire away."

The pert buttocked, firm-breasted model then began to stroll around the gallery. I busied myself with some book work at my desk, and after about five minutes she called out: "Tell me about this one."

It was the picture I'd hoped she would like. It was a colour painting of a tallish, nude Hawaiian woman, well, nude save for high-heeled black leather boots. The painting, set off by a stark white background, was long and narrow and very nearly life size. 

The model in the gallery stared intently at the model on the canvas. "She's very pretty," Sharon murmured.

"What do you think of her breasts?" I inquired.

"They're lovely, but they look as if they might not be natural - not that that matters, look at those great nipples," said Sharon.

"What about the whip?" I asked. The model in the picture held a thick-gripped black leather whip in her right hand. The flogger had four or five "tails" which she had drawn together in her left hand.

"It looks menacing," Sharon commented. "And she looks as if she knows how to use it."

"And what about her pussy?" I asked, delighted with her responses.

Sharon looked closely at the model's pussy. She had prominently lush pink piss flaps, which were surrounded by black, crisp pubic hair which had obviously been shaved back, The thatch on her mons gleamed a dull black. You could make out her clitoris below it.

"That looks rather menacing as well," said Sharon, "though I think I could learn to love it!"

The response was like a sweet symphony to my ears, and I placed a hand gently on the lovely model's shoulder. "You've seen the art work, now why don't we go upstairs and you can meet the real thing!"

Sharon turned on me and for a moment I thought she was going to slap me, but then her face melted into a huge grin. "It's you!" she cried. "You're the model!"

I bent slightly forward and kissed her full on the mouth. "Hi, Sharon," I whispered in her ear. "Let's get that coffee, shall we?"

Upstairs, I could see that my young guest was extremely excited, so I pressed on with my seduction. Shutting off the ring where the coffee pot bubbled away, I turned and looked at Sharon's expectant face: "I think the coffee can wait a while, don't you, Sharon?"

No words from her, but a quick nod of the head so I held out my hand and walked her into the large bedroom, dominated by a large, old-fashioned bedstead, with a metal, cage-like bedhead.

Sharon stood facing the bed and I stepped behind her, and unclipped her bikini bra, pulling it away and tossing it on the polished wooden floor. My hands then reached up and cupped her heavy young breasts, fondling them, my fingers flicking over her hardening nipples.

"Lovely breasts," I whispered, kissing her gently on her ear, nibbling at the lobe.

An almost inaudible whisper carried back to me: "36ers, Mistress Darla!" 

My hands now went lower, to the lovely little red thong-style bikini bottom. I hooked my thumbs into the straps across her firm, slender hips and pushed it down from her pussy and buttocks. It fell to the floor and Sharon kicked it away.

This time the fingers of my right hand explored her pussy, shaved save for a small, slender strip of hair above her clit, while the fingers of my left probed her backside, pressing against her anus.

"Lovely pussy, lovely arse," I whispered, licking my tongue into her salty-tasting ear.

"They belong to you, Mistress Darla," came the slightly louder response.

My hands now left her achingly gorgeous young body and in a flash I was out of my bra and bikini bottom and nude behind her. I spun her around and stepped a pace back, giving her an opportunity to drink in my naked presence.

Sharon's gaze was first transfixed on my heavy breasts, lovely handfuls, big brown nipples, erect and inviting. She stepped towards me and lowered her face to my boobs. I could feel her breath, hot and panting on my cool flesh. The only sound in the bedroom was the low hum of the air conditioning.

Then she opened her mouth and her lovely little tongue traced around the areola of my right nipple, teasing and exploring. Then she sucked on my nipple itself, finally bestowing a tiny little nibble with her lovely white teeth on the nubbin. Next she switched her attentions to my opposite breast, kissing and sucking there as she stroked my right breast with her left hand.

Taking her by the shoulders, I took charge and moved her towards the bed, half lifting her, half pushing her onto the black satin sheets. Sharon lay on her back and raised her hands up to the metal posts at the head of the bed, grasping them in a position of submission.

I climbed onto the bed, knelt so my knees were brushing her hairless armpits and felt her hands cup my buttocks as I settled into position above her.

I heard a husky, thrill-throbbing voice which I realised was mine, croak: "Do I still look menacing, darling?"

Her response was no reply, but a long, lingering kiss on my piss flaps, then her tiny tongue was lapping at my dripping wet cunt, then at my labia lips, then my clit. It was a wild thing, its attentions switching from cunt to labia to clit, as if it wanted to devour them all, but couldn't decide which treat to gorge on first.

I groaned as she laved at my pussy, sending little shocks of delight through me.

Suddenly, she pulled back and for an awful moment I was afraid she was going to stop! But then came some wonderful words. "You're so fucking tasty, mistress." And she went back to work.

I grabbed the top metal pole running across the bed head for some purchase and rocked my crotch against her sweet little mouth, thrilling in her kissing, sucking and licking until, much to my delight but also my disappointment, because I didn't want the pleasure to end, I bucked and tossed to an exciting climax on her mouth.

She still gently kissed and licked me as I descended from the plateau of pleasure and then, when I was calm again, I lowered myself, first to kiss her juice-stained mouth - such a sweet-tasting mouth - then her lovely boobs, with their cherry red nipples, then her taut, toned abdomen. And finally, her pussy!

My nostrils inhaled a heady aroma of female sex fluid, then I could hold back no longer and my mouth was eagerly at work, laving over her large labia lips, my tongue flickering at her tight little cunt, then pressing itself flat and hard against her quivering clitoris.

Sharon writhed and groaned and her hands came down to grab my head and thrust it against her pussy in urgency. My tongue and mouth kept up a frantic pace on her thrusting crotch and soon she was sobbing: "Yeeees, mistress, yeeees! Oh, yeeees, I'm coming, make me come, make me come, make me come!"

As Sharon had done for me, so I maintained for her a light licking and kissing on her pulsing pussy until she had calmed and recovered from her orgasm. Then I rose and we kissed, tongues entwining, our faces both seeped in that sensational female perfume that only two pussy lovers can exchange.

"Turn over onto your belly and grab the side bed posts, darling," I whispered, "I've got something else for you to enjoy now!"

Swiftly, eagerly, the lushly-bodied bikini model was over onto her belly, her hands gripping the widespread main bed posts, her lovely brown athletic back revealing rippling muscles, her buttocks taut and tense, almost as if she had divined what her next pleasure would be.

I got off the bed and opened the bedside drawer on Sharon's right. She looked at me intently, her pretty face a picture of anticipatory pleasure.

From the drawer I withdrew the leather flogger, I had held when I posed for the portrait Sharon had admired so much in the gallery downstairs.

I stood beside the bed and adopted the pose from the picture, grabbing the five thongs of the flogger in my left hand and questioned my lovely young model: "Do you remember this, darling?"

"How could I forget it, mistress," she said, softly. "I said it looked menacing, I said it looked as if you knew how to use it."

"Do you trust me to use it on you, my dear?" I asked, half expecting her to step back from the ultimate submission to my advances. But her response was another sweet sound to my ears. "Of course I do, Mistress Darla, of course I do."

I stepped up on the bed and standing beside her naked form, ran the tips of the lashes down her back, from just below where her lovely dark hair ended, down her spine, across her buttocks and then left them dangling between her widespread thighs.

"Are you ready, my pet?" I asked, in what I hoped was a reassuring tone.

"Yes, mistress, please whip me," came a little voice.

"We're in Hawaii, so you know the show Hawaii Five-O on television, don't you Sharon?" I asked, dragging out her waiting.

"Yes, mistress," she replied, sounding puzzled.

"Well, I'll give you my version of Hawaii Five-O - that's as in 5, 0 - 50!" I told her.

Her body stiffened, then I traced the flogger gently down her flesh. "Don't worry, they'll be more like caresses, my darling," I reassured her, then I flicked the flogger down over her shoulder blades.

A small cry escaped from her lips. "Ooooh, that wasn't too bad, mistress."

I repeated the dose, then again, and again, and again. "Thank me for the first five, darling," I hissed, noting that only very faint marks were appearing on her lovely flesh.

"Thank you for the first 5 of my 50 strokes, mistress," said my obedient, fast-learning little lover.

Then I switched my target to her stunning buttocks, swishing the flogger in a steady cadence over the brown mounds. After five strokes she thanked me for the first 10 of her 50 strokes.

"Now over on your back, darling," I commanded and she switched her position so her arms grabbed the outer, upper posts, thrusting her gloriously suckable breasts into stunning uplift.

I attacked them slowly, but steadily, until they had bounced and jiggled beneath the flogger's five-stroke fusillade. Again she thanked me.

Then I prepared to work on her most vulnerable spot - her pussy! "Legs really wide, dear Sharon," I told her, and she realised where I was going to apply the five-thonged flogger next.

Her eyes looked up at mine. Then she smiled and spread herself, displaying that oh-so-eatable pussy to my gaze.

I flicked the flogger back and forth, its caresses occasionally drawing little sobs from my slave as the tips flicked against her wetness down there. After the fifth blow, Sharon let out a small moan, then smiled at me: "Thank-you for the first 20 strokes of my Hawaii 50, mistress."

"On your belly again, darling," I ordered, and so the pleasurable punishment of her splendid young body continued. Five more on her upper back, five more on her beautiful buns, five more on her jouncing breasts, five more on her pussy.

"Now darling," I told her, "you've had 40 strokes, as you've just counted out. The final 10 strokes will all be delivered to the same target. You're the recipient, you choose!"

Sharon's mind was racing. Her breasts, upper back and buttocks were now reddened from the flogger's attentions, but I knew from long experience those marks would soon fade. Her pussy, I also knew from experience, would be tingling and alive.

It was absolutely no surprise to me, when she whispered almost as if in prayer: "My pussy, please, Mistress Darla!"

I smiled down at her and said, encouragingly: "Good response, you lovely little girl, good response!"

The flogger made its final visit to her pussy, and at the conclusion Sharon spoke: "50 strokes, thank-you mistress for my first Hawaii 5-0."

My response was to throw the implement to the floor and lower my mouth to her punished pussy. My initial foray was met by a soft whimpering, then a moaning, and then as I licked her damp pussy across its lash-stroked lips, she began to groan in pleasure.

Finally, her excitement climbed to a crescendo and she was roaring out loud: "Lick me, mistress, lick me, mistress, don't stop, never fucking stop!"

But of course, I had to eventually. Then I sat up alongside her and we kissed.

"I'm such a lucky person, mistress," Sharon smiled at me.

"In what way?" I asked, stroking her lovely firm breasts.

"Well," she grinned, "I almost didn't wear that slave anklet this morning!"

To be continued... 

Hawaii Five - Oh Ch. 02



I brought Sharon breakfast in bed. It was the least I could do, after all I had seduced the lovely, dark-haired bikini model.

As I dipped some little pieces of bread and butter into a soft-boiled egg and fed them to her, I asked: "Tell me about the bikini model scene, do those hunky male models hit on you a lot?"

Sharon, a stunningly-attractive 20-year-old, gobbled down the egg and bread and smiled: "Some of them do, but most of them are so fucking vain about their bodies, and looking 'cut' or whatever stupid word it is they use, that they don't bother me much.

"One calls me the 'black butch bitch' because of my rather dark hair – I'm not part-Hawaiian like you, mother was of Italian descent, so that's where I get my dark looks."

"The 'black, butch bitch'? That's rather nasty," I murmured, dipping another piece of bread into the egg yolk.

"Water off a duck's back, Darla," said my new love. "I simply told him he's got a dick the size of a flea and that's why I preferred women, and he's been quite amiable ever since. The poseur!"

I laughed. "But that's what he is, isn't it – a poser? And I must admit some of the little thongs they wear are rather cute."

"Hey, what about us women?" grinned Sharon. "Honestly, some of the bikini designs they're coming out with now are so fucking brief, I sometimes think I should be in a porn magazine.

"One outfit I've got is so tiny I swear my piss flaps peep out the sides," she informed me.

"Grrrr," I said, nuzzling on the closest of her lush 36-inch globes, nibbling the nipple to erection, "I want you to model it for me!"

"Speaking of modelling, are there more pictures of you like that one in the gallery," said Sharon, running a hand over my large brown breasts.

"There's one up here, hanging inside the wardrobe," I told her. "Like to see it?"

Sharon was out of bed in a flash, her tanned nude body gleaming in the sunlight which was pouring through the open curtains. I wanted to drag her back to bed and take her all over again, but I stepped beside her and swung the wardrobe drawer open.

Sharon gasped when she saw the picture. It was a reverse of the one down in the gallery. The same height and width, also on a plain white background, but in this picture I have my bronze back to the artist.

I'm in semi-profile, so you can the side of my face, and the side of my 38-inch left breast, the nipple hard. I'm still holding the flogger, the handle in my left hand, the thongs caressing the small of my back to my right hand, where I've bunched them in the same manner as the picture in the gallery.

I'm also wearing the same black leather boots, but in this pose I'm leaning forwards slightly, revealing my fine arse, my anus is dark brown, almost black, and looks shiny, and there's a glimpse between my legs of my sex lips.

"God, I hope you don't think I'm anally retentive or anything, Darla," said Sharon, "but that's a fantastic fucking arse!"

I laughed. "Thank-you, my dear, at 32 I'll take all the compliments I can get!"

"Do they have names?" she asked me.

"The picture downstairs is called 'Submit', which reminds me, I've got to put a 'Sold' sticker on it – a wealthy collector who loves the artist's work has paid $5000 for it.

"So I'm hoping that when I put this one down in the gallery – it's called 'Dare You?' by the way – that he'll simply have to have it for the set."

Sharon stepped into my arms and kissed me. "It's a stunning painting," she whispered, nibbling at my ear. "He has so captured the haughty, animal you!"

I kissed her back, running one hand over her pert little bottom. "What makes you say 'he', darling?" I asked.

"Sorry," said Sharon, "I'd just automatically assumed the artist was a male. What's her name?"

"Look at the picture," I suggested and Sharon bent over, peering at the artist's signature in the bottom right hand corner of the work – a pose which allowed me to run my fingers over her gorgeous little anus.

"Karla?" she read.

"That's right," I said. "The same as Darla, only with a 'K'. That's because the artist's my mom."

"Oh my god," said Sharon, "your mother does these incredibly erotic paintings of her own daughter?"

"Why not?" I laughed. "Karla, I hardly ever call her 'mom' any more, is still a very lusty, attractive woman who's got a big sex drive. It was that sex drive which saw me conceived."

Sharon lay back on the bed and raised her eyebrows.

I explained: "Karla was just a thing of 18 when a fleet from the French navy visited Pearl on some silly he-man exercises, I think. Well, one of the dashing French officers was more interested in some other kind of exercise, if you get my drift.

"Then the French fleet fucked off, as French fleets often do, I'm told, and Karla was left, literally holding the baby. That, and the fact that he never got in touch with her ever, was one of the reasons my mother turned to the fairer sex for her sexual kicks."

Sharon took all this in and smiled: "So your mom explains your stunning Hawaiian dark looks - and your dad?"

"He explains my huge sex drive and my interest in wine and art," I told her. "And, of course, mom loves painting me because she says I've got a figure just like hers."

Sharon nearly fainted. "Ohmigod," she breathed, "a figure like yours at 50?"

"Well, I'm 38-26-36 because I work out every day and swim an hour every day, except Saturday. Karla's almost a replica, although at 50 she's got a slightly fuller figure – I think she hits the tape at 40-28-38."

Sharon licked her lips. "Oh Darla, pardon me, but I think I'm going to start drooling," she said. "You know I fancy older women – well, that's obvious, but a 50-year-old with a figure like yours? Oh, I think I'm going to come!"

"Yes, darling," I said pressing my upper body against hers, "I think you are!"

And I went down on her, licking her stunningly sweet-tasting pussy, the aromatic odour filling my nostrils, as she bucked and writhed beneath my mouth in pretend "let me go" play.

It didn't take long for Sharon to start whimpering, then pleading and begging me for clit attention. Just to be deliberately provocative, I slid my tongue lower to her anus, instead of higher to her clit, and began to taste the musky delights of her there, before rising, across her weeping cunt, along her delightfully full piss flaps until finally, I tongued and kissed and licked her clit.

"Oh lick me, darling, my darling, darling Darla," she cried, as I brought her to another noisy climax.

Silly, I know, but bringing my new sweetheart to completion was sufficient for me at the moment, and I lay back, luxuriating in the fact that I had just pleasured a randy little 20-year-old screamer to a screaming – oh, very well, shouting - orgasm.

I cuddled her closely as she came back to earth, then planted my pussy-perfumed mouth on hers and deep-tongued her in a slow kiss, until she calmed.

"Now since it's Sunday, and since that's the usual day my dear mamma visits I'd better give her a ring and say 'Not today, darling mummy'," I laughed, as I reached across Sharon's oh-so-fuckable body for the phone.

Sharon's hand slapped against mine, and with a swift smooch on the mouth she gasped: "You'll do no such thing, my glorious bitch boss. I'm extremely keen to meet your mom, please!"

I looked down into the limpid dark pools of her big brown eyes – and I'm sorry if this is romance novel stuff, but they really were big enough to drown in.

"'Kay," I relented, falling back, "but allow me to call her and warn her you're here and to remind her to bring something mouth-wateringly edible."

Sharon whooped with laughter: "Her body sounds good enough to eat!"

I gave her a pretend slap across her "whip me" bum and pressed a little love bit on her adorable neck. "Behave, black butch bitch, or you'll enjoy the caresses of my flogger once more," I warned.

"Oh no, mistress mine, mercy mistress, not the flogger!" Sharon laughed, bouncing up and down on the bed like a trampolinist, her magnificent boobs flouncing about in erotic display.

Joining in her laughter, I rolled my somewhat larger body on top of hers, our breasts and pussies mingling, and picked up the bedside phone, punching in a number.

Karla answered very quickly with her deep, dark brown voice that I've tried for years to imitate, and no, I've never achieved it.

"Hi Karla," I said brightly – I was in a great mood. Isn't everyone after a brand new seduction?

"I just want to tell you I have a girl friend round who's seen 'Submit' and 'Dare You?' and she's very keen to meet you. And I also want to warn you we're both fuckin' hungry, so bring something wonderful that'll go with a few bottles of fine chardonnay," I told her.

Mom chuckled and said she'd be here in just over an hour – she lives way up on the North Shore beaches, but drives like a maniac, or as maniacally as you can on the twisting one-lane road that snakes for such a long way down Oahu.

I told Sharon Karla was on her way and would get here in just over an hour, so we did what you'd expect new lovers to do in 60 minutes, until her arrival.

Karla's noisy old Dodge Charger – she's a huge fan of the cult movie Vanishing Point – growled into my driveway and Sharon and I, both "dressed" now in our bikinis, stepped onto the veranda and greeted her.

"Hi Karla," I called, as mom, dressed in a tight fitting T-shirt and black leather hot pants, climbed from her white machine with its broad blue speed stripe.

"This is Sharon," I shouted, "she's a bikini model."

Mom looked up at us and beamed one of her broadest, white teeth smiles. "From the view I'm getting she's going to be a Karla Model very soon," she rejoined, before bending to pick up a tray from the side seat of her car, displaying very deliberately, I thought, a stunning backside and brown, chocolate-coloured calves and thighs.

Sharon leaned against me, ran a loving caress across my left breast and murmured: "She's gorgeous, no wonder I love you so much!"

I kissed her gently on the mouth, and whispered: "Make sure you still do, my lovely little black, butch bitch!"

Once inside, Karla placed a large tray holding a sensational-looking quiche – no jokes, please – on the kitchen table, then hugged me in a swift "I've not seen you for a week" cuddle. "And this is your bikini model?" Karla smiled, beaming one of her "fuck me" grins and opening her arms. Sharon, the little beast, stepped into her embrace and gave her what I thought was an overly aggressive mouth-to-mouth kiss.

"Hi Karla," she said, in one of those husky "I can't wait for you to make love to me" voices, "you've just met your No 1 fan!"

"You can't afford my paintings," Karla laughed, in one of those "I'm all yours, baby" voices.

"I wasn't talking about your paintings," Sharon giggled, and then we all collapsed in laughter.

"Hey," remarked Karla, when the laughter subsided, "I feel very over-dressed." And with that, she kicked off her high heels, pulled off her T-shirt and dropped her hot pants, then stepped back into her high heels.

She was wearing a sheer black bra, and through it you could clearly see her large nipples and areolae the size of saucers – well, OK, I'm exaggerating, but half the size of saucers, honest, they're much bigger than mine!

At her middle, Karla had on a high-hipped sheer black thong, the black patch above her mons clearly visible, then her lush piss flaps, pressed hard against the material. She turned to give us a view of her beautiful bootie as she pushed the quiche into the oven.

"Mother," I snapped – it's usually "Karla", sometimes "Mom" but when I'm really pissed with her it's "Mother" – "stop trying to pick up my new girl friend."

Then I put arms protectively around Sharon's shoulders and pecked her on the cheek. "Don't worry, baby," I cooed in baby-talk, "Darla will keep you away from the nasty-wasty big womans!"

"Now," said Karla, when she had completed her display of her assets, "I've got a camera in the car, I'll pop out and fetch it. Darla, get Sharon here into some slave gear and you put on a domme outfit. I've got an idea for a series of paintings of you two."

And with that she went for her camera, one of those hugely expensive German jobs. I escorted Sharon back into the bedroom and rummaged among my wardrobe, then tossed her a set of red harem pants - totally see-through - and a see-through red satin bra.

As she stripped off her bikini and put on the new outfit, I put on a black leather, quarter cup bra, which does wonders for my tits, and then got into a pair of gleaming black high-heel boots which come to half-way up my thighs. On my head, I planted a black leather military cap, and to complete my ensemble chose a stiff, four-foot long leather crop, with a rubber, golf-grip type handle.

Sharon, in the meantime, was flouncing in front of the mirror, admiring her lovely body, her pussy visible through the harem pants, which came down to her ankles, her nipples also visible in the red bra. When she saw my outfit, she put her feet together, placed her palms against each other and bowed in submission.

"Enough of that, you submissive slut," I grinned, "let's go, Karla will be in the studio by now."

We walked along the veranda quickly – don't want prying eyes to complain about overt displays of sexuality – and down into the gallery. In back, I've got an airy studio, with a large white sheet backdrop, which Karla often uses to take the photos she prepares her paintings from.

She was already set up when we arrived. Spotlights illuminated where Sharon and I would pose, and her camera was on its rostrum.

"Yummy, yummy, I've got love in my tummy," said Karla when she caught her first glimpse of Sharon's "naughty" bits.

"Mother," I snarled, in mock anger, but secretly pleased that the sight of Sharon was turning her on, "stop trying to annoy me."

Then she put us through our paces, in a series of poses. In some, I was leaning an elbow on Sharon's shoulder, my fist bunched against my cheek, the whip held out from the other side of my body, its tip on the floor.

In some, Karla had Sharon kneeling at my feet, gazing up at my naked pussy.

For the final series of poses, Karla made me turn my back on my lovely little slave girl and stick out my bum, while she made Sharon thrust her face into my backside. It didn't take any persuasion, as soon as she was in position Sharon's tongue was flicking over my anus.

"And seeing Sharon's face in your bootie has made me hungry," said Karla, packing up her camera. "Come on, that quiche'll be ready."

If you've ever tried my mom's quiches, you'll know what "real men" are missing – they are superb, especially when washed down with a couple of bottles of fine Californian chardonnay. Well, they should have been fine, they cost $45 a pop!

After lunch, I fully expected Karla to hang around – I'd seen the way she stared at Sharon's wonderful breasts – but she announced suddenly: "Must dash, I've got a painting in the boot all wrapped and ready for a collector down in Waikiki." And after giving me a peck on the cheek, and Sharon one on the mouth – and no, it didn't escape my notice – she was dressed and gone.

After the noisy old Charger had departed, I took Sharon by the hand and, still dressed in my domme gear, she in her slave outfit, we walked back into the bedroom.

I sat on the bed, and pulled her down onto my lap. Running a hand over her bra, I unclipped it and freed it from her body. The bra's release resulted in only the slightest dropping of her breasts.

"And now, little Miss Temptress," I smiled, stroking her nipples to erection, "what happens to naughty little girls who make advances to their domme's mom?"

Sharon pleaded innocence. "What advances, mistress?" she said, shyly, batting her lovely dark lashes seductively.

"Oh come on," I laughed, "you know very well - what about 'your number one fan' and 'I wasn't talking about paintings'?"

Sharon grinned slyly. "Oh, that," she said in a small voice. "Well, yes, I guess I was kinda naughty."

"Yes, you were," I said sternly, "and you know what happens to naughty little girls?"

Sharon sat bolt upright and threw her arms around my shoulders: "They get spanked?"

"You are so right," I replied. "But don't think I'm going to get my hands sore working on your tight, taut toned butt, Miss Bikini Model. Fetch me a paddle from the drawer where I keep the flogger!"

Sharon leapt up, stepped out of the harem panties so she was totally nude, then skipped to the bedside drawer and returned with my favourite paddle. OK, it's my only paddle, but I love it.

The size of a table tennis bat, with a similar handle, the bright red rubber surface was not as rigid as a bat's, quite pliable and also quite capable of causing a severely reddened bottom!

Sharon handed me the implement, then lay across my lap, feet scrabbling on the floor, fingers touching on the other side. She had spread her feet quite wide, presenting a mouth-watering target. I laid the paddle in the small of her back and traced my fingers along her pussy. It was sopping wet!

Then, I picked up the paddle in my right hand – her head was on the left side of my body – and brought the paddle down crisply across her taut right buttock. It quivered deliciously as the paddle hit home. Sharon also called out "Ouch" deliciously.

I gave her another 11 well-spaced strokes until her bottom showed a distinct red hue, despite the fact that it was delightfully sun-tanned.

"Other way round, pet," I ordered, and the lovely creature stood, then plonked herself down across my lap in the reverse position. This time I transferred the paddle to my left hand and rained 12 strokes down on her left buttock cheek, pausing with exquisite little teasing intervals between each blow.

Then I ordered her up onto the bed. Sharon lay on it, face up, her head supported by two pillows propped beneath her.

Without bothering to discard my boots, I climbed up onto the bed and straddled her face, feeling her hot breath against my hot pussy.

"And now, Sharon, my pet," I instructed, "you will thank me." I felt a tremor of excitement as her young mouth began to work along my pussy lips, before her tongue delved into my cunt. Then she worked further down, laving and licking at my anus.

Then she pulled back and looked up at me and smiled.

"Darla?" she said, in a hushed tone, "is this going to be the way I have to thank you after every paddling I get?"

I resisted the temptation to drag her mouth back onto my pussy and gave her the answer she so obviously wanted: "It sure is, honey, it sure is."

Sharon giggled. "Then I'm sorry, darling mistress, but I'm going to be very, very naughty indeed!"

To be continued. 



Hawaii Five - Oh Ch. 03



I gunned the Porsche Carrera up the freeway out of Honolulu, past Pearl City and on towards mom's beautifully secluded home just past Waimea Bay.

Seated beside me, Sharon's dark hair streamed behind her, jet-black and gleaming in the strong tropical sun, her upper body bare save for a tiny little black PVC bikini top that attracted lots of stares from truckers and SUV drivers as we roared past them back on the busier part of the freeway.

My lovely little bikini model lover was wearing a pair of denim cut-away hot pants and high heels. It was all that I could do during the drive north to keep my hands away from her, the tempting little tart!

It had been four weeks since Karla, my still hugely attractive 50-year-old mom, had taken scores of photos of me and Sharon for her new series of paintings and now we were on the way to her North Shore beach home to enjoy a "sneak" preview.

"You don't need to bring bikinis," said Karla, "my pool is totally secluded, as you know, and I thought we'd go nude."

"Oh yes, and you'll be able to ogle my little darling, eh Karla?" I laughed, when we had spoken the day before.

"No way, Sharon and I will wear bikinis and we'll be keeping 'em on!" Fat chance, and I knew it, but what the hell, I thought I'd put up some token resistance.

I steered the Carrera into Karla's courtyard and as I did, the security gateway behind us swung across, making the property inaccessible. Mom values her privacy.

It was a lovely property, overlooking the fabulous and famous stretch of Oahu's surf coast, but the pool was surrounded by a high fence and at such a level that neighbours on each side could not pry on the area. Which was just as well!

Sharon and I walked into the house, and Karla greeted us with warm hugs. They had to be warm because she had obviously been lying out in the sun, her naked upper body was smelling of coconut oil, her 40-inch breasts swinging lush and free, her nipples huge, her areolae stunning.

Sharon, I noted, rubbed her equally stunning 36-inch PVC-covered breasts against mom's with obvious relish! Karla's pussy region was covered by a tiny little red g-string, which contrasted erotically with her chocolate brown skin.

"Thank heavens you're here," said Karla, "it means we can crack open a bottle of Dom." From her hugely spacious and hugely expensive kitchen area, she fetched a bottle of Dom Perignon and produced three flutes.

After pouring, Karla clinked glasses with Sharon and me and announced: "Here's to a successful preview and a good sale!"

We drank, then Karla said: "Into your bikinis, ladies and we'll go see the paintings." Sharon stepped out of her cut offs in a flash, revealing a matching PVC thong, which gleamed over her lovely prominent pudenda.

I pulled off my T-shirt and shorts to display my 38-inchers covered by a snazzy little white bikini top, which went superbly with the chocolate skin I'd inherited from mom. Matching briefs, thong-style completed my outfit. We'd both kicked off our high heels at the door.

Mom then led the way into her display studio, where three canvasses, draped by large white sheets, stood in the center of the room. Karla walked to the first and whipped the sheet from it. Sharon gasped!

The picture was trademark mom! It stood as high as those which Sharon had seen back at my place, but since the subjects were two women, not one, they were a foot or more wider. Again, the subjects were in vivid colours, the backdrop totally white to enhance the effect made by the coloured models.

Sharon gazed at herself in the painting, standing beside me, her little red harem bra and harem pants, revealing her nipples and pussy. She looked docile, devoted and delicious, her lovely face turned to mine, regarding me with sweet submission.

I looked pretty darned dominating, too! I was clad in a black leather quarter-cup bra and my 38-inch breasts stood up firm and roundly inviting, the nipples as hard as ebony. I was leaning my elbow on Sharon's shoulder, but ignoring her gaze, staring with a "Don't dare fuck with me" look, straight out of the canvas.

My pussy was bare, the parts where my razor had shaved back my bristly dark hair leaving a darker hue to my skin. My piss flaps were plainly on view, and my shining black leather boots, which gleamed half-way up my thighs, added an air of domination to my clothing. 

This was added to by the cruel leather lash I was holding in my right hand, its tip touching the floor, giving it a slight bend.

"Where's my Muir cap?" I asked Karla, noting that she had omitted the little leather military cap I had worn in the photos she'd taken.

"I thought you looked menacing enough without it," she replied.

I could see her point, I cut a pretty formidable figure!

"Does it have a title?" Sharon asked, in admiration.

"This one I call 'Domme and sweety', which I think sums you both up," said Karla.

Then she threw back the sheeting from the middle picture, again producing a little gasp from my darling.

In this picture, Sharon was on her dainty little knees, slightly in profile, her face upturned and gazing at my snatch. I was also turned inward slightly, and I was laying the lash across her shoulder.

"This one's called 'Domme and subby'," Karla informed us.

"It's fucking beautiful, oh isn't it beautiful, darling?" Sharon asked me.

"Yes, it's very good," I replied, "but the third one is the one I'm interested in. Unveil it, Karla!"

Mom stepped to the right of the third picture and drew back the sheet. As I expected, it surpassed the other two in sheer, graphic illustration of a domme and her slave.

Sharon was portrayed kneeling behind my arse, which was presented to her face. I had my back to the artist, but I was in slight profile so the bare globe of my left breast was depicted in all its lushness. Sharon, on the other hand, was not identifiable, thanks to the fact that her face was buried between my arse cheeks.

"And this one," announced Karla, "I call 'Domme and slutty', and it's my favourite!"

I grinned and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You've surpassed yourself, Karla," I said, very pleased with the outcome.

"Ooooh, Karla, you've made me look so fuckin' sensational, thank you so very much," said Sharon, stepping into mom's embrace and planting a long, lingering smooch on her mouth. Mom's hands reached round and cupped her barely covered buttocks and kneaded them.

"Think you'll get your asking price, mom?" I inquired, as the two finally broke apart.

Karla inclined her head. "I think my favourite benefactor will snap them up," she said, "but you'll get your money from the print sales. How are they going, by the way?"

Print sales, of course, are the icing on the cake in this business. Each of my mom's paintings were also produced in colour prints, some quite large, and sold like hot cakes to people who couldn't afford the usual $5000 asking price for the real thing.

"Your two latest, which Sharon saw back at the gallery, are selling well," I answered. "Well, so much for the preview, now let's get pissed!"

Out by the pool, the Dom chilling in an ice bucket, we lay on three recliners and luxuriated in the lovely Hawaiian sun – it may have been getting on for winter, but with a difference of only two degrees in warmth between high summer and the middle of winter, it's always summer in Hawaii!

After the second bottle of Dom, I was feeling in need of a piddle, so I went upstairs to the bathroom, which is large enough to play a doubles final at the US tennis open! After doing my business, I stood and flushed the seat, then from the window above the seat, I looked down on the pool.

There, mom was working her wicked ways with my lovely little subby! Sharon was on mom's recliner, her beautiful brown back and buttocks to me, her mouth working at Karla's magnificent 40-inch tits! As she worked, I noticed mom slipping her hands down to Sharon's hips to push the thong away from her.

Despite the fact that mom was seducing my lovely little trollop, I placed my fingers down the front of my bikini and found that I was aroused. I played with myself for a few moments, then saw that mom was obviously doing to Sharon what I was doing to myself!

It was time to return to the scene of the crime, but since I knew there was going to be action, I stepped out of my thong and threw my bra top on a chair in the lounge as I stepped back into the sunlight.

The situation, I saw, had now changed. Sharon, her breasts still in high-cupped uplift in her PVC top, was lying flat on the recliner, her thighs spread wide on its arms and Karla was hard at work with her mouth on Sharon's pussy.

I walked across the warm tiles and stepped to the recliner, placed my feet on either side of its head and stared down at Sharon's blissfully happy face. "So, when the cat's away, eh?" I laughed, and lowered my streaming wet snatch onto Sharon's mouth.

Her lovely lips and tongue were soon invading my cunt and anus, licking and lavishing love on me down there.

I let go the occasional sigh of ecstasy and that was the only sound by the pool, apart from the vaguely rumbling crash of the nearby surf. They had to be the only sounds, since Sharon's and Karla's mouths were both hard at work satisfying two wet pussies!

Then I could hold back no more and soon I was bucking and writhing on Sharon's mouth as I heaved my way to a wonderful al fresco climax. I pulled off her sweating face just in time to allow her to articulate her pleasure as mom tongue drove her to maximum revs and brought the bikini model to orgasm.

I collapsed back on my recliner, sucked a nearly full flute of Dom down, then looked at Karla and Sharon. Karla pulled off her g-string, to reveal that lush pudenda I knew drove her girl friends wild and with a superb dive, she plunged into the water.

Sharon pulled off her PVC top and I noted with envy that her 36-inch beauties hardly sagged when the bra was removed! Then Sharon followed Karla into the pool. I made it three.

After towelling down, Karla announced: "Now we've broken the ice, as it were, I hope you don't think me too bold to request an orgasm? I seem to be the odd one out, so far."

I thought Sharon was going to come then and there as Karla pushed her gorgeous-firm, toned and tan body back onto the recliner and stood in the pose I had adopted not 20 minutes earlier.

As Karla lowered her pussy to my little slave's mouth, I lifted Sharon's thighs and placed them gently on the recliners's padded arms.

Her musky charms awaited me, and I lapped her up, tasting the salty tang of her snatch, the arousing feminine aroma only slightly masked by the effects of the salt pool we had been plunging about in just minutes ago.

Soon mom was thrusting away to ecstasy, grunting and heaving as Sharon's sensual mouth played on all of her face sitter's lush charms, then I brought Sharon to a noisy completion soon afterwards.

After another brief dip, we towelled off and went into the kitchen for a naked lunch – another of Karla's magnificent quiches, washed down with two bottles of some lovely and, I guessed, very expensive French white.

Karla then eyed me and Sharon and, typical mom, took charge: "Now, Darla, your lovely little girl here has been very naughty, hasn't she?"

"That's the pot calling the fuckin' kettle black, mom," I laughed. "It was you who pulled her thong off and started fingering her – I saw you from upstairs!"

Karla grinned, sheepishly, then responded: "Ah, yes, but you tend to forget Sharon was the one who went for my breasts first. So she was naughty first!"

I nodded in defeat.

"So I think we should punish her in my little play room, don't you?" asked Karla.

Sharon looked at me with one of those "Please, please!" looks and I gave in.

"Oh, OK, but let's not make it one of your marathon sessions, mom," I relented. Sometimes mom liked to spend hours in her sumptuously-appointed games room with her submissive little girl friends!

Karla grinned: "We'll call a halt as soon as Sharon's had enough!"

I sighed: "That's precisely what I'm worried about, Karla!"

In the large games room downstairs, kept at a comfortable temperature by the air conditioning that's an essential in Hawaii, Karla settled herself down in a large easy chair and splayed her lovely large thighs across its arms. Her pussy, I could see, was already wet and inviting.

The seat of the chair was quite high, which was exactly why mom had chosen it. The height meant that Sharon could go into a crouch to place her face against mom's pussy and would have to adopt a stance which would push her lovely naked tush out for the paddle, which I was already selecting from Karla's equipment table.

I chose a lovely, bright red leather implement, the business end at least 12 inches long and some three inches deep. It looked as if it would deliver a pretty potent blow, and I wasn't in the mood to spend hours dominating my lovely little subby in mom's games room.

The sounds of Sharon's busily-working mouth at mom's snatch came to me as I returned to the pair, Karla's eyes closed as she sat back and revelled in the delights the bikini model were delivering.

Then I started to do some delivering of my own, sweeping the paddle across the lovely cheeks of my lover. The paddle made a hugely satisfying "Thwaaaaack" sound as it hit, wobbling the 20-year-old's cheeks in a wonderful way.

I'd hardly delivered a dozen strokes, before Karla was starting to articulate her delight in a much more vocal way than was possible poolside, due to the proximity of her neighbours. In her games room there was no need for such caution and mom took advantage of it.

As Sharon slaved away – pun intended – at Karla's pussy, mom started to call out: "Suck me, subby, suck me, subby!" Sharon obliged, increasing the tempo of her oral adoration until with a keening cry of "Do it, subby Sharon, do it subby Sharon!" mom threshed wildly to a bucking, thrusting climax.

I dropped the paddle and knelt to kiss my adorable little lady's backside as Sharon kept licking, her strokes getting slower and slower on Karla's quim, now.

Then mom spoke up: "Thank-you so much, Sharon, that was absolutely exquisite, but then I'd expected as much from Darla's reports on your expertise."

Then I threw in my 50 cents' worth: "And it sounded so fuckin' lovely, Karla, I think it's time I had a turn on that voracious little mouth. Your turn with the paddle, I think?"

Karla climbed out of her chair and bent to pick up the paddle. I spread my thighs over the arms and looked down at Sharon's beautiful, sweat and pussy-stained face.

She looked so sweet as she buried her face in yet another wet, demanding pussy and started to send me to heaven. I lay back and writhed slowly on her mouth.

Karla was already sweeping the paddle against her magnificent bum in a slow but steady cadence. The paddle's "Thwaaaack" sound on Sharon's buttocks made the perfect accompaniment to the licking and laving she was performing on my gushing snatch.

Perhaps I could spend hours down here, after all!

To be continued. 



Hawaii Five - Oh Ch. 04



The gallery was packed with the usual buyers, former models, friends and hangers on. It was unveiling night for mom's three pictures of me and my lovely little lady, Sharon, the 20-year-old bikini model.

Karla, at 50 a slightly larger version of me, was stunning in a red satin dress, her nipples protruding into the material like organ stops. For my slightly less lush 32-year-old figure I had chosen an ankle length black satin number, and from its sheer cut you could immediately tell I wasn't wearing bra or panties.

It was getting on for unveiling time and still the dark-haired little vixen wasn't here. Just as I thought we'd have to go ahead, without her, Sharon arrived with a beautiful blonde on her arm.

"Hi Darla," said Sharon, breathlessly, as she brought her companion over to me. "Sorry I'm late, but I promised Karen here I'd introduce you and she was fuckin' late. Darla - meet Karen. Now, I must say hi to Karla."

And with that, my little subby left me with the blue-eyed blonde. "Sorry about that," said Karen. "I've only been in Hawaii for a month or so and I got lost on my way to Sharon's apartment."

"Where are you from and why the move to Hawaii?" I asked.

"I'm from dreary old Wisconsin , but I made a move here for my line of work," she told me.

"And what would that be exactly?" I asked, drinking in her full, firm breasts, encased in a sheer white evening dress, which stopped way above her knees.

"I'm a Sharon," she laughed.

"A Sharon?" I said, puzzled.

"Yeah, a bikini model, Darla!" she replied.

She must have been disappointed by my reaction. "Hey don't you think I'm built for it?" she asked, with a sweet little pout. "I work out every day and I hit the tape at 36-23-35. That's OK isn't it?"

A passing waiter pressed a glass of Taittinger into her hand, as I responded: "It's not OK, Karen, it's fuckin' fantastic!"

And I meant it, she was a little stunner, just a bit taller than Sharon, but still a couple of inches below my rather statuesque height. "Now let me introduce you around."

That had been some hours ago, and now the caterers had left, the crowds had gone - all gushing in their appreciation of mom's three paintings of me and Sharon - and Karla, Sharon, Karen and I were up in the house, sipping on chardonnays and relaxing after the evening's activities.

After some chat, Sharon stood brightly and announced: "Darla, I hope you don't mind, but I've promised to show Karla my apartment on Kuhio. Be a pet and look after Karen, will you?"

Then, mom and my little subby swept out. Showing her the apartment! Her pretty little pussy, more like! Then I glanced at Karen and saw a look of disappointment on her face, then tears started to dribble down her lovely cheeks.

I picked up my chardonnay and moved over to the couch and sat beside her, placing an arm across her lovely tanned shoulders. "There, there, baby," I said softly, "tell Darla all about it."

Between heaving sobs, Karen wept out her tale of woe. "I hardly know anyone here, Sharon's the only person I really know, but she's like a sister, I don't fancy her.

"And tonight two disgusting old men hit on me - and I don't like men, disgusting old men, or disgusting young men."

Phew, I thought, that's a relief!

"And then I saw those paintings your mom did of you and Sharon and I got, I got ..." Her voice faded away.

I stroked her corn-coloured hair. "Yes, baby, you got what?" I said, as comfortingly as possible.

More tears, then: "I got jealous. I got envious, and I felt terrible with myself. Tell me, Darla?" Then her voice trailed away again.

"What, sweetie?" I said, still stroking her lovely head.

"Did she, oh you know, in that picture where's she's kneeling behind you, did she? I mean, did she touch you there?"

I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and smiled. "Yes, my darling, we posed for mom's camera - she works from the photos - and yes, Sharon touched me there. But don't ever be jealous darling."

And with that I rose, unclipped the dress behind my neck and let it fall to the floor, leaving me nude but for my high heels. My 38-26-36, part-Polynesian brown body gleamed in the light. Then, slowly but deliberately I turned with my back to the lovely blonde bikini model and bent over, hands grasping my thighs just above the knees, feet spread a yard apart.

All right, it was, I must confess, a lurid, blatant sexual display, but I hoped it would serve its purpose - Karen would either accept my erotic offer, or storm out, or storm into one of two bedrooms. Mine, which would be fine, or the guest room, which I have to admit, would not have been so fine.

For what seemed like forever, but was probably only 15 or 20 seconds I remained bent, my heart pounding, waiting for Karen to make her mind up. Then I heard a zipper at work. My heart leapt!

Then I felt hot breath on my buttocks. My heart was now going like a steam hammer! 

Then a pointy little tongue flicked out and licked at my tangy anus, tasting its primal fruit, flickering and fluttering over its dark brown orifice. My heart was no longer a steam hammer, it was a soaring jet engine!

Slowly, not wanting to dislodge the bikini model's mouth from my nether regions, I straightened up, until her face was buried between my cheeks. Then I pulled away and turned round, placed my hand in her left armpit and made her rise to her feet.

The beautiful blonde was wearing a vivid white satin bra and sheer, see-through white knickers. "Come along, darling," I said, quietly, "we've got a lot of things to do, a lot of places to explore." And taking her by the hand, I led her into the bedroom - mine, of course, not the guest room!

As we kicked off our high heels, Karen unclipped her bra, revealing a stunning, mouth-wateringly tasty pair of breasts, the nipples large and pink, with hardly any areolae. Then her panties came off, to show a small patch of blonde hair on her mons, sweet, slender little lips at her pussy.

Leaving the lights on, I lay back on the piled pillows and Karen climbed onto the bed and stood straddling me. Her pussy was close, close enough for me to inhale the alluring aroma. I also noticed that wherever she had been sunbathing it was not secluded enough to allow to do it in the nude. A small white triangle of flesh showed where her pussy had been covered from the sun's rays. So pretty!

Then her snatch was sliding onto my mouth, allowing me to taste the sweet secretions from her cunt, and the slightly salty, tangy taste of urine from between her flaps. She had obviously been for a piss a couple of times during the evening.

My mouth went to work first at her anus, taut and tight and exciting. I probed it, only by a millimetre or so, feeling her sigh as I entered, even just minutely. Then I was at her gushing cunt, sucking down her sweet sex juice, then at her slim labia lips, then through the divide there, tasting once more her saltiness, then up to her throbbing clit.

Soon she was taking charge of my forays, thrusting and pushing down onto my face, and when she decided it was time to experience the Big O, she held my head with one hand, and gasped: "Now, you wonderful woman, now!"

I flattened my tongue out across her clit and pressed against it firmly, and then she shrieked "Oh fuckin' hell, fuckin', fuckin' hell" so loud I was afraid it would awaken the neighbours. After all, it was gone midnight.

But the only sounds as she panted down from her plateau of pleasure was the thrum from my air conditioning and the hum from the cicadas outside the bedroom window.

Karen then slowly slid down my body, the thatch of her mons sweat-stained and slippery against my mouth, her taut, flat little tummy, then her upper torso, the valley between those superb breasts, then her throat then her mouth, until we were exchanging sloppy, yummy, "let me eat you all over again" kisses, the aroma of her sex on my mouth.

Then she was on the move again, her mouth tracing down my throat, down to one large breast, sucking at the erect nipple, then over my rib cage, down over my belly, onto my little short-haired forest before delving down past my lush labia lips, past my cunt to alight once more on my anus.

Her tongue was more adventurous this time, trying to force its way into my back passage, and succeeding as I relaxed totally to her tongue thrusts, enjoying the feeling of her pretty little pointed tongue just inside me. Then she pulled back, and the moistness of her tongue mingled with the dampness at my dripping cunt, before she sucked on my piss flaps, paused to growl "Yummy" before she alighted on my screaming-for-relief clit.

I widened my thighs, placed them on her shoulders, now slippery with sweat, and gave myself to her probing, clit- caressing tongue as the flood of climax swept me up in its all-embracing arms.

Soon I was emulating her cries of delight as I came on her mouth. "Yes, my darling, eat me, eat me, fuckin' eat me" I yelled, as she brought me to a totally satisfying orgasm, which dragged on and on as she licked and sucked at my erect clit.

Finally, I had to push her voracious little tongue away and press my thighs together.

She smiled up at me, then rose and placed one of her glorious globes to my mouth. "Where did you learn to make love like that?" I said, still panting from my erotic exertions.

Karen grinned enigmatically, before replying: "Just let's say an older woman."

"How much older?" I asked.

"I was 18 and she was 30," said my lovely little new conquest.

"And how old are you now?" I queried.

"I'm 20 - and you, you wonderful woman?" said the bikini model.

"I'm 32," I laughed. "So your original tutor is the same age as me."

"But nowhere near as good, my mature mistress," she said. 

Then, in a more serious tone, Karen asked: "Will your mom and Sharon be doing what I think they're doing?"

"Almost certainly, darling," I said, "I'm afraid my lovely little Sharon has a thing about older women - older women like my mother, in particular."

"Show me something that you think they'll be doing, mistress," Karen whispered.

That was easy. I made her lay flat on her back, her head and shoulders propped on the pillows I arranged lengthways down the bed. Then I knelt above her face and lowered my pussy, still damp from its earlier excitement, and felt her tongue flickering here, there and everywhere.

I lowered myself to her beautiful snatch, and pressed my mouth onto her mons, then down to her cunt, then even further to her most secret destination, before licking and laving there, as she attacked my clit.

Again I roared my appreciation of her youthful tongue as it worked me back to another noisy climax, then I slithered down from her mouth and arranged myself between her thighs, her pussy wet and inviting.

"Shh," said Karen, halting me in my tracks. "Do you have a strap-on, darling?"

"Yes," I replied, "but I rarely use it."

"Please use it on me, I love the sense of invasion it gives," she pleaded, as I gazed at her magnificent minge. From my bedside table drawer I pushed aside my lovely lash, my punishing paddle and found my red rubber strap-on.

I pulled it up over my hips, adjusting the red rubber straps over my lushness, with the understrap between my pussy and arse cheeks and turned to face her. The bright red imitation cock, seven-and-a-half inches of stiffness, stood ready to invade her. The balls were bright red and firmly bunched.

She sat up and placed her lips over its head, sucking it until she had left a sheen of shining, slippery spittle on the rubber.

Then she lay back and spread herself. I knelt above her, positioned the cock head at her cunt lips and pushed gently but deliberately into her. As I did, I kept my upper body above her, my arms straight, my fists bunched on the mattress.

This allowed Karen to suck and kiss at my lush, large 38-inch breasts as they hung above her face. Her mouth was soft yet insistent, sucking my nipples into even larger erection than they had achieved when I had driven my strap-on into her.

Then I fell against her toned, taut body and relished in the wonderful contact as our pubic bones banged together, our mons mingling in hairy embrace.

"Oh yes, that's so fuckin' great, so fuckin' good, yes mistress, fuck me, mistress, fuck me, oh you're so fuckin' fantastic," cried my glorious little 20-year-old friend, thrusting her pussy against mine with every plunge of the dildo.

Then came her climax, but as she calmed I realised I still needed more! After her body had returned to normal, I pulled the strap-on back, until, with a small plopping sound, it dropped from her cunt. But in dropping the dildo, sopping wet from its insertion into her vagina, was now at her anal lips.

Why not, I thought. And without even pausing in my movement, I pressed the red rubber against the brown orifice. Karen tensed, but I kissed her on the mouth, at first gently, then harder and harder until our lips were locked into a mashing, smashing kiss. 

As I did this, I pushed the dildo home and at first there was some resistance - nothing much to speak of, but resistance nevertheless. "Easy baby," I cooed, "relax, let it happen."

And then she opened herself to me and the rubber intruder slid inexorably up her anus, driving deep into her darkest regions, until my mons was thrusting and rubbing against her piss flaps.

Soon she was back on the verge of yet another orgasm, as the red rubber implement continued rogering her sweet little arsehole, then she exploded into another contented orgasm.

Laying exhausted in each others arms, I unhitched the strap-on and threw it to the floor. It could be washed and lubricated again later, now it was time to sleep.

I was woken with the sun streaming through the bedroom windows, the cicadas making an unholy Saturday morning racket outside, and Karen making a holy visit to my twat temple. What a lovely way to be woken up!

We were enjoying a totally unhealthy fry up of hash browns, bacon, eggs and sausages, washed down by large mugs of piping hot black coffee when the phone rang.

"Hi, this is Darla," I said, formally. You never know, it could be a client.

"Hi darl," cried Sharon, "it's me. How's it with you?"

I smiled, looking across at the gorgeous bikini model opposite me, clad only in her bra and panties, blowing a kiss in my direction.

"It's rather wonderful, actually, my love," I replied.

"How did you like Karen?" asked my little vixen of a subby.

"I liked her very much. She's very - oh, how can I put this? - she's very inventive, Sharon," I replied, leaving her in absolutely no doubt as to what had gone on between us during the night.

"Oh, Darla, that's so fuckin' great," said my dark-haired little subby. "She's such a sweetie, but she's like me - she's got this thing about older women. And she's so fuckin' lonely."

"Believe me, darling," I told her, "she's not lonely any more!"

To be continued...



Hawaii Five - Oh Ch. 05



Everything in the garden was lovely. My mother, Karla, the randy 50-year-old, was in a sensationally steamy affair with my former lover, bikini model Sharon. I, equally randy as mom, was having a similarly steamy affair with Karen, another bikini model, who Sharon had introduced to me.

Looking back on it, the introduction was obviously a ploy so that Sharon could satiate her 20-year-old lusts on my mother's still statuesque figure. It didn't worry me, Karen - also 20, bikini models have a "thing" about being 20 - was a pert- blue-eyed blonde with a 36-23-35 body to die for, as they say.

At 32, my figure's not exactly dusty, either. My part-Hawaiian, part-French looks were superbly complimented by a gym-toned 38-26-36 figure that also got a lot of work outs in bed, courtesy of the lovely Karen. And some of the moves she used in between the sheets she didn't pick up at high school in her native Wisconsin, I can tell you. 

It was, of course, all far too good to last. I got the bad news one Monday afternoon. I had shut my art gallery early and called Karen's mobile.

"Hi, I'm hungry," I told her. "Get your pretty little body up here."

Karen made some feeble joke about "running" to her car, equating it with the way her pussy became lubricated when I talked bossy to her. She also became lubricated when I played my favourite Hawaii 50 flogging game with her. She was now an ardent devotee of being lightly whipped prior to our lovemaking sessions.

I walked through the trees up to my home, stripped nude and lay back on the bed, my fingers flickering over my pussy, thinking how Karen would soon be worshipping me down there with her inventive little tongue.

I heard her crash into the house, and then there was a pause. I heard her panting outside the bedroom door. Then she moved into the room and stood, posing at the foot of the bed.

She was a vision of sheer "Suck me, fuck me" eroticism. She was wearing one of those monokini things, made of shiny green metallic material. It was really just thin strips of material which covered her strategic bits - her lush little nipples and her pudenda.

And it was her pudenda that caught my gaze. The green material gleamed on her mound, it was amazing that the strip between her thighs did not reveal her labia lips. She twirled around and I saw just a sliver of green between her gorgeous buttocks.

"Leave it on!" I gasped, "you utterly divine little bikini model harlot. Get up here."

I patted the bed beside me and Karen dived onto the bed. Our mouths met in a mashing, crashing kiss, and my hands roamed over her suntanned, toned, taut young body. Then I slipped the upper straps aside and went for her erect, rosebud nipples.

Karen moaned as I sucked strongly on them, trying to fill my mouth with her breasts. Then, aware that she was even hotter lower down, I traced my tongue over her chest, down across her lovely little navel and on to her pudenda.

I kissed eagerly on her mons, the metallic material making a slight scratching noise as it rubbed against her little blonde thatch of pubic hair, the wisps of hair crinkly to the feel of my tongue.

"Oh migod, you smell divine," I said, licking now lower, along the outlines of her sex lips through the garment. Then, with a rough grab, I jerked the gusset - if such a small strip of material could be given that name - aside and gazed at her oh-so-perfect pussy.

The lips were glistening with the dew of her sex juices and I lapped it up, hungrily. Then, as I really started to make her writhe, Karen pulled from me and sat up.

She was looking radiant, oh-so-fuckable, but she placed a finger to my mouth. "I have some news," she said. "I think it's great, but you're not gonna like it."

I sat up, instantly aware that this was going to be "Good-bye". "You're leaving me," I said, in what I now recall was a flat monotone.

"I've been offered a job in Los Angeles," she said. "I know I'll hate LA, especially after here, but it's to work with one of the major bikini photographers. He shoots in locations out in the desert, and in Nevada and Arizona, sometimes down in Mexico."

I must have looked dreadful, because Karen fell onto me and hugged me. "Oh, Darla, my darling Darla, it's too good a career move for me to refuse," she said, stroking my hair, our breasts rubbing together.

I tried to pull myself together. "Of course, you must take it," I told her, although another part of me was screaming "No, fucking no, stay, stay, please!"

"It's great pay, and I can become really famous, he says," Karen told me. "He's even go to set up a website for me," she said.

"And when does all this happen?" I asked.

Karen looked a little ashamed. "I've got everything packed, my flight's in three hours," she said.

"And this?" I asked, pointing to her disgustingly erotic monokini. "What was all this about?"

"I just wanted to say good-bye in a really sexy outfit, something for you to remember me by," she said.

"That's nice," I said, as calmly as I could.

Then Karen stroked my breasts and asked in a hushed voice: "You know our little whipping game, Hawaii 50?"

"Of course I know it," I said, tersely, "I taught you to love it, remember?"

She nodded. "Well, I want to play it on you," she said.

"Why not?" I said, rather remotely and then I couldn't help my sarcasm dripping as I added, "after all, you must have something to remember me by, as well."

Karen leaped up and went to my bedside drawer, extracted the four silk stockings I used to tie her down spreadeagled on the bed before her whippings.

She deftly tied me to the bed's four corners, then stepped out of her monokini and picked up the five-tailed lash from the bedside table. Clambering back onto the bed, she straddled my face, hers pointing down to the foot of the bed.

For the last time I inhaled her glorious pussy perfume as her sex slithered across my face, then I felt the flogger's caress along my crotch. Then again, then another and then there was silence.

That silence was soon broken by the sound of sobbing. Then Karen climbed from me, lay down between my spread wide thighs and I heard her whisper: "I can't do it, I'm a floggee, not a flogger."

Then her tongue was flickering all over my anus, my cunt, my labia lips, my clitoris, my wetness down there mingling with her tears as they dropped onto my pussy. Soon I was again carried away by her inventive mouth, lips and tongue, until I crashed through to a tearful orgasm - by the time I came, we were both bawling our eyes out.

Karen stood up, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and untied my left wrist from the bedpost. Next she draped the gusset of her wicked little monokini across my face, the wonderful perfume still strong.

"I'm leaving now, darling," she whispered. "You can free yourself when you hear my car go down the drive. Please, don't call me - and don't come to the airport, I hate good-byes at airports."

Then she leaned down and pressed her mouth against the gusset of the metallic green garment, pushing it harder against my mouth.

"I love you," she whispered, and then she was gone.

I lay back, tears still sliding down my cheeks, but I didn't care. I heard her old car banging down the drive but I did nothing to release myself from the bondage. Instead, my fingers strayed down to my pussy and I began to touch myself. I was soon working my way to another climax, but I wasn't thinking of my fingers, I was thinking of the way her glorious mouth had driven me to the heights of passion only a few minutes before.

For the rest of the week I moped around the house. Mom and Sharon called, expressed their regrets, but soon left to continue their steamy affair. I couldn't blame them, I wasn't very good company.

I worked in the art gallery, desultorily going through the motions of trying to be interested in selling paintings to people, when I really didn't give a damn.

Finally, the week-end dawned. I worked out in the gym on Saturday, had a hugely sweaty hour and a half, felt ravishingly hungry and went down to a Mexican eatery I love, just off Kuhio.

Then I called into Sharon's apartment, interrupted her and mom in a mid-afternoon passion session, told them I was "over her" and was getting on with my life.

Sunday, just after dawn, I climbed into the Porsche and drove down to Waikiki, then decided to move further along the beach, past Fort de Russey to the almost deserted Ala Moana Park.

I sprinted into the surf, wallowing in the water, thrashing around wildly, before calming down and doing lengths up and down just past where the breakers were banging down.

On my return to the beach, I picked up my towel and walked about 50 yards to one of the cold water shower stations.

There, standing in the middle of the large concrete slab, water cascading smoothly all over her dark brown flesh was a woman like me - obviously part-Hawaiian, I mean.

She was wearing a little black bikini and the water from the shower nozzle gave it a sleek, wet look appearance. Her breasts were full and firm, her thighs toned, with rippling muscles.

Her hair was long and jet-black. She was pretty and I estimated about my age, if not a little older.

Then I saw the anklet.

I placed my towel on a nearby table and waited for her to finish.

She stepped out from under the cascading water, which she left on for me, and flashed me a million megawatt smile.

"Hi," I said, smiling back at her. "Tell me, is that a slave anklet you're wearing, or simply a fashion accessory?"

The End