Cinderella
Copyright 2008-2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults only. [email protected]
Cinderella - Book Two
by T.S. Severe
Chapter Ten
"Shhh…Don't stop…Ummm…" I murmured, holding the girl's head with my right hand while I massaged my breasts with the other.
It had taken me three days to get her into my bed. Three long days of being photographed, waiting to be photographed, watching a dozen other women get photographed. The Sports Illustrated shoot was one of the biggest of the year and it was a competition, a very serious one, with the cover being the only prize. Girls wept with bitter disappointment when they didn't get the cover. Rivalries were formed, petty jealousy and resentment became pronounced as the shoot continued and would grow in proportion to the hyped anticipation during the months that followed.
That sounds dumb and very over-dramatic, I know, but in the silly world of fashion modeling that one cover could make or break a career. That one issue sold more copies worldwide than any other ten issues combined. It made the girl who got the cover, and her ego, a household name overnight. She became instantly recognizable by a third of the planet. Her rates would soar as she suddenly had her pick of the choice assignments. It was a very big deal and very stressful, as you can imagine.
That was why we had parties every night, both to let loose our nervous energy and to try and get the other girls so drunk that they looked like shit the next morning. At least that's what us younger models were doing. The older and more experienced women knew better and closeted themselves away, or else sat at the bar drinking mineral water and watching the drunken antics of a bunch of 19 and 20 year olds trying to outdo each other. A dozen of the world's most beautiful women unsupervised and unrestrained in a tropical paradise…Imagine that.
"I'm drunk," Fernanda giggled, kneeling on the floor of my cabana, which was more of a suite than a hut. It only looked primitive from the outside, deliberately so; the inside was very much what I'd come to expect from exclusive resorts like this one.
"Shhh…Don't stop…Ummm…" I murmured, and the girl was amazingly beautiful with her big brown eyes, thick black hair, and rich caramel complexion. We went well together, I thought, especially her pouting mouth and my swollen penis.
The Brazilian made a soft purring sound deep in her delicate throat, not resisting at all as she took my cock between her lips. I'd already fucked several of the other girl's, but Fernanda was the one I really wanted and after six stout margaritas I finally had her. I was a little buzzed too, but clear enough to know what I was doing, and I didn't feel very guilty about taking advantage of the young supermodel. She was barely 18, but hardly innocent and Fernanda would have done the same to me or anyone else in a heartbeat. Seducing each other was one of our favorite games and most of the girls played it every chance they got.
"Down with these…" Ana whispered, another Brazilian model, and I wasn't sure if she was 18 yet or not, it depended on who you happened to be asking. She was undoing Fernanda's shorts, kneeling behind the girl and reaching around to work the buttons free.
They were like gorgeous siblings, with Ana being the lighter of the two in her skin and hair, and Fernanda decorated with small tribal tattoos inside her wrists. They both had small tits, firm and proud with the perfection of youth. Fernanda's nipples were very dark and swollen, and that was the look that really attracted me to the girl. I loved her tits and her narrow hips as well. I adored girls with tomboy bodies, perhaps because my own was so entirely voluptuous. Whatever the reason, I was staring with rapt fascination while Ana removed her friend's shorts and with them Fernanda's white thong. The neatly trimmed nest of the girl's pubic hair was plainly visible in the well lit room. I smiled appreciatively when Ana's fingers slipped across Fernanda's sex, wiggling and scratching lightly at the girl's soft pubis.
"Is she wet?" I wondered and Ana grinned at me, curling her middle finger and slipping it inside Fernanda's pussy.
"Mmphh…" The girl gave a soft gasp around my cock, but she wasn't pulling away.
Her mouth was warm and wet, and Fernanda's tongue moving beneath the sensitive glans was almost too much for me to take. She'd peeled the foreskin back and the sensation was a delightful torment as I was unused to being exposed that way. The pleasure was far more invasive, however, filling me with a lusty fever and I wrapped my fingers in her thick black hair, lifting my hips to fuck her face. I was going to cum much too soon, the way I always did, but that wasn't a bad thing. Being the girl I was, despite my cock and balls, I would be more than able to cum a half dozen times easily before we were finished. Ejaculation had very little to do with it; my fairy godmother had seen to that.
"She's fucking soaked!" Ana giggled, her lilting voice laced with a sweet Portuguese accent. "Like a fucking pig, ‘Nana…You fucking sex pig!"
I laughed, sticking my tongue out at the girl's vulgar words. She loved to swear and it was cute and sexy hearing the worst things imaginable spilling from Ana's innocent mouth. She was putting it to better use a few seconds later, pushing Fernanda's lush thighs wide apart and licking at the girl's cunt from behind. The room was open to the beach outside, with long silk curtains flowing on the humid breeze, but even the ripe scent of low tide was soon overcome by the heady odor of female desire. I could smell their arousal as Fernanda wagged her hips and arched her back against her friend's wetly lapping tongue. Anna was fingering her own pussy as well, crouched low like an animal and filling the room with the sounds of sexual feeding.
They were devoted lovers, as everyone knew, and while Fernanda had tried to avoid my seductive efforts, Ana had played my accomplice. Now we were sharing the girl and I was breathing thickly through my nose, watching Fernanda's tight mouth sliding up and down the pink shaft of my aching cock. I wished it was longer just then, something more manly to open the beauty's throat with, but my girlish cock was enough for our pleasure in any event. Fernanda was a wonderful cocksucker, holding me between her lips while her hands stroked my thighs and squeezed my flesh. She was breathing easily, punctuating her tender efforts with soft moans and muffled gasps when Ana would find someplace especially sensitive with her tongue and fingers.
"I'm going to cum…" I warned the girl weakly, opening my mouth to drink thick air into my heaving lungs. My balls were tight as I tried to hold myself back, and inside my tummy all those wonderful butterflies were striving for release.
"On her face! I want to see it on her face!" Ana breathed, sliding her wet mouth along Fernanda's supple spine. She was crawling atop the other girl, spreading her legs awkwardly to straddle Fernanda's hips as she knelt hands and knees on the floor.
"Uh yeah…ummm…okay…" I bit my lip with the effort of lasting just a few seconds longer, reaching for my cock and reluctantly pulling it from that sweet home I'd found in Fernanda's mouth.
"No…" Fernanda frowned, pouting and licking her lips and trying to catch my cock once more, but Ana had taken the girl by the hair.
"Shut-up!" Ana laughed, yanking Fernanda's face upward to look at me as I jerked off above them and two or three strokes was all it would take.
"Why…did you…stop…" Fernanda breathed, tilting her head slightly and looking dazed as she felt Ana's mouth on her ear.
"Becuhhhh…Oh! Fugghhh!" I couldn't get the words out as my orgasm suddenly exploded out of my balls. I kept stroking my cock, the head just a few inches above Fernanda's exotic face, as thin jets of hot sperm sprayed across her cheeks and nose.
Ana was right there, holding her friend steady with both hands. Her fingers were knotted in Fernanda's hair at the top, and her other hand was beneath the girl's jaw. Ana giggled happily, watching with breathless wonder as my cum painted Fernanda's brown skin with a sticky glaze of pale semen. Ana pushed two fingers between Fernanda's lips, telling the girl to open up and I slapped my cock against the girl's long, pink tongue as it wriggled outward. Ana played with it for a moment while my climax weakened, trying to pinch the soft muscle between her fingers and finally just fucking three long digits into Fernanda's spermy mouth.
I sat back on the bed, breathing heavily and rubbing my tits, pinching my burning nipples as the two Brazilians kissed, if that's what it could be called. Ana was licking at Fernanda's face, keeping her fingers in the girl's mouth while she dragged her tongue across the semen I'd left behind. She would suck at the gooey mess, gathering my cum and then bringing her mouth close to Fernanda's and spitting it violently at the other girl's open mouth. Ana's fingers would play with the growing pool of sperm and saliva until finally Ana pulled her fingers free and covered Fernanda's lips with her own, sealing their mouths together tightly.
The scene was hot and nasty and while I couldn't see what was happening, it was plain from the soft sounds they made that Ana's tongue was fucking her friend's mouth deeply. I could hear the moans and soft swallowing coming from both of them and my cock hadn't gone soft at all. I was still stroking it, feeling the intense warmth in my tummy, the adrenaline in my blood. I'd cum, but it had been hardly satisfying and I moved to take a comfortable position behind them. Ana's cunt was high and glistening with excitement. I could see her golden thighs wet and between them, the girl's distended labia were long and thick and dark. She had a tattoo as well, in the small of her back and I opened my mouth, drooling a puddle of spit onto it that I spread across her painted flesh with my thumbs.
I slipped my cock between Ana's pussy lips easily, driving all five inches of my sexy clit inside the girl with a single thrust as she lay atop Fernanda. They'd collapsed to the floor, still kissing while Ana moved her body against the other girl's back, rubbing her tits and belly along Fernanda's flushed skin. I reached across the girl, taking Ana by the shoulders as I knelt behind her, thrusting with my hips and working my swollen cock in and out of her. I'd fuck them both before the night was over, and they'd fuck me and each other in as many ways as we could imagine, until we were exhausted and falling asleep in each other's arms.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"You look like hell," Sofia frowned, entering the large tent that was being used for makeup.
"You should see the other girl," I said, smiling weakly and trying to be patient while Erin, my personal artist on this shoot, tried to get rid of the thin bags under my eyes.
"Barros?" Sofia said. "I saw her. She looks okay."
"Nooo…" I giggled. "Not Ana. I'm talking about Fernanda. I think she's still in my bed."
"Which one?" Sofia pulled up a canvas director's chair. "Just make her eyes black or something."
"Or something," Erin sighed. "She does this on purpose, you know."
"Fernanda Lessa," I told Sofia, since there were two of them. Tavares was the older one and kind of stuck up, but I'd do her too, given half a chance.
"I know she does." My assistant was looking at Erin, ignoring me.
"Hey! I'm right here, you know." I pouted a little. "Anyway, all I have to do is sit on some rocks. Have you seen that bikini they want me to wear?"
"No," Sofia shook her head.
"It's freakin' tiny! God! They're gonna put my balls on the cover if they're not careful," I said. "That'll be a big seller!"
"Hold still…" Erin grabbed my jaw in her gentle, but strong fingers and I had little choice. "You'll be lucky to get in the magazine at all if you keep this up."
"I'll go see Gabby," Sofia said, meaning the wardrobe supervisor. If there was a problem with the suit though, she'd have to take it up with Maggie, who was the SI editor in charge of the shoot and the person who had the final say about who was wearing what.
"So how was your night, anyway?" I asked, kind of mumbling the words as it was hard to talk.
"Pretty good," Sofia told me, smiling so I'd know I was forgiven. "That guy you thought was gay…"
"Terry?"
"Perry," she corrected me with a grin and a nod. "He's definitely not gay."
"Ummm?" I arched my eyebrows and Sofia was grinning at me. "Ooh uck im?
"Stop talking!" Erin was trying to airbrush my lips or something.
"Yeah…" Sofia sighed airily. "I fucked him."
"Perry?" Erin asked with a little snort. "I thought he was queer too."
I really wanted to say something, just to tease Sofia about attracting fags, but Erin was holding my jaw like a vise and it kind of hurt. She was punishing me, I thought, for making her look bad. It wasn't my fault I only got an hour of sleep. Those Brazilian girls just loved to fuck!
My shoot lasted three hours with two wardrobe changes right there on the setup. A couple guys would hold curtains around me and that was always good for a giggle. I was so tired I could barely keep my balance. At least my cock was nice and soft, tucked safely away and out of sight. Most people didn't believe I really had one, even after they saw it. I'd posed completely naked before, like when I'd done a shoot for GQ and had nothing but a palm frond to cover my nipples and sex. I'd just pushed my cock and balls down, kept my thighs together, and the cover had been the most downloaded image on the net for a month afterwards.
People see what they want to see and there was a lot of talk about how if you looked real close you could see my pussy lips. It was pretty funny to me, but Sofia and especially Mr. Goethe took that stuff seriously and even encouraged it, the pussy lips part, I mean. I was a girl with a big clit and that was all, and it even said I was female on my passport, driver's license, all that stuff. Mr. Goethe had gotten my name changed to Cindy, just that one word, and then he'd gotten the judge to seal my records afterwards. I wasn't sure how much that had cost, but it was worth it. Nobody could find out who I really was or where I came from or anything without a court order. Even then, my birth certificate wasn't even mine.
I was just Cindy.
"This came for you today," Sofia said over lunch, reaching into her bag and pulling out a letter. I'd wanted to skip eating and just lie down, but that would have made the afternoon worse and I knew it. One of the girls had offered me some speed, which had been tempting, believe me, but Sofia would have gone ballistic, so I was suffering.
"We got mail?" I gave her a confused look. "Here?"
"Eva and Wolfgang brought it with them," Sofia shrugged. "I wasn't sure you should see it, but…"
"Eva and Wolfgang are here?" I smiled at that, lifting my head and looking around the restaurant. It was part of the resort, all open and overlooking the lagoon.
"They're getting unpacked," Sofia said. "Probably sleeping."
"Sleeping? I doubt that," I giggled. "They're probably…What's this?"
I'd opened the envelope, which had already been opened anyway, like all of my mail was. Mr. Goethe and Sofia protected me from the lunatics who wrote me everything from obscene marriage proposals to promises of a quick and painful death for just being me. I'd expected a letter, or something, but all that was in it was a newspaper clipping, neatly folded and without any marks or explanation.
"Sept 11 Hero Found Dead," I read the headline aloud, blinking at it, and then started reading the article.
Former NYPD lieutenant and hero of the 2001 World Trade Center attacks, Michael Cicero, was found dead in his Brooklyn apartment Wednesday afternoon. A spokesman for the New York police department was unable to disclose specific details, but did confirm that the 47 year old Cicero died of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. Cicero received the Medal of Bravery for his actions on September 11, when he entered the stricken South Tower to assist with the evacuation prior to the building's collapse. His wife, Connie Cicero, who worked in the WTC, and four year old son, Michael Jr. were among the more than 2,700 victims who perished…
"Where did this come from?" I asked, looking at the envelope. It was postmarked a week before in New York, but there was no return address. There was only a printed mailing label with my name on it, addressed in care of Mr. Goethe's New York offices.
"Are you alright?" Sofia asked me.
"No," I shook my head. "I'm not alright at all."
"Do you want to cancel this afternoon?"
"What?" I stared at her, not understanding immediately what she'd said.
"Your shoot this afternoon?" Sofia was reaching for me, touching my shoulder. "I'll talk to Maggie and…"
"No." I swallowed thickly. "I'll, uh…I can do it. I just…"
There was a pain between my eyes, a real one as I tried to hold back the tears. My brow was tightly furrowed, squnching my eyes and making my lips tremble. My face was a melting mask of sadness and I turned toward Sofia so she could pull me against her. The girl had no idea who Mike was or what he meant to me, but this was the reaction she'd been afraid of and I realized that it must have been Mr. Goethe's decision to tell me the news.
I did the afternoon, giving the photographer none of what he demanded. I couldn't smile and I didn't even try, despite his non-stop complaints, threats, and promises. What he had was usable anyway, all expectations to the contrary. Maggie was excited when she stopped by to watch me. I was the world's most beautiful woman in a sullen disquiet, at odds with the paradise surrounding me. She didn't ask why, Maggie merely smiled, nodding her head enthusiastically and telling me I was perfect. I was barely aware of her at all and I just wanted the day to be over.
"He's worried, isn't he?" I asked Sofia as we rode the jeep back to the resort.
"Mr. Goethe?" she asked and then nodded. "Yeah. He doesn't know what it means."
"Why someone would send me the clipping," I agreed with a sigh and we were quiet after that. I hadn't seen Mike in over a year, not since I'd walked out on him. I hadn't even known the guy, not really, but I'd missed him sometimes. I'd looked forward to seeing him again. His loss was painful and I'd wept once already and knew I would again. I wondered if it was my fault, if just calling Mike could have saved his life, and that was another pain altogether.
"You must put it in perspective," Wolfgang said after I'd showered and made myself comfortable. "Explain to us who this person was and why he was important to you."
"It's…personal," I told him, lying lengthwise on a rattan sofa and shaking my wet hair loose over the armrest. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and I just wanted to sort it out. To understand that Mike could really be dead. That he could have killed himself.
"We understand," Eva said gently. "Allow me. Please?"
She picked up a wide-toothed comb and then sat on the floor, pulling it slowly through my thick, black hair. It felt good, reassuring somehow, just that simple thing and I closed my eyes against the occasional tug when my hair would snarl and be caught until Eva could free it.
"We can't protect you if we don't know everything," Wolfgang said from the chair where he was sitting.
"That's why you're here, right?" I sighed, crossing my arms over my tummy. "Mr. Goethe thinks I'm in danger?"
"He's just worried," Sofia said. "We all are. He said the man was a friend of yours. That you were living with him and now someone has sent you that article. It means something, Cindy."
"Who would send it?" Wolfgang shrugged. "Why is there no letter? No return address?"
"We must be suspicious, ja?" Eva asked me, not looking for an answer but merely explaining.
"Mike was…" I shrugged. "He was my friend, yeah. He was helping me, before I met Mr. Goethe."
"A romantic friend?" Wolfgang asked and I didn't open my eyes, but merely nodded.
"He loved me," I said softly. "I left him. It was hard for both of us."
"You were together long?" Eva wondered.
"No," I answered her. "We barely knew each other really. A month, maybe a little longer."
I was falling asleep beneath the soothing sensation of Eva's hands in my hair. I'd gotten so little sleep the night before and after forcing myself to work through the afternoon, I was exhausted. I knew they were waiting for the explanation, the answers to all their questions, but I couldn't think about that. I couldn't find the energy to try and explain the impossible, nor did I want to. The only two people I'd ever told were both dead now. Evelyn first and now, nearly a year and half later, Mike. It frightened me more than I was willing to admit and I was eager to let myself fall into the empty comfort of dreamless sleep.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
I was building a sandcastle, wearing a thong and nothing else. Hal, one of the photographer's assistants, was holding a reflector to catch the sun; just a large oval of stretched canvas. The wind was blowing hard off the ocean and he was struggling with it. Rita, another assistant, was wiping at the sand clinging to my lower back and the exposed cleavage of my ass where the red thong was riding low.
"Over your shoulder, Cindy…Perfect…More, cup your tits for me and turn…turn…wait…nice…"
I was doing what Peter wanted, the photographer, but I wanted to finish my sand castle too and I kept going back to it. I had a small pink bucket and a little blue shovel. I was making a tower and pausing every now and again to give the camera my best come-fuck-me look. I'd arch my back and push out my breasts, covering my nipples with one arm and then the other. I let Rita move my hair, arranging it to clothe my tits long enough for a quick flurry of shots, and then the breeze would blow it away and I'd giggle at my sudden immodesty. Peter would take pictures of that as well, capturing forever the spontaneous joy illuminating my face.
I took a deep breath and held out my arms as Erin was there, fixing my makeup real quickly and then pouring oil over my shoulders. She was massaging it into my deeply tanned skin, making my body gleam beneath the Tahitian sun. It was a beautiful day, a perfect day, and I was impatient to finish my sand castle. When Erin was satisfied, I went back to it, digging into sand as white and fine as the sugar I put in my coffee.
The smell of the reef a thousand yards offshore was strong today, thick with brine, and I could taste the salt on my tongue and the oily flavor of cocoa-butter evaporating from my flesh. The tide was low enough so that we could see the uneven crest of the coral wall appearing and disappearing like the ragged spine of a sea serpent. The waves were pounding relentlessly against it and the dull roar was ceaseless and lulling me to sleep. To dream.
"I'm dreaming," I said, sifting the sand through my fingers, pouring it out of my child's bucket while Peter told me I was beautiful.
The sand glittered like tiny flecks of diamond as it ran between my fingers and there was something there. A flash of red in the center of my palm and I let my bucket go, picking up the ruby I'd found and holding it up against the endless blue sky. It was an earring, a lonely stud missing its mate, and I smiled at it even as the reef crumbled and a violent wall of seething water charged across the lagoon.
"Come on! Cindy! Run!" Hal was yelling at me, tossing his bouncer aside and tugging at my hand. Rita was already gone and Peter was running along the beach, still taking pictures.
I was running and stumbling, being pulled along by Hal, but the sand was thick and soft, fighting every step I took. I realized I'd lost the earring. I'd dropped it and I tried to shake the man off me, turning so that I could go back and find it. The wave was rolling over my sand castle, wiping it away in front of my eyes and Hal was still tugging at my arm, refusing to let me go. I was screaming at him. I had to go back…
"Let me go!" I sat up with a shout, sweating and breathless and I blinked at Sofia who was holding my hand, sitting on the floor next to me.
"You're alright, Cindy," she said. "It's just a dream."
"Oh God," I breathed, nodding my head and licking my lips. "What time is it?"
"Almost eight." Sofia reached for a pitcher of water on the nearby coffee table, pouring me a glass. "I didn't want to let you sleep too long, or you'd be up at midnight or something. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine," I said, taking the glass with a grateful smile and the water was nice and cold.
"We'll eat something and then you can get a good night's sleep," Sofia told me. "Alone for a change."
"Heh!" I smiled at her as my heart finally began to slow down.
"What were you dreaming about?" Sofia asked, watching me change my clothes.
"Oh, ummm…" I looked down as I buttoned my blouse. "A girl I used to know."
"Hmmm…" she seemed to consider that, but didn't ask me anything else.
Eva and Wolfgang were waiting for us outside my door and I gave them a look. "You're not planning on guarding me all night or something, are you?"
"What?" Wolfgang chuckled. "No, we're just waiting for you."
"We eat now," Eva said with a smile.
"Okay," I agreed. "I just wanted to make sure."
"Relax," Sofia said as we walked towards the hotel proper, a large colonial structure painted white and brightly lit. "It's not so bad having them around, is it?"
"No," I admitted grudgingly, but we both knew none of the other models had any bodyguards with them.
Sports Illustrated was providing all the security and that was pretty normal for any large shoot. A lot of models didn't even have permanent protection, or if they did it was just one person usually. Now I was walking around with two personal shadows and that would raise some eyebrows. A couple more people and I'd start looking like Jennifer Lopez showing up with her posse everywhere she went. That wasn't a thought intended to excite me.
"Cindy! Welcome," a handsome Tahitian man greeted us with a bow. "We have a table right this way…"
"Hmmm…" I smiled apologetically. "Do you have something with a little more privacy?"
"Of course," he said, nodding quickly with a reassuring smile. "If you'll follow me…"
The restaurant specialized in the local dishes, of course, but offered a fine French cuisine as well. Sofia was having Mahi-Mahi, and Eva had decided on a Polynesian pork dish while Wolfgang went for chateaubriand. I, being a supermodel like I was, ordered without bothering with a menu.
"I want a cheeseburger," I told our waiter. "A really thick one, medium-rare and, um…just put the pickles and stuff on the side, alright? Do you have yellow mustard or is it all Dijon?"
"Cindy!" Sofia was giggling at me and I shushed her with my hand.
"Nevermind, just put the mustard on the side too," I continued. "And French fries. A big order, like a double order of fries. With lots of mayo. And uhhhh…You probably don't have any shakes, huh?"
"American milkshake?" the man asked me seriously.
"Is there any other kind?" I asked him with a grin. "Bring me a chocolate shake, but with one scoop of vanilla in it too. I don't like it too chocolaty, okay?"
"Of course," he smiled and I wondered what I'd have to order to stump the guy.
"I like the milkshake also," Eva said after the waiter was gone and I laughed at her.
"You should have ordered one!" I said. "When he comes back, I'll tell him. You guys want shakes too?" I looked at Sofia and Wolfgang and they were ignoring me, sharing looks like they were embarrassed to be seen with me. Liars!
I was feeling much better after my nap, even though the dream had been a little freaky at the time, but I took it as a sign. I'd never forgotten Evelyn and I wasn't about to. She was always with me. Sometimes, when I would see or hear or smell something that reminded me of her, I would feel a warmth inside. A comforting presence that I wanted to embrace. Other times, when I felt myself to be most alone, she was the hole in my heart and it hurt so bad that I would have to stop whatever it was I was doing and close my eyes until it went away.
But it never did. Not really.
If I was going to find out who had killed her and find some kind of justice, I was going to need help. I'd long since decided that, and even before learning of Mike's suicide, I'd come to the conclusion that Eva and Wolfgang were the ones I would turn to. Sooner or later I would have had to explain what I wanted and why; Mike's death had only hastened that day. It was why I'd been dreaming of Evelyn. She was calling me. Asking me if I'd forgotten her.
The room wasn't large, but it was private and very comfortable. We sat around a table of polished mahogany, in comfortable chairs eating slowly. Three of the four walls were open to the air, the room built on stilts over the edge of the lagoon and jutting out from the restaurant proper. The fourth wall had a sliding door which was closed now that our food had been delivered. I'd just spent half an hour explaining where Cindy had come from, trying my best to make it sound almost plausible. But with fairy godmothers and changing from Robert into Cindy overnight…Nobody else was saying very much and I looked around at my three friends slowly.
"You guys think I'm crazy, right?" I asked them all, letting my gaze settle on Sofia finally. I really needed her to believe me.
"I don't, um…" Sofia looked pale and she took a large swallow of her white wine.
I sighed inwardly, thinking I was going to be looking for a new assistant in the morning. Eva and Wolfgang were leaning towards each other, whispering in German, and I didn't think that was a good sign either. If I knew anything about Germans, and I'd been getting a good education over the past year, believe me, I'd learned that they are an eminently practical people. Very hands on and not overly given to flights of fancy. Even in their arts, it was no mistake that they had produced the most wonderful composers the world had ever known. German architecture, wood cutting, painting, all of it the equal of any other culture in the world, but their literary genius for fiction was meager by comparison and asking them to believe my story was probably asking too much.
"I know him," Sofia said softly and I blinked at that.
"Who?" I asked her.
"I mean, I don't really know him," Sofia cleared her throat. "I met him. The man, uh…Paul."
"Met him where?" I felt suddenly nervous, almost frightened, but I couldn't explain why.
"Ja," Eva said before Sofia could answer me. "We also know this man."
"What?" I snapped my head around and Wolfgang was nodding.
"He was exactly as you describe him," Wolfgang said with a small shrug. "He was very strange, even for an American."
"He wanted to kiss Wolfgang," Eva said with a smile, as if that explained everything.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Prague is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe and unlike many other places it had escaped much of the destruction visited upon the continent during World War Two. The couple, a man and woman, seemed by all outward appearance to be enjoying their visit to the Czech capital. They strolled along the cobblestone thoroughfare as if they were tourists, walking east from the Church of St. Nicholas towards the Charles Bridge and Old Town on the other side of the Vltava River.
Even in late spring the sun sets early behind the hills surrounding Prague and an unseasonable fog covered the water, rolling up the river's banks before slowly dying in the narrow streets. The Charles Bridge, built in the 14th century and later embellished with the statues of saints, was normally a showpiece of the city, but now it too was shrouded in mist. The vague glow of yellow streetlamps added to the surreal ambiance as the couple crossed the bridge slowly.
Every now and again they would pause to admire one of the thirty bronze statues that adorned each side of the bridge at precise intervals. Some of the statues were worn in places, as they were touched by the many pedestrians who traversed the span each day. Near the center of the bridge, which was nearly a third of a mile long, they found the statue of St. John Nepomuk, a catholic priest whose tortured body, according to legend, had been thrown into the river from that very spot in 1393. For that reason he was especially popular with the superstitious Czechs. The bronze relief had a brightly polished sheen to it near the base and the woman followed local custom, stroking the metal with her fingertips for luck.
The man and his companion remained there, standing near the railing while the river, swollen with spring rains, swirled around and past the great sandstone piers supporting the structure. The bridge had never been open to motorized traffic and the couple was undisturbed by the occasional passage of a pedestrian intent on hurrying home after a long day. Very few people looked at the pair. They would appear and disappear like apparitions in the dense fog, walking quickly with their eyes cast down and shoulders slumped against the pervasive gloom. Even the most pragmatic of them couldn't have anticipated the damp chill that now enveloped their fair city.
"Perhaps he's changed his mind," the woman said in German with a glance at her watch, but her companion shook his head and then his shoulders beneath the wool overcoat he wore.
"Patience," he replied. "The fog is making him cautious, that's all."
Some ten minutes later his confidence was proven correct when a solitary figure approached from the east. He was tall and well rounded, like a bear shambling from the mist in his heavy fur coat. His pace slowed when he saw the pair waiting for him and he looked around nervously, but for all intents and purposes they were alone for at least a dozen meters in either direction; beyond that it was impossible to see or hear anyone.
The girl turned her back to the railing, leaning against it with her hands in the pockets of her red leather jacket. She was very tall and thin, and the way she stood might have suggested a defiant availability, a challenge that many men found provocative in an attractive young woman, but that was a deliberate and well-practiced deception.
"Juergen?" the newcomer asked softly, his thick Russian accent obvious, even in that one simple word
"Yeah," the man replied. "Did you bring it?"
The Russian hesitated and then held up a leather case, a soft satchel of the sort preferred by middle class bankers and lawyers. He took one backward glance over his shoulder and with his mind made up, stepped forward quickly, meeting the two Germans at the statue as they'd previously arranged. It was all going as planned, even better than that perhaps, given the fog surrounding their clandestine meeting.
"You have the money?" the Russian asked.
"Here," the man said softly, opening his coat and pulling up his sweater. He had a money belt around his waist and the Velcro gave way with a soft ripping sound when the man pulled it free.
"Give it to me," the Russian demanded, glancing over his shoulder anxiously.
"Give her the case," he said. "I'll give you the money."
The Russian looked at the girl and she could see his face was damp with sweat. He was flushed, despite the cold, and finally the man nodded, stepping towards her and stretching out his right arm so she could take the satchel.
"Thank you," she said, smiling at the man as he relinquished his grip.
Pop – Pop – Pop
The Russian groaned, very nearly collapsing as three bullets entered his chest. The German had pressed a small pistol just beneath the man's right armpit, pulling the trigger quickly and then leaning into him, shoving the stricken Russian headlong over the rail and into the swift current below. The splash seemed loud, but only because the couple was directly above it. The dense fog muffled the sound nearly completely and no alarm was raised, no shouts for help were given. There were no witnesses and the body would sink quickly in its heavy clothing, tumbling through the dark water. When the body was found, days or even weeks later, the Russian would be miles downstream and offer no clue to his killers' identity.
"Hmph." The woman shrugged after examining the contents of the leather case.
She didn't bother to close it, but left the buckles unfastened and tossed it into the river, watching it disappear quickly from sight. The man had already tossed his weapon into the water and was fixing the money belt once more around his waist, pulling his sweater into place and buttoning his coat. They paused only long enough for a brief, but earnest kiss before walking into the fog with their arms around each other like so many lovers out for a romantic stroll in beautiful Prague.
"What was in the case?" I asked Wolfgang softly and our meal had been forgotten while the man had spoken.
"Was it drugs?" Sofia asked, looking pale and shocked by what she'd just heard. "You lied to me!"
"No," Eva answered first. "It was not drugs."
"I haven't lied," Wolfgang told Sofia gently. "Everything is the truth."
"In Hawaii, you told me you weren't really criminals. You stole some diamonds and found work…" Sofia was shaking her head. "Oh God."
"That was true," Wolfgang agreed. "But the work we found…"
"I don't understand," I interrupted him. "You were supposed to get the case? Buy it? But Eva threw it away?
"No, the case was unimportant and the money…" Wolfgang shrugged. "It was an excuse. A trick."
"The Russian," Eva nodded. "We were paid for him."
"To kill him?" Sofia reached for her wine, draining her glass with two large swallows. "You're assassins?"
"That's…" Wolfgang frowned with a heavy sigh. "You have to understand that this is very complicated. There's no easy explanation for what we did."
"It seems pretty simple to me." Sofia glared at him, gesturing towards the door with her empty wine glass. "You're fired. Both of you. Get out."
"You must hear the rest of the story," Wolfgang said, looking at me with his brown eyes soft and begging my forgiveness. Eva looked stricken by Sofia's outburst, not angered by it, but almost frightened it seemed to me.
"You're not fired," I said slowly. "But…"
"Cindy!" Sofia blinked at me and I glanced at her, but kept myself focused on Wolfgang and Eva.
"…we have to know everything," I told them. "You can't hold anything back and after that…I don't know. We'll see."
"Of course," Wolfgang agreed and Eva was nodding her head. "We only wished to protect you."
"We love you!" Eva said, not saying the words so much as exploding with them.
She was on the edge of her chair, reaching out to hold my wrist, squeezing me with her brilliant eyes fixed on mine. There was a fervor in her gaze that communicated beyond a doubt the truth of what she'd said. She'd been desperate to say those three words, rushing them from her lips before anyone could somehow stop her.
"I know," I whispered, giving the girl a faint smile and she nodded, releasing the air from her lungs and letting me go. She looked away, self-conscious and perhaps even embarrassed, and Wolfgang soothed her with gentle hand to the girl's shoulder.
We left the restaurant for my cabana suite and I feigned a light and happy mood, thanking personally our unflappable waiter, the maitre d'hotel, and even the chef as I went into the kitchen. He was a real Frenchman, a genuine chef de cuisine, and I begged him not to be insulted by the cheeseburger I'd ordered. It had been perfect, I assured him, and the man accepted my apologies and compliments with a kiss on both cheeks and a wonderful smile. I needed that brief normalcy, the escape into the Cindy the world expected me to be.
My body was weary. I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep on the sofa that afternoon and the hour was approaching midnight with a 6AM call for a 9AM shoot in Papeete, the only real city on the island and the capital of French Polynesia. I'd been looking forward to it, being able to interact with other, real people for a change. Some of the other girls hated that sort of thing, but I loved it and Maggie knew it. After the lonely introspection of my earlier shoot, Papeete would bring out its opposite and that emotional disparity was what made me so special, according to Maggie.
Sitting cross-legged on a large, round Papa-san chair made of bamboo and cushioned with a huge, silk pillow, I didn't feel special. I was filled with a nervous curiosity, perhaps even the fear that I would have to do as Sofia wanted and let Eva and Wolfgang go. They'd admitted to being murderers which was hardly the sort of company a person like myself could keep. I was under public scrutiny every time I stepped out the door and while my own secrets were well buried, my two Germans could easily prove themselves a liability. That was Sofia's concern and despite whatever she might have felt towards them, the girl was devoted to me.
"You should send them away," Sofia told me. "It's dangerous. We don't know anything about them."
"I don't think they're going to hurt us," I said, knowing she didn't believe they would either.
"I'm thinking about your life, Cindy." Sofia bit her lip, glancing at Eva and Wolfgang as they sat together on the sofa. "Your career. Whatever they've done, if someone finds out…"
"My career isn't my life," I said, finding a small smile which made Sofia frown. "I want to hear the rest of the story."
"It's getting late," she said, being petulant as I was plainly ignoring her good advice.
"Sofia is right. You should sleep, Cindy," Wolfgang said. "We can explain better tomorrow, after you're rested."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Eva was already standing up.
"One day more, ja?" she said softly, moving close and putting her delicate hands on my shoulders. "Goodnight, Cindy."
Eva kissed me lightly on the mouth and then they were gone, which was hardly what I wanted. Sofia was at least satisfied with that, for the moment, and she locked the door behind them. I merely sat there, touching my lips with my fingertips and feeling slightly frustrated by the entire evening. I replayed Wolfgang's story in my head, but without a beginning or end it made little sense and explained nothing.
"Come on. Stand-up," Sofia said, rousing me from my thoughts. "Do you want to take a bath?"
"Hmmm…No," I decided. "I'll take one in the morning. Sleep with me tonight, okay?"
"Only sleep," Sofia told me, pulling at my hands to remove me from the chair. "No fooling around."
"I said sleep," I gave her a small pout and managed to get a smile in return, Sofia's first in many hours.
But we didn't sleep, nor did we make love immediately which was something we might have expected, despite Sofia's emphatic denial.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
She'd graduated near the top of her class two years previously, summa cum laude – with the highest honors – and the future was bright. There were many lucrative offers to put her business degree to work, but she applied for a graduate program instead. Not in business administration, as her father might have hoped, but in public relations. And not for any real reason, Sofia told her friends and family, it was just an idea, a hunch, as she liked to put it. Being only twenty-three and more than a little headstrong, there was little anyone could do to dissuade the girl.
She studied hard for two long years and then, one day…
"Get a Michelob down here, buddy?" a guy asked loudly, leaning between Sofia and a young man named Vincent who was sitting beside her at the bar.
"Hey! You mind?" Vincent gave the newcomer a frown and he'd tried twice to start a conversation with the petite blonde beside him, but she'd largely ignored his charming efforts.
"Whoops!" The guy, the rude one, had bumped Vincent's martini with his elbow and it fell into the young man's lap, olive, onions, and all.
"Son of a bitch!" Vincent fairly leapt from his stool, a trick made all the more impressive as he'd been able to catch his glass before it could shatter on the floor.
"Sorry, pal," the newcomer, an older man in a dark Brooks Brothers suit, apologized. "Let me get you another one…"
"Look at my suit!" Vincent said in a loud, indignant voice.
"Okay…" The older man shrugged and looked Vincent up and down slowly. "It's nice. What is that…Silk?"
"What?" Vincent stared at the other man for a moment before stalking off towards the men's room, still carrying his empty martini.
"Get that Michelob any day now?" the guy said to the bartender, sitting on Vincent's recently vacated stool after a quick glance to ensure it was dry. "My wife's getting pregnant tonight. I wanna be there to see it, ya know?"
"Excuse me?" Sofia blinked at the man as she suddenly realized he'd been speaking to her.
"My wife," he shrugged. "She loves kids. I dunno. I never really had the time myself. How about you, Sleeping Beauty?"
"How about me…What?" Sofia smiled despite herself, finding the man to be wholly outside any previous experience.
"Kids? Family? You want a big backyard someday?" the man wondered. "I'm Paul."
"I'm…" Sofia looked at the man's hand and shook her head, "…not interested."
"Not interesting, you mean." Paul gave her a smile as the bartender put a bottle of beer and a glass on the bar in front of him.
"Uh…" Sofia's small mouth opened and closed for a second as she tried to think of a reply. She knew she was attractive enough and she'd had her fair share of come-ons, but never had someone called her uninteresting.
"That's because you're still sleeping," Paul said, picking up his Michelob and taking a swallow.
"Look. I don't know who you are, but…"
"A shame really," Paul ignored her protests. "A pretty girl like you? Smart as hell, ambitious…You didn't even get the prick, but here you are."
"Prick?" Sofia's cheeks reddened and she wondered why she hadn't slapped the guy yet, or at least walked away.
"Your finger," Paul said, smiling as if the girl should have known what he was talking about. "Oh! You thought I meant…No! But you could probably use a good prick about now, huh?"
"Stop!" Sofia really did blush then, glancing around her nervously, afraid that everyone in that mid-town bar had heard what he'd just said.
"How long has it been…" Paul sighed, leaning his head close to hers and lowering his voice. "Three years? Closer to four, I bet. I'm never wrong, Sofia."
"Bastard!" she breathed, determined finally to leave, but then her bright green eyes widened. "How do you know my name?"
"Are you ready to wake up, Princess?" Paul asked her gently.
"Who are you?" The girl felt her heart beating quickly now and her voice quailed with…not fear…just…confusion. Nobody had ever spoken to her this way before and she didn't understand any of it. The world didn't work this way.
"A friend of a friend," Paul shrugged, tilting his bottle and looking at the girl from the corner of his eyes.
"I have to go," Sofia blinked quickly, licking her lips and gathering her purse.
"Wait…" Paul whispered and when Sofia turned her head to look at him, the man kissed her on the lips.
"He kissed you?" I asked with a soft giggle and Sofia nodded in the dark, cradled in my arms while we spoke.
"I was shocked. I was mad. I was scared." Sofia laughed lightly. "I mean, God. He was cute, sorta, but old too and he just…kissed me."
"Yeah," I sighed, remembering the first kiss Paul had given me.
"The next morning he…"
"Wait wait wait…" I laughed, putting my fingers over Sofia's mouth. "The next morning?"
"Uh…yeah," she said with a nervous giggle. "We sorta went to his hotel room."
"Sorta?" I was sitting up, staring down at the girl in the dim light.
"Well, okay. Yeah. But he kissed me!"
"I got that part. And you went to his room? All night?" I laughed. "That must have been some kiss!"
"You have no idea," Sofia sighed, smiling as I lay back down beside her. "Talk about waking up! I still had no idea what he was talking about, but it was like somebody threw a switch…"
Paul's tongue slipped easily into Sofia's small mouth and despite her anxious confusion, the woman accepted and even welcomed the intrusion. It had been a long a time since any man had touched her this way, not for lack of trying, but Sofia had never felt herself interested in romance or even sex. There just wasn't time for all the complications, or so she'd spent much of her adult life telling herself.
Now this stranger, this man who was old enough to be her father, was working his tongue against hers, the tip exploring the roof of her mouth, the soft hollows of her cheeks. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, slightly bitter and alien to her delicate senses, and yet she couldn't loose the man from between her lips. Sofia's eyes were shut and without realizing it, she'd leaned into him, nearly falling off her barstool and onto Paul's lap in her efforts to get closer.
The girl's hands were on Paul's thighs, sliding higher as she moaned into his lungs. He was drinking the soft noises of pleasure issuing from deep within her belly. She was aware of his hands moving from her shoulders down, sliding between them to cup Sofia's small breasts through her blouse and bra. She gasped at the sudden pressure, forcing her tongue past Paul's and into his mouth, arching her back to feel more of the man against her throbbing tits. Her hands, both of them, found the bulge hidden beneath Paul's expensive suit and she squeezed his cock, tugging at the man as if she could somehow free him that way. Her mind was awash with desire, her sex burning between her spread thighs and the girl had never felt so alive in her life.
"Alright, Come on, kids…" The bartender was rapping on the bar. "Break it up or I'm gonna have to start charging a cover here."
"Wha…" Sofia jerked, sitting upright and blinking rapidly. Her face was red and she fought to catch her breath, smoothing her blouse and pinching at her bra beneath it. Her left breast was exposed, the pink nipple plainly hard and visible through the thin cotton. Her skirt had ridden high along her thighs, enough so that the tops of her stockings were exposed and she burned with embarrassment, struggling to fix everything all at once.
"No tip for you, buddy," Paul said, dropping five dollars on the bar and taking Sofia's hand. "Are you ready, Princess?"
"I don't…Uh…Where?"
"Upstairs," Paul smiled at the blonde's confusion. "I have a room. You know, in case of emergencies."
"Emergencies?" Sofia giggled, feeling giddy and almost drunk. She didn't understand why she was letting Paul guide her out of the hotel bar and into the lobby of the Mid-Town Marriott.
People were watching them, she knew that. The men in the bar, dozens of executives and lawyers, the table full of women, secretaries probably, they'd all witnessed what had happened. It frightened and humiliated Sofia beyond words, but at the same time the new experience was thrilling in a perverse way. She couldn't deny the warmth inside her, an unexpected passion that being taken by a man without her consent had somehow aroused. It had only been a kiss, true, but the moment was lingering. It wasn't over. She hadn't run away and Paul hadn't released her. This was merely a different continuation, walking hand in hand towards the elevators, parading past people who would know Sofia wasn't the man's wife. She was going to his room. They were going to have sex.
The elevator was crowded with three other men and two women who had been waiting for it. Paul and Sofia pressed themselves inside, standing in the center with the burnished doors closing. When Paul reached behind Sofia to push the button for the fourteenth floor, his arm stayed there, his hand finding the diminutive girl's ass through her skirt and he didn't pretend otherwise. Sofia stood still as a statue, holding her breath and trying to ignore the patient looks and smiles people share on long, slow elevator rides. She could sense more than see the other passengers standing to her left and right and behind, and she felt herself to be the unwilling focus of their attention.
"Umph!" Sofia grunted softly as Paul's thick middle finger found her anus, pushing inside the girl's dry, virgin ass. Not painfully, but with a rude discomfort that put her on the tips of her toes for a second before she could find a way to relax against the pressure. Her eyelids fluttered and her body stiffened against the intrusion, and to her left a man, old like Sofia's grandfather, gave her a paternal smile. That look, as much as anything else, forced the girl to endure Paul's insistent probing.
"Hi," Sofia breathed, forcing a weak smile in return. She was barely able to get the word out at all as Paul wriggled his finger in the luxurious confines of her clasping rectum. The girl's muscles spasmed with protest, inviting him deeper with a pleasant, suckling sensation that made her tremble with newfound pleasure.
He caressed her the way a boy would finger his first girlfriend in the backseat of his car, masturbating Sofia's asshole with his digit buried as far inside her as Paul could get it. He curled it upward, stretching the sensitive walls of her ass and teasing her as he'd wiggle the tip rapidly, sending shivers along the girl's spine and turning her legs to rubber. Sofia had never felt anything like it and ass play had always been beyond her imagination. It was a dirty thing, perverted and crude, and no self-respecting girl would ever let a man touch her there.
And yet her cunt was dripping with the raw joy of Paul's perverse attentions. She could smell it, her arousal filling the small room in which they were trapped. Surely, Sofia thought, everyone else could smell her as well. They would know that sharp scent, understand what the musk on their tongues was telling them. She burned with humiliation and dropped her eyes and then her head, letting her golden hair fall over her face like an ostrich in the sand. Her hands shook at her sides, the fingers clenching with nervous energy seeking physical release. Her knees faltered and the pressure in her asshole was suddenly more pronounced as Paul's hand and penetrating finger took some of her weight before Sofia could steady herself with a low groan.
None of the other passengers had gotten off the elevator and it was plain they were riding to the top, to the restaurant up there. Sofia didn't protest when the doors opened on the fourteenth floor and Paul pushed her out of the elevator with his finger still in her ass. Her skirt was lifted, of course, riding his arm in the back, and Sofia's small pink panties were clearly pushed aside as Paul gripped her pert bottom with his palm and remaining fingers. A man coughed and an old woman gasped, someone whispered and a chuckle escaped the elevator before the doors mercifully closed once more.
Inside room 1414 Sofia was immediately bent over the desk, scattering complimentary pens and stationary. A lamp fell to the floor with a dull thud as Paul shoved the woman forward, pulling Sofia's feet off the floor as she found herself sprawled headlong and eager with her legs spread. Sofia's body twisted, the girl's shoulder and head pressing against the cold mirror mounted on the wall. She grabbed the edges of the desk, nodding and gasping, begging for the man to fuck her. She was burning up inside, thinking about the elevator and the people inside it now knowing what had been happening in their midst. If they ever saw her again, they'd remember and smirk and point Sofia out to their friends. She was the slut on the elevator, they'd say, the one I was telling you about.
"Fuck me! Hurry! Ahhh…Oh! Ughh!" Sofia gasped, lifting her head and wincing as Paul's long, thick cock replaced his finger, driving into her barely prepared asshole with a sharp thrust of his hips. The smooth head of his penis squeezed past her sphincter easily and he paused, taking the young woman by her narrow hips. She was still clothed, they both were, and now Paul was pushing himself forward, holding Sofia in place as his meaty cock stretched her asshole around him.
"N-Not…Nnnnugh! No! Fuck! My…Ass! Ohhh!" Sofia hadn't been expecting him to fuck her in the ass and in her lust-filled confusion she hadn't realized immediately his intentions. She bared her teeth at the dull, burning sensation but the pain wasn't entirely unpleasant. Some part of her, newly awakened and burning with obscene urgency, welcomed the blunt pressure. Sofia wanted him inside her, that was undeniable, and the man was pushing slowly enough to make it good, almost tenderly it seemed, until she was begging him to give it to her hard.
"All of it! Fuck…Me! Fuck it in me! Ohhh! You fucker! Fuck my ass!" Sofia nearly screamed the words, glaring at Paul over her shoulder as he smiled at her, both of them now red faced and damp with sweat.
"Waking up now…Ugh!" Paul grunted, tightening his grip on Sofia's hips and stabbing his cock several inches deeper all at once. The dull ache became a sharp cramp for a long second and Sofia's asshole was wrapped so tightly around the man that she could feel her pulse racing beneath her straining muscles.
"Ahhh! Owwww! Yeah!" Sofia tried to lift her ass to meet him, pushing herself back against the wicked joy of being butt fucked for the first time in her young life. She wanted more of him. All of him. She was begging for it with every breath she took.
Her feet came up high and Sofia was trying to wrap her legs around the man as she lay on her stomach. She kicked at him with her heels, bouncing her hips off the hard wood of the desk and groaning with the effort of taking Paul's large cock deep in her tender bowels. They were fucking now. Sofia's asshole was relaxed and eager, lubricated with the copious flow of the man's precum as he pushed every inch of his penis inside her flushed body. His heavy balls found her her vulnerable sex with a wet slapping sound as he began to fuck her in earnest, riding her asshole as if it were a cunt for his pleasure.
"Ummm hmmm ohhh…" Sofia could do little more than moan breathlessly as her mind and body surrendered completely to her first orgasm. She hadn't even touched her pussy and she was cumming hard, the sensation of Paul's cock sliding in and out of her ass was explicit and welcome to her burning sex. She could feel him distinctly through the thin layers of flesh that separated her two holes and it had brought her off completely.
"Ah Princess…Here…Ummm…" Paul groaned with the pleasure of his own deep orgasm.
He pressed his cock as far inside the girl as he could get it, collapsing on top of her while his violent ejaculate filled her bowels with a distinctly soothing warmth. Sofia welcomed his kiss, her mouth already open as she drank cool air into her laboring lungs, and now she nursed on his tongue with an urgency bordering on desperation. She lifted her left arm, reaching back to hold Paul's mouth to hers, filling him with deep throated moans of unsated lust. They kissed until the man's cock began to soften and the weary muscles in Sofia's ass reasserted themselves, forcing the man's penis to slowly withdraw with a weak trickle of dirty sperm.
"Good foreplay…" Sofia breathed as Paul pushed himself up and he chuckled at that.
"Are you ready for some real sex now?" he wondered, perhaps teasing the disheveled blonde, perhaps not.
"Oh yeah," Sofia agreed seriously, biting her bottom lip and fixing her emerald stare on the man's face. "I'm ready for anything."
I smiled into Sofia's eyes, sharing her breath as our lips touched with every word she uttered. "What did you do?" I asked her, punctuating my question with a hard grind of my cock inside her tight pussy. We'd been fucking while she spoke, it had become…inevitable.
"Everything," Sofia replied with a soft gasp, tightening her legs around my waist. "He fucked me all night and when I woke up, he was gone."
"You never saw him again?" I wondered, enjoying the way my tits hung heavily against hers, our nipples rubbing against each other as we moved.
"No. I looked but…Ahhh…" she gasped, arching her back. "I found you instead."
The girl was close to cumming, I could tell. She was digging her fingers into my shoulders, wanting me harder and deeper and for just that moment I wished that I had Paul's magnificent prick jutting between my female thighs. Sofia wasn't complaining though, she was riding my girlish cock eagerly, finding all the pleasure she could wish for as it split her pink folds. She was unbelievably warm inside, and moist, the wetness spilled around me and the bed was already soaked and reeking of her beautiful sex. Sofia loved to fuck, at least as much as I did, and trying to imagine her celibate, almost virginal for all those years was nearly impossible.
"Sleeping Beauty…" I smiled at her pretty face, now twisted with pleasure as I worked my cock inside the girl quickly, driving into her with my hips as rapidly as I could.
I was lifting myself, changing the angle as I tried to find Sofia's hard little clit with the shaft and bring her off good. I knew what she liked; we'd done this so many times over the last year. I was going to make it nice for the girl and a moment later Sofia was there, writhing beneath me as her orgasm peaked. I covered her mouth with mine, sharing the moment, and that always brought me off as well. Kissing Sofia while she came was magical, tasting the joy in her mouth and smelling her sweet breath as it filled my lungs. I filled her with my cum, erupting inside her quivering cunt with a muffled gasp, and for those few precious minutes we were joined completely and inseparable.
"I love you," Sofia whispered, holding me as I lay atop her trembling form. My face was in her hair and I knew she was waiting for my reply, but it was one thing I couldn't give her. Not yet.