Finally he removed my gag.
‘What do you say?’ he asked sternly.
‘Please. Please. Please …’
I felt my bonds slacken as he took me down, pushed me gently to my knees on the dusty path. Then I felt his prick nudge against my lips and I licked gratefully along its shaft, admiring how taut it was, gently encasing the swollen glans and circling with my tongue to softly suck.
He moaned. Clearly I was not the only one half mad with longing.
‘Stop,’ he ordered at length and I stopped with a little whimper. I had wanted to make him come but he had other plans.
He pulled me down to all fours, balanced precariously. I could hear him circling, admiring me from all angles.
‘Please, please, please,’ I whispered, beside myself with lust, a red haze of longing before my blindfolded eyes. I wanted him to take me any way he wanted.
Finally I felt him crouch behind me and release my ankles, splay my knees apart to expose my tender sex. When he entered smoothly, firmly, my whole body quivered with pleasure at being held and possessed by him again. With my wrists still bound I could not balance well and relied on him to cradle my waist, position me just so. Slowly, carefully he circled and thrust, and I shivered every time he pressed against my tortured buttocks, every time he nipped and suckled my neck or rolled and pinched my nipples. He was teasing me into a tempo of submission I could not control, until I begged to be fucked to oblivion, begged to come. He ignored my entreaties, taking me to another plateau of abandon then another, until we finally came together, bucking and writhing like one animal, our naked bodies glistening with sweat.
Eventually he released my wrists, took off my blindfold, and we kissed tenderly like the long separated lovers we were. I gazed upon him hungrily, his blond hair and smiling blue eyes, the honey tan, his long solid body wrapped around me so fluidly, those wonderful hands and lips that had taunted my body for so long.
He took a bottle of water from his knapsack and I drank thirstily, more parched than I had realised.
‘So you own this place? Is this your way of giving me a tour?’ I asked.
He smiled
‘I also own the villa a little way up the mountain. I thought it could be our home away from home. Will you stay a couple of nights to think it over? I have cheese and olives, yoghurt and honey, fresh figs, fine wines, a swimming pool and well … a few other things. And lots of time I want to spend with you.’
I smiled a slow, happy smile. ‘Thank you. That,’ I said, ‘would be a great pleasure.’
And it is.
The Oregon Trail by Landon Dixon
He said he wanted me to find his daughter. He showed me a picture. He showed me a lot of pictures. And the family resemblance escaped me. He was short and squat and swarthy; she was tall and thin and slightly Asian-looking.
But his money made everything nice and familiar. Two thousand up-front, and five hundred a day on the trail. My bank account was at a low ebb, my scruples along with it.
He’d traced her from the east coast to the west – Portland, Oregon. My town. I assured him I could find her.
Her name was Amy Lin, twenty-five years of age. She had long, sleek black hair and hazel-coloured, slightly almond-shaped eyes, tan skin. She had a dancer’s body and an erotic dancer’s bustline. My client said she had money, liked a good time. She had disappeared on him and he needed to talk to her. I was the bloodhound.
I carefully folded his dough into my pocket and then took the light-rail from my office across the Willamette River into downtown. I hung around until dark, people-watching, then went on the prowl. It was a Friday summer night, and the nightclubs were doing a booming business. I did more club-hopping than I’d done in years.
And just when I thought I’d come away with little more than a headache from the music and a hangover from the liquor, there she was – at The Vibe, out on the strobe-flashed, writhing dance floor.
She was wearing a silky black dress and very little underwear, a wild expression, gyrating to the overpowering techno beat, flinging her arms and body around, dancing with everyone and no one. I fought my way through the mob and yelled, ‘Amy Lin! Your father’s looking for you!’
Her long, lithe arms came down and her long, lithe legs stopped prancing around. Her eyes narrowed and darkened, and she yelled back, ‘I don’t want to see him!’
I knew that already. So I hooked onto her elbow, nice and gentle and firm, started steering her off the dance floor, through the crowd. Her skin was tawny and smooth, warm to the touch.
She started screaming, as loud as she could, staring me in the eyes. Her shriek pierced the thundering air like a siren.
Bouncers barged onto the scene from all corners, and gallant gents stepped up into my face on behalf of a damsel in distress. Strong, rough hands grabbed onto my arms and held me tight. As Amy Lin melted away into the crowd.
Explanations failed me. So I head-butted the guys on either side, kicked the bouncer in front in the groin. My arms came free and I grabbed onto the bent-over bouncer and drove him forward like a tackling dummy, using his big body to clear a path through the sea of unfriendly humanity.
I burst through the aluminium doors of the joint just in time to spot a rental car roar out of the lot and bounce onto the street. I had a hunch who was driving.
I tailed her out onto Route 30, heading west. Not too close and not too far behind, just in range of the resourceful lady. If it hadn’t been nighttime, our trip would’ve been a scenic one, through the deep, green forest that crowded either side of the highway, along the mighty Columbia River. All the way out to the Pacific Ocean – the picturesque, historic town of Astoria.
Amy checked into a motel on the hilly, wooded outskirts of town, bedded down. I waited until daybreak, then slipped out of my car and into her room.
She had a spectacular view of the Columbia emptying into the ocean. The wide river gleamed bright blue down below, the forest all around emerald-green. Two long bridges crossed the river at different points, one high, one low. In the distance: the vast, placid, grey-blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.
The town had been founded by John Jacob Astor, 19th century fur baron. Lewis and Clark had camped in the area circa 1805; 85 straight days of cold winter rain.
But it was warm and sunny now, the air fresh and clean, pine and salt-scented. The scenery was a sight to behold, outdoors and in.
I left the curtains slightly open and pocketed my lock-picking tools, walked over to the bed and looked down at the long, luscious, caramel-coated and mound-titted body of Amy Lin stretched out asleep on the bed. Her little black party dress lay puddled on the carpet. I touched her bare shoulder.
Her eyes instantly fluttered open, narrowed, cat-like. She sighed and stretched her arms and legs, shuddered, kitten-like. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me standing there, violating her privacy.
‘You’re a hard man to shake,’ she murmured, emphasising the soft rise and fall of her breasts.
‘I’m habit-forming, all right. Getting paid to be.’
She smiled, bathed her plush lips with a shiny pink tongue. ‘There are other ways to be paid.’
She reached out a long arm and latched slender fingers onto my belt buckle, pulled me closer. I could’ve slapped her hand away and reached for my cellphone, called the number where my client could be reached, was waiting impatiently to hear from me. But the sight of that stunning body, the scent of her sweet body spray in the air, the feel of Amy’s scarlet-tipped fingers drawing my fly down and my cock out, was too much for a man of dubious ethics to ever resist.
She laced her fingers around my shaft, her palm squeezing warm and wonderful. ‘Jesus!’ I exhaled, watching the silky woman swing her body around on the bed so that she was sitting up on the edge, the sensual swirl of her hand drawing me closer to her lush, parted lips.
She cradled my balls out of my pants with her other hand, gently cupping, fondling; caressing my cock out long and hard
and throbbing right in front of her.
Now, I’m not a bad-looking guy – medium-height and build, blond hair and blue eyes, a cleft chin and youthful expression – but Amy was a lady normally out of my league. She was exotic and erotic. The things she did with her hands on my genitals made my head spin and my body burn.
And when she fully flowered her crimson lips and flowed them over my mushroomed hood, poured them down two-thirds of the length of my swollen shaft, staring up at me with her sparkling eyes, I just about blew my top then and there.
But, somehow, I held on, and off. I shot my fingers into her shimmering black curtain of hair and grabbed hold. Her head moved in my hands, her wet, hot mouth gliding back and forth on my cock, sucking me tight and tender with ease and expertise. I groaned, glaring down at her. Her lips smiled around my shaft, her beautiful head bobbing on and on.
‘Jesus! I can’t–’
I couldn’t even finish the sentence, complete the dirty thought. My balls boiled out of control in Amy’s grasping hand and my cock surged wildly in her sucking mouth. I clutched her hair and thrust out my hips, jerked, jolted by joy.
She sucked firmly and calmly and sensually, taking every white-hot, body-shaking blast I let loose. I emptied everything I had into the woman. Then almost swooned over the top of her.
She took me down onto the bed and in between her legs. ‘Your turn,’ she teased, looking over her humped tits at my reddened face. She licked her glossy lips, swallowing the last of my semen.
I had to give back, reciprocate best I could. She deserved that much. There’d always be time to call my client.
I gripped her taut, golden thighs and stared into the soft, darker folds of her pussy. She was shaved clean expect for a downy black tuft of fur at the top of her slit. Her pussy lips glistened with moisture, the scent and heat making my dizzy head spin all over again. I stuck out my tongue and licked her.
She bucked, grabbing onto my head. Her breasts thrust up huge between her arms, nipples jutting high and hard. I flattened my tongue and lapped at her pussy, stroking from deep down over her puffy lips all the way up to her swollen clit. She shivered with each drag of my licker, her lovely body sexually tensing.
I dug my tongue in, squirming the thick, wet, red appendage right into her pussy, writhing it around inside the woman’s satin pink tunnel. She vibrated on the end of my tongue, wrapping her thighs around my neck, her eyes wide and staring, nostrils flared.
I pulled my tongue out of her slit and popped her clit up with my fingers, slapped the hard little pink button around with my mouth-organ.
‘Oh, God! Yes!’ Amy cried.
She arched up off the bed. I just had time to seal my lips around her clit and suck on it, before she screamed and squirted hot juices against my chin. She bounced my head up and down, clawing at my scalp, drenching my face, her clit pulsating in my mouth to the frenzied beat of her orgasm.
Then she really choked me with her thighs, twisting my neck with a sharp snap.
When I came to, she was gone.
Cannon Beach is a gorgeous, mile-long expanse of sand dotted with treed outcroppings not far from shore, about thirty miles down the coast from Astoria. The town itself is slightly tacky, with a touristy, carnival feel. But the beach at low tide is something to behold – stretching out, shimmering, seemingly forever to the far-off, hazy blue horizon of the ocean.
I located Amy’s rental car in one of the parking lots just off the main drag, thanks to the tracking device I’d attached to her undercarriage before I’d busted into her motel room. I found Amy down on the beach faraway from the madding crowd of kids and their parents, sunning herself in a hot-orange bikini, stretched out on a tiger-striped beach towel. She was just as stunning in the bright light of day, buff and busty and gleaming bronze.
She lifted her designer sunglasses and looked up at me when I cast a shadow and called out her name.
‘I was his mistress. That’s why he wants me back. He’s the violently jealous type, brutally possessive.’ She gracefully lifted herself up on her elbows. Her breasts surged outward, straining the thin material of her bikini top, nipples just about poking right through. ‘I won’t go back to him. I can’t. I …’
She left it hanging, like she had me.
‘I’m not going to force you, Amy. I’m just going to tell him where you are. That’s my job.’
She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, gazing out at the sparkling water way off in the distance. ‘Maybe.’
She rose to her feet and took my hand.
I let her lead me out onto the beach. It was a long, hot walk to the water with the tide out, the sand getting wetter and stickier, the air steamier. The screams and shouts of the other beachgoers faded away. As we strolled hand-in-hand all the way out to where the ocean lapped shallow and gentle and warm at the sand.
The heat was intense, heavy, the air hazy and humid.
Amy turned and faced me. She unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders, unbuckled and unzipped my pants, pushed them and my shorts down. I stood there in a trance, dripping with sweat, burning inside and out, my cock swelling up and jutting out like before, like never before. The hot, salty air caressed my nude body with languid moisture, as I watched Amy slip the thin straps of her bikini top off her shoulders and let the overfull cups drop. As she unsashed her bikini bottom and let the thin strip of orange fall.
We stood naked on the damp sand at the ocean’s edge, glowing with heat, beating with passion. I grabbed the beautiful woman in my arms and flung her and I down onto the sand. She coiled her arms around me, and we kissed, frenched, our tongues exploding out of our mouths and entwining.
Amy dove her hands down my back and onto my buttocks. She clenched the flexing pair, as I pumped my hard cock into her soft belly. ‘Make love to me!’ she moaned, breaking away from my devouring mouth.
I clutched up her breasts and kneaded the hot, heaping mounds. Amy rolled her head side-to-side in the sand. As I sucked up one rigid, rubbery nipple and tugged on it, bobbed my head over and urgently sucked on her other nipple. Until she pulled my head back up and mashed her lush mouth against mine again, and we wound our tongues together in a frenzy.
I lifted up. Amy grabbed onto my cock, washed my hood back and forth through her pussy lips. She was breathing as hard as I was, her face and body dewed with perspiration. She bit into my tongue and sucked on it, slotting my cock into her cunt.
‘Yes!’ we groaned, both together.
Amy grabbed onto my ass again and sunk her claws in, urging me to fuck her, glaring into my eyes. I met her lust head-on, pumping my hips, my cock back and forth in her wet-velvet tunnel. We swirled our tongues together, she grasping my ass, me her tits. I pounded into her faster and faster. She sank into the sand, the water lapping against us.
Amy arched up and shuddered wickedly, her fingernails tearing at my buttocks. Hotter, stickier juices coated my plunging cock, and I cried out my own ecstasy, spraying searing come into the screaming woman.
We reluctantly pulled ourselves out of the sand and dressed, walked back up the beach.
Amy ran away from me as soon as I had my back turned to gather up her towel and bag.
It took ten minutes of dogged jogging up and down the wood-plank sidewalks of the small beach town before I finally caught up with her again. She was standing in front of a cotton candy concession, holding a young boy by the hand.
‘This is the real reason I have to get away from your client,’ she explained calmly, lifting the boy’s hand in hers. ‘This is Andrew, my son. His father recently died, and I have to look after him now.’
The kid stared up at me with his big brown eyes. He had short black hair and a cute round face and a plump little body. He looked unmistakably Asian. He smiled at me.
Amy pleaded with her eyes. And I nodded, watched them walk away. Then I phoned my client and told him the trail had gone cold.
‘Look, asshole!’ he bellowed. ‘I didn’t tell you before … but tha
t bitch has $200,000 of my money. She stole it from me when she took off, and I want it, and her, back. So you fucking find her! I’ll give you 10% of the dough that’s recovered – as a finder’s fee.’
Just then I turned a corner, and spotted Amy handing over her “son” to a couple of Japanese tourists down the block. The man and woman were sitting in an open-air tent eating corndogs with a larger group of their countrymen. The kid ran over to them, cotton candy in one hand, Amy’s fifty-dollar bill in the other.
‘I’m on it,’ I growled into the phone.
Amy showed actual surprise when she found me leaning against the side of her rental car. She still looked luscious in the bikini, with the beach towel wrapped around her hips. But I wasn’t having any of that any more, when she wound her arms around my neck and kissed me wetly on the lips. The prospect of twenty grand changes a man’s priorities.
‘You stole some of his money. He wants it, and you, back. And I don’t care what he does when he gets you back.’
Her arms slid off my neck. ‘What about what he does to you, when he gets me back?’
‘Let’s go. It’s a hundred mile drive back to Portland.’
She pushed her sunglasses up into her lustrous hair and adjusted the straps of her bikini. Her breasts jostled deliciously, full rounded curves shining bronze in the hot sun.
‘I wasn’t lying about him being the violently jealous, possessive type – when it comes to money and women.’ Amy bit her lip and batted her long, black eyelashes. ‘If I told him you seduced me in my motel room, and on the beach – ate me out and fucked me – there’s no telling what he might do to you.’ She smiled, like she had it all planned out from the start.
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