Bare In Bermuda

by Livia Ellis

  His tongue jerked in her mouth as he fumbled and tugged on his trousers. The sound of the zipper stimulated her nearly as much as the vibration from the powerful engines pushing them through the sky.

  “Look at me,” he told her.

  At first, she glanced into his eyes, then she followed his gaze down to where he stood between her thighs. He held his cock in his hand. A spontaneous and wholly genuine wow flew out of her mouth as she took in the size of him. His hand came under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Have you ever seen bigger?”

  “I can truthfully tell you I have never seen bigger in my life.” He released her chin and she looked down again. Her hand reached for what had to be a mythical ten inches of engorged manhood. When her fingers wrapped around him, he was as solid as granite and as big around as a tennis racket handle. “I am really impressed.”

  “Are you lying to me as a professional courtesy, or are you telling me the truth?”

  She stroked and tugged on him as she marveled at not only the size of his cock, but to her utter amazement that he grew even thicker and longer in her hand. “No lie. I have never seen such a big cock before in my life.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now you won't forget me.”

  “That is a fact,” she said.

  He handed her the condom without bothering to give her any instructions. She knew what to do without being told. After the wrapper was discarded, she held him tight and unrolled the condom as far as it would go up his substantial cock.

  He took her hands when she finished and placed them around his neck. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

  She nodded and fixed her hands around his neck. He entered her quickly and roughly then moved without pausing, plunging into her then out in rapid succession. With every thrust, she took another inch of him until she felt stretched and pulled like a virgin. The foreign feel of being so full equaled the exquisite and tantalizing hurt.

  His hands fell on her legs, then his fingers wrapped around her knees and forced them up and open even wider. Every yoga class and Pilate’s session suddenly and wholly became worth the time, money, and effort as he buried himself inside her. Being filled by a man after a near year long absence of male attention curled her toes. Size really did matter a great deal. It might not be everything, but it made more of a difference than she previously imagined.

  “Am I hurting you?” He pushed against her a final time then held himself in place.

  “Yes. No. Yes, but I like it.” She ran her hands over the cotton of his shirt. The muscles of his chest and stomach were firm and abundant under her fingers.

  “I'm all the way in. I'm going to make you scream, then I'm going to fuck you until I erupt inside you like a volcano.” He slowly slid out then plunged back in with one hard and merciless thrust. His hands forced her legs to open as wide as they would go and

  Dirty talk. If it took acting like a prostitute to get a man to talk dirty to her, then she very well might give up medicine and consider the oldest profession as a viable new career choice.

  “You are big,” she sighed into his ear. Not too big. Just the right kind of big. His pubic hair stroked her bare clit like a soft bristled brush as he sank inside her. After only a few strokes, the combination of the airplane humming beneath her ass like a giant vibrator, the way he filled her, and the gentle rubbing against her sex, that feeling of inevitable orgasm grew rapidly inside her.

  When she came, the feeling snapped her like a hard, raunchy, and delicious smack. Pretending to be someone who screwed for a living freed her for the sort of uncontrolled moment of pleasure. There was freedom in being a woman who would not only have sex with a stranger in an airport lavatory, but who did it for a living. She got why her patients in the escort business did it and loved it.

  Eduardo grabbed and nipped her earlobe between his teeth. “I felt that.”

  “So did I,” she said. “You are really amazing. And I am not just saying that. You are. You have to be the best lover I've ever had.”

  He continued to thrust slowly as he again put his hand on her chin and turned her to look up at his face. “You're saying that to be polite.” He smiled a little as he fished for affirmation of her compliment.

  “No,” she said. “That is the truth. You are amazing.”

  “So you'd fuck me for free again?” He thrust unexpectedly fast and deep, forcing a yelp of surprise from her.

  “I'd pay you,” she said.

  His hand released her chin then returned to her leg. “Perhaps we can work out an arrangement after.”

  Without more chat, he got down to the business of his own pleasure. His hands released her legs and slid under her ass. His fingers cupped and squeezed her flesh as he pulled her tight against him in rhythm with his thrusts. He worked the repetitive movement of pulling out as he slid her just far enough off his cock to keep it inside her pussy. Then, when he nearly slipped out, he thrust the entire length into her with every return. Never, in her life, had she ever been so thoroughly fucked.

  His orgasm equaled her expectations when it came. The muscles of his abdomen contracted as he held her stationary and plunged deep. His cock twitched and unloaded within the condom. At last, when the promised eruption subsided, he sat her on the sink.

  “You are exquisite,” he breathed into her neck.

  Another first. No man had ever called her exquisite before.

  He slipped out, leaving her pussy feeling both empty and slightly abandoned. Logic told her their encounter rushed towards the obvious conclusion. Her body didn't care that the plane would be landing sooner rather than later and that the time had arrived to get back to her seat and to reality.

  Eduardo removed the used condom with a wad of tissue then flushed it down the toilet. She fixed her hair in the mirror as Eduardo adjusted his trousers. He gave her a nudge out of the way then turned on the water. She gave him yet another thorough look as he cupped his hands under the water then bent his face down to the sink to give it a splash.

  “How exactly do we get back to our seats without the flight attendant noticing? Despite what you may be thinking, I've actually never done this before.”

  He stood tall and wiped his hands and face with a few paper towels. “I already gave her three hundred dollars not to notice anything.” He stood behind her and looked in the mirror. His fingers combed his hair then his hands fell on her shoulders.

  “Smart.”

  “I was serious about my fantasy. I always wanted to do that. Tell me you’re available tonight.” Eduardo breathed on her neck as his lips brushed down her skin.

  “Absolutely,” she sighed.

  “How long are you in Bermuda?” His hands ran through his hair like a comb. “Are you meeting a man?”

  “I think I’ve just met a man.” Silently, she wondered if she’d ever really met a man before. Possibly not. It was possible that she’d only been with boys in man-sized bodies before Eduardo.

  “You know what I mean. I don’t want to make this anymore awkward than it needs to be. This is not what I normally do, but I want to be with you again. I’m willing to accommodate you within reason, but not if you’re going to Bermuda to meet another man.”

  “I’m not meeting another man,” she said.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet a second time. “I insist,” he said as he began to pull out cash. “If for nothing else but to pay for your underwear that I destroyed.”

  Then realization smacked her in the back of the head. “I think we need to clear something up right now.”

  “I insist,” he said. “I find it charming that you protest, but I insist. You have given me an experience worth more than this, but unfortunately, it's all I have on me at the moment.” He took her hand and folded the money into her palm then wrapped her fingers around it. “Where are you staying?”

  “Hamilton Princess,” she said.

  “So am I.” He kissed her on the cheek again. “We can work out
the details in the car.”

  She held the money in her hand, not sure what to do with it. “I'm not a hooker.”

  Eduardo looked down at her and smiled. “Of course not. You’re a gifted courtesan. A most perfect escort. If I had known there were women like you available, I would have perhaps done this a while ago. But I did not believe my friends who told me to trust them that they knew what they spoke of.”

  How to get him to understand? “I'm not a prostitute. No one has ever paid me for sex before in my life. I was very serious when I told you that we were mutually living out a fantasy.”

  He stared at her through their reflections in the mirror. “You must understand that I'm not inclined to believe you.”

  “You really don't have to believe me, do you? I am telling you the truth. I'm not really a prostitute. If you knew me, even a little, you'd be shocked at my behavior. None of my friends would believe me if I actually decided to tell them about this. I have this reputation for being a bit stiff.”

  “Let us assume that I do believe you,” he said. “I find it hard to imagine that you are anything other than wholly sensual and passionate.”

  “If only that were true.” She smiled and shrugged. “I haven't had sex in nearly a year and all I can say is thank you for rocking my world. I really never will forget you, and I can say in all truth, you really do have the biggest cock I have ever seen.”

  “Henna,” he laughed. “You have no idea how much you delight me. I am pleased that I could give you an experience unlike any you've ever had before. You have given me the same.” Lips found her neck just as the fasten seat-belt sign lit up. “Tell me that you will not disappear when we land and that you want to see me again.”

  “I will not disappear when we land, and I truly want to see you again. All of you. Just so you know, I really never ever do anything like this.”

  “Neither do I,” he said. “I'm not going to say it's been a year since I've had sex, but I've never paid for sex before.”

  “Which...” She reached into her bra and plucked out the cash he’d handed her. “This is yours.”

  He took the money for a moment then tucked it back into her bra. “Keep it. What kind of fantasy would it be about being paid for sex if you didn't actually get paid?”

  “Let me at least take you for dinner tonight,” she said.

  He kissed her on the mouth again. “I will take you, and we can discuss any other fantasies we might like to fulfill.” He released her then turned to the door. She smoothed her skirt a final time as the door opened and Eduardo stepped aside to allow her to go first.

  She reached into her bra and took out the folded bills from where they were jabbing into her skin. After looking down to make a quick adjustment, she glanced at the money then looked up from the stack of bills to find a flight attendant giving her a grin with a raised eyebrow.

  “I...” Henna looked down at the cash then at Eduardo's back then at the flight attendant. “Oh, never mind.” She sighed, pulled out her wallet, and stuffed the cash inside.

  Eduardo had friends who had told him of experiences with women that liked to think of themselves more as courtesans and would never take cash. They'd be offended by cash offered for sex. But they expected gifts. Expensive gifts offered with alarming frequency.

  Cash would make their arrangement more straight forward but would remove too much of the enjoyment from it for him. Giving a woman gifts seemed the most normal thing in the world to him. If she expected him to offer her compensation for her continued attention, then he could oblige her. He was a reasonable man and she was a business woman. Price negotiation was part of his daily business routine. Coffee and sex were the same thing—commodities that could be haggled over.

  He preferred to keep something as vulgar as cash away from something as purely delightful as Henna. As a rule, his generosity knew no end. He just didn’t want to be taken advantage of. So he and Henna would need to discuss mutual expectations before anymore condom wrappers were ripped open.

  She nearly continued past him but he stopped her by capturing her hand.

  “Just sit with me.” He didn't want to give destiny a chance to separate them.

  She sat in the seat next to his as he grabbed his carry-on and his suit coat from the overhead compartment. He slipped on his jacket then settled into his seat. “Where were you seated?”

  That he hadn’t noticed her before she’d walked past him, irritated him. He very nearly had missed the opportunity destiny presented him with to meet her again. The moment he walked away from the bar, he regretted not getting her number.

  “I was in coach for the first two hours then I was moved here.”

  “Why were you in coach?” he asked.

  “I am very tight with my money.” Her purse was open on her lap. Like all women, she carried one of those large leather bags that could fit a watermelon. She examined her ripped panties discretely concealed within the confines of her bag. The look on her face and the way she crinkled her nose as she balled up her underwear told him that she might not appreciate having his passion consume him where her panties were concerned. If she gave him the chance, he'd take her shopping for a dozen new pair of panties purchased for the express purpose of being ripped off her.

  “I didn't have much notice before having to buy the ticket. It was pricey enough already without adding on extras like comfort or dignity.”

  He placed his hand on her knee where the hem of her simple black skirt rested against her bare thigh. He leaned over and gave her neck a kiss as he took in a deep breath of bluebell scented skin. She didn't pull away. Rather, she tipped her head just enough to give him better access to the curve of her throat.

  “I am meeting people in Bermuda.” He pulled back to look at her. “But if you can be discrete, then I think we can spend time together.”

  “I'm meeting people, too,” she said. “Trust me. The last thing I would want is for anyone to find out that I picked up a man in a bar, then hooked up with him on the flight. Being discreet is absolutely essential. Doesn't mean we can't meet up on our own.”

  “I thought you said you weren't meeting a man.” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he would have pulled them back in if he could. Her eyes narrowed, and her pretty lips flattened across her face. He knew women well enough to know the look of a suddenly cross one that could become angrier very quickly.

  “I'm not,” she said. “I'm meeting people. Not a man.” She looked at him. “Who are you meeting? A woman? Because you're being about as tight lipped as I am. Let's be totally honest here. I'm probably about as willing as you are to start giving you an abundance of personal information. I don't know you, and you don't know me. I get that we just did the most physically intimate thing two people can do with their bodies, but that was more about biology, brain chemistry, and the nature of physical attraction than it was any kind of desire to get to know each other better. I like you. I think you might be interesting and the kind of guy I'd like to get to know better, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to start giving you my life story. For the moment, other than your name is Eduardo, which it might or might not be...”

  He pulled his passport out of his breast pocket and held it open for her so she could examine his name. “Eduardo.”

  She nodded and gave a grunt of approval. “You speak Spanish, you’re divorced, or so you say. Men tend to lie about these things, and I'm going to need a little more confirmation that your wedding band isn't buried deep down in your carry-on before I'm convinced. I don't know a thing about you other than you are hung like a bull and can screw like a jackhammer.”

  He raised a finger to interrupt her. The only women he knew who could speak so long without a pause or providing another person the opportunity to get in a word were all universally Latin.

  “Are you Hispanic by any chance?” He could tell her diatribe wasn't quite finished. Experience had taught him to ride it out while mentally preparing what he could say to appease her when she finished layi
ng into him.

  “No. Dutch and Polish.” She looked him up and down then plucked at the sleeve of his jacket with her fingertips. “English linen. Hand-stitched and beautifully tailored. Somebody either picked that out for you, or you have exquisite taste and a bucket load of money to spend on clothes. How do I know that you're not a gigolo come to meet some client?”

  “No,” he laughed. “Not at all.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Her eyes swept over him again. “Because I imagine some women would pay top dollar for what you've got going on below your belt. And the rest of it.”

  “If my current venture falls through, I will consider what you have said when choosing a new career.”

  “What do you do?”

  “What do I do?” Tricky question. But the diluted truth would do. “I'm a farmer.”

  She laughed loudly. “Bullshit. Farmer's don't wear Italian loafers and Swiss watches. If you're a farmer, then I'm a prostitute. Which I'm not.”

  The wheels of the plane bumped along the tarmac as they made contact with the ground. The jolt distracted Henna from telling him off long enough for him to take control of the conversation.

  “I'm really a farmer,” he said. “It's the truth. I'm meeting family so I need to be discrete. I believe you don't take money for your companionship. But perhaps you will indulge me and let me give you a gift or two during our time together. You are correct that we don't know much about each other, but I can truly say I would like to spend time with you as we can find it, so that I can learn more about you. What do you say?” He lifted her hand from the sleeve of his jacket and kissed her knuckles.

  “I say okay. Just as long as we have that whole prostitute thing is sorted out, then I think we can find some time away from our other obligations to indulge in some mutually beneficial fantasy fulfillment.” She smiled at him at last. “As for gift buying...” She scrunched her nose a little. “I'll think about that. It's sound a bit sugar daddy to me, and I tend to pride myself on my independence. I get that some men are like that, and some women tend to get a bit bent out of shape if they're not showered with tokens of appreciation, but it's just not in my experience to expect that kind of thing. I tend to be a more fifty-fifty sort of girl.”