26 Nights

by 26 Nights (Memoirs of a Contemporary Gentleman) [MF] (retail) (epub)

  So when it came my turn for a final handshake and a brief word with the President, I said swiftly, “Mr. President, I had hoped to have an opportunity to see the Lincoln Bedroom on my visit. You see, the lady I’m with would love to see it. And I would like to see … ah … more of the lady …”

  The President, as I had suspected he would, understood immediately. He stared at me for a moment and then broke into the most genuine smile I had seen from him that day. In a moment he had beckoned to one of his aides and whispered in his ear. In another moment the aide was leading me and a somewhat bewildered Ursula away from the departing group and into an elevator.

  We went down a corridor to a door which the aide opened for us. It was indeed the Lincoln Bedroom. A large portrait of the sixteenth President stared down from the wall, and the large four-poster bed was covered with a dark blue spread, Ursula gave out a soft gasp as we entered.

  “I will be back for you in an hour, sir,” the aide said, with no expression whatever in his voice. “One hour exactly.” And he closed the door and left.

  Ursula was staring around her. “Steven,” she said, wide-eyed. “My God—how did you—”

  “I always keep my promises,” I said lightly. “Remember? I said we’d eat in the state dining room, see the Oval Office and—”

  “I remember—what you said,” Ursula interrupted. “But you’re not serious—I mean …”

  “Of course I am.” I took a step toward her. She backed away.

  “Hold on,” Ursula said. “I mean, really, Steven … Even if we knew each other better—which we don’t—I mean, this is the Lincoln Bedroom, for God’s sake …”

  “I don’t think Lincoln will mind,” I said, taking another step forward. “He’s dead, you know.”

  Ursula stepped back. “They say his spirit still walks here sometimes,” she said, almost whispering. “In this room …”

  “Only at night,” I said. “Ursula, we only have an hour.”

  “Steven, really, be sensible. We can’t—” She stopped suddenly and stood still, as if listening to something. “Oh, my God!” she breathed after a moment. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” I said.

  “I thought I heard … a voice …”

  “What voice? I didn’t—” But I stopped, because she was listening again.

  “Oh, my God,” Ursula said again. “It can’t be …” Her face was very strange.

  “What is it?” I said, puzzled.

  “He said … it said …” I could hardly hear her. She stopped, swallowed, then whispered, “He said it was all right.”

  My first thought was that she was crazy; my second was that she was making it up because she really wanted to do it. I never actually thought there was really anything—anybody—there. Well, yes, I admit I looked around pretty sharply, but that was just reflex … or something.

  In any case, when I stepped toward her this time she didn’t retreat, and when I took her in my arms to kiss her she by no means resisted. And then she was kissing me back, her arms around me, her mouth opening softly under mine …

  And then she gave a sudden gasp and her body stiffened.

  “What’s the matter?” I said.

  “Something touched me,” Ursula whispered. “Oh. Oh …” The stiffness went out of her now, and her body melted against me. “Oh, yes …” And she kissed me again. Passionately.

  I didn’t know what was going on, but it was all right with me. Our tongues dueled, and the pressure of her body brought my cock to attention swiftly. My hands roamed her back before homing in on the tiny catch at the back of her dress, and then pulling down the zipper. She made a tiny whimpering sound against my mouth, but didn’t try to stop me as I found the clasp of her brassiere and opened it.

  But when I broke the kiss and stepped back to slide the dress from her, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. The look in her wide eyes was stranger than ever.

  “He … it’s as if he’s watching,” she breathed. And then she made a quarter-turn to face the picture on the wall. She drew in her breath sharply, and then, after a moment, her hands came down, and with them the top of her dress. The brassiere fell to the floor, and she was naked to the waist.

  Her breasts were not large, but they were lovely, with prominent pink nipples which stiffened as I watched. With another small gasp she brought her hands to her breasts and began to caress herself, making those nipples even harder, still with her eyes on the picture.

  This was getting kind of eerie; I felt almost like an intruder. I shook off the feeling. “Let me do that,” I said, moving up behind her and reaching around her body. She allowed my hands to replace hers, and in fact pushed back against me, until I knew she could feel my erection pressing against her buttocks through our clothes. I kissed the side of her neck as I savored the touch of her sweet breast flesh and throbbing nipples. She moaned softly in response but still kept her eyes on the portrait.

  After a moment I slid one hand off her breast and down over her smooth stomach, then under the waistband of the dress, which still clung around her hips. My fingers snuck inside her panties and moved slowly down … through a soft patch of pubic hair … down …

  “Ohhhh!” Ursula gasped. “Ohh, my good God … ohh …” Her body stiffened, and then began to writhe gently against me as my fingers carefully advanced … searching, probing, stroking …

  She had still been gazing at that picture, but now her head fell back and her eyes closed. Her breath was coming faster, and louder. For a few more minutes I continued to stroke her clitoris with one hand while caressing her breast with the other; then, without removing my hands, I started moving her toward the bed. She followed my lead as if in a daze, and though the journey was slow we eventually got there. I managed to maneuver her dress up and off before easing her down onto the bed, and then took a moment to swiftly divest myself of my own clothing, while admiring the delicious sight of Ursula in nothing but panties, stockings and garter belt. It was a delectable vision, and I was glad to see that she was old-fashioned enough not to wear panty hose on an occasion such as this. The number of ladies possessed of such good taste is, alas, rapidly diminishing in this modern world.

  The sight was made even more arousing, if somewhat disconcerting, by the way in which her body was now squirming sensually as she lay on her back, her hands once again caressing her pink-tipped breasts. As I watched, her knees rose, her stockinged legs spread wide apart with her feet braced against the bed, and her hips began to move up and down, rhythmically, slowly at first but gradually picking up speed. It was as if someone was … but there was no one there. Not that I could see, anyway. Her heavy breathing turned to panting, her pants to moans, her moans to cries …

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. I moved to join her on the bed—and if I moved a little carefully, surely it was not because I expected to meet any impediments; perhaps I’m just not quite as young and springy as I used to be. But Ursula pulled away, and I had a sudden apprehension that perhaps I was not going to get lucky in the Lincoln Bedroom after all. But she only rolled onto her hands and knees, and crouched there—again facing that large portrait on the other side of the room.

  “Oh, yes, do it …” she cried breathlessly. “Ohh, God, yes … do it now … now …”

  Okay, so I wasn’t sure who she was talking to—I was the only corporeal person there, as far as I could see. So I got up behind her, pulled down her panties and proceeded to do it. She moaned loudly as my straining cock found the entrance to her very moist vagina, and we both moaned still more loudly as it pushed its way in, gradually sounding the depths of her squirming tightness. My hands went beneath her to grasp her swaying breasts, and I held on to them until I was completely immersed in the warmth of her.

  Then I began to sway back and forth, and she swayed with me, her moans deepening to abandoned grunting sounds which drove my passion still higher. Her shapely stockinged legs rubbing against my naked ones felt like an electrical current danci
ng on my flesh. I knew that she was still gazing at the portrait, but I didn’t give a damn. I knew I was doing it with Ursula and she was doing it with me, and that I wished we could go on doing it until every damned President in history rose out of the grave and cheered us on.

  But of course we couldn’t. I thrust harder and harder into her squirming body, and her cries turned to groans of approaching climax, and I clasped her breasts and licked her back and gave her everything I had, and as she screamed and shuddered and bucked again and again, I let myself go too and we collapsed together.

  We lay still, saying nothing until we had regained our breath, and then Ursula suddenly sat up and looked at me as if she were waking from a trance.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. Then she got up and began to dress. I noticed she kept her back to the picture.

  I glanced at my watch. “We still have a little time,” I said. “If you—”

  Her face was slightly red, whether from exertion or embarrassment I was unable to tell. “I’ve never done anything like that before in my life,” she said softly, turning so I could zip up the back of her dress.

  I did so reluctantly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Neither have I,” I said and, for fear of misinterpretation, added, “Well, not in the Lincoln Bedroom anyway.”

  Ursula smiled at me, but it was a distant smile. I felt that we were still strangers, despite our recent intimacy. And then, to my utter astonishment, Ursula, now fully dressed, got down on her knees and, with no preliminaries, took my cock into her mouth. It hardened again quickly. I felt the stroking of a warm tongue and the moving touch of soft, caressing lips. These two inducements are always quick to capture my attention.

  Her renewed enthusiasm was a surprise, but by no means an unwelcome one. I have increased the fortune I inherited by never neglecting a dividend, and I wasn’t about to start at that moment. Finding a comfortable chair not far from my backside, I maneuvered us toward it as best I could without causing Ursula to break the exquisite suction she had set up. Having already accomplished my essential goal and advanced the wager, I could now give myself over to the pure luxury of my surroundings and the delightful treatment I was receiving from my new acquaintance. Reaching my goal, I gratefully sank my buttocks into the well-upholstered seat. The floor was deeply carpeted, so there was no fear that Ursula would be uncomfortable. Having so recently come, I settled in for a long, leisurely sucking.

  It quickly proved, however, that Ursula’s technique was very advanced. By twisting her lips on each descent she produced a wrenchingly pleasant sensation that caused my cock to jump each time she completed a stroke with my cock buried deep in her excellent mouth. Running my fingers through her hair, I concentrated on the twin goals of savoring her expertise and trying to make the experience last. A man can take just so much, and before I would have believed it possible I was on the point of coming again. When she lifted her eyes to mine, the sight of her hollowed cheeks and moist lips bent to the task of giving me pleasure, forced the crisis, and I let go once more, this time into her welcoming throat.

  Delicately dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, she smiled at me more warmly now as she rose to her feet. “I didn’t want you to think I was neglecting you,” she said.

  What a strange woman. But there was no time now to do anything but dress myself, which I had just finished doing when the aide came back to show us out.

  As I followed Ursula out of the room, I glanced back for a final look at the Lincoln portrait. For just a quick moment I could have sworn … But no, it must have been a trick of the light.

  When I arrived home and told Miss Greenglass about my latest bit of progress, I was gratified to find that even she was somewhat surprised. Of course she never doubted the veracity of my narratives, but in this case she could not suppress a certain curiosity about how I had managed to carry out my task in such an unusual and august location. I explained, rather smugly I must admit, that I had been aided and abetted in my cause by the President of the United States himself.

  I didn’t say which one.

  Chapter 23

  VARIOUS WISE MEN THROUGHOUT THE COURSE of history have made the profound observation that when a man is granted the fulfillment of his most delicious dream, the mischievous gods in charge of such things are wont to bestow the gift in such a way as to render it tasteless. Or at least to diminish its savor. I had at times looked upon this declaration as being somewhat overly cynical, and highly questionable. But that was before I encountered the Davenport twins.

  Surely among the most delectable dreams or fantasies of every heterosexual male is the one involving twins—preferably beautiful, certainly sexy, undoubtedly voluptuous, absolutely uninhibited and very likely blond. Such were the Davenport sisters. And as far as I personally was concerned, that was only the beginning. Unbelievably, almost gloriously, as if they had been put on earth for my purposes alone, the names that their thoughtful parents had given to these gorgeous creatures were (are you ready for this?) Vinora and Winona—or, as they were more familiarly called by themselves and their friends, Vinnie and Winnie.

  Admittedly, this delightful circumstance did not fall miraculously into my lap just at the ideal moment, which would have been after my highly satisfying if somewhat mystical afternoon with Ursula; that would have been carrying good fortune too far. I had become aware of the Davenports some time earlier, while attending an exhibition of foreign automobiles at the urging of an acquaintance of mine who wanted me to acquire his company. In addition to the cars, the exhibition also featured the usual generous sprinkling of scantily clad models whose purpose was to stand around the automobiles looking sexy—the idea being, I suppose, to make the buyers believe that such females came along with such vehicles, or at least would be magically attracted to their owners. The fact was that I was not in the least interested in buying an automobile company, and had attended only because my acquaintance had promised to introduce me to some of the models, in particular a spectacular pair of twin sisters whose names, he alleged, were Vinnie and Winnie. I could hardly credit this stroke of luck to anything but fate. I agreed to meet the young ladies and, incidentally, to listen to his sales pitch as part of the bargain.

  As soon as I set eyes on this duo I had no further interest in automobiles, or even in the other models—almost none, anyway. They were indeed spectacular, two long-haired voluptuous blondes with figures that caused my eyes to light up and various other parts of my anatomy to come to attention. My company-president friend waved them over to us, and left me in their company. From what ensued I suspected he must have alerted them in advance to the fact that he wanted me to be … impressed.

  “Hi,” they said in unison. “We’re Vinnie and Winnie!”

  “So I understand,” I said.

  “She’s Vinnie,” one of them said.

  “She’s Winnie,” the other one said.

  “We’re twins,” Vinnie said.

  “Identical,” Winnie said.

  “I can see that,” I said.

  “He’s cute,” Vinnie said.

  “Nice eyes,” Winnie said.

  “Nice teeth,” Vinnie said.

  “Nice buns,” Winnie said.

  “How big do you think he is?” Vinnie said.

  “At least seven inches,” Winnie said.

  “I bet more,” Vinnie said.

  “Eight?” Winnie said.

  “Eight at least. Maybe nine,” Vinnie said.

  “Should we ask him?” Winnie said.

  “He’d only lie,” Vinnie said.

  “Guys always do,” Winnie said.

  “We’ll find out soon enough, I bet,” Vinnie said.

  “You think he likes us?” Winnie said.

  “Guys always like us,” Vinnie said.

  “I believe that,” I said.

  “You better,” Vinnie said.

  “Because it’s true,” Winnie said.

  “Because we’re so sexy,” Vinnie said.

  “An
d gorgeous,” Winnie said.

  “And blond,” Vinnie said.

  “And we love fucking,” Winnie said.

  “And sucking,” Vinnie said.

  “And everything,” Winnie said.

  “Um … well, that’s wonderful,” I said. “That’s just … um … wonderful.”

  At least it sure as hell seemed that way to me at the time.

  But of course it wasn’t that simple. At that point I had just gotten through my night with Phyllis and was now looking for a Q, so I had to find a way to put Vinnie and Winnie on hold for a while. Without managing to acquire an automotive company in the process.

  And there was another problem.

  “Uh … how does one tell you ladies apart?” I said.

  “One doesn’t,” Vinnie said.

  “One can’t,” Winnie said.

  “There’s no way,” Vinnie said.

  “We’re identical,” Winnie said.

  “Like two peas,” Vinnie said.

  “Uh-uh …” I said. “And these things that you mentioned, that you like doing so much—do you do them … together, or do you sometimes—”

  “Oh, we do everything together,” Vinnie said.

  “Everything,” Winnie said.

  “Always,” Vinnie said.

  “We’re twins, you know,” Winnie said.

  “Yes, I know,” I said.

  “You want to take us to bed?” Vinnie said.

  “Well of course he does,” Winnie said.

  “I know that, silly,” Vinnie said. “I was just being polite.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’d love to. But I’m, uh … going out of town for a while, so it will have to be another time …”

  “Anytime,” Vinnie said.

  “We’ll be around,” Winnie said.

  “Just give us a call,” Vinnie said.

  Fine. Great. But there was that other problem. Most men thrust into such a situation, so to speak, would not have to worry about keeping track of who was who, but I obviously did if I wanted to keep faith with the terms of my wager. And, for reasons I did not completely understand, I did want to. There had been other occasions on which it would have been easy—and convenient—to fudge those terms just a little, without Miss Greenglass suspecting a thing. But thus far I had refrained from taking advantage of those situations, and I intended to go on refraining. Man of honor that I am, I admit I might have been tempted at times, had it not been for that unfathomable woman.