Ciudad Paraiso

[windar]

My sister lives in LA and I have been there more than a few times. You capture it beautifully. I hope you did well with the rains...

I think it makes a real difference to a story when the author sets it somewhere they know well. Barb's knowledge of Berlin was critical to making "Berlin Diary". My sister lives in Tucson and I know the area around there and down in Nogales fairly well. I also did a long canoe trip in Boundary Waters/Quetico. I took on the Ann Lee story in "The Real Historical Female Jesus" partly because the Shaker settlement she lived at is a few miles from my house, though it's a fascinating story regardless. I don't know LA well, but from the little I do know, Boccaccio has captured it beautifully.

 

[Boccaccio]

I think it makes a real difference to a story when the author sets it somewhere they know well.

Yes, the geographical context is important, but the historical context is almost equally so, at least to me. "Berlin Diary" does well on both counts.

I've never been to Shanghai, but in my "Jade Pavilion" stories (at BDSMLibrary) I made every effort to convey both the inability of the royal family in the 1880's ( a few years after the horrific Taiping Rebellion and a decade and a half or so before the Boxer Rebellion) to control the warlords of the time as well as the intrusiveness of the western powers who profited greatly from the weakness of the Chinese central government.

 

[Gibbs505]

Thank you.

"Los Angeles gives one the feeling of the future more strongly than any city I know of. A bad future, too, like something out of Fritz Lang's feeble imagination.

Henry {Tropic of Cancer} Miller made that observation many decades ago, and the first sentence still holds true. There are many who believe the second sentence is even more apt, but I am not among them.





I live in the lowlands with my fellow peasants. Aside from some minor street flooding, there were no serious problems in my immediate area.

The very well-to-do of the Los Angeles area tend to live in the majestic hills and canyons to the north and they sometimes have to contend with wildfires during the dry and windy seasons, and then again when the rains fall on the 'burn areas' and sometimes wash away entire hillsides and the houses upon them. We've been experiencing drought conditions in southern California for a number of years and the substantial snowfall in the northern part of the state this year has almost got the reservoirs back to normal.

There remains great concern about the Oroville Dam in the central part of the state, which has been seriously damaged by the rains. If the storms keep coming, there could be a real calamity in that vicinity.

Been watching that, stay safe!

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment 17 {In which the pool game continues followed by a study session in which David is plagued by some most unprofessorial thoughts. }







"Double or nothing?" Tony barked as Chip began pulling balls out of pockets for the next rack.


"Why not?" David replied, feeling the confidence that only victory can inspire.


David broke on the second rack, but made nothing, leaving Tony Cannizzaro an open table. But once again Tony played hastily and left himself an almost impossible shot on the five ball. David noticed at a glance that Tony had an easy 'safe' which would have left David in a difficult predicament. But he didn't see it, and cannoned the cue ball into the five without tangible result, once again leaving David an easy run of the table. A run made easier by David's unerring position play.


"Can you believe this guy's luck?" Tony complained to Chip as David pocketed the nine and won the second game. "The bastard hits the ball like a fuckin' sissy and still ends up with so many easy shots!" He pounded the edge of the table with a big fist. "How about it, one-ball? I got a feeling your run of luck is just about over. Double or nothing again?"


David assented with a silent nod, correctly judging that the only thing easier than beating a careless player was beating a pissed-off careless player.


And indeed, Tony's anxiousness to win his money back caused him to play even more recklessly than usual. Twice in the third game, David missed relatively easy shots intentionally, seeing that it was possible to miss the cut and still tuck the cue ball behind a phalanx of object balls which blocked access to the lowest numbered ball on the table. And each time, Tony tried to create something out of nothing and committed nine-ball hara-kiri.


By the middle of the fourth double-or-nothing game, Tony was so annoyed that he missed a shot that he normally would have made nine times out of ten, once again opening the table for an unspectacular but seemingly ineluctable sequence of shots by David Chao.


Now eighty dollars to the good over a Tony Cannizzaro with veins of fury bulging in his ruddy neck, David contemplated whether he should return the money or perhaps apply it to Amalie's mounting tutoring bill. His ruminations were interrupted by Amalie's return.


"Sorry, guys. I went out to pick up a few things and I ended up spending fifty bucks on groceries," she said cheerily. "Gees, that last bag was heavy. I should have called one of you big strong men." Amalie was still wearing the short burgundy sundress, and her grocery-carrying exertions had left her sun-tanned flesh moist and glowing.


"Well, me and Chip are outa here," boomed Tony grumpily. "There's a new club down by the airport. Whadda they call it, Chip – The Landing Strip? Something like that. Anyway, the Chipmeister wants to check out the new talent. Dontcha, Chip?"


Tony Cannizzaro's prospective agent took the hint. "Yeah, I heard they got some real hotties."


"Oh, men!" Amalie pouted. Oh, well, David and I were going to study anyway." She strode toward Tony and threw her arms around his neck. "Keep an eye on this big lug, Chip!" she said good-naturedly as she planted a kiss squarely on Tony Cannizzaro's lips. "Don’t let him get in trouble with those dancing girls!"


David looked on enviously as Tony's big hands found Amalie's bottom and he pulled her close, mashing her bra-less breasts against his brawny chest. As Tony semi-groped his sister, Chip Desjardins pretended to compare the heft and straightness of the various cues in the cue rack. David Chao felt as if he were invisible.



"You know me, hon'," Tony smirked. "The action turns me on, but I save it all up and bring it on home to you, baby, " he mumbled, returning Amalie's kiss vigorously while his hands moved freely over the deep-clefted half-moons of her tempting derriere.



"Shhh, Tony," Amalie chided, pulling away from him blushingly. "C'mon, David, let's get started."


"Sure," David replied in a half-strangled voice, trying to recover his poise. The sight of Tony's hands fondling Amalie's buttocks had given him an erection that seemed to him as long and hard and conspicuous as the cue Chip was pretending to examine for straightness.





********



David Chao had had difficulty concentrating while tutoring Amalie before, but never as he had that night. They sat at right angles to each other at the dining room table, and David found it impossible to keep his eyes from straying to her bare arms and shoulders and especially to the décolletage of her low-cut sundress, where they lingered while she worked on a series of mock quizzes that he had prepared.


After they had done three quizzes, David began to discuss colloids and solutions and chemical suspensions. But his mind was imagining a different kind of suspension as Amalie Desjardins re-read the material in that chapter of her text. A few nights earlier he had yielded to temptation and visited the adult bookstore again. There, in one short film in an anthology video, he had watched mesmerized as a master of Japanese rope-bondage had wound strand after strand of jute cord around the full breasts of a woman who, judging from her café-au-lait flesh, was perhaps a Creole. When the bondage-master was done, the scene was so vivid that David could almost smell the aroma of the exotic fibers encircling the Caribbean beauty's love mounds. When the slight, gray-mustached Japanese had thrown the ends of the breast-ropes around a pulley and, inch by agonizing inch, hoisted the voluptuous dark-skinned islander to the very tips of her toes, David had almost swooned with pleasure.


Try though he might, as his eyes furtively returned to Amalie's tempting cleavage, he could not rid himself of the thought of Amalie Desjardins imprisoned in just such a bondage, her delicious lust-gourds bound for his delectation, her thigh muscles straining to relieve the pressure of the breast-ropes. Her …


"David? David, did you hear me?"


David Chao blinked twice and shook his head from side to side as he felt Amalie's hand, soft but insistent, on his wrist.


"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically, as his eyes drifted to Amalie's three-ring binder. For an instant he imagined the jaws of a spring-loaded ring clamping shut on one of the semi-stiff breast tips which pressed so invitingly against her burgundy dress. He rubbed his eyes, trying to chase the dark vision from his mind's eye, and leafed mechanically through some pages in Amalie's text as if he were intent on looking up a doubtful point. "I guess I was daydreaming. Long day."


"I can never remember -- is it sulfates that are SO3? Or sulfites?"


So vivid had been his reveries that David struggled to control his voice. "Sulfates are SO4 – H2S04, sulfuric acid, is an example of a sulfate; sulfites are SO3, and also have a valence of minus two. Do you remember which industry uses a great many sulfites?"


"Food and wine?" Amalie guessed doubtfully.


"Right! Very good. Sulfites are used in most wines to prevent oxidation, and as preservatives in some foods – although a lot of people think we should reduce the amount of preservatives we use in prepared foods. It is thought that …"


And so the study session went, for another few hours, with David employing the Socratic method, asking question after question, forcing himself to keep talking to keep his thoughts far from the body of the suggestively dressed temptress at his side. But his questions served their purpose, too, requiring Amalie to examine the basic elements and compounds from various perspectives, hoping that in the end, all of the data would crystallize into an integrated body of knowledge for her, as it had done for him.



********


They were still going over their notes at around 11:30 when they saw the headlights of Tony's Mustang pull into the driveway. A moment later Tony breezed noisily into the next room, speaking in the too-loud voice of one who has had a few drinks.


"Hey, Ammie -- I dropped Chip off at Marilyn's; her parents are outa town, so he's gonna be spending the night over there. Baby, we got the place all to ours .…" As Tony came around the corner into the dining room, he saw David sitting at the paper and notebook-strewn table alongside Amalie.


"What the fuck? Are you still here?"


Amalie turned to her boyfriend. "Tony, don't you remember me telling you? David's going to spend the night in the beach house; we're going to study some more tomorrow."


Tony Cannizzaro's brown eyes eyed Amalie's body as candidly as he had the strippers at the club. "Well, study hall's over, prof. It's time for you to turn in. Lights out. You get me? Me and Ammie's got some important business to talk over. Don't we, sweetie?" he grinned lewdly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close."


"Sure. No problem," David said, glancing at the clock and rising from his chair. "I didn't realize it was so late," he added truthfully, as he stuck his bag under his arm."


"To-ny, stop it," Amalie said, pushing at his arm, but there was an unmistakable flirtatiousness in her voice. "David, just go out the back door and hang a left. You'll see the beachhouse maybe thirty yards down the path. I left a light burning and the key is under the mat. How does breakfast at nine sound?"


"That'll be great. See you then," David said as he made his way to the door.

 

[windar]

Two good chapters. I am sort of wondering how a government scientist like Amalie's father ends up with a plush beachfront place in Malibu, but maybe he won the jackpot in the California Lottery

 

[Boccaccio]

Two good chapters. I am sort of wondering how a government scientist like Amalie's father ends up with a plush beachfront place in Malibu, but maybe he won the jackpot in the California Lottery

I'm not sure whether I ever addressed that point. (I wrote this story twelve or fifteen years ago.) It's not very well known I don't think, but Malibu was home to the Hughes (yes, that Hughes!) Research Laboratory, where the first functioning laser was invented many years ago. I think at some point we learn more about Amalie's late mother, whose house it may have been, or whose money might have helped in the purchase.

Malibu is about 21 miles long, so there is a lot of oceanfront property. Nowadays even a shack would probably cost a fortune, but it probably wasn't always so. The nearby Malibu Canyon and Topanga Canyon communities used to be home to a lot of nature-loving hippies back in the day, although I'm not sure that's still true.


There are some spectacular ocean views from the Pacific Coast Highway. In a few chapters , a pensive Amalie will enhance that magnificent coastline by .... well, you shall see

 

[Wragg]

Installment 17 {In which the pool game continues followed by a study session in which David is plagued by some most unprofessorial thoughts. }


View attachment 467225




"Double or nothing?" Tony barked as Chip began pulling balls out of pockets for the next rack.


"Why not?" David replied, feeling the confidence that only victory can inspire.


David broke on the second rack, but made nothing, leaving Tony Cannizzaro an open table. But once again Tony played hastily and left himself an almost impossible shot on the five ball. David noticed at a glance that Tony had an easy 'safe' which would have left David in a difficult predicament. But he didn't see it, and cannoned the cue ball into the five without tangible result, once again leaving David an easy run of the table. A run made easier by David's unerring position play.


"Can you believe this guy's luck?" Tony complained to Chip as David pocketed the nine and won the second game. "The bastard hits the ball like a fuckin' sissy and still ends up with so many easy shots!" He pounded the edge of the table with a big fist. "How about it, one-ball? I got a feeling your run of luck is just about over. Double or nothing again?"


David assented with a silent nod, correctly judging that the only thing easier than beating a careless player was beating a pissed-off careless player.


And indeed, Tony's anxiousness to win his money back caused him to play even more recklessly than usual. Twice in the third game, David missed relatively easy shots intentionally, seeing that it was possible to miss the cut and still tuck the cue ball behind a phalanx of object balls which blocked access to the lowest numbered ball on the table. And each time, Tony tried to create something out of nothing and committed nine-ball hara-kiri.


By the middle of the fourth double-or-nothing game, Tony was so annoyed that he missed a shot that he normally would have made nine times out of ten, once again opening the table for an unspectacular but seemingly ineluctable sequence of shots by David Chao.


Now eighty dollars to the good over a Tony Cannizzaro with veins of fury bulging in his ruddy neck, David contemplated whether he should return the money or perhaps apply it to Amalie's mounting tutoring bill. His ruminations were interrupted by Amalie's return.


"Sorry, guys. I went out to pick up a few things and I ended up spending fifty bucks on groceries," she said cheerily. "Gees, that last bag was heavy. I should have called one of you big strong men." Amalie was still wearing the short burgundy sundress, and her grocery-carrying exertions had left her sun-tanned flesh moist and glowing.


"Well, me and Chip are outa here," boomed Tony grumpily. "There's a new club down by the airport. Whadda they call it, Chip – The Landing Strip? Something like that. Anyway, the Chipmeister wants to check out the new talent. Dontcha, Chip?"


Tony Cannizzaro's prospective agent took the hint. "Yeah, I heard they got some real hotties."


"Oh, men!" Amalie pouted. Oh, well, David and I were going to study anyway." She strode toward Tony and threw her arms around his neck. "Keep an eye on this big lug, Chip!" she said good-naturedly as she planted a kiss squarely on Tony Cannizzaro's lips. "Don’t let him get in trouble with those dancing girls!"


David looked on enviously as Tony's big hands found Amalie's bottom and he pulled her close, mashing her bra-less breasts against his brawny chest. As Tony semi-groped his sister, Chip Desjardins pretended to compare the heft and straightness of the various cues in the cue rack. David Chao felt as if he were invisible.



"You know me, hon'," Tony smirked. "The action turns me on, but I save it all up and bring it on home to you, baby, " he mumbled, returning Amalie's kiss vigorously while his hands moved freely over the deep-clefted half-moons of her tempting derriere.



"Shhh, Tony," Amalie chided, pulling away from him blushingly. "C'mon, David, let's get started."


"Sure," David replied in a half-strangled voice, trying to recover his poise. The sight of Tony's hands fondling Amalie's buttocks had given him an erection that seemed to him as long and hard and conspicuous as the cue Chip was pretending to examine for straightness.





********



David Chao had had difficulty concentrating while tutoring Amalie before, but never as he had that night. They sat at right angles to each other at the dining room table, and David found it impossible to keep his eyes from straying to her bare arms and shoulders and especially to the décolletage of her low-cut sundress, where they lingered while she worked on a series of mock quizzes that he had prepared.


After they had done three quizzes, David began to discuss colloids and solutions and chemical suspensions. But his mind was imagining a different kind of suspension as Amalie Desjardins re-read the material in that chapter of her text. A few nights earlier he had yielded to temptation and visited the adult bookstore again. There, in one short film in an anthology video, he had watched mesmerized as a master of Japanese rope-bondage had wound strand after strand of jute cord around the full breasts of a woman who, judging from her café-au-lait flesh, was perhaps a Creole. When the bondage-master was done, the scene was so vivid that David could almost smell the aroma of the exotic fibers encircling the Caribbean beauty's love mounds. When the slight, gray-mustached Japanese had thrown the ends of the breast-ropes around a pulley and, inch by agonizing inch, hoisted the voluptuous dark-skinned islander to the very tips of her toes, David had almost swooned with pleasure.


Try though he might, as his eyes furtively returned to Amalie's tempting cleavage, he could not rid himself of the thought of Amalie Desjardins imprisoned in just such a bondage, her delicious lust-gourds bound for his delectation, her thigh muscles straining to relieve the pressure of the breast-ropes. Her …


"David? David, did you hear me?"


David Chao blinked twice and shook his head from side to side as he felt Amalie's hand, soft but insistent, on his wrist.


"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically, as his eyes drifted to Amalie's three-ring binder. For an instant he imagined the jaws of a spring-loaded ring clamping shut on one of the semi-stiff breast tips which pressed so invitingly against her burgundy dress. He rubbed his eyes, trying to chase the dark vision from his mind's eye, and leafed mechanically through some pages in Amalie's text as if he were intent on looking up a doubtful point. "I guess I was daydreaming. Long day."


"I can never remember -- is it sulfates that are SO3? Or sulfites?"


So vivid had been his reveries that David struggled to control his voice. "Sulfates are SO4 – H2S04, sulfuric acid, is an example of a sulfate; sulfites are SO3, and also have a valence of minus two. Do you remember which industry uses a great many sulfites?"


"Food and wine?" Amalie guessed doubtfully.


"Right! Very good. Sulfites are used in most wines to prevent oxidation, and as preservatives in some foods – although a lot of people think we should reduce the amount of preservatives we use in prepared foods. It is thought that …"


And so the study session went, for another few hours, with David employing the Socratic method, asking question after question, forcing himself to keep talking to keep his thoughts far from the body of the suggestively dressed temptress at his side. But his questions served their purpose, too, requiring Amalie to examine the basic elements and compounds from various perspectives, hoping that in the end, all of the data would crystallize into an integrated body of knowledge for her, as it had done for him.



********


They were still going over their notes at around 11:30 when they saw the headlights of Tony's Mustang pull into the driveway. A moment later Tony breezed noisily into the next room, speaking in the too-loud voice of one who has had a few drinks.


"Hey, Ammie -- I dropped Chip off at Marilyn's; her parents are outa town, so he's gonna be spending the night over there. Baby, we got the place all to ours .…" As Tony came around the corner into the dining room, he saw David sitting at the paper and notebook-strewn table alongside Amalie.


"What the fuck? Are you still here?"


Amalie turned to her boyfriend. "Tony, don't you remember me telling you? David's going to spend the night in the beach house; we're going to study some more tomorrow."


Tony Cannizzaro's brown eyes eyed Amalie's body as candidly as he had the strippers at the club. "Well, study hall's over, prof. It's time for you to turn in. Lights out. You get me? Me and Ammie's got some important business to talk over. Don't we, sweetie?" he grinned lewdly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close."


"Sure. No problem," David said, glancing at the clock and rising from his chair. "I didn't realize it was so late," he added truthfully, as he stuck his bag under his arm."


"To-ny, stop it," Amalie said, pushing at his arm, but there was an unmistakable flirtatiousness in her voice. "David, just go out the back door and hang a left. You'll see the beachhouse maybe thirty yards down the path. I left a light burning and the key is under the mat. How does breakfast at nine sound?"


"That'll be great. See you then," David said as he made his way to the door.

A chemistry lesson thrown in for free!

 

[Boccaccio]

A chemistry lesson thrown in for free!

Amalie will learn a few lessons during the evening in question -- and they won't all involve the periodic table.

 

[Wragg]

Amalie will learn a few lessons during the evening in question -- and they won't all involve the periodic table.

But there will be plenty of chemistry, I'm sure.

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment 18 { In which our sexy cheerleader dances for her boyfriend -- and for an unseen watcher}



Chapter VI The Summer of '82 : Tony





David stepped outside into the coolness of the night air and walked quickly down the path, enjoying the crispness of the sea breeze. Abandoning the path when he reached the beach house, he found the key under the mat at the front door and stepped inside and dropped his bag on a chair. He glanced around the beautifully-decorated guest house for a moment and threw open a south-facing window, allowing the rolling sound of a heavy surf to echo through the room.


Thinking that he would go for a stroll along the beach before retiring, he turned out the light in the guest house and stepped outside, planning to continue further down the path that had led him to the guest house. But when he heard the sensuous sound of dance music coming from an open window in the main house, he paused and glanced up at the Desjardins residence.


From the pattern of illumination he guessed that Amalie and Tony had made their way to the front room through which he had passed earlier. He took another few steps down the trail and then stopped, his voyeuristic instincts aroused. He remembered the boldness with which Tony Cannizzaro had fondled Amalie's shapely backside. Was it possible that the two might now be locked in an even more arousing embrace? Surely the foliage at the front of the house afforded plenty of cover… David reversed his course and re-traced his steps up the pathway, and then stealthily circled around to the front of the house, where he positioned himself behind a concealing row of shrubbery and sighed with satisfaction. From his vantage point he could see clearly into the front room and an open window made it possible for him to hear that part of the conversation which wasn't drowned out by the erotic pulse of the disco song which was just coming to an end.


"The lights are out in the guest house," Amalie announced softly as she re-entered the living room. "You've got me all to yourself, now, big boy," she murmured as she snuggled into Tony's arms and kissed him on the lips.


Comfortably ensconced in a long couch, Tony returned the kiss ardently and once again reached for Amalie's thinly-clad buttocks, but she pulled away, eyeing him flirtatiously.


"Why do you go to these nasty strip clubs, honey? Aren't I woman enough for you?" Amalie purred, extending her arms over her head and stretching sinuously, letting Tony (and her unseen admirer) enjoy the sight of the bodice of the sundress stretched deliciously tight over her bra-less breasts. David could not take his eyes off Amalie's body as she dimmed some of the lights, so that the room was bathed in a warm erotic glow.


"Hey, don't blame it on me, honey. It was your brother who was buying the drinks and slipping bills into g-strings. Ain't no way Tony Cannizzaro's turning down a deal like that. Geesus, those broads got me worked up good, honey," grunted Tony. "There was these two who took turns squirting some kind of oil on each other, and then rubbing their bodies together. I like to jumped up on the stage and nailed 'em both, right then and there.


"Really?" Amalie whispered, eyeing the noticeable bulge in Tony's trousers.


"Yeah, baby. But I brought it all home for you," he added rubbing his palm across his swollen crotch. "C'mon, sweetie. Dance for big Tony. Just like those whores at that club."


"Are you gonna give me something special if I do?" Amalie asked teasingly, touching her finger to her soft lips.


"You betcha, sweetie. I'm gonna give you the works!" Tony said rubbing his crotch.


Amalie slipped another tape into a cassette player, and a moment later, David Chao could hear the faint rhythm of a sensuous Latin dance beat.


Amalie took a position a few feet from the couch on which Tony was sitting, and spun around giving her lover a nice glimpse of golden thighs beneath the high-flying skirt. Then she planted her feet, which David just realized were now encased in a pair of cardinal red stiletto heels that added a sensuous arch to her pose, and began a slow shimmy in time to the music.


David watched transfixed, his passion rising as Amalie's golden pony tail danced against her sundress with every undulation of her hips.


"Ooh, shake it for me, baby. Shake it for big Tony."


Amalie looked back over her shoulder coquettishly and slid her index finger into her mouth suggestively.


"Is this how the girls at the clubs do it, Tony?" Amalie purred as she reached for the hem of the short sundress and began easing it up her sleek, sun-kissed thighs.


"Geesus, yes. Higher, baby. Lift it higher. But nice and slow. You know how big Tony likes it.”


"Does Big Tony like it when I do this?" Amalie mewed as she turned to face him, the skirt still hiked halfway up her thighs. Then, with her hips swaying in time to the pulsing rhythms of the music, she held on to the skirt, and with a sensuous shrug of her bare shoulder, let one of the spaghetti-thin straps slither halfway down to her elbow.


David pressed closer against the shrubbery, his eyes drawn like magnets to the sight of the deep, delicious cleavage between Amalie's breasts, the scooped neckline of her bodice having been accentuated by the fall of the shoulder strap.


Then with a sudden movement Amalie fell to her knees on the large Persian rug, and lifted the skirt of her dress still higher, arching her body backward with feline grace, giving Tony the Cannon a bird's eye view of her skimpy white panties.


"Do you like them, Ton'," she asked in a breathy voice as she ground her hips for him. "I put them on … just for you … when I 'freshened up' earlier. Watch…"


And while she continued to move her hips in slow sinuous circles, Amalie's fingers toyed with an artfully concealed bow on her right hip, and then, with a quick tug, undid it, letting one half of the bikini bottom fall away from her golden fleece.


"Oh, baby. Bring it to me baby. Bring it to Big Tony!"


But Amalie backed away, wagging her finger, "not yet", and climbed back to her feet before she undid the other bow and let the bikini bottom slither down her tawny legs. When it got caught on her high heel, a swift movement of a pretty foot flipped it into Tony's face, momentarily blocking his view of her golden-fringed vulva.


With a lecherous snarl, the quarterback snatched at the garment, but by the time Tony had peeled it away from his face, Amalie's skirt was back in place and she was on her feet dancing again. She undid her girlish ponytail and shook the resultant golden mane back and forth until it flowed across her bare shoulders. Meanwhile she reached down and ran her beautifully manicured fingernails along her thighs and then upwards, lingering at the slowly swaying juncture between her legs, and then up over her belly and her full, rounded breasts, making sure that she strummed the proud points of her nipples with her extended thumbs.


The music quickened, its rhythms becoming more and more passionate, as Amalie's fingers melted into her blonde hair then and lifted it, Bardot-like, until it was piled high on her head. Amalie's soft lips formed themselves into a suggestive moue as she rustled her hair into a tempestuous golden storm and then released it, letting it drift haphazardly onto her rounded shoulders once again. She moved closer to Tony, and then scrunched her shoulders inward, so that the remaining shoulder-strap slipped down her other arm, giving him an even more mouthwatering view of her breast-cleavage.


"Now you're talkin', baby! Let's see those fucking tits!"



As the second strap slithered off her shoulder, Amalie used her inner arms to hold the bodice of the sundress in place. Tony growled impatiently at the delay, and Amalie reached across her chest with the index finger of her right hand and slowly eased the cardinal red fabric down over her surging left breast. The sight of the dark-tipped mound of desire sent David Chao's arousal into overdrive.


Amalie drew a series of concentric circles with her finger, first around the base of the lightly-tanned globe and then around its perfectly-proportioned aureole, and lastly, she drew tight little circles around her pinkish-brown nipple, teasing the already erect bud into ever bolder prominence.


"Hey, baby. Come here to Big Tony," her lover growled.


Amalie shushed him by moving the finger that had caressed her stiffening nipple to his lips. Tony sucked at her finger, enjoying vicariously the salty sweetness of her breast-flesh, as Amalie peeled the top down over her other luscious love-mound. Removing her finger from Tony's mouth, she slid the rope of burgundy fabric back and forth across the under-curves of her breasts for a long moment, accentuating the nakedness of her proud-jutting globes, before releasing the fabric and letting the bodice slither gently to her waist.


"Geesus, baby, you put those whores at the strip club to shame," Tony growled lewdly, feasting his greedy eyes on Amalie's superb breasts.

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment 19 {In which Tony the Cannon goes on offense against Amalie, while David watches from the bushes}





David Chao knew nothing of the girls at strip clubs, but there was no question that Amalie's nude breasts were everything that the revealing Daisy Duke outfit she had worn to one of their study sessions had promised. Only a half-shade paler than her sun-bronzed shoulders and belly, her ripe pleasure-melons surged forward from her chest proudly, her delectable nipples impudently erect.


Amalie scrunched her shoulders inward again, crushing the soft mounds together until Tony could not stand her teasing any more. He reached out and grabbed her wrists and pulled her down onto his lap.


"Do you like it when I do this, Tony?" Amalie purred as she ground her buttocks, naked now beneath the thin skirt, against his throbbing genitals.


"Do I ever, baby!" the quarterback muttered as he buried his face in the soft valley between Amalie's breasts and began to mouth the inner curves of her swollen tit-globes. His hands were busy, too, sliding the skirt up Amalie's supple legs with rough impatient fingers, until it was bunched high around her waist.


He squeezed her athletic cheerleader's thighs with powerful fingers while his mouth attacked her glorious, perfume-scented lust-mounds. "Oh, baby!" he mumbled through a mouthful of breast-flesh, "I'm planning on having some fun with these beauties tonight!"



For a brief moment, David thought he saw a flash of alarm in Amalie's brown eyes, but it disappeared when Tony's hand wormed its way between her widespread thighs and stroked the font of her pleasure.


"Ooooohhh, yeaaaaaaahh," she moaned. "Right there, baby," she purred, throwing her head back and arching her back to offer her breasts even more wantonly to Tony Cannizzaro's ravenous mouth.


"Touch me, baby. Take it out and touch me!" he growled.


Sliding backwards on his thighs, Amalie's hands flew to the zipper of his pants and freed his huge erection.


"Stroke it, baby," Tony moaned as he filled his hands with Amalie's naked buttcheeks, cupping them, squeezing them, as her right hand closed on his cock and gave it a light milking tug.


"Ohhhh, that's good. But easy does it, honey. We've got all night." Tony the Cannon muttered as he pressed his thumbnails into the undersides of Amalie's swollen nipples. "Besides, I got you a present, baby."


"Mmmmm," murmured Amalie with breathy materialism, as she inched forward on his thighs so that the swell of her pubis was pressed against the base of Tony's pillar of passion. "What did you get me, honey?"


"Check these out, sweetie. Picked 'em up at a little shop next to the club tonight." Tony reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a jewel box.

"For me?" Amalie gasped as she opened the jewel box. "They're pretty, Tony," she exclaimed as she looked at the glittering objects inside. "But what…? "


"Cost me fifty smackers, Baby," Tony said as he removed one of the rhinestone-studded gewgaws from the box and reached for Amalie's left breast. "Geesus, I been waiting to see you in these all night."


It was only when Amalie felt the serrated edges of the nipple clamp against the tip of her breast that she grasped the nature of Tony's gift.


"N-no, Tony," she murmured, sliding off his lap.


"Whaddya mean, no?" Tony growled angrily as he stood to face her. "I thought you wanted to be Tony's girl, baby. I thought you wanted to ride in the fast lane."


" I – I do, Tony, but …"


"I'm gonna be a first-round draft choice, baby. With a six-figure signing bonus. Think of it, baby. You and me. Big money. Champagne. Caviar. Fast cars. Nothing but the best for us, Ammie. And once I've made it to the top, baby, with a body like yours, you'll have to fight off the Hollywood producers with both hands. You won't have to worry about your daddy's bimbo cutting you off ever again."


"But …"


"No 'buts', sweetheart. You're either Tony's girl or you're not. See this?" Tony reached in his hip pocket and pulled out a small address book. "There's fifty phone numbers in here baby. And at the other end of each one is a girl who'd jump at the chance to suck Big Tony's dick on the fifty-yard line of the Coliseum. It's up to you, baby."


"O-OK." But there was a doubtful quaver in Amalie's voice.


"That's better, baby. Much better." Tony Cannizzaro stared at Amalie Desjardins hungrily. The cardinal-red sundress was still gathered around her waist, leaving her saliva-wet breasts deliciously nude. "But I'd better make sure you've learned your lesson," he added with a malicious grin. "Besides, I'm gonna haveta take my eighty bucks out in trade."


"Eighty bucks? Wha …"


"The eighty bucks your fucking tutor chinked me out of." Tony's cocky grin was twisted into a malevolent sneer.


"But I didn't …."


"Never mind. Lift up your hands and run your fingers through your hair," Tony ordered sternly.


"But why ….?"


"Do it, baby!" Tony hissed. "Do it for Big Tony."



"All – all right," Amalie stammered, staring nervously at Tony's towering erection, as she lifted her hands to her golden tresses and sifted them between her fingers.


David Chao almost groaned with lust as Amalie's movement lifted her superb breasts into even greater prominence. He pressed closer against the shrubbery, slowly grinding his erection against the woody bush.


Tony Cannizzaro slipped the nipple clamps into his pocket while he admired the bold jut of Amalie's pleasure-globes from point blank range.


"You know you love it, honey," Tony growled as his hands slid under her breasts gently, hefting their firmness, savoring their warmth. His thumbs slid back and forth across her nipples, giving them new life, stroking them until they were once again stiff as rivets. "Don't you?"


"Mmmmm, yes." Amalie purred, thrusting her sensuous mounds toward Tony's caressing fingers.


Stooping slightly, Tony slid a hand under Amalie's dress and ran his fingers up her thigh until he reached her golden fleece. He explored her body with prying fingers, mumbling "Yeah, you love it when Big Tony plays with you, don't you, baby? You're as wet as a locker-room floor."


Tony played with Amalie's damp pussy for another moment and then withdrew his hand and stepped back slightly.


"But I can't let you get away with saying, "No," to Big Tony, baby," Tony said, placing his hands on his hips and facing her. "You know that don't you?"


"Sure, Tony," Amalie murmured, closing her eyes dreamily, arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward again. "Whatever you say. Just touch me, Honey. Make me feel good."


"Sure, baby," Tony Cannizzaro smirked. "I'll touch you."


From his vantage point in the bushes facing Amalie at an oblique angle, David Chao was perfectly positioned to see the palm of the muscular quarterback's big hand moving like a pale blur toward the outer-curve of Amalie's left breast.



Tony's powerful slap cannoned into Amalie's breast with a resounding SMACKK!!! that left her pink-nippled mound shuddering from the impact.


"Owwwww!" Amalie's brown eyes flew open, her hands beginning to fall defensively to her breasts. Tony's vigorous follow-through had sent his arm across her body, and without a perceptible pause, his arm rocketed back in the other direction, like a punishing pendulum, backhanding Amalie's deliciously firm right breast with a second resounding SMACCCKKK!!


"Aaaaghhhh!!" Amalie cried again out as her hands cupped her burning breasts. "Geesus, Tony. That hurt."


"Listen, honey, " Tony muttered as he feasted his smoldering eyes on Amalie's reddening love-gourds. "It's just like coach always says. If you wanna make it to the big time, you gotta learn to play with pain. Now get those fucking hands out of my way, baby. Put 'em behind your neck and interlace your fingers."


"N- " Amalie began, but when she saw the ferocity in Tony's eyes, she swallowed the unspoken vowel.


"You heard me, baby! Do it, or Big Tony's walkin' out that fuckin' door!" Tony moved closer, forcing Amalie to retreat until her back touched the far wall of the room and there was nowhere left to run.


Trembling, Amalie clasped her hands together behind her neck. "Please, Tony… You know I'd do anything for you. You don't have to hurt me…"


"Stick those sweet tits out for me, honey. Just like you did before."


"Tony …"


"Do it, or I'm gonna use my belt! Capisce?"


Amalie's eyes dropped to Tony's thick western belt and she shuddered again.


"I'm gonna count to three, baby."


"One …"



Amalie looked around frantically, weighing in her mind a few moments of pain against the possibility of a lifetime of wealth and celebrity.


"Two!" Tony's hands went to his belt and undid the buckle.


"All right! All right!" Amalie gasped, throwing her shoulders back and clasping her hands behind her head so that her still-smarting breasts jutted naked and proud toward her All-American boyfriend.



David Chao could hardly breathe. His lust-laden erection throbbed painfully against his confining trousers.



"That's more like it, baby," Tony muttered in a soothing voice as he cupped her throbbing globes in his big hands, enjoying the tactile warmth of the two reddened patches on the sides of her breasts. "You just do like Big Tony tells you, and everything's gonna be just fine."


Amalie relaxed, exhaling softly, enjoying Tony's light caressing touch, thinking that his wrath had been assuaged.



But once again she was wrong.


Tony cocked his right wrist shoulder high, almost as if he were preparing to pass a football, and then he swept his hand down again. His hand didn't travel much more than six inches, but it whipped down across the inner curve of Amalie right breast with punishing force, his index finger targeting her tender areole, his big thumb raking across her nipple.


SMACCKKK!!


"Auunnngghh!" Amalie groaned as a new wave of pain coursed through her breast. Her hands once again reached for her throbbing pleasure-globes.


"That one was for flirting with that chink, baby," Tony snarled as he reached into his pocket. "D'ya think I didn't see you gettin' out of yer car with that short skirt hiked up to yer ass?"


"Tony, for God's sake! It was just the wind!"


"Yeah, maybe. But that's when I got the idea that you needed a taste of these." Tony waved the glittering nipple clamps in front of Amalie's face. "Tell you what, baby. Stand in that doorway over there."


Still rubbing her sore breasts, Amalie moved toward the doorway that led into the dining room.


"Reach your arms up baby. That’s it, sweetie. So that your fingertips touch the molding."

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment 20 {Conquest}




David leaned closer as Amalie strained on her tip-toes to touch the molding atop the doorway. A part of him wanted to intervene, to spare this beautiful young woman, who in her own way had been friendly toward him, any more pain. But another part, a swollen, throbbing part, held him back. It was not fear of the muscular Tony Cannizzaro that kept David from intervening; had he wanted to he could have thrown a rock through a window or knocked at the door and interrupted the erotic scene playing itself out before him. It was not fear, but lust that kept him from doing so. For deep inside a part of him wanted to see Amalie Desjardins, the sexy, self-centered tease who placed no value at all on his time or money, humbled, even by an unscrupulous bully like Big Tony.


"Beautiful, baby," Tony muttered as he bent his lips to her left nipple. He proceeded to tease the proud little bud with his lips and tongue until it seemed to surge out from Amalie's breast, pink and taut and glistening.


"The old fart at the video store said these babies work best on girls with long, sensitive nips. And that's just what you got, honey," the handsome jock muttered as he pressed the tip of the tiny tubular nipple-gripper to the pouting, pinkish-brown tip of Amalie's breast. He fitted the opening of the fiendish device to her teat and turned his wrist to the right as Amalie gasped in pain. "He said it was just like turning a nut on a screw," Tony murmured, giving the clamp another quarter-turn clockwise. "Except that the inner edges of these little babies," he added menacingly, "are as rough as a cheese-grater." He tightened the grip of the glittering screw-clamp yet again as Amalie winced in pain. "How about it, baby? Was he shining me on?"


"Tony, please …" Amalie pleaded. But the tears in her eyes attested to the truth of the clerk's claim.


Tony muttered as he turned his attention to her other breast. He stabbed the tasty nugget gently with his tongue and circled it slowly, each revolution of his skillful tongue lengthening and stiffening the saliva-wet nubbin. Once it was at half-staff his lips and teeth took over, tormenting her nipple with sensation until the nerve-rich nubbin was nearly as fully engorged as its twin. Then he bent his middle finger against the palm of his hand, and coiled his his thumb over its nail, creating a spring-like mechanism with his fingers. His hand remained tightly coiled in that position until the tension made the veins in the back of his hand stand out. Then with a sudden movement he released the power of the spring, allowing his fingernail to snap against the underside of Amalie's nipple with surprising force. Amalie moaned softly pain as Tony gave her tender lust-bud three more stinging flicks, each of which caused her tempting nubbin to swell a bit more.


"Beautiful," Tony muttered, pleased with himself. "Keep those fuckin' hands up, baby, " he cautioned Amalie roughly as he took the other clamp and began screwing it onto Amalie's freshly moistened nipple. When both clamps were firmly in place, he linked them together with a long-ish silver chain that gleamed in the lamp-light. He gave the chain a sharp tug to make sure that it was securely in place, and Amalie had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying out.


David Chao watched breathlessly. It had been a beautiful young woman clad only in silver nipple clamps who had lured him into the labyrinth of dark desires when he had seen that first bondage film in the seedy bookstore so many months ago. And now, unbelievably, a similar scene, with an even more stunning heroine, was playing out before his very eyes. But from the look in Tony Cannizzaro's eyes, Amalie Desjardins would not escape as lightly as the full-breasted actress who had wriggled so enticingly on that tiny screen.


"Oh, baby," snickered Tony, giving his virile erection a couple of squeezing strokes with his left hand while he smacked Amalie's left breast lightly with his right, causing the bejeweled clamp and its glittering chain to dance deliciously on the tip of her lovely breast. "I could play with these beauties all night. But now it's time to play a little football."


Amalie stared at her boyfriend as if he was insane, but there was nothing crazy about the look of lust in his eyes.


Tony reached for the hem of her skirt and slowly ran his powerful hands up the backs of Amalie’s supple thighs. When he had lifted the skirt up to her waist, he cupped her bare buttocks, pulling her body closely against his own, enjoying the pressure of her soft body against his massive erection.

Just then the tape of Latin music came to an end. "I got some new mood music for us tonight, baby," Tony growled as he stepped to one side and removed a tape from the pocket of the cardinal red letter-jacket he had thrown over a chair earlier. He inserted the tape into the tape player, and a moment later, the strains of a triumphal march filled the night.


"Yeah, baby – "Conquest!" Tony muttered as Amalie recognized the familiar fight song. "Ever since the first time I heard the Trojan band play it after we scored a touchdown, I been wanting to play it. Just for you."


The proud blast of trumpets and drums was only vaguely familiar to David, but one could almost have guessed its name from its first few notes. Its majestic martial rhythms were worthy of Trojan warriors, or Alexander's armies, or of Rome's proudest legions. This was the music of conquerors.


"OK, baby, now we're going to get you into formation." The rangy quarterback waved Amalie Desjardins toward the edge of the beautiful Persian area rug that covered much of the living room floor. He stepped to one side and retrieved the pigskin from the chair over which he had thrown his jacket hours earlier.


As he bobbed his head in time with the pulsing rhythms of the Trojan march, Tony Cannizzaro placed the football on the carpet so that its forward tip rested against the very fringe of the rug. "OK, baby. I'm the quarterback and you're the center. Bend over and grab the ball, baby, just like you were going to hike it back to me between your legs."


Puzzled at his strange request, Amalie obliged him, bending forward and grasping the ball with both outstretched hands, her back inclined seductively downwards, her shapely bottom high in the air. The chain connecting the nipple clamps rested lightly against the curved surface of the ball.


"Oh, I forgot one thing, honey. The chain goes under the ball. Lift it up, baby. Not the chain, the ball!" Tony snapped as he walked around to face Amalie as she lifted the football clear of the carpet so that the low-hanging loop in the chain just reached the floor. Then she crouched back into position, lowering the football back into place on top of the chain, its forward edge positioned at the edge of the carpet. Amalie grimaced in discomfort as the felt the added pressure on the chain tug on her nipple clamps.


"Beautiful, baby," Tony said enthusiastically as he strolled around her, enjoying the pleasing pendulousness of her breasts, and the sexy arch of her upthrust buttocks. Taking his quarterback's position behind her, he lifted the cardinal sundress over her naked hips, revealing the splendid rotundities of her buttocks and the moistness of her pronounced labia.


Tony shucked his jeans down his hairy legs and took his stance, rubbing his meaty erection against Amalie's naked backside as the trumpets continued to blare. "Remember, baby. If that football moves forward an inch, and goes off the edge of the carpet, you're going to draw a penalty for being offside. A major penalty," he guffawed.

"Oooh, baby, you got one smokin' ass," he crooned, as he slid his purple-knobbed phallus up and down through Amalie's soft, sweet buttock cleavage so vigorously that Amalie could feel the pressure of his hairy ball-sac against her bottom. "And remember -- if you lift the ball off the chain, that's illegal procedure, sure as hell. Understand, baby?"


"For God's sake, Tony. Do we have to play this stupid game?"


Tony drew his hand back and spanked Amalie's right buttock so hard that it was everything she could do not to surge forward despite his dire pronouncements.


"Baby, I know you didn't call football no stupid game," Tony growled and smacked her creamy backside again. "Did you?"


Amalie moaned softly and shook her head 'no' and wiggled her hips to brace herself as Big Tony chuckled evilly and placed his hands on her trim waist. He pressed the purple knob of his cock-tip to Amalie's vaginal lips and then, with a bestial grunt he rammed it partways home with a forceful downward thrust. "We're runnin' a down and in, baby," he growled as he drove his cock into her defenseless body. And I'm plannin' on goin' deep!"


Viewing the attractive couple in profile, David was amazed that Amalie was able to withstand Tony's forward lunges without losing her balance. The bullying jock thrust again, matching his deepest lunges to the martial beat of the trumpets and drums. Tony grunted with pleasure as his every thrust buried his flesh-weapon a little deeper in Amalie's love nook. After several vigorous pumps, he pulled upward on her hips, adding to the strain on Amalie's tightly clamped breasts as she struggled valiantly to hold the football in place atop the chain.


Tony Cannizzaro worked his big Italian cock into Amalie's pussy with deep rhythmic strokes, changing grip with his hands frequently. Occasionally lifting her hips to add to the strain on her breasts, occasionally caressing her shapely well-toned thighs, occasionally fondling her resilient bottomcheeks with his rough fingers.


But after five or six minutes of those plunging fuck-thrusts Tony the Cannon pulled out of Amalie without coming, his massive erection bathed in her secretions. "Don't move a fuckin' muscle, baby," he barked. "I'll be right back."


Trying to understand the reason for this coitus interruptus, David tried to calm his own breathing as he watched Tony pad nakedly through a doorway, his muscular legs covered with the wiry body hair so common among Italian men. But then his eyes returned to Amalie, still bent forward over the football, her exquisite heart-shaped bottom high in the air, perfectly positioned for virile pleasure, her succulent breasts distended by the chain which tugged at the nipple clamps.


Tony returned a moment later, carrying a plastic bottle. "EVOO, baby," he grunted. "Works like a charm." Once again the athletic quarterback positioned himself behind his 'center' and fiddled with the cap on the bottle. Removing it he poured an ounce or two of a viscous liquid into the dark, tempting cleft between Amalie's buttocks. Then he re-screwed the cap on the bottle and threw it to one side, where it rolled across the Persian carpet toward David before coming to rest with its label facing him. 'Extra Virgin Olive Oil,' David read, solving the mini-mystery just as Amalie began to whimper anew.


"No, Tony. Please … You know I don't like it."


"Hey, baby," Tony sneered as he ran his fingers through Amalie's lust-groove, lubricating her rear entrance. "Big Tony likes to fuck a girl in the ass now and then. What's the big fuckin' deal?" He fitted his dripping truncheon to her winking rosette with one hand and tightened his grip on her hip with the other. "Hell, a couple of your cheerleader pals love it up the ass. Yeah, that's right, baby. Half the offensive line gave it to that redhead with the big tits after the Notre Dame game last year. And both our cornerbacks are always braggin' about how that cute little black chick – what the fuck's her name, Shanequa? Dakesha? – takes everything they got and begs for more. So don't go playin' hard to get, Missy," Tony scowled as he pressed his cock against Amalie's nether-hole and leaned forward. "Big Tony can get all the ass he wants, if you don't wanna play ball."


Amalie felt the muscles in her pelvis contract nervously as she visualized the petite, round-bottomed frame of 4'10" 90-lb Malique Madison impaled on the dark prongs of Delphonse Jackson or Herman "Hit-man' Hardiman.



David Chao watched mesmerized as Amalie grimaced in discomfort as she felt the pressure of Tony's battering ram against her dainty rosette. "Please, Tony. It's too big. It hurts."


"Better relax and enjoy it, sweetheart. Cause it's gonna happen." Tony muttered and then David saw the muscles of his thighs flex as he punched his man-cock into Amalie's resisting ring.


"Unngghh!" Amalie grunted, the features of her cover-girl face contorted in pain. She could only endure the relentless pressure as doubts about the devil's bargain she had made with the muscular All-American consumed her. "Please, Tony," she gasped.. "Not so hard... please." She moaned softly as the felt the teeth of the clamps tearing at her nipples with his every thrust.


"Don't give me that shit!" Tony berated the lovely cheerleader. "You broads love takin' it up the ass! Yeahhh!!!!" he groaned exultantly as he hammered his cock deeper into Amalie's rectal channel. "Ooohh, that's good, baby. So fuckin' good."


Tony Cannizzaro's hands tightened on Amalie's hips, pulling her tighter against his plunging cock-staff and intensifying the pressure on her aching nipples. At one point, Amalie could take the pain no more and she lifted the ball, easing the agonizing strain tension on the nipple clamps, but a moment later Tony shifted his weight slightly, forcing Amalie to lower the football back down onto the chain, even as he continued to work his prick deeper and deeper into her body.


David Chao took off his glasses, wiped them carefully and replaced them as the erotic wheelbarrow of flesh on Amalie's area rug became a pumping, grunting, sweating engine of sexual power. The rictus of lust on Tony Cannizzaro's face grew more intense, the flush on his chest and face brighter and redder, the glaze over his dark eyes deeper and more opaque as he pounded his man-weapon into Amalie Desjardin's delicious body. David could only wonder at the frequency, strength and rhythm of the sensual muscular contractions that had driven Big Tony into such a nirvana of erotic ecstasy.


The pulsing, driving beat of "Conquest" continued to swell to a thunderous climax as the muscles on the quarterback's arms contracted with effort as he tightened his grip on Amalie's hips. Tony sped up the pace of his thrusts, propelling his cock deeper and deeper into her suctioning rectum until finally he could stand the erotic torture no more. Just as the march of triumph crescendoed to its conclusion, Tony issued a long, loud groan of carnal pleasure. His powerful hips jerked repeatedly as the star athlete experienced incredible spasms of pleasure and release.


As the two lovers collapsed exhausted to the floor, David Chao took his leave. He made his way silently back to the beach house and had just turned the key in the lock when he heard the throaty roar of Tony's car as it pulled into traffic on the coast highway. He glanced back at the main house, and watched as one by one the few remaining lights in the house were dimmed.


After hastily grabbing a few paper towels from a rack on a kitchen counter, David sank into his bed, and began to relive in his mind's eye the erotic encounter he had witnessed. He stroked himself slowly, adding to the painful pressure in his loins, as he pictured Amalie posing for him, dancing for him, gyrating on his lap while she stroked his erection with her soft hands. His pleasure mounted as he imagined himself slapping her breasts until they were rosy and quivering, and applying the devilish nipple-clamps to the puckering tips of her breasts he had nurtured into stiffness with his lips and tongue. And then, in his imagination, it was he who had subjugated Amalie Desjardins to his lust, violating her mouth, her pussy, and her anus with his unquenchable lust. Finally, with the sound of Malibu's powerful surf pounding in his ears, David experienced rolling, surging waves of vicarious pleasure until his body convulsed in a series of ecstatic shudders and he sank back against his pillow, exhausted and replete.

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment 21 {A morning in the sun}




Chapter VII The Summer of 82 : The Beach



David Chao awoke to the sounds of seabirds greeting the dawn. He rolled out of bed and climbed into the shower, enjoying the refreshing spray jetting from the nozzle, comparing it very favorably to the halting, half-hearted flow of water in the shower in his tiny flat.


He shaved quickly and had just removed his physics workbook from his overnight bag, in order to work on one of his own assignments, when he heard the sound of footsteps outside.


Moving to the window and pulling back a corner of the drapery he spied Amalie, carrying a small bag and with a beach towel slung over her shoulder, walking down the winding path that led to the beach. At first he was tempted to call out and join her, but upon considering that she had chosen not to invite him, he changed his mind.


But such was the magnetic attraction of Amalie Desjardins, that he slipped out of the door a moment later, curious as to her destination. The winding trail allowed him to remain out of sight as he followed her silently down the rocky path.


The sun, though barely risen, was bright and beautiful and its morning glow promised an unusually warm day for that time of year. Radiant in the sunlight, Amalie wore a hip-length beach wrap of that now familiar shade of purplish-red whose color accentuated the healthy glow of her bare, tanned legs. Peeking out from beneath the hem of the wrap was an indecently skimpy bikini bottom of USC gold. The bikini's side panels were no wider than a finger and the brief triangle of dorsal fabric battled lucklessly to conceal the bounciness of her buttocks as Amalie trudged down the sandy trail in calf-strapped but feminine sandals such as she imagined Helen of Troy might have worn.


The trail emptied into a small, secluded section of beach, and moments later Amalie dropped her bag, spread her towel neatly on the sand, and stripped off the wrap. As she struggled with the winding straps of her sandals before kicking them off, David looked for a safe vantage point from which to enjoy Amalie's morning swim. Finding a large, craggy rock, he nestled himself behind it and peeked out, enthralled, as Amalie sprinted bare-legged toward the frothy surf.


She splashed around in the thigh-deep water distractedly for a few minutes, occasionally turning to face the shore, thus allowing David to appreciate that her bikini top was every bit as skimpy as the bottom. Only a spaghetti-thin cardinal-red string knotted behind her back, and two equally fragile strings that looped around her neck, held two miniscule golden breast-panels, linked at the bottom by another bit of cardinal string, in place. The décolletage was deep and delicious and the dampness of the sea-spray made Amalie's bare belly and nearly-nude breasts glisten enticingly in the early morning sun.


As David watched her splash water over her body she seemed to him to be in a melancholy frame of mind, as well she might be, having experienced only hours before, perhaps for the first time, the darker side of the man she loved. After a few minutes, Amalie trudged toward the spot on the beach where she had placed her towel. Falling to her knees, facing the golden orb in the eastern sky, she glanced around to make sure that she was alone. Seeing no one, she reached into her little beach bag and extracted a bottle of sun tan lotion. She squirted some lotion onto her arms, and smoothed the liquid into her skin, before anointing anointed her face and neck. She worked the sun oil deep into her surf-moist thighs next and then into the beautiful expanse of belly-flesh between her low-cut top and her low-slung bottom.


Her body gleaming, Amalie turned her head once again toward the trail and the hillside which she had descended, and still seeing no one, she undid the burgundy knot behind her back. As she did so, the golden bra panels slipped forward, baring the sides of her ripe breasts. Wasting no time, Amalie's fingers flew to the knot behind her neck, and undid it quickly, allowing the bikini top to flutter to her waist, baring her superb breasts to the morning sun.


Even from some distance David Chao could make out the tell-tale evidence of Amalie's rough treatment on the prior night. The marks left by Tony Cannizzaro's punishing fingers and stinging slaps were still clearly visible on her tempting breasts. David watched enthralled as Amalie Desjardins splashed some lucky droplets of lotion onto the tops of her tender globes, and then began to knead the sun-blocking cream into the pores of her gorgeous love-mounds. Her movements were both sensuous and practiced, as if she had tended to her treasures in this way a thousand times. She began by placing her hands on the tops of her breasts and then smoothing the creamy liquid evenly across the rounded contours of her breasts. She paused and squirted some lotion into her hands, and then slid her slender, lotion-slick fingers underneath her breasts in a cupping fashion, and then moving her hands slowly upward polishing her luscious tit-globes evenly with the slippery liquid.


Amalie winced noticeably when her fingers touched the area around her nipples; from the distance from which he was watching, David could not see the marks, but he had no doubt that Tony's fierce-biting nipple-clamps had left her breasts excruciatingly tender. But even so, the pinkish-brown crests of Amalie's breasts seemed to thrill to her touch, and jutted out boldly, enjoying the crisp caress of the sea air.


Still on her haunches, Amalie, placed her hands flat on the towel behind her and leaned backward, offering her tender, stiff-nippled breasts, her sensuous belly and her sleek golden thighs to the healing warmth of the sun. She held that sensuous pose for two or three minutes while David watched breathlessly, wishing, for the first time in his life, that he had been blessed with talents in art and not science, so that he could capture forever the loveliness of this seaside Venus.


After a few minutes, and further applications of sun oil to heretofore unprotected parts of her body, Amalie stretched out on her back, her face to the sea. David drank in the sight of her long bare legs and the shapely buttcurves that peeked out of her bikini bottoms for a few minutes, but after Amalie had lain still for several minutes, David sensed that she had fallen asleep, and he made good his retreat up the rocky trail.

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment #22 { A sweet ride}







Chapter VIII The Summer of '82: The Coast Highway



After studying for a while David made his way back to the main house at 9:00, as Amalie had directed when they had parted on the prior evening. "Come on in, David," she greeted him when he tapped at the back door. "I've just finished mixing the waffle batter."


Amalie was smiling, but there were still traces of sadness around her eyes. To David's surprise she was still wearing the bikini, albeit with the filmy wrap. As he followed her into the well-appointed kitchen, it was Amalie's bare legs, not the gleaming state-of-the-art appliances, that held his eye.



"What are Tony and Chip up to today?" he asked as he took a seat at a small table in a breakfast nook, being careful to choose a spot from which he could follow Amalie's movements as she bustled about the kitchen.


"Oh, Tony told me last night that they're playing in a two-day golf tournament at Torrey Pines today. They'll be staying over. I don't expect them back until late tomorrow afternoon."


"Torrey Pines? Where is that?"


"Oh, it's down in La Jolla, just north of San Diego. It's supposed to be a beautiful course. Tony has been looking forward to playing it for months."


David exhaled a sigh of relief and felt a slight tingle of anticipation. He had been worrying about sharing Amalie's limited attention span with the beefy quarterback. San Diego was a good two or three hours to the south of Malibu. Tony's absence would allow them to get plenty of studying done, and hopefully, relax Amalie's rather preoccupied mood.


Although David did not really have a sweet tooth, the golden brown waffles, lightly topped with a syrup whose green label assured the reader that it was the authentic product of Vermont maples, were delicious.



As she spatulaed a second waffle, steaming hot from the crenellated griddle, onto his plate, and took a seat across from him, Amalie blushingly remarked, "Sorry about the way I'm dressed; I went for a swim earlier and dozed off on the beach. Then when I got back to the house, Candy – she's one of the cheerleaders – called me and I lost all track of time, until I realized it was almost nine. Candy is the girl who gave me the idea of maybe being a swimsuit model. There's a picture of her, there, on top of the microwave."


David peered through his glasses at the four by six photo in the silver frame atop the microwave. The picture showed five giddy, giggling girls in bikinis trying to hold each other up.


"Some of us cheerleaders went out to the river for spring break a few months ago."


David stared at her blankly.


"You know, Lake Havasu City. The Colorado River?!? Gees, David!"



"Sorry. It looks like you had a good time."


"Did we ever?" Amalie smiled, remembering the hilarity of that lost weekend. "It was spring break and all sorts of guys kept buying us drinks. What a party!!"


"Which one is Candy?" said David not really caring.


"She's the redhead – the second girl from the right. Pretty, isn't she? And pretty loaded, too!" Amalie added laughingly.


"She does look like she had a couple too many," David agreed. Candy did look pretty wasted. Amalie, to her left, and another girl appeared to have their hands full holding hold her up. But the statuesque redhead unquestionably had a great figure, David mused, one whose ripe curves seemed about to overwhelm her white bikini. As he stared at her voluptuous body admiringly, David wondered absently if Candy was the 'big-titted redhead' who, according to Tony Cannizzaro, had taken on half of the offensive line after the Notre Dame game.


"Yeah. About an hour after that picture was taken, some guys talked Candy into entering a Wet T-shirt contest. She would have won too, if all the UCLA guys hadn't voted against her."


David forbore from observing that he couldn't imagine anyone winning more votes than Amalie Desjardins in such a contest. He cast his thoughts back to that striking pose on the beach, picturing her once again – her damp, golden hair trailing gloriously over her thrown-back shoulders, her back arched toward the east so that her perfect, proud-thrusting breasts could bask in the warm rays of the ….


"Planet earth calling David. Hey, teach -- Are you going to eat that waffle or stare into space?" Amalie's smile was good-natured, but David turned his attention to his waffle rather guiltily, peeking upward only when Amalie bent over to place her plate in the automatic dishwasher. As he admired the tempting pose of her heart-shaped bottom, he once again envied the crude, strapping athlete who had made Amalie's lovely body his plaything.


After breakfast, Amalie disappeared for a few minutes and then reappeared dressed in a daringly low-riding gold tube top whose thin fabric clung tightly to her bra-less breasts, and a brief white tennis skirt whose hem seemed to caress her thighs with every step she took. She sat back down at the table and they studied for a while, but Amalie seemed rather distracted and impatient.


At a little after ten, she stood up suddenly and burst out with, "Ohhh, David my brain is going numb from all these ethers and esters. I need to clear my head. Let's go for a drive – you can talk and ask questions while I'm driving, can't you? Like you did yesterday?"


"Sure, I suppose," David said doubtfully. Teaching chemistry in a sports car was hardly the milieu he would have recommended, but the last hour had been large wasted anyway, due to Amalie's distractedness.


"Have you ever been up the coast, David?"


"No," he confessed with a rueful smile. "If the city buses don't go there, I haven't been there."


"David! You don't know what you're missing. It's beautiful. C'mon, let's go."


As Amalie hovered at his side, David thought for a moment, trying his best to avert his eyes from the four inches of tanned belly-flesh between Amalie's top and her skirt, and the thin fabric which was stretched mouthwateringly tight across her delicious breast-globes. Maybe an hour or so away from the books would allow Amalie to re-charge her batteries, he thought.


"Whatever you say, boss," he finally agreed with a smile.


But the one hour turned into two and then four, and then eight, as Amalie drove the convertible north and west up the winding Pacific Coast Highway. The drive was every bit as magical as Amalie had made it sound, with the sparkling Pacific in view on their left much of the time. They drove west past places that were familiar to David from weather and sailing and surf reports – west past Point Dume, slowing now and then to let surfers and beachgoers cross the broad highway, and then angling north toward Point Mugu. Turning inland for a bit they skirted Port Hueneme, and then in Oxnard the Coast Highway merged with the fabled Ventura Freeway, and they turned back toward the coast, once again finding the magnificent shoreline in Ventura.


The thirty-mile stretch from Ventura to Santa Barbara was unforgettable and Amalie's sports car negotiated the sweeping, serpentine curves of that stretch of highway with an almost feline grace. David had tried to lecture during the first hour of their journey, but his attempts were fitful at best, and from the time they found the open road north of Ventura, he abandoned them altogether. He leaned back in his seat and just enjoyed the sun and the wind and the sea and the long blonde hair and the bare midriff and the long legs of the beautiful young Trojan princess behind the steering wheel of her enchanted chariot.


They lunched on local steamed clams in Santa Barbara, and then stopped for an hour at the old Spanish mission there, the Queen of the Missions as it was called. They joined a number of other pilgrims touring the old church, as Amalie folded her arms chastely across her breast-hugging top as if she were fearful of tempting whatever long-dead padres still haunted those sacred grounds.


Their tour of the charming old mission completed, they continued up the winding coast highway toward Goleta as David followed the route on a map in a guidebook he had picked up in Santa Barbara. The highway, Route 1, continued inland at Gaviota, bypassing the craggy cape, Point Conception, which Cabrillo, the first European to sail the California coast, had named almost three and a half centuries earlier.


They reached Lompoc about an hour later and Amalie drove him past the famous flower fields of the Lompoc valley, which blanketed the fertile earth of that region with colorful carpets of blossoms. They abandoned the car at one of the fragrant fields, to stretch their legs and walk among the endless rows of sweet peas and marigolds and foxgloves. Amalie took dozens of pictures and occasionally handed her camera to David for him to snap a picture of her standing or kneeling or crouching among the sea of flowers. He took his time over each, enjoying this opportunity to stare at this beautiful creature for long moments, if only through the viewfinder, drinking in her magical smile, the arousing pressure of her half-erect nipples against the golden top and the sleek shapeliness of her legs, lamenting only that he had not had a camera when Amalie had sunned herself on the beach.


After making their way back to the car, Amalie turned inland toward Buellton and then south toward Solvang, the charming Danish town nestled in the Santa Ynez valley. They stopped and spent a leisurely hour strolling among the shops and windmills, sampled a variety of Danish foods, and then spent a pleasant hour tasting wines at a local winery. David felt pleasantly-light-headed by the time Amalie settled on two bottles each of a crisp Chardonnay and a full-bodied Petite Sirah, and after packing their purchases in ice obtained from a local liquor store, Amalie and David set off for home as the sun began its slow decline across the western sky.


South of Solvang they made their way through verdant farmland and then climbed up through the heights of the Cachuma Pass which led southward to Santa Barbara, and the now familiar coast highway once again. The sunset was now in its full glory, and as David watched the glowing orange ball descend into the sparkling blue sea, he gazed at the vastness of the Pacific, and for a moment felt a twinge of homesickness for his homeland across the sea.


Amalie, perhaps emboldened by the wine, drove much faster on the way home and the rush of wind through the convertible caused her blonde hair to whip wildly about her face and her short tennis skirt to ride high on the supple thighs the morning sun had kissed so fondly only hours before. Amalie was strangely pensive on the long ride home, after being something of a chattering travel guide during much of the day, and David basked in the glow of an early summer day well spent. In fact, he mused, as his eyes strayed for the hundredth time that day to Amalie's shapely legs, he could not remember a day he had enjoyed more.

 

[Boccaccio]

Installment #23 {Slow dancing with Amalie





When they reached the Desjardins home, Amalie invited him in and led him back to the game room where he and Tony had played pool. "Open the chardonnay, David," she said gaily, as she sailed out of the room. "There's a corkscrew behind the bar."



David struggled clumsily with the unfamiliar task, finally managing to draw the cork from the chilled chardonnay without crumbling it up too badly. He had just filled two glasses when Amalie rejoined him, knotting her wind-blown hair as she walked, her gait slightly unsteady from the wine she had drunk, the clean lines of the triangle formed by her uplifted arms accentuating the roundness of her proud young breasts.


"How about some music?"



"Sure," said David a bit nervously as he offered Amalie one of the glasses and lifted the other to his lips..


Amalie took the glass and flipped a switch on the tape player, and a pulsing rhythm and blues ballad filled the room.


Amalie downed her glass in an instant, and held it out for a refill, which David obliged. Holding the glass precariously in one hand, Amalie glided around the room dreamily, circling the billiard table, at one point bumping her knee against the large sofa at the far end of the room. As she circled the room, she adjusted the settings on a number of wall lamps, so that by the time she rejoined David near the bar and filled her glass again, the room was enveloped in a soft golden glow that bathed her eye-catching skin in a sea of warmth.



"David. Would you like to dance with me?" Amalie purred. When David, no dancer, declined, she pursed her pretty lips and pouted, "Please?" She ran her tongue seductively around the rim of the wine glass, and then downed half of its contents and gave David another enticing smile. Then she spun around again, humming along with the music, her thighs deliciously bare beneath the hem of her short white skirt, until she bumped into the corner of the pool table.


"Oopsy," she giggled. Then she smile sweetly at David again. "Pretty please?"



David had as much confidence in his ability to dance as he had in his ability to walk on water, but he clambered awkwardly to his feet, as much to hold Amalie up as to dance with her.


"Wait – this is the last song on this tape. Let me put another one in." Amalie emptied her glass and strode unsteadily across the room. "Do you like Smokey?"


David stared at her blankly.


"Smokey Robinson? You know – used to be with the Miracles?"


"Sorry. Is he the latest pop star?"


"Oh, DAV-id!" Amalie exclaimed in exasperation. "No, he's been around for years. Must be forty. But his songs are so … romantic. I just love him."


As she walked toward the entertainment center, Amalie stopped at the bar to refill her glass, and frowned when she saw that only a trickle of white wine was left. "Hey, David, open the other bottle of Chardonnay, while I look for the tape."


David was already light-headed from the wine-tasting in Santa Ynez and the single glass he had drunk of the Chardonnay. Amalie was well beyond light-headed.


"Are you sure? I really don't need any more."


"Oh, David. You're always such a spoilsport. Relax for once in your brilliant life!" David glanced at Amalie. There had been a hint of mockery in her voice, but there had been respect and affection, too. 'Oh, what the hell,' he said to himself and reached for the corkscrew.


He had even worse luck with the second cork than he had with the first, but not because of the wine he had drunk. Amalie was bent over from the waist flipping through a rack of cassettes, her sweet, heart-shaped bottom high in the air. As she searched, she wiggled her hips slowly from side to side, swaying gently in time with the music.


"Ow!" David yelped, his fascination with Amalie's delicious derriere having caused him to stab his finger with the cork-screw.


"You OK over there?" she murmured, as she continued sorting through the tapes, her spankable buttocks describing sensuous circles in the air.


"Yeah, just clumsy." Regretfully David took his eyes off Amalie's sexy backside long enough to suck the blood from his finger and to butcher the rest of the cork out of the bottle. "Got it," he said a moment later as he tried to scrape the fragments of cork from the lip of the bottle.


"Me too," Amalie said straightening, and a moment later the smooth silky falsetto voice of Smokey Robinson drifted across the room. "This is my own mix," Amalie whispered as the turned around to face David. "It has all my favorites."


She began dancing again, closing her eyes and crooning, "Ooo-ooo-ooooohhh, baby, baby," softly along with the recording. Then she opened her sparkling eyes and whispered, "Well, are we going to dance or not?"


"Amalie, I-I really don't know how to …"



"Well, I guess it's my turn to teach you then," Amalie giggled, as she moved closer. "Here, take this hand, and put your other arm around me."


David took Amalie's right hand in his left and placed his right arm chastely across her mid-back.


"A little lower, David. That way it's easier to hold your partner close."


David lowered his hand to the small of her back, his hand finding the expanse of bare flesh betweem Amalie's clinging tube top and the waistband of her skirt.


"That's better – but hold me closer, David. I'm not radioactive, you know," Amalie giggled softly.


But as David pulled Amalie's body against his own, its warmth sent radiating fingers of delight coursing through his body. But a delight which did nothing to remove the leadenness from his feet. Despite the romantic pulse of the music, David found himself unable to do much more than rock gently to and fro.


"Oooo-oooo-ooooh, baby, baby," Amalie sang softly again, as her body swayed gently in time to the music despite David's awkward motionlessness. Removing her right hand from his grasp, she wrapped both of her arms tightly around his neck.


Reveling in the delicious pressure of Amalie's yearning breasts against his chest, and the heat of her breath against his shoulder David's newly free hand fell to her waist and pulled her even closer, his inhibitions swept away by the wine and the beautiful half-tipsy cheerleader in his arms. Could she feel his huge erection, she wondered?


As they continued to dance almost motionlessly, a new song began and Amalie began to sing the words to the second song,


I don’t care if they start to avoid me

I don't care what they do.

I don’t care about anything else,

But being with you, being with you.



Meanwhile, encouraged by Amalie's obvious contentment, David began to relax a bit and started to move his feet with a little more confidence.


"That's it David," Amalie murmured dreamily, and rewarded him by pressing her body even more closely to him.


Emboldened by the feel of her nipples hot and hard against his chest, David's hands slid down a few inches, and found Amalie's yielding bottomcheeks. He squeezed them tentatively, and when she purred kittenishly, he gripped them tighter, crushing Amalie's body against his.


Amalie pulled away and David's heart sank, feeling he had gone too far, but Amalie gave him an amorous smile and danced seductively toward the counter where she had left a nearly-full wine glass. She tilted it to her lips, giggling when some of it spilled down her chin and onto her bare upper chest. She snatched up a napkin and dabbed at the spill, before downing the rest quickly.


"Want some more, David?" she asked, reaching for the bottle.


"No, I'm fine," he replied, trying not to stare at the deepening cleavage displayed by Amalie's wiping gesture.


"Suit yourself," she said, pouring herself another glass.


A moment later Amalie melted into his arms again and he held her close through the next song on the tape. At its end, Amalie lifted her head and whispered in slurred but honeyed tones, "I had a wonderful day today, David."


He smiled down at her warmly and said, "It was wonderful, wasn't it?"


Amalie clung to him even closer, letting him feel the stiffness of her nipples against his chest. "Would you like to make it a wonderful night?"


David started to say, "I am having …" and then the full import of her words fought its way through the chardonnay-tinged mist that had somewhat befogged his own thinking


"But what about Tony?" he asked cautiously, enjoying the pressure of Amalie's warm, bare belly against the tip of his erection.


"I'm mad at him, David. He was mean to me last night. He scares me sometimes."


David remembered the sound and the sight of the wavy-haired Italian's big hand smacking against Amalie's proud-thrusting breasts and he felt a wave of vicarious lust course through his loins. She certainly had good reason to be fearful of the crude quarterback.


"David," she purred stepping away from him. "I've seen how you look at me."


"Y-you have?" he stammered nervously. Had she seen him peeping through the window last night? Or had she been aware of his presence this morning, on the beach, when she had so brazenly offered her body to the sun and the sea?



"Of course," she smiled. "The day I wore my 'Daisy Duke' outfit, your eyes lit up like a Cub Scout at a candy store."


David flushed. "I – I …"


"And in the car, yesterday and today," Amalie said, sipping again at her wine, her hips still swaying sensuously in time to the music. "Did you think I didn't know that you were checking out my legs every time the wind lifted my skirt?"


"Amalie, I'm sor …"


"David, it's OK!" Amalie said reassuringly. "Pretty girls like to be looked at," she added in a teasing voice. "Why do you think we become cheerleaders?" Amalie downed the rest of her wine and placed the glass on the edge of the pool table. Then turning to face him once again, she crossed her arms over her shapely breasts and hugged herself sensuously. "Would you like to look at my legs now, David?"


His heart pounding at twice its normal rate, David wiped at the perspiration on his forehead and tried to speak, but the words would not come.


Amused by his discomfiture, Amalie glanced at the unmistakable bulge in his crotch. "I'll take that for a 'yes', " she purred, and reached out and pushed him backward gently until he sank down into the corner of the long sofa. She stood in front of him and slid her pale fingers down over her tanned belly, down over the bleached white fabric of her tennis skirt, and took its hem in her fingers. Then, her fingers moving at tortoise-like speed, she raised it two or three inches, giving her enraptured admirer a peek at her tawny thighs.


“You like my legs, don’t you, David?” she said breathily, hiking the short skirt even higher on her golden thighs as she moved closer to him.


“Of course,” he stammered, his words catching on his excitement.


“I like to touch them, David,” Amalie purred as she let her fingertips trace the contours of her inner thighs. “They’re so soft and warm. I’ll bet you’d like to touch them too, wouldn’t you, David?”


David could not speak, but as he edged forward on the couch, Amalie let go of the hem of the short skirt, crossed her hands and slid them caressingly up over the sensual plane of her belly. “ Go ahead, David. Touch them.,” she whispered, as David’s trembling hands inched toward her thighs.


When David’s fingertips first touched Amalie’s thigh-flesh, he pulled back slightly, as if a jolt of static electricity had passed through his fingers. But when Amalie neither took flight nor resisted, he grew bolder, placing his thumbs gently on her inner thighs, just below the hem of the pale skirt, enjoying their softness and warmth. He spread his fingers caressingly, letting them explore Amalie’s flawless skin.


“Mmmmm, I love the feel of your hands, David,” Amalie purred dreamily, swaying softly back and forth in time to the slow ballad coming from the tape player.


“Your skin… it’s so soft … so beautiful,” David Chao mumbled. As he slid his fingers slowly up Amalie’s bare legs, he turned his hands inward slightly, so that his fingers pressed against the backs of her thighs. His courage having grown almost as fast as his erection, he eased his hands up under the imagined barrier formed by the hem of her skirt and began to explore her upper thighs, one moment letting the backs of his hands graze Amalie’s inner thighs with light feathery strokes, and the next kneading the firm flesh of her legs with more aggressive intent.


His passion mounting, David grew bolder still, his fingertips sliding up Amalie’s outer thighs until they found the lower edge of her panties. He tried to work his fingers inside the seam of her panties, but they were too tight to allow him much freedom, and he contented himself for the moment with gripping her buttocks through the wispy fabric and squeezing her yielding flesh.


“Mmmm,” Amalie moaned softly again. Spurred on by her pleasure, David’s fingertips tightened on her ass-cheeks, and he pulled her closer, until Amalie stood unsteadily between his widespread knees, swaying to the music, the jewel of her navel only inches from his face. Grunting with desire, David slid his hands inside the waistband of her white panties and then downward, cupping the curves of her naked buttocks still tighter as he pulled her belly to his lips.


Amalie squirmed with desire as David’s lips found her bare midriff. His pink tongue stabbed into the tender recesses of her belly-nook, making up in ardor what he lacked in experience. She reached behind his neck and held his face against her tummy, feeling his hot breath against her bare skin, and then suddenly she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him backward until his shoulder-blades were flat against the back of the couch.

 

[old slave]

Gosh, 22 and 23 were hard work reading, kept having to mop my brow as I concentrated on all those towns in Google maps and all those thighs in my imagination.

 

[Wragg]

"Pretty girls like to be looked at"

One of life's happy mysteries!

 

[Boccaccio]

Gosh, 22 and 23 were hard work reading, kept having to mop my brow as I concentrated on all those towns in Google maps

I'm not much for driving but the Pacific Coast Highway is magnificent. It's at its best up near Monterey (where my wife and I honeymooned many years ago) and Big Sur, but even the southern California section affords a new vista at every curve.

 

[thehangingtree]

View attachment 471161 View attachment 471162

I'm not much for driving but the Pacific Coast Highway is magnificent. It's at its best up near Monterey (where my wife and I honeymooned many years ago) and Big Sur, but even the southern California section affords a new vista at every curve.

It is obvious you wrote this 15 0r so years ago. You'd be lucky to get to Lakewood in an hour today from Malibu much less get to San Jose in 'two or three hours' today! Leaving Malibu I like taking Supulveda Blvd. south (or even Vista Del Mar west of LAX) to avoid the freeways. I am enjoying your story.

 

[Boccaccio]

You'd be lucky to get to Lakewood in an hour today from Malibu much less get to San Jose in 'two or three hours' today! Leaving Malibu I like taking Supulveda Blvd. south (or even Vista Del Mar west of LAX) to avoid the freeways.

Did I even mention San Jose? I did a search for it in my original text and didn't find it.

From the northern part of Malibu Canyon it might make sense to go north and take the 101 E to Sepulveda and avoid the 405 Fwy coming south, but from the beach, I don't believe there's a real alternative to the Coast Highway.

But, I've only been out there once in the last several years so perhaps things have changed drastically.

Not sure what you mean by 'Vista del Mar.' I don't recall a major street by that name. The Pacific Coast Hwy (Rte 1) is the non-fwy alternative to the 405 if you're coming south through the beach cities (Redondo-Hermosa-Manhattan) from the Malibu-Santa Monica area.

It strikes me that this post would have been a good candidate for a PM. oh, well.