Roland DeForrest - The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

“Yes, yes,” the girl whimpered.

“I swear this all will be over soon.”

Tenderly she kissed the girl’s sweet lips, sealing her vow, and prepared to stand. But Kolina, clinging to her desperately, would not let her rise. “Don’t go, Claudine. Please. Stay the night. Please?”

The invitation was so tempting, Honey felt her resolve wavering. The girl’s bare breasts poked fetchingly above the covers, round as two peas in a pod. Honey bent forward and kissed each one directly on the tip of its tempting pink nipple. “I cannot tonight,” she breathed into them.

“But why?”

“Because tonight I must persuade Henri to set you free.”

“But how?”

Honey managed to stand, smiling oddly. “That, my darling, is my secret. Now you sleep, my pet.” She kissed her again on the lips. “Sweet dreams.” Before the dear girl could protest any further, Honey slipped out of the cabin.

The tropical rainstorm had ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Once again the night skies were clear and the moon shone brigthly, casting a pale glow on the dense vegetation lining the banks, and on the slowly moving surface of the broad river. The engines of the huge yacht were silent, and yet the luxurious craft moved steadily, drifting in the center of the Amazon, following its natural flow toward the Atlantic, over a thousand miles away. From the jungle, exotic cries of parrots and other strange birds called into the darkness, adding a lonesome eeriness to the unfolding scene.

On the upper deck, Honey marshalled her strength for the task ahead of her. Squaring her shoulders, she moved from the rail toward Bouscaral’s cabin.

He answered her knock wearing a robe of antique maroon velvet, and stared coldly down his sharp nose. “What do you want?”

“You,” she said simply.

“You are too late,” he said, and started to close the door.

She caught it with a hand and pushed past it into the spacious cabin. “I think not,” she replied coyly, and started undoing the belt of her robe. Slowly she parted her robe, revealing her awesome breasts. “I apologize sincerely for my previous behavior. May not a woman change her mind?” Like a goddess unveiling, she dropped the robe to the carpet and stood mutely. He drank in her statuesque figure like a man long denied. Not taking his eyes from her magnificent breasts, he closed the door and moved to her. Abruptly he grabbed her in his arms and crushed his mouth to hers, his hard prong underneath the velvet colliding with her belly like a soft fist.

She did not struggle or protest, but merely allowed him to continue his kiss without offering any encouragement or exchange of feelings. Her passivity increased his fervor. “You beautiful cunt,” he gasped into her neck. “Suck me.”

Silently she slipped to her knees and opened his velvet robe. His erect member bounced out at her face, its hard sleekness a direct extension of his cold, brittle personality. Taking it in both hands, she caressed its length, as if admiring its beauty. It twitched expectantly in her hands and a drop of seminal fluid oozed from the slit in the blood-red cap. With the tip of her tongue she licked the drop away, tasting its sticky saltiness, then teased the small opening.

He tore the velvet dressing robe from his thin frame, tossing it in a corner. Twining his fingers in her thick hair, he jerked her head forward over the end of his prick, ramming it deep down her throat. Fighting the gagging reflex, she relaxed those muscles, allowing his full length to enter fully. She coated his slender prick with a thick covering of saliva, running her tongue again and again along the hard bulges. With increasing urgency he pumped into her mouth, jamming it in and out, his loosely sacked balls bouncing into her chin. She folded her tongue around his prick, creating a warm, slippery nest. The more she sucked, the hotter she became, and her fingers sought her own nest.

He whipped his cock out of her mouth and rasped, “On your hands and knees.”

Obediently she fell onto her hands and he walked behind her, pulled her full hips towards him, and sank his dagger to the limit in her wet pussy. He fell onto her back, and clutching her around the waist with both arms, he began to plunge in and out with alarming speed. Trying to keep upright under his weight, she braced herself on her arms and wiggled her butt into his lap, adding a new twist to his frenetic screwing. It did not take long for her to understand Kolina’s fascination with him. Bouscaral was a champion.

His hands clutched at her heavy, swinging breasts and his deeply buried prick battered into the walls of her canal, adding immeasurably to her pleasure. Reluctantly she had to hand it to the Prince of Kink-he surely knew how to fuck.

Abruptly his cock vanished from its burial place; he had pulled out and now was ordering her to lie on her side. She did as requested and he lay down facing her, taking her top leg below the knee and flinging it high up in the air, holding it there, forcing her ever wider. Immediately he plunged into her love channel again, and set about his hurried but skillful plundering. With growing heat, she began to meet his every move, her dislike of the man fast disappearing under his expert ministrations.

Bouscaral took her in a variety of positions. To each she responded with the same enthusiasm, her own sexual gymnastics increasing his ardor. Like a man possessed, he attempted to top her, to get the best of her. But she refused to give in. An inhuman growling rose from her lips, her breathing became labored, and still she demanded more.

When at last his energy began to flag and his movements slowed, she prodded him on, raking his back with her long nails. Wrapping her long legs around his trim waist, she bucked, twisted, and kicked, screams of unfulfilled lust raging from her lips.

On into the night they fucked and fought, each refusing to come before the other. Finally, with a concerted effort, Honey threw him over on his back and sat on his exhausted pecker. Placing her hands flat on his hairless chest, she arched her back and cried, “Fuck me, you fool. Fuck me!”

Inspired by her pleas, he threw himself into one last round of energetic pumping and promptly, with a cry of anguish, he came furiously, far up inside her. A grin of victory flashed across her aroused face, and she lowered her heavy breasts to his heaving chest, climaxing with a great shout of triumph.

After a moment she climbed off him and he rose and staggered to the bar in his room. “I’ve never had a woman outlast me,” he grumbled as he poured himself a snifter of Courvoisier. Swirling the amber contents, he sank into an easy chair and proceeded to toss the brandy down in one gulp.

“But did I not please you?” she persisted pleasantly.

“What is pleasure?” he asked boyishly. “One person’s pleasure is another person’s pain.”

“Not necessarily,” she purred and slipped out of bed, padding to his chair. Kneeling before him, she looked up at him in total humility, her deep blue eyes filled with worshipful longing. “You are the very best I’ve ever had. I would do anything-anything-to be allowed to be only your property for as long as you desire me.”

He contemplated her with a brightening expression, his black eyes sparkling with aroused interest. “You would do as I say?”

“Willingly,” she said softly and took one of his hands, kissing the palm. “On one condition. You get rid of that little girl forever.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I’m hooked on her. If I don’t get my daily fix of her, I’m certain I will go mad. The more she rejects me, the more I want her. It used to be the other way around, you know.”

“If you keep her, you can’t have me.”

He stared down, his face tense. “You force me to choose between you?”