Imperceptibly he drew the girl closer to him, feeling the pivot of her hips inside his own, feeling the contours of her breasts hard against his chest; feeling the ripple of solidity in the movement of her back.
They danced in silence, his head at her ear.
Louise did not resist. This was the moment of their togetherness again. Drawn to him, she let his masculinity wash over her. In her loins she felt passion stirring.
The music stopped and in the interval before the band started up again, Andrew looked deeply into her eyes.
"My darling," he breathed. "You know, of course, how this night will end? How it must end?"
Louise did not flinch.
"I want it," she whispered back, "just as much as you do. You're so fine, Andrew. How well I chose when I chose you!"
"And you're so feminine. How I wish that a night like this would never end! I don't think that in all Europe there is a woman I have enjoyed so very much. Not one to compare with you."
The music started again and they danced. In the brief exchange of compliments, Andrew's own stirrings had become manifest. In their embrace now, she could feel the rigidity of his massive prick prodding against her thighs in the region of her pubis. And instead of drawing away from it, Louise snuggled all the closer to it, seeming to encase it in the warmth of her lower body, aggravating it so that it might aggravate her own sex. She felt her nipples tighten and knew that she must surrender to him, that night, that he must have his way with her.
Back in Louise's hotel, soft music was being piped through an invisible loudspeaker. She turned the lights down till the room faded into almost total darkness. Twin beds in one corner of the room beckoned invitingly, and Andrew steered Louise there.
"But first," he whispered, modulating his voice to the darkness of the boudoir, "nakedness. Nudity, my sweet."
"Oh, Andrew," she moaned, happily drinking in his open-mouthed, urgent kiss.
And garment by garment, she allowed him to undress her. Expertly Andrew performed his task. First her dress, slowly drawn past her hips, up her statuesque body, till it came away in his hands. Louise stood in brassiere and cobweb-light panties, with sheer stockings encasing the majesty of her full thighs which merged into the V of her public hair. In reverent adoration, Andrew stepped back to admire her.
"You're so very wonderful, Louise," he breathed, enthralled by the sight of her abundant bosom and rounded belly, flanks and hips. "I should like to remember you like this for all time."
"Not like this, perhaps?"
Naughtily, Louise reached round in back of her and snapped the catch of her brassiere. If fell to the ground and the full majesty and abundance of her breasts was popped into view like rich, ripe melons. They stood out proudly, red-nippled and provocative and utterly regal.
Andrew caught his breath. In the soft glow of the dim lighting, she seemed to take on an aura all of sweet saintliness. She was a Joan of Arc at the Stake of Sexuality.
"It's like some statue," he whispered. "Something someone's erected over a person who's died. You're all the statues in Florence, all the statues in the Louvre, all come to glorious life."
He came to Louise and sank in mute adoration to his knees, clasping his arms around her buttocks and drawing her hips to his face, burying it in her nylon-clad crotch and bestowing a sacramental kiss there.
Louise thrilled to the touch of his hands and arched her hips up to his caressing face. Her smell permeated his nostrils and, enraptured, he breathed it in.
Then he slipped his fingers expertly into the catches of her suspenders, drawing her stockings in a lazy floating motion down her flawless legs. She stepped out of her shoes and allowed him to pull off her hose. And now she stood clad in only her nylon panties, smooth as gossamer over the elastic of her girdle.
In a moment these confinements, too, were off and discarded and Louise stood, thrillingly nude, before the man who knelt in reverence at her hips. As he sought to bury his face once more in the magic warmth of her pelvic girdle Louise spread her knees, opening the hairy valley of her cunt to his lips.
He kissed her as she swiveled to allow him complete access to the parts of her body he desired, and to allow those parts to thrill, in their turn, to the electricity of his caress.
Finally he stood up and faced her.
"Louise," he said. "Never in my life have I ever known so much woman, so much sheer desirability. I love you. I want you to know I love you."
Still fully clad, he tore his coat from his massive shoulders and worked to free himself from his silken shirt. In one swift moment, he was as completely naked as was Louise.
His great penis throbbed out of his mass of pubic hair pulsating for the quest of pleasure upon which it would shortly embark. Andrew seized Louise in his embrace and, bending her head back, kissed her fiercely as her body molded to his. He felt the mass of her mammaries squash solidly into his naked chest. He maneuvered his cock clumsily amid the warm cunt hairs. He ran his hands electrically up and down the flanks, the back, the hips and over the belly of the girl, straining into him to receive his embrace. Finally he drew his mouth from hers and thrust her against one of the beds so that she sprawled flat on her back along its length.
For long, delicious moments, Andrew held his proud prick in his hand, anointing Louise along the length of her nudity with the silvery love-juice now dribbling from it. He brushed it from her knees up to her throat, probing its head at the yielding flesh of her pancaked tits, rubbing it along her belly, pressing it into her cunt-V and down inside her sensitive thighs. To and fro it went, while Louise lay there absorbing this sacramental rite.
Then she reached for Andrew's tool and, taking it into hands that seemed too small to contain it, pulled at it until Andrew was upon her. Shuddering in the grip of her passion, she wrenched it and writhed beneath him until she could apply her lips to it. Wetly she began to suck it while Andrew, fumbling with fingers at her twat, managed to open the labia and insert a finger into the mucoused recess where he would shortly slide his vast engine. "My, but it's magnificent!" she groaned, as she sucked at his tool. "This must he the penis of all time, the prick of all mankind. And it's yours, darling, yours and mine!"
Andrew yielded to her tonguing and as she sucked its tip, he strove forward to cram more and more of its length into her receptive mouth. The red of her lipstick now made it appear more angry and more engorged.
And as she sucked, Louise gave vent to her customary tirade of filth and obscenity.
"Andrew, ah, Christ, I can wait no longer! My cunt is hungry for it," she sobbed. "My whole body aches for it! Ram it into me! Up me! Up my cunt, my vagina – up, up, up – right into my fucking womb! Give me the length of this wonderful prick. Penis me! Tool-prick me into my twat so that I ache! Piss over me, if you will, piss I beg of you. I crave it of you! In your mercy, Andrew, I implore you, fuck me, piss on me, fuck me! Ah, fuck me now or I swear it, I'll kill you, somehow I will!"
Andrew, listening to her raving as she thrashed about beneath him, grinned as he thought what an absolute virago she could become, this woman who was all svelte and elegance only a few hours ago.
With compassion and understanding, he let her rant on as she thrashed her body about in the snaking movements of someone deep in the throes of desire. He, in his turn, bent at her twat, and bearing mightily upon her twisting hips, stilled her movements sufficiently to insert his tongue into her cunt. That valley, controlled a moment ago, was now agape, its lips seeming to flap open and shut in the agony of her desire to be fucked. The moment he slid his tongue on to the length of her clitoris, Louise went berserk. Her stream of profanity cut itself off in one long moan of desire and she threw herself about upon the bed in one great pulsating moan of outraged femininity. She pulled at Andrew's hair and beat at his head. She brought her thighs up and together, applying a wrestler's scissors hold upon his neck, squeezing his face into her cunt so that his tongue might accomplish what she so fiercely desired.