Fine; now she'd go to work. The other hand jacked firmly back and forth on the thick shaft of his penis, guiding it inexorably to her ready and eager mouth which, wet and warm, opened to receive him.
She first began to suck on the head-the very tip, no more, keeping the circle of her lips just ahead of the hard edges of the glans but sucking hard, as on a piece of particularly juicy candy. And with each suck she'd twitch the questing finger buried deep in his body. And with each twitch she found that the finger-lubricated by the thick gob of mucus on it-would sink farther into his body.
His hands now began running sensuously up and down her neck, caressing. The motion was wild, uncontrolled. He was beside himself with the agony and delight of what she was doing to him. And, knowing this, a little thrill went through her…
But now her finger reached a particularly sensitive place inside him-the prostate? perhaps-and his hard buttocks closed about her hand, almost hurting her.
Very good, she thought I'll save that for when lie's ready, ready to come. If ll drive him crazy.
And she went back to work with the free hand, rubbing-now with the smallest most delicate motions of her nails, now with soft and tender fingertips-the length of the shaft before her, feeling the straining, engorged blood vessels on the sides of it, feeling her fingers disappearing into the thick bush of his crotch hail as she carried the long, masturbatory stroke back to his body before running it forward again.
And her mouth…
Her mouth now went to work in earnest sucking the big head in, letting it back out (with an extra lick along the bottom side from the rolled surface of her tongue) in a bobbing motion that accelerated to a wild and uncontrolled frenzy. Yes! He was getting closer! He was moaning steadily now; his body was shaking; his knees were jerking. Now was the time…
And, as her head bobbed up and down, sucking madly, her left hand pumping strongly on the shaft of his cock, she suddenly thrust the embedded finger of her other hand deep inside him, shaking it back and forth, rubbing the tender skin inside his body at precisely the right place. His bodily spasms became mighty tremors. His hard buttocks thrust forward, shoving his belly at her; his strong fingers dug mightily into her neck muscles…
"Mmmmmmeeeerrrddddde…" he cried. And his powerful loins pumped into her mouth a thick jet of heavily viscous liquid. She gagged. She pulled her head away, but his hard, hands forced her to stay where she was. Her lips opened, pushed him out; but the thick liquid splattered over her face, dripped from her chin, soiled and stained her chic little jacket…She tried to pull away, but his heavy grip lay on her neck, bruising her. He forced her face, again and again, against his wet and suddenly limp penis, forcing her too kiss it, rubbing her face back and forth against the dripping head of it, smearing eyes and nose.
"Non," she said desperately, struggling to get up. Laissez-moi…" But then the broad hand swept back and forth across her face, slapping her, her head flying wildly to and fro as the bruising strokes battered her cheeks, themselves already wet and slimy with the juice from his massive testicles. "Vache" he said. And then he said a lot of things that were much worse, more degrading and insulting, as he continued to hit her. Nan fell, sobbing, to the pebbled beach, hardly noticing when the policeman's flashlight picked her out where she lay and the young man, cursing, picked up his discarded trunks and ran for it. She was still weeping, unable to move, when the policeman found her and bent to help her.
Lesson one: All men are not necessarily like Ed…
Nan was surprised to find herself so self-confident, so self-possessed, lying to the police like that. It was so easy! The story fairly tripped off her tongue: he had volunteered to show her the city, he had taken advantage of her…The flics professed to believe every word, found out who she was. Rich and powerful ladies, for the record, do not tell lies about young men trying to rape them, forcing them to unnatural acts, beating them. Rich and powerful ladies (and how strange it was to think of herself that way, after being led around by the nose by Ed's lawyers and business managers since his death!) did not get their names in the paper for the things which happened to them while driving in the quiet evening streets of a dull city like Nice.
So her story was accepted (and thank God the young man had got away!)…but there were enough inconsistencies in it that somehow, some way (the French are good at this sort of subtlety) she was given to understand that it might just possibly be the best thing if the remainder of her holiday were spent elsewhere. Not out of the country, perhaps; not out of the Department, even, you understand; just out of the jurisdiction… Nan smiled her understanding smile-the new Nan, bold and confident, was very much in the ascendant just then-and told the prefect that she had reservations for tomorrow at…and here she mentioned a famous St Tropez hotel, accessible only to those with money and power. It was a bald-faced lie; she had no reservation, but the strange, heady feeling of flexing the muscles she'd inherited from Ed as majority stockholder in Eastern Petroleum was upon her. She knew, as sure as she knew her name, that a call on the long-distance wire would force some poor devil out of his room on an afternoon's notice. And the two halves of her new, sharply divided, personality warred constantly within her as to whether or not she should feel shame and pangs of conscience over this. The no's had it. She'd never see the person she'd displaced. Why should she worry?
At St Tropez you could bare your breasts on the beach and dare a man to stare at them, giving him the insolent glare from the eyes-the glare that said no, while the little smile at the corners of your mouth said well, perhaps, but you'll have to do something out of the ordinary to interest me. Yet she couldn't fool herself, and ultimately she couldn't fool the men. Her nipples grew long and hard under the gaze of the hard-eyed young men of the beaches, belying her studied indifference. It flustered her; there were still a lot of things left for her to learn, it appeared, in the matter of being blas and indifferent to sexual overtures. Half of her wanted to retreat; the other half said Press onward! Free yourself! Enjoy!
And one afternoon she found herself stretched out on her blanket tanning her back, when she looked up to see beside her, no more than a yard or so away, a bronzed and lovely young woman with close-cropped hair like her own, busily engaged in taking off the last stitch of clothing on her smooth and hairless young body.
The girl was bare-breasted, as Nan Mikell was; her nipples, erect in the cool breeze that swept across the sunny beach, were dark, almost black. She was kneeling on her own blanket a soft knit thing in blue, and her neat little hands were engaged in untying the knot at the side of her bikini pants-a knot which, so far, had steadfastly refused to come undone.
Nan Mikell looked at the brown young body. It was small-boned, trim, without an ounce of excess fat upon it; yet the effect of it was one of a careless and fiery sensuality. Every tiniest square millimeter of flesh on the little body was dark with suntan, bursting with youthful health and vigor. The face was square-more piquant than pretty, an American might say-with a thin-bridged but otherwise quite Roman nose that gave her little face a classic Mediterranean beauty that prettiness might not have done. The hands and feet were small, the hips sturdy.
"Oh, look," the girl said in easy rule-of-thumb English, "It is stuck. And I have broken a nail. Merde." Then she looked up with dark guileless eyes and said, "See? Do you think you could help me, please?"
Nan raised herself on her elbows, feeling the little breeze sweep across her breasts, naked too now in the open air. "You…you're going to take them off?" she said. She looked around her nervously. "Here?" The beach was dotted with singles and couples. The feminine population of the beach was about evenly divided between the bare-breasted and the women wearing bras. There were no families there; the children's beach was quite a long way down the strand.