The London Eye is deserted. It was worth getting up at crack of dawn. No one in their right mind will be sightseeing at this hour and in this kind of suffocating fog. There’s no one getting in the way. Just me, my camera, and the view.
In fact it’s quite eerie down here. The Thames slides silently between the two banks and even the rumble of cars and buses crossing the bridge is muffled. I shiver inside my old Parka, though I know it’ll be warm once I get inside. That’s why I’m wearing a loose silky shirt and old jeans underneath. I like to move freely when I’m taking pictures.
My pod glides alongside like a spaceship and I step in. I walk over to the far side, ready to rise up in the air. The white air and fog seem to rush at the glass, blocking everything out. Behind me the door slides shut.
The vents are puffing out great gusts of warm air. I take off my jacket, toss it onto the bench. It’s had a rough life. Dates back to my grubby teenage years. I unbutton my blouse a little, lean my forehead against the cool glass. I can see Big Ben leering through the cloud, but that’s about it. I can barely even see the other pods. It’s like being wrapped in a blanket in here, totally secret.

We are barely moving, but already we’re suspended above the ground. I say ‘we’ because someone else is in here with me.
Shit. I grip my camera tightly, keeping my back firmly turned. Ignore them. Fingers of watery sun are fanning round Big Ben’s face like a weird halo and I focus.
I can hear the faint rustle of clothing. I turn sideways, as if to frame another picture. A man is sitting on the bench, staring down the river towards Battersea. Fine. I’ll just get on with it. Trust me, though, to try to take my prize portfolio in dense fog.
‘I daresay you wanted to be alone up here,’ the man remarks. He has the most incredible, deep voice, like chocolate. ‘Me too.’
My shoulders hunch with irritation. I feel like ejecting. I glance at him. Big dark coat, open over a battered looking suit. Cool glasses. Dark stubble on his chin. So he got up at crack of dawn, too.
‘Never alone, though, are you, in London?’ I look up at the pod above us. I can see movement. Can’t see who, or how many. ‘People everywhere.’
‘Sorry. I should have taken the next one.’
We catch eyes. His are grey, turned down in some kind of sadness. I lift my camera to hide my face, and take a picture of him. Catch a smile just starting. Christ, he’s handsome. What stupid woman has just hurt him?
My hand holding the camera is shaking. He keeps his distance, but he is still looking at me. I can see myself and the white sky reflected in his glasses.
‘What do you see?’ he asks, stepping closer. ‘With your camera?’
The tightness has gone from my shoulders. Now it’s somewhere in my stomach, clenching like hunger. A trickle of sweat runs through my hair, down my neck.

‘They really ought to sort out this heating. It’s tropical in here.’
He nods, takes off his coat. Loosens his tie, but doesn’t undo it. A couple of hairs curl through his shirt collar. They are dark, like the stubble on his chin.
‘People, or things?’ he asks, taking off his glasses and wiping them. ‘Scenery, buildings, animals?’
‘Everything.’
‘Ever catch something secret? A couple kissing at the tube station? Or see them through a window, having sex?’
I hold the camera uselessly now, wiping my upper lip. He’s right up close. He takes the camera off me, scrolls through my pictures.
‘I see all that,’ I say, watching his hands holding my camera, the way his finger flexes over the tiny button. ‘There is one here, yes, not posed at all. Two people fucking.’ The word is out there, stark and sensational. He looks up at me and I go hot. ‘I just try to make the world look better.’
‘And they look great, don’t they, those two? The black and white is a good choice, too.’ He lifts the screen right up to his face. ‘They’d be pleased, wouldn’t they, if they could see these? So flattering. Look how long the woman’s legs look, sort of kicking like that. How firm her breasts. How big his cock –’
I snatch the camera away from him. ‘They didn’t know I was taking them. It was right across from my office. Into a hotel.’
‘It’s lovely. Artistic.’ He puts his hands on his hips. We’re practically touching now. ‘But you were turned on as well, weren’t you, watching them? I can tell, by the way you’ve zoomed in. It’s so hot in that room, isn’t it? Like it is up here.’

‘Yes,’ I whisper, looking at him, not the picture. ‘I got horny.’
‘Horny now?’ He runs a finger under my blouse, just along my collarbone. Something neglected in me leaps at the touch. ‘Because it’s hot in here, too.’
I twist my head sideways to look out. We’re much higher now. I can see over the buildings towards St Paul’s and the City. He takes my face in his hands and turns me to look at him. His fingers are so warm. My cheeks are practically sizzling.
‘Yes.’ It comes out in a long sigh.
His finger is still running along my collar bone. I never knew it was so sensitive. Just below it, my nipples are pricking up. His eyes, behind the glasses, are direct and unwavering. I can’t remember when I last bothered to look someone in the eye, long and hard. Without my camera, I mean. When I last used my own eyes. My heart is really thumping now, pulsing in my neck. The silk ruffles along my skin, bumped by my heart and by the hot air blowing over us.
He takes his jacket off. His shirt is sticking to him. I can see the curve of his ribs, a wedge of muscle tensing under his arms. I can’t take my eyes off him. I can’t breathe.
I turn away from him. We’re floating right up in the sky now. The fog has thinned into ribbons. I can see people in some of the other pods now. I don’t think they can see us. Their heads swing about as if they’re on safari.
He sighs, too. He’s sitting on the bench, looking tired. One thigh rests on my Parka coat. It’ll be warm with his body heat when I pick it up. I want to stroke him.
‘What about that couple, then?’
I glance about. Looks like there are tourist groups in some pods. Some kind of business outing in another. ‘Couple?’

‘In the hotel. Were you jealous?’
My pussy twitches. On my camera, pictures of her spread legs, toes curling with pleasure. Stark dark nipples.
‘Jealous?’ I sound like an idiot.
‘Seeing a man and woman fucking. Lost in it. You couldn’t join in. You were behind your camera, behind your lens, behind sheets of glass.’ He leans forwards, his elbows on his knees. ‘Nose pressed up against the candy jar.’
‘It’s been a while,’ I mutter, gripping the handrail behind me. He’s turned up his sleeves. He has gorgeous arms. Strong, not too hairy. I want those hands on me. ‘Being a voyeur isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘Come here, then.’ He pats the bench next to him. I try to cross to him calmly, but I want to jump at him, pounce, claw his white shirt off with my teeth. Now who’s on safari?
‘Think how sexy that picture would have been if it was you and me.’
Our arms are touching. My hairs are up on end, the tips running across his skin. He takes my camera, holds up the hotel picture again, the couple arching away from each other. Their limbs are fluid but their faces are contorted, her eyes shut, his eyes staring, both mouths open, gasping, shouting in the soundproof room.
Our pod is deadly silent. We are at the top now. For a deranged moment I wonder what it would be like to come loose from our moorings, career through the sky and plunge, splintering, to the ground.
‘Amazing view,’ I cry out, waving my arm at the world outside. My limbs are taut with expectation.
‘You can say that again,’ he says, but maybe he senses something dangerous in me. He turns the camera off and puts it down carefully.
‘So how do you think it started?’ he murmurs, sliding his hands up my silky sleeves. My arms tingle in response. ‘Doyou think they were strangers? Who made the move on whom?’
I let my breath out. It whistles in my ears as I release the tension. The ruffles at my throat and down the front of my shirt shiver, and he looks down to where the shirt is straining slightly over my breasts. He strokes the silky ruffles and waits for me to stop him. But I can’t move. I’m just staring at his finger, moving so close to my breasts. We can both see them beneath the silk, the rounded, full shape of them cupped and lifted by my bra. Flimsy fabric separating my nipples from his fingers. He flicks the first button out of its hole almost hesitantly. I bite my lip until I can taste blood. He undoes the next button, and the next, until my shirt falls open.
‘Tell me,’ he urges. I can see his throat move when he speaks. Moisture at the corner of his lips.
‘She made the move.’ My voice is ragged.
‘How?’ His fingers are on my collarbone again, his hands pressing against my breasts.
‘She looked like she was gagging for it. Maybe they’d come for miles. Waited for years. She took her skirt off, and her knickers, and sort of flashed her pussy at him. It was easy.’
‘Not like you, then. I’m going to have to take these clothes off for you, aren’t I?’
I nod and blush bright red, unable to reply. He pushes the shirt open. My skin’s alive with the touch of the silk, his fingers, the warm air blowing over me.
I tilt my head back and his fingers tread inside the warm crack of my cleavage. Oh God, he’s not waiting for a word from me now, he’s caressing my breasts through the lace bra until my nipples start to burn. His thumb flips across them, and then he stops. I open my eyes. He’s just watching me. Maybe he is waiting for permission.

My knickers are getting damp. He gasps, or laughs, I can’t tell which.
‘Did he suck her tits?’ he asks.
‘Do we have to talk?’ I groan, distracted.
‘I can only do this if you to tell me how it was.’
‘Then no, he didn’t. Maybe she didn’t want it. Her tits were small – smaller than mine.’ My body gets hotter. I’m proud of my tits. ‘Not big or juicy. Like mine.’
We both smile then. Excitement is almost strangling me. All I can see are his grey eyes. All I can feel are his fingers on my tits.
He squeezes until they start to hurt. I groan. The pain is zig-zagging into pleasure. He pulls me towards him so he can bury his face in my warm cleavage. I hold very still. Through the glass ceiling is white sky, the straight trail of an aeroplane shafting through the clouds. We are slipping downwards. In the pod above us some people are watching us.
‘See how they go hard when I pinch. How have I gone without such gorgeous tits?’ He moves his head across my breast then scoops it out of the bra. ‘You’ll let me suck it, won’t you? I can’t resist sucking it.’
He pinches one nipple and then takes the other out of the bra, nips it between his teeth and bites. I squeal, not caring about making a noise. Liking the noise. My own voice in that breezy silence makes me horny.
‘You can suck as much as you like, honey,’ I croon, stroking his hair and pulling his face hard into me, his eagerness turning me on. ‘Suck, and nibble, and tease, and suck, go on, as much as you like –’
He sucks at my breast and I wriggle up to get comfortable, straddling his lap. He doesn’t stop, and I go further. I push my breasts into his face, pushing my torso against him, so that he has to get his balance. I watch his

head moving from one nipple to the other and I am so wet now.
I pull away abruptly. He looks up, as if half asleep. But it’s only because I want to get naked. I glance up. Two pods are above us. The fog has cleared. They can see us, if they want to. Someone has binoculars trained not on St Paul’s but on me, as I throw my jeans across the floor and kick out of my knickers.
Then I bend, tits dangling, reach into his coat, and undo his trousers. He doesn’t help me. Just sits there as I open his flies.
‘Did she undo his trousers like this?’ he asks, suddenly looking vulnerable. ‘Or did he do it for her?’
‘What does it matter? They didn’t have half as much fun as we’re going to have,’ I promise him, throwing care to the winds.
He grins as I reach inside his flies and take hold of the warm cock lying there in wait. ‘Do you always take control like this?’
‘Excuse me,’ I say, climbing back onto his lap, ‘I think you touched me first.’
I glance down and gasp. He has the most enormous cock, lying quite still, stretching up his stomach. Who would have thought that a thumping great erection was hidden under that slightly shambolic exterior?
‘Why would any woman,’ I breathe, half to myself, nudging his cock against me, ‘let this go to waste?’
I brush myself back and forth over the tip, moaning with anticipation.
‘Go on. Don’t stop,’ he gasped. ‘What woman?’
‘The woman who’s driven you to this. Sex with a stranger. You looked like you’d been dumped by someone.’
He runs his tongue across my breasts and shifts his hips, thrusting his cock at me.

‘Well, she did me a favour then, didn’t she?’
I smile and reach down. Between my legs it’s lying there. Big. Hard. For the moment, mine. Its taut surface is already trailed with moisture where I’ve slithered over it. Excitement thrills through me to feel my own juice slicked there. I take it in both hands. I hitch myself back onto his thighs and stare at its swollen, stiff length. As I hold it and run my hands up and down, it leaps, the rounded end winking already with a droplet of spunk.
‘And me,’ I agree breathlessly. ‘I’ve got you now. And I want you inside me.’
I guide the rounded tip of his cock into my ready wet pussy. It touches the burning nub of my clit and I groan deliciously. It sounds filthy in my ears.
‘What’s your name?’ I ask him, easing his cock further inside.
He grins. White teeth. Nice mouth. ‘Mr Grey.’
‘Listen to this, Mr Grey,’ I whisper, sliding his cock in and out. ‘Listen to that juicy wetness.’
My sex lips close round the smooth, pulsating length. I have to pause every so often to spread my thighs and luxuriate in the huge, warm, animal length filling me, pushing inside me, its rigid dimensions fitting inside me. I’m impaled on it. I could lift my legs away and balance myself, cunt on cock, even spin round on it.
I glance at it going in and out of me. A movement catches my eye, and his, at the same time. Several pods above us now. We must be more than halfway to the bottom. A camera flashes. Hands move about, fingers point, heads waggle, feet stamp with curiosity as if they all want to burst out of their glass prison and get to us.
He grins again, staring up at our audience. His big hands squeeze my tits, pulls them to his mouth so he can suck and bite the waiting hard nipples again.

‘So easy. Just what I needed,’ he murmurs, stopping for a moment to watch my cunt swallowing him whole, tightening his grip as I slither down to the base of his cock and we both wait for the violent rhythm to begin. ‘You’ve made this so easy for me.’
His cock seems to swell inside me, igniting at all my nerve endings, and I have no choice but to move, easing myself up and down the long shaft, and once I start I can’t stop, so aware of those shocked, curious, horrified, titillated eyes above us, watching.
Every inch of him rubs against every screaming inch of me so that I can only go so far before slamming back down on him, groin on groin. I start to buck faster against him, my tits bouncing, my hair flying, my thighs tensing to grip his.
‘Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget,’ I shout.
He echoes my rhythm as if we’re dancing. How intimate you can get, so quickly, with a stranger. How hungry you can get for him. Joined to him by sex. He draws himself back as I rise off him, then slams back up inside as I ram back down. My voice is rising in a crescendo of desire, whimpering with the powerful sensations ripping through me, the cold morning air, so bright, lighting us up so everyone can see what we’re doing, more pleasure, rising to the peak of the pleasure, getting harder, getting wetter, tongues of fire streaking up inside me.
‘Watch, everyone!’ I shout out. ‘This is what that couple in the hotel were doing. Watch!’
Mr Grey’s eyes gleam behind the glasses and I see my breasts reflected there, bouncing frantically as I ride. Suddenly he plunges his cock in as deep as it will go. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. My thighs spread round him, my breasts smothering him, the red silk shirt slipping over his face. He grips me and pumps into me so hard that I’m thrown back by the force of it. Then I’m moaning as he thrusts at me and I can tell he’s climaxing and now I’m coming too, arching away from him, the shape of us both reflected in the dim glass as we descend to the ground.
The wheel is coming on to the level, carrying us slowly towards the halt. I pull away from him, still panting. I’ve made his trousers wet. Mr Grey smiles. I pull the shirt across my bosom. He casually fastens one button. The gesture is almost as sexy as fucking me. We both glance at the pod sliding in behind us, and laugh. Everyone inside is pressed as close to the glass as they can get. The men are clutching their crotches. Several have video cameras. The women are crossing their legs, wriggling as if they want to wee. Everyone’s mouth is open.
My Mr Grey zips up his trousers. Then he stands, holds out my knickers, helps me on with them as if I’m a child. Helps me on with my jeans and my old Parka. What a complete gentleman. Something else in me stirs now. Lust, sure, but something else. I like him.
‘Thank you, Annabelle,’ he says.
The tense, sad man of earlier has vanished. He looks positively cocky. I’ve done that for him. As for me, I’m shaking, and hot, and euphoric.
‘How did you know my name?’
The doors slide open, surprising us with the cold air blasting in. Mr Grey pushes his glasses up his nose, once more the bashful stranger. He gives a curious farewell bow. I want to burst into tears as he walks away. I think of that battered suit, the amazing cock inside, which just filled me. I want to do it again. I bet he’d think of somewhere we cold go. The British Library, for example. Or the Reptile House at Regent’s Park zoo.
‘Label sewn into your anorak.’

I wriggle with amusement, but he’s gone. I walk along the Embankment for a while, my stomach rumbling with hunger now that the morning has started.
Mr Grey calls to me from the bridge above my head. ‘Same time tomorrow, Annabelle?’
Commuters are scurrying to work, heads down, eyes fixed on the pavement, faces white and drawn at the prospect of the week ahead.
But I can’t wait.

The post The Grey London Eye appeared first on sexstories.org.

Heidi started to shed her work clothes as soon as she shut the front door. She stood naked in the bath, in too much of a hurry for a shower and used a wet flannel to remove the sensation of the office clinging to her skin. A walk in the warm sea breeze was just the lift she needed, it was Friday and her weekend started now! Slipping into a bikini and her sarong, she put on sandals, grabbed her pre-packed bag and headed out for the short walk to the beach. This was the life, she thought happily, with a grin on her face and lightness to her step. Single, earning enough to pay her mortgage and other bills and comfortable in her own company! She slowed her pace as she passed the beach huts with the older couples firmly ensconced in their beach chairs, belongings stowed away precisely on the few shelves inside; as if they’d lived in these huts year round.

During days spent on the beach she often put the camouflage of dark sunglasses to good use, observing without being observed. She didn’t usually go this late in the day, it was already early evening, but she’d go to the tea rooms on her way home. They were open till late and there were always plenty of people to watch from the garden tables there if the beach had nothing to offer. The breeze rustled through the lilac bushes, wafting their sweet fragrance to her as she passed and carrying a subtle undertone of the salty and somewhat sweet scent of damp driftwood.

Heidi’s shoes scrunched and slid on the stone shingle. She was being extravagantly noisy with deliberate intent, for she had seen the lovers entwined on their towel. They were too intent upon their increasing gratification to acknowledge her approach with any attempt at modesty. The woman gently stroked her lover’s bare flesh, fingers tracing a path from ribs to hip and then drifting down to his inner thigh, while he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth.

While trying but failing to do the honourable thing and look elsewhere, she became spectacularly aroused. Her eyes were drawn to his erection which was clearly defined as his lover rose up to straddle him. Her full skirt dropped down to cover their flesh but did little to disguise the gentle pelvic thrusting.

She glanced round, partly worried someone might catch her being a voyeur and half hoping there was someone else observing so she could share this erotic moment. As if the choice was magically hers, she spotted what she wanted in her peripheral vision: a man aroused by the scene before her, with his hand busy on his cock. Normally she would consider the sight of a man with his trousers round his ankles somewhat farcical. This time it turned her on.

She felt herself moisten and her clit begin to throb as she watched him standing and working away at his erection.

He smoothed the palm of his other hand across the moist tip while he watched the couple on the towel.

Suddenly he spotted her standing on the other side of the driftwood log, her attention drifting between the couple on the towel and himself. Catching her eye he gave her a languorous, sexy smile, loaded with blatant invitation. Heidi undid her sarong and let it drop, taking a hesitant step towards him. He shook his head and with his shirt already discarded, stepped out of his trousers and moved towards her, his grip firmly around the head of his engorged cock.
He came to her. She felt herself warm as his penis silkily brushed her bare midriff. She stroked it before gripping his firm ass, feeling him quiver in response.
Grasping her upper arms, he lowered her down onto the large flat driftwood beside them. Heidi brushed away her concern about splinters as she felt the roughness of the wood against her buttocks. She abandoned herself to the sensations of their hands on each other.

He kissed her as if he was desperate for the touch of her lips; gasping with each contact.

She slid her tongue across the front of his teeth. He reciprocated by kissing her neck. At the same time he flicked at her clit through the fabric of her bikini. He
did it delicately, just enough pressure to make her want more.

He was so multi-skilled that soon she was unable to maintain a coherent train of thought. She untied her bikini strings and shifted her hips, succeeding in easing her bared clit against his fingers with each twitch.

Opening her eyes, she found his deep green ones looking at her, his lust apparent in the dilation of his pupils. Finding the eye contact slightly off-putting, she shifted on to her side, and ground her ass into him.

He pulled on her hips to increase the pressure of her against his straining cock and ran his hands up to her breasts, gently pinching her nipples, his mouth hot and wet on the back of her neck.

He started fumbling in his discarded trousers. ‘Protection,’ he explained.
He brought out a condom.

Using his hand, he guided himself down to brush against the moistness of her, bringing the viscous fluid back up onto the lubricated condom to further ease his entry. She tensed slightly as he began to penetrate her, afraid of the sensation this new experience brought. Sensing her reticence, he contributed to her comfort by kissing the back of her neck.

Though the penetration was mildly painful, the sensation soon blossomed into sheer pleasure. She whimpered with disappointment as he suddenly withdrew. Had he finished already?

He turned her over to face him and whispered, ‘I was going to come and wanted a chance to feel you reach ecstasy first’. What should have sounded contrived instead brought her to the brink of orgasm, combined as it was with his eye contact and skilful attention to her clitoris. He slipped off the condom, drawing her hand down to touch his hard cock. Groaning as she tightened her fingers around the head of his dick, he tore open a new condom packet. Heidi took the condom from his fingers with her mouth and used her lips and tongue to roll it onto him. He shuddered as she lowered herself onto him, mimicking the earlier movements of the other woman. His cock throbbed inside her as he held her hips, helping her to raise and lower herself. Reaching up he pushed her bikini top up over her breasts. His hands were rough; deliciously rough.

Leaning down she slid her hands under his ass. She melted on to him gasping as the waves of orgasm washed over her. He pounded himself up and into her in his haste to follow her lead.

Exhausted, she lay with her face pressed into his shoulder. Suddenly she heard the sound of sliding shingle. She looked up. The couple from the dunes had their arms around each other, walking in that perfect synchronicity that only comes with complete togetherness. The woman’s legs showed through her dress as they headed towards the descending sun.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, caught Heidi’s eye and winked; a huge grin blossoming on to her face as she turned away. Heidi realised she was exposed and slid off the man, covering herself with her towel while she wriggled back into her bikini.

As he dressed she began to collect her belongings which had scattered when she’d dropped her beach bag. Feeling peculiarly awkward with someone she had only minutes before been totally intimate with was confusing and she needed the excuse to avoid eye contact and halt the growing silence between them.

What must he think of me, she mused, then wondered why it mattered. She had no intention of seeing him again. For one thing, she couldn’t trust his impulse control. The man leapt into rampant sexual encounters with total strangers and that was no foundation on which to build a trusting relationship, no matter how great the encounter had been. She laughed inwardly, knowing there was more than a little need to insert the words, ‘pot, kettle and black’ into her train of thought. Judging by the tense set of his shoulders she sensed the urge to escape was mutual and that he was mulling over various exit lines.

She decided to put him out of his misery.
‘Once was perfect, let’s not ruin the memory by trying to improve on it,’ she said.

She threw him a cheeky grin, said ‘thank you and goodbye,’ then turned and walked away.

A glass of cold wine would taste marvellous while having a hot bath, she decided. She stopped for supper at the tea rooms and then languidly made her way home for her second favourite indulgence. The scents of the lilac blossoms were even lovelier then when she’d passed them earlier, the fragrance must become more potent as the night drew in. Or perhaps she was fully receptive now that she had completely recovered from her earlier strenuous activity. It was lovely being single, she thought happily as she slipped into the water, her favourite fragrance rising to meet her from the bath oil. The wine was cool, a delightful counterbalance to the heat of the water on her skin. Putting the empty glass down she slid deeper, resting her head on the back of the bath and letting her legs go akimbo. She opened and closed her knees enjoying the sensation of the waves of heat washing between her legs. Becoming aroused, she thought back over the experience on the beach, stroking herself slowly to a limb-melting orgasm. Even though she had no desire to repeat the beach experience in reality; it was obviously going to be used as fantasy fodder for the indefinite future.

The post Driftwood appeared first on sexstories.org.

He was gorgeous. I first noticed him with wealthy widow number one at the buffet breakfast. His hand was resting on her ring-encrusted fingers. The same evening he was in the cocktail bar with bejewelled matron number two, sipping champagne cocktails. I was surprised when he targeted me in the ship’s casino the following evening, since I’m hardly of the blue-rinse generation, but it soon became clear that it wasn’t my jewellery he was interested in.

I’d just let a hundred bucks ride on red. ‘Risky.’
I looked up at the curly black hair, bright blue eyes, immaculate tuxedo and red bow tie.
‘What?’
‘Letting it ride. Too risky.’ The croupier’s voice rang out. ‘Twenty-three, red!’
‘I like risks.’
I let the bet ride again.
‘So I see. My name’s Peter.’ ‘Five, red!’

‘Lucky girl, er…’ ‘Suzanne.’ I stood up.
‘This is a lucky seat. Want it?’ ‘No thanks, I’m not a gambler.’ ‘Prefer a sure thing, do you?’

He stayed by my side as I moved away from the table. ‘What’s a sure thing, Suzanne?’

I decided to have some fun with him.

I’d been without for too long. There’d been no time since the last job. In any case, I wanted to be sure my instincts about him were right. And he was gorgeous.
‘How about we have dinner? You might find out. The bar at eight?’

Two hours later, we were sitting in a quiet corner of the dining room. The food and wine were exquisite.

Peter was an extremely entertaining companion. He regaled me with risqué stories of his experiences in the Far East.

He claimed to be a jeweller, travelling in search of gemstones for his London business.

The ship was docking in Singapore next morning and he asked me if I was going ashore.

‘No, Peter, I’m having a day in the beauty parlour.’ Was there a flicker of relief on his face?
‘The beauty parlour? You’re beautiful already.’
‘Very gallant. Do you think flattery might get you somewhere?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Fancy a stroll on deck?’

I steered us to a dark area by the lifeboats, looped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

The kiss was long, slow and deep. Our tongues played together and there was a familiar tingling between my thighs.

I felt his hand on the front of my dress, and my nipples hardened as he fondled my breasts through the silk.

I dropped my hand down between his legs and heard him gasp as I ran my fingers up and down his erection.

I broke the kiss and whispered in his ear. ‘Nice cock, Peter.’

He started to speak, but I closed his mouth with mine, while I unbuttoned his black, formal trousers, pushed them down and wriggled my fingers under the waistband of his underpants.

His cock was rock hard and he groaned as I wrapped my fingers around it and eased it free.

‘Your place, Peter?’ ‘Yes!’
‘Okay, tell me the way and I’ll lead you there.’

I started to move, pulling gently on the hot pole of flesh. ‘What, like this?’

‘Yes, Peter.’
‘I…we…can’t!’
‘Don’t you want to make love to me, Peter?’
‘Of course I do, but…ahhh…’ His voice faltered as I ran my hand up and down the length of his cock.
‘Come along then, there’s a good boy. Pull your trousers up.’

We saw no one until we reached the elevator, where we found one of his companions of the previous day. Peter edged into a corner and pulled me in front of him.

‘Peter,’ the elderly lady said, reproachfully. ‘After this afternoon I was hoping you’d come back to my cabin, but I see you have a new friend.’

I squeezed hard and he groaned, deep in his throat.

She peered closely at us and I stepped to one side. Her eyes widened as she saw what I held in my hand.

‘Disgusting!’ she hissed, and pushed past as the doors opened.
‘Whatever were you doing in her cabin, Peter?’ ‘Oh, just evaluating some jewellery for her.’

I stepped out of the elevator and tugged his rigid cock. ‘Funny, I thought she recognized this guy. Right, which is your cabin?’

Once we were inside the cabin I released him and stood back. His face was flushed, and tiny beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He let his trousers fall to his ankles and grinned.

‘You’re a wicked bitch.’ His voice was hoarse.
‘That’s probably a good description. Stand still.’

He stood while I stripped him of his jacket, unclipped the red bow tie and placed it, with his gold cuff links, on a table by the bed. I unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it away. His upper body was hard and muscular and I ran my hand down his flat stomach and tickled the red, swollen head of his cock, which was poking out above the elastic band of his pants.

‘He looks uncomfortable.’

I hooked my thumbs in his pants and pushed them down to join his trousers. He kicked the garments away, lifted each leg in turn and pulled off his shoes and socks.

I stepped back and looked him up and down. ‘Very nice, Peter. Just one thing.’

I retrieved the bow tie and fastened it back around his neck.

‘Perfect.’

I turned my back.

‘Unhook my dress, and unzip me.’

I let the dress fall to the floor and turned back to him. You like?’

He nodded, wordlessly.

I unhooked my bra and let it fall away and watched his eyes lock on to my breasts.
‘Come on.’

I took his cock back in my hand and led him to the bed. ‘Lie back.’

I stretched myself alongside him and played with the swollen head of his cock, slippery with pre-come.

‘Suck my nipples, Peter.’

He lowered his head to my breasts. He sucked first one nipple and then the other until they were hard and swollen.
His hand moved down and stroked the front of my panties. He was gentle as he shifted the silk aside and played with my pussy. I groaned as he slipped first one, then two fingers inside me.

‘Take my panties off, sweetheart.’

He knelt between my legs and peeled the wet silk away, placed his palms on the inside of my thighs and eased them apart.

His head came down and I squirmed as the tip of his tongue parted my pussy lips. His fingers found the hood of flesh guarding my clit and rolled it back.

My breasts were tingling and I could feel the throbbing between my legs.
His tongue slipped in and out of my vagina and a fingertip traced a circle around my clit, never quite touching it. His tongue began a leisurely journey upwards, and I arched upwards off the sheets when the tip touched the swollen button. He sucked it between his lips, rolling his tongue around it until my whole body was quivering.

I could feel my orgasm beginning. As it built he began flicking his tongue across my clit, faster and faster.

I felt like a tensed-up spring. He slid his fingers inside me again and began thrusting them in and out until I came suddenly, in wave after wave of pleasure. I heard myself scream as I clamped my thighs on his head, and collapsed back on the sheets. I felt him moving over me, and his tongue probed at my lips. It was slick with my juice and I sucked it into my mouth. The head of his cock touched the entrance to my vagina and I thrust up to meet it and groaned again as he slid it in with one hard thrust. I lifted my legs, wrapped them around his waist and tightened my arms around him.

‘That was gorgeous. Do it to me again with your cock.’

He started with long, slow strokes, filling me and withdrawing almost completely, trying to tease me. I let him play for a while, then waited until he was fully immersed and gripped him with my internal muscles. He groaned and I laughed softly.

‘Faster now, sweetheart, or I’ll snap it off.’

He began to fuck me hard, moving faster and faster until once again the hot tingling began and the muscles around my vagina bunched tight.

I was gasping and I could feel Peter’s hot breath on my face as we bucked frantically together on the squealing bedsprings.

His voice rasped in my ear. ‘Oh Christ baby, I’m going to come, oh yeah, yeah…fuck!’

I could feel his cock swelling inside me as I ripped my fingernails down his back and came, in a series of long, delicious shudders. He let out a long rasping groan, and his seed spurted as his cock pumped furiously inside me.

We talked for a while afterwards, and drank cold white wine from the refrigerator. He told me some more stories, much more graphic this time, of his experiences with Asian women.

‘But Asian girls are usually servile,’ he said. ‘I really like women who go for what they want. Women like you.’

We drank some more wine and I watched his cock slowly getting hard. I played with him for a long time, using my fingers, teasing and tantalizing him until I was ready. I rode him this time, controlling him, stopping and starting until neither of us could take any more. The tiny alarm in my wristwatch woke me at six in the morning. Peter was lying on his back, his erection pointing to the ceiling.

I slipped off the bed, careful not to wake him, padded over to the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice. I took the little bottle from my purse, and added ten drops of its contents to the glass. I hadn’t expected to need it on this trip, but Mickey Finn has helped me out in the past.

I shook Peter and held out the glass. ‘Room service.’

He stared at me groggily for a moment, then sat up and drank it down.

Choral hydrate usually takes about forty minutes to take effect. I needed to keep him busy until then, and I thought he deserved a treat.
‘Lie back.’

I started on his balls, weighing them in my hand, and licking underneath them while I squeezed them gently. Then I went to work on his cock, holding it in the tips of my fingers and licking the full length of the shaft. I tickled the sensitive skin on the back of the head with my fingernails and with my tongue. The red-purple head was swollen and I ran my tongue round and around it, and rubbed the ball of my thumb back and forth across the slit.

He was panting hard by now, and I kissed the tip and breathed hard on it. I raised my head and looked into his eyes, which were beginning to glaze.

‘Yes?’
‘Please!’

The way to a man’s heart may be through his stomach, but the way to his brain is definitely through his cock. If you want him brain dead, that is. I took it between my lips and began to suck. Twenty minutes later, he was breathing raggedly and his eyes were beginning to close. I had used my lips and fingers to bring him to the brink three times. His cock was throbbing and his eyes begged me to make him come.

‘This time, baby.’

After a couple more minutes his hips joined the rhythm of my bobbing head. I waited until the last moment to remove my lips and he moaned helplessly as hot jets of fluid splattered on to his stomach.

He flopped back and his eyes closed. He would be unconscious for about eight hours. I cleaned myself up and got dressed. Now I’d discover whether my instincts had been right. His wallet contained about U$5000 and business cards in various names, one of which was Peter Armstrong, FGA, International Jewels Ltd. The drawer in the bedside table contained three passports in three different names, a first-class air ticket from Singapore to London with today’s date, and another U$10,000 dollars in cash.

I put the cash in my purse It could join the rest of the laundered money I had placed in bank accounts at various ports of call during the voyage. Then I struck pay dirt.

In the wardrobe, I found a small jewel box containing two rings, which looked very like those that had adorned the fingers of the reproachful elderly lady.

I looked down at the naked figure on the bed. ‘Naughty,’ I murmured.

He was still wearing his black socks, and the red bow tie was still around his neck. I transferred it to his flaccid cock.

‘Oh for a camera.’

I picked up cuff links, dropped them in my purse, went out and hung the Do Not Disturb notice on the door.
Back in my stateroom I stripped, showered, put on clean clothes and packed a few essentials into a small bag. The black wig and heavy glasses, my three passports…

The U$15,000 dollars would more than cover the cost of the flight back to the States, and I could pick up a couple of new outfits in Singapore.

Then I had the bank accounts, and those rings. And the cuff links.

The boom of the ship’s siren announced our arrival in port and I laughed out loud at the thought of Peter confronting his lady friend.
He’d survive, after all he was gorgeous. It takes one to spot one…

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