Ballet : by (c) Hamilton Joyce Mf

Madame Blatsky watched her guest with secret amusement. His eyes were 
nearly popping. He had beads of sweat on his upper lip. He slipped a finger 
down his shirt collar as if to loosen it.

The instructor spat her commands out, and the five girls pirouetted on their 
points, or sank to the ground. Mademoiselle Irina's ballet career had been cut 
short by botched surgery on her knee, but the sourness of her disposition was 
ideal, Madame Blatsky thought, for keeping discipline and turning these 
leggy teens into ballerinas.

He mopped his brow with a large white handkerchief. His eyes were riveted 
on the blonde girl at the end of the line. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, 
probably temporary for the exercises, he thought. He watched her long legs, 
her slender waist, her tiny breasts, and above all the pleasure she was taking 
in her movements, so evident in her laughing eyes. As she crooked her knee, 
holding onto the practise bar, rising to the tips of her toes, he thought he 
could make out the outline of her tender cuntlips, under the tight pink silk of 
her leotard . Yes, he could just see the divide as she stretched.

It had been a happy thought of his financial advisers to purchase this grand 
Parisian house and let it out to the national ballet school. Not only would the 
rent keep his tailor satisfied....Madame had just written the first monthly 
check..but he would have the opportunity to watch these nymphets going 
through their exercises.

Entranced, it was a moment before he realized Madame Blatsky was talking 
to him. 'She is delightful, is she not, General? From a good family. Her 
father is a Professor of mathematics at The Sorbonne, and her mother was the 
daughter of Pierre Doulbert, the concert pianist. She is a promising pupil. 
Fortunately, it seems she will keep her mother's looks, and her petite figure. 
She is just fourteen. We are hoping her figure will not fill out any more over 
the next few years. She is close to perfection...I speak as a ballerina you 
understand monsieur, close to perfection is she not?' Madame Blatsky 
missed little, and could see the bulge in the General's trousers.  His interest 
in the exercise routines was not altogether aesthetic, she thought.

The General wished he had worn heavier trousers, to hide that troublesome 
erection.

'I see she has impressed you, General.'  His eyes did not leave the girl. 'She 
is perfection in all respects.'

'Indeed, Madame. Delightful...'

'You cannot hide from me, General. You men of action! I know what you are 
thinking, you rogue. You are mentally stripping her naked. You are 
imagining her in your bed...'

'I was, dear lady. I admit it. I was.'

'Imagine those long, fine legs, and the smoothness of the skin; those lovely 
little breasts; that pert little bottom...'

The General groaned. He added, almost as if reciting a litany, 'That muscle 
tone. A finely toned athlete. And her litheness in the act itself.'

'She is a virgin, but not innocent I fear.' 

'???'

'Her father, the Professor. Though he appears to have confined his attentions 
to intimate caresses.'

'The dog! Though I can understand the temptation, Madame. In the constant 
presence of such beauty who could blame him? Intimate caresses...hmmm.'

'But what would Madame, your wife, say?' Her eyes were laughing. 'What 
would she say were you to introduce such beauty into her home, into the 
bridal bed?'

'I have an apartment, Madame, in Montmartre, quite beyond my wife's 
reach. I  had fortunate campaigns in Africa, where we captured diamond 
mines from rebels, and, thank God, can afford my pleasures. There I have 
everything I need to indulge myself discretely. What my wife does not see, 
she does not grieve over. She may suspect, but she is too sensible to confront 
me. Just as I ignore her probable indiscretions.'

'I see you are a true son of Paris, Mon General. Well, her price the same as 
the rent. Return the check to me and Estelle is yours for the night. She is 
nearly as innocent as she looks, and indeed should be at her age. Only her 
father.... And yet her genes suggest she will be an accomplished lover. Her 
mother, of course, was notorious, and her father...well, several generations of 
students could attest to his vigor!'

'You are serious, Madame? I see you are. I will have her. And tonight.' He 
removed the check from his wallet, tore it in half and handed the shreds to 
the smiling Madame. 'An arrangement we may repeat through the year, I 
trust.'

                                                 ...............................................

He had waited while she changed and showered. Now they walked hand-in-
hand through the  summer streets. The crowds parted for them, the women 
looking out of the sides of their eyes at this handsome man, all bone and 
muscle, tanned and dangerous looking; the men more openly stared at his 
lovely companion. He moved with the slow grace of a soldier, long, easy 
strides. She tripped lightly along. She wore a tiny, white, pleated tennis skirt, 
and from time to time there was a glimpse of pink satin as it swung over her 
hips. The General looked at her. The skirt was slung low over her hips, and 
there were a few centimeters of bare flesh between it and her shirt. Her 
tanned navel almost winked at him, he thought, promising the delights her 
body would soon offer him.

She looked at him, and was reminded of the sinister slow-march of the 
Foreign Legion in the days when they were still allowed to parade in France. 
There was a certainty about him. He had looked danger in the face in many 
wild places, she thought. How she loved mature, confident men, with their 
heavy bodies and arrogant cocks. She thought of the first time. Her Daddy 
had kissed her. She had responded. He had carried her to her mother's bed, 
laid her down, and undressed her. She had watched as he stripped. She had 
come once with his mouth on her clitoris, and then he had fucked her mouth 
as he sucked her to a second orgasm. She squeezed the General's hand as 
they walked, and knew her panties were getting moist in anticipation. It 
really was too good that Madame had arranged to give her this much fun! 
And had promised her a new cd-player on Monday, if she made the General 
happy.

'You know what I would like most of all, General?'

'???'

'A long, tall...'

'Yes, my little darling...'

'A long, tall...ice-cream! What did you think I was going to say, you naughty 
man?' She laughed, and heads turned. He was proud to have this pretty 
young girl on his arm, and enjoyed the envy in men's eyes as they passed in 
the street. Two thousand was steep, but he believed she would be worth it, 
every last euro of it. And he could afford it!

Her eyes were the bluest he had ever seen, he thought. There was a light 
perfume.

His eyes were of a steel gray, she thought, As hard and sharp as a warrior's 
sword. She shivered in anticipation of the night. He would fuck her hard and 
long, that she was certain of. How she had wanted her Daddy to fuck her, but 
he always refused.  And what other practices had this warrior picked up in 
his travels to the wilder parts of the earth? The other girls often joked about 
what they had heard. She found it difficult to believe men would want some 
of the things, let alone girls, but she wondered. And it was all very exciting.

She lingered over her ice-cream, teasing him he knew, enjoying making him 
wait. His black coffee was soon drained. He seldom drank alcohol, but was 
aware of his addiction to coffee. Never mind, it would probably help keep 
him going with this vivacious and sexy girl.  The waiter had stood behind her 
taking their order, trying to see into her cleavage. The white poplin shirt was 
too decent for that, in striking contrast to her provocative skirt. But you could 
see the shape of her hard little nipples through the cotton. No brassiere, he 
thought. The waiter dropped a ten euro note to the pavement, an excuse to 
bend down under the table and look up at her. She giggled, and opened her 
legs slightly to give him a better view.  The waiter noticed the darker damp 
patch in the pink satin, and boiled with envy at the fortune of the hard-
looking guy she was with. 'Bloody gangster,' he thought. 'Mafioso'.

As they got up to leave, she made sure the General had another glimpse of 
her thighs and her panties stretched tight into her crack. He wondered if her 
pubic hair would be blonde, like her flowing tresses, or ginger like some 
blondes he had known. She looked at him as she took his arm. He was hard 
and muscular, and she could see the outline of his cock under his 
immaculately creased trousers. It looked big! Bigger than her Daddy's, 
perhaps as big as Mademoiselle Irina's strap-on, which she used on her 
favourite pupils, but never yet on her.

They walked eagerly the quarter mile or so to his apartment. She placed her 
arm around his waist, and he had his arm round her. People gazed with lust 
and envy as they passed by.

                                            .......................................................... 

They stood in his airy room, sunlight streaming through the open window 
and making her long blonde hair shine. He held her to him, one hand on each 
of her buttocks. He could feel the satin tight across her rounded butt. He 
slipped one hand inside her panties, caressing naked flesh now. She raised 
her leg, slipping it between his, and her thigh pressed to his erect penis. He 
slid the side of his hand into her crack. His little finger found her wetness. 
She sighed, and kissed him. Her tongue was in his mouth. He felt her 
squeezing his arse cheeks, just as he was hers.

'Let me undress you first.' She was already picking at the buttons of his shirt. 
'Lovely! I just knew you would have a hairy chest.' As the shirt fell to the 
floor, she kissed the mat of black hair, and licked his hard nipple. Her 
pointed tongue tickled as it slid down his chest and round his navel. She 
knelt and removed his shoes and socks. Her hands were at the zip of his 
trousers, fumbling with the button at his waistband. It came free, and the zip 
opened: his trousers fell to the floor. She rested her cheek a moment on the 
bulge in his white underpants, and then nibbled at his cock through the thick 
cotton. She took it side-on into her mouth, as if sucking a slice of melon. Her 
arms were round him, hands on his bottom, squeezing and testing the 
muscles of his buttocks. He reached down and took her head in both hands, 
his fingers slipping through her fine hair. Her skull felt strangely naked under 
his fingers. She slowly pulled his shorts down, and his cock sprung clear.

'You're big! Bigger than....' She broke off in mid sentence. He stepped out of 
his trousers and shorts, which she was pulling over his ankles. She cradled 
his balls in one hand and was gently stroking his cock with the other.

'Bigger than your father, the professor?'

'Madame Blatsky told you then? She promised she wouldn't tell anyone, not 
even Mademoiselle Irina.'

'I don't think any the less of you my dear. Or him.'

'You're bigger. but different here.' Her tongue was flickering around his 
knob. She had one hand at the root of his cock, the other still stroking his 
balls.  

'It was cut when I was a baby.  Your father probably still has his foreskin.'

'I think I like this better. It's smoother, and goes in better.' As if to prove her 
point, she slipped the knob and a third of the shaft between her lips, and 
sucked on it. He could see her lovely smooth cheeks hollow with the suction. 

She was undoing her shirt button, and pulling it free of the waist of her skirt. 
It joined his clothes in the heap on the carpet. She had taken his full length 
now, and his cock slipped in and out her pretty mouth. Her hands round his 
back now, holding his arsecheeks, and using the pressure to pull him into and 
out of her, she pressed her naked tits against his hairy thighs. He could feel 
her hard little rosy nipples making indentations on his muscular legs. 'God!' 
he thought. 'I've got to have those tits.'

He had been excited all afternoon, since seeing her bar-exercises, and this 
was just too much. He felt one of her hands slip into his arse-crack, just as 
her tongue was flickering at the front of his cock, deep in her mouth. He was 
coming!

'Stop, darling. Stop! I'm coming.'

Her sucking just became more powerful, and her head moved up and down 
under his fingers even quicker. He groaned. He felt the tip of a finger enter 
his arse. He was coming! 

The first spurt filled her mouth, but she managed to swallow. The second 
was too much and it started to dribble over her chin. He looked down. She 
was looking up at him, a look half of admiration, half of wonder in her blue 
eyes. The third spurt came. He felt as if his balls were emptying, being 
drained with great efficiency and incredible pleasure. Her mouth lingered, 
enjoying the last twitches and oozings.

Then she got up. She wiped her chin with a finger, and licked the finger 
clean. She was laughing. 'I never had as much at one go as that from Papa. 
You're very virile. ' She kissed him on the lips, and he could taste his spunk 
on her tongue as it entered his mouth.

He was still hard! Her tits against his chest as they kissed ensured that, 

'Undo me.'

He unclasped her miniskirt and it dropped to the floor. He knelt and pressed 
his cheek to the shiny pink satin of her panties. He fondled her arse, the cloth 
taught under his palms. There was a damp patch in her crotch, the pink 
almost mauve there, promising delights. He could smell her sweet honeypot, 
a clean young scent mixed with the perfume. Lily of the valley, he thought. 
He pressed his lips to the dampness, and was rewarded by a forward 
movement of her hips, a slight opening of her legs. His mouth was on the 
damp satin now, nibbling, pulling at the fabric. She laughed, and put his 
hands to her waistband, silently asking him to strip her.  Slowly, his fingers 
under the waistband elastic, he eased her panties down. She was not blonde! 
She was not ginger! She was shaved, naked as the day she was born. 'Lovely! 
You've shaved!'

'Waxed! Mademoiselle Irina does all the girls. I was done a couple of days 
ago, last. That's why it's so smooth. She says it mustn't show round the 
edges of a tutu or leotard, and it's better to take it all off. But I think she just 
likes doing it! You like?'

'I like.' Still kneeling, he kissed her mound, tanned golden like the rest of 
her. 'Where do you sunbathe to get such lovely, golden, all-over tan?'

'In the garden at the Ballet School. All the girls do, most afternoons after 
classes. You like?'

'I like.' Her legs opened for him slightly, and he parted her lips with his 
finger and thumb. The pink was startling. He slipped his tongue into the 
crack. It slid in her juices.  

She sighed, and her belly moved against his face. 'I like that. But on the bed, 
please.' She kicked off her white shoes.

He stood up, and kissed her, feeling her nipples again even through the mat 
of hair on his chest. He lifted her, and carried her, giggling, to the bed. She 
was no weight at all. He stood with her , and lifted her so that one nipple 
touched his lips. He sucked and nibbled at the hard little nut, pink amid the 
golden brown tan.  

'Now!' she said. 'Please, general.'

He lay her on the bed, her legs obligingly spread. He could see his target, the 
gleaming pearl of her clitoris, excited, and peeping out from between her 
smooth cuntlips, as if shy. He lay between her legs, his cock hard, crushed 
between his belly and the satin sheets. He opened her cunt again, two handed, 
and kissed her clit. She sighed. His tongue roamed up and down the slit, 
slipping in and out her cunt, while he stroked and tweaked her clit between 
his thumb and forefinger. Her hips were moving under him as if fucking. As 
her hips rose, he found his tongue slipping as far as her anus before returning 
to more socially acceptable  places. She was sighing her pleasure. 

'Where did you learn to do this?' he asked.

'Don't stop!'

Silent, he worked her up, until he first heard her coming, with little grunts, 
moans, and lovely words of endearment and appreciation. Then he felt, with 
his hands, cheeks and tongue the electric spasms raking through her body as 
she came.

He lay beside her, and sucked gently at one breast, stroking the other. They 
were firm and round, just as he liked them. He always went for women with 
small, hard breasts. But since he had left Africa he had not found many 
genuine teenagers to play with. Perhaps his luck had changed, he thought. 
'So, where? Mademoiselle Irina? She looks the type to me.'

'No. Not yet. She's asked me, but I said I wanted to wait a bit.'

'One of the girls, then?'

'No. They do, some of them. But I was always too shy. Anyway, I like men 
more.' She squeezed his cock, as if she owned it. 

'Your Daddy, then?'

'Mmmm' she nodded.

'Is that all?'

'No one else.'

'My little angel. But you know what I want to do now?'

'Yes! I wanted my Daddy to do it, but he won't.'

'Well, I will, my angel. You needn't worry. My wife had me fixed long ago. 
No danger for you of getting pregnant.'

'It won't hurt me. I've had a candle up there.' She laughed. 'And a hairbrush 
handle, three fingers, and I don't know what else. I want it, General. Please.' 
She was holding his cock. it occurred  to her that it would probably slip in 
easier than her Daddy's would have done. With it's smooth helmet, while his 
had that skin she loved to slip her tongue under. Yes, she thought, a cut one 
would probably be better for fucking. 'Now!'

He rolled on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows. He could feel 
his cock resting exactly where it should. The slightest push, and his knob was 
in her cunt. He felt it contract on him, the walls of her vagina young and 
vigorous. Another push, and his shaft was sliding into her. He wondered if 
she had lied when she said he was the first: it was so easy.

At the back of her mind she had been half-worried it might hurt. Jessica said 
her brother had hurt her the first time she did it with him, and Jessica looked 
as if she would be bigger there. But it didn't! It felt strange, to be filled and 
stretched down there, but as he rode her his cock seemed to scrape along her 
clit somehow, and she was sure she could also feel a lovely sensation inside 
her. She was enjoying this! She wondered why she had waited so long. In 
fact, she knew it was because she did not want the first time to be with a silly 
boy. A grown man, mature, worldly, knowing... that was what she needed. 
He was propped on his elbows. She wanted to feel his weight, crushing her 
into the sheets.

He was fucking her gently, sliding slowly in and out, but making sure her 
clitoris was feeling the full benefit as well as the vigorous walls of her 
vagina. She was not his first virgin, though his first white one he thought. 
Her hips were moving up to meet his thrusts now, and he felt her legs wind 
around him, pulling his belly even closer to hers. Her arms were round his 
back, and as she pulled him down, his weight collapsed off his elbows. He 
could feel her firm little breasts cushioned between them. She sighed as they 
clasped each other, and he heard her mutter, 'Harder. Please! Harder!' 

He had worried this virginal fuck might disintegrate into tears and semi-rape. 
He could think of occasions in Africa when... But better to forget those. She 
wanted it hard and fast, so she would have it! He started to fuck her with all 
the force of his muscular body. He kissed her lips, shutting up the murmured 
endearments and encouragement. Her hips rose and fell, making clashing 
noises with his belly. He felt her nails clawing the skin of his back, tearing at 
the hairs on his shoulders. Her eyes were closed. He moved his mouth to a 
breast, and nibbled it. She was coming! Her hand slipped down, and rested 
again in his arse-crack. He was coming, too. She had learned the power of a 
soft and gentle finger in your arse, he thought! She was coming now, and he 
could hear her moans and grunts. He came, and pumped into her, a long, 
complete orgasm. 

'That was lovely. Let's do it again!'

'My little angel. It's very unfair, but you girls can do it over and over again. 
We men have to wait a bit to recover.'

'My Papa only ever wants it once!'

'And we've done it twice already! Best have a shower and cool off. Then I 
want you kneeling!'

'Oh no! I couldn't. Not up there!'

'No, my angel. Not up there, though I notice you like to stick your finger into 
mine. No, up here, but kneeling!' He slipped an index finger into her cunt, 
and was surprised to feel the gripping reaction.

'I thought you meant in my bottom! I've heard the girls talk about that.'

'Naughty girls!'

'Some of them only do it that way. They say it's safer.'

'They're right.'

'And some of them only really like it that way.'

'Really?'

'Melanie.'

'Melanie?'

'She's the black girl. You saw her. She was in the dance class. She lets her 
boyfriend do her that way. I can't believe she really likes it, but she says she 
does.'

He recalled the little Senegalese girl. Long legs. Firm, conical tits. Bigger 
than these he was stroking at the moment. And a cute little jutting arse, 
worthy of a sodomist's attention, he thought. He was hard again, 
astonishingly.

'Kneel down, here, with a pillow under you. Yes. Like that.'

He held her. a hand on each hip, and leaned forward to kiss her in the small 
of her sun-tanned back. The skin was so smooth beneath his lips. He licked 
her. She was salty from their fucking on a hot afternoon. She giggled.  'That 
tickles. I like it though.! Probably unconsciously she wriggled, and held her 
hips again. He placed his cock between her cunt lips. No hands, he pushed, 
and his knob slid in again as he held her arse. He pulled her back onto him 
and his shaft slid in till his belly touched those firm little buns. He withdrew, 
and thrust again hard.

'Ouch! That hurt!'

'I'm too long for you kneeling. Never mind. I've got something.'

She watched as he crossed the room. His cock waved in front of him, 
glistening from her juices, and, she thought, his cum in her as well. She 
laughed.

'????'

'I was wondering what it must be like to have one of those stuck out in front 
of you.' She was giggling.

'It needs someone as pretty as you, my angel, to make it stick out. Now, if I 
slip this over it...' It was a pink rubber ring. 'There, at least five centimeters 
shorter. Now we'll see.'

He knelt behind her again, and inserted it. He thrust hard again.

'Better?'

'Mmmmmm. Do me hard then.'

It took longer this third time, of course. But it was delightful to feel and to 
watch his own hard, hairy belly slap against her soft, tanned butt. His cock 
felt as if it was winged steel, as if it would be hard for ever, as if it would 
never come. He felt her reach beneath herself, and she was rubbing her clit 
without any shame or embarrassment. What a find. A lovely teenage blonde, 
without guilt, a virgin, but randy. He reached under her with one hand and 
clutched at her breast, her nipple hard under his palm. She squealed, but her 
arse crashed back into him with every thrust. He knew she was coming. He 
could feel her vagina squeezing him. Drops of sweat dripped down onto her 
back. Both arms round her now, he was gripping her tits and using them to 
keep them together, keep himself in her, as they crashed together with 
slapping noises that echoed into the crowded street four floors below, making 
strolling Parisians smile at the pleasure they knew was being taken.

He came, seconds after her, and they collapsed. panting, him on top of her, 
still deep inside her. 

Her cunt gave a final contraction, and expelled him, limp now.

'That shower, and then a stroll, a drink, and dinner.'

'And then you'll do me again? It was so good!'

'And then I'll do you again,' he said with more confidence than he really felt. 
However young, however desirable, however willing, three times was a lot 
for a man in his fifties. And yet! He looked again at her tanned, lovely 
breasts, her brown, so-slightly-rounded belly, and yet, he might well!

                                                 .......................................................

A month to the day he was in Madame Blatsky's office again.

'I have not yet made out your check, General.'

'There is no need, my dear Madame Blatsky. I have decided to take it in kind 
again.'

'The lovely Estelle, again. She was so happy for the days after your 
invitation.'

'As was I, Madame. Very content. And I shall return to her sometime. But I 
thought perhaps the Senegalese, Melanie...'

'Ah! The lovely Melanie. Come to the window, general.'

About a dozen girls were sunbathing on the lawn. Most were naked. He 
counted: seven were tits-up, six bottoms-up. He felt his cock harden. And, 
yes, there was Melanie, lying on her front, her lovely, round, jutting bottom 
shining with some sort of oil.

'She is lovely, General. But I fear her breasts and buttocks will soon be too 
developed for the classical ballet. Firm, muscular even. But just too 
womanly, potentially. Now she would be excellent, but I fear in a year or 
two, at fifteen or sixteen she will be too large. A career in modern dance 
beckons her. She is talented. Lithe, and expressive. The girl turned over as if 
feeling she was being discussed. Her tits stood, even with her lying on her 
back. Her half-open legs showed the tightest, plumpest cuntlips imaginable. 
Shaven, of course.

She is lovely, is she not. Her father is with Unesco, and her mother was a 
catwalk model. She has his intelligence and her looks! I'll talk with her.

He watched through the window as Madame crossed the lawn and stood over 
the girl. They talked a second or two, and the girl looked up to his window, 
her eyes smiling.  She got up and followed Madame Blatsky.

Ten minutes later she stood in front of him and politely shook his hand. She 
wore a tight, low-cut yellow cotton sweatshirt, and white, tightly-cut shorts. 
He was certain there was no brassiere: her tits moved under the cotton, and 
the shape of her nipples was only too evident. The t-shirt flopped away from 
her belly, held clear by her breasts. Her navel had been pierced with a tiny 
silver ring, shining in contrast with the ebony skin. He could not shake his 
gaze clear of her hips, and the outline of her crotch beneath the cotton. he 
realized Madame Blatsky was talking.  'Melanie has been told you will take 
her to buy a Walkman, like Estelle now has. She will spend the night with 
you General. She has promised me you won't be disappointed.' The girl was 
silent, but her eyes were laughing, and she wriggled her hips, hands clasped 
behind her back.

Again the waiter fussed over them. This time he was rewarded with glimpses 
of her breasts as he stood behind her taking the order. As he left, she 
deliberately leaned forward so the General could see into her cleavage.

They took the lift up to his apartment. The cage was tiny, and she stood with 
her back to him. He put his arms around her, his hands on the smooth of her 
naked midriff. He pulled her back onto himself, and felt her bottom against 
his thighs. She giggled as she felt his hard cock through his trousers and her 
shorts. He traced around her belly button with the tip of a finger and was 
rewarded by a wriggle of her bottom. She took one of his hands and slipped 
it up under her blouse. her breast was naked and as smooth and firm as her 
belly. He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. Again she wriggled 
her butt against him. 'That's nice, General.' He licked her neck, and held her 
closer. She wriggled, and he knew his cock was now exactly over her 
arsehole. This was confirmed as she leaned back harder on him.

The lift arrived at his floor, and they backed out.

As he opened the curtains to let the sunlight stream in, she pulled her blouse 
up over her head, and stood there, proud of her perfect tits.

'They're perfect!'

'I know. Everyone says that. But they're going to be too big for a ballet 
dancer.'

'They're not now. And that's not the only sort of dancing.'

He had his arms around her, her bottom against his thighs again. He was 
unbuttoning her shorts.

'You like my bottom, don't you, General. I can tell...'

'You can feel me? Of course I do. And I know how you like to use it, my 
sweet.' Her shorts had dropped to the floor, and both his hands were inside 
her lime green lacy panties.

'Estelle! She promised me she hadn't told you what I like.' She sounded 
angry, but was clearly enjoying the feel of his prick against her anus, even 
through his trousers and her panties.

He slipped the panties down, and caressed her naked belly. Her cunt was, as 
he had expected and hoped, and since the afternoon had known, shaven 
smooth.

'Now you!' Her slender fingers picked at the buttons on his fly. His cock 
sprang out, as if released. 'You're cut. I like that!' She was kneeling, and he 
felt her mouth over his knob, her tongue fluttering in its eye. He held her 
head in both hands, looking down at the intricately braided hair. His fingers 
remembered all those other ebony heads they had held, his cock recalled all 
those other full lips it had fucked in his campaigning days.

'You're coming a bit!' she stopped, and was fumbling at his belt. He lifted 
her to her feet, and between them they stripped him.

On the bed she knelt, gripping the iron frame of the bed with spread arms. He 
had prepared for this encounter, knowing the amusements would be anal, and 
squeezed some gel onto his fingers. She sighed and wriggled her arse as he 
spread her firm cheeks and applied it to her anus. His finger slipped easily in, 
and he masturbated her for a minute or two. 

She  was ready. He knelt behind her and again spread her cheeks. Her anus 
was smooth, and a deeper black, almost purple. He placed his knob, and 
slipped it up and down in her crack once or twice, until the very tip of it 
found the exact place and slipped in a centimeter or so. She sighed, and 
pushed her arse out towards him. His knob forced its way in, and then the 
whole shaft slid easily up her. She gave a little squeak.

'Now fuck me. Hard. That's what I like.'

Long, slow strokes at first, he shagged her. He could feel her fingers working 
away at her clit and cunt. supporting herself on one arm, clutching the bed 
head. Her other hand was underneath her, working away at her clit, while he 
filled her arse. She was panting and grunting now and it was time to fuck her 
faster and harder. He grasped her arsecheeks in both hands, feeling the firm, 
dancer's muscles under the velvet skin, and banged it in and out. His balls 
swung and hit her busy fingers with each thrust. He could feel and hear her 
coming under him. He reached under her and grasped one breast in each 
hand. He squeezed them. She squealed and her orgasm began. He held her to 
him and pumped into her, a spurt deep inside her with each thrust. 

They lay, collapsed, his hands still on her breasts, crushed under their 
combined weight. Her anus expelled his now half-limp cock. 'We'd better 
wash....'

He opened a bottle, and they lay, propped against the pillows, sipping 
champagne in the late afternoon sun. She was cradling his balls in her free 
hand. 'Cocks are so cute when they're soft. So proud and arrogant, and then 
so timid when they've had their way.' She put her glass down on a bedside 
table and rested her face on his belly, inches from his cock. 'The girls say 
you're going to have a different girl each month?'

'Who should I have next?'

'Depends what you like. Lina is pretty and very sexy.'

'???'

'Lina. The black-haired girl. She was next to me when you watched us 
practicing.'

He remembered the slim beauty, with high breasts and slim, boyish hips. 
Long, slender legs.

'She's kinky too. Likes being spanked. Seems her Papa spanks her a lot and 
she's come to like it. Likes being tied up too.'

'I never see any boys at the School.'

'There's eight. But they have different exercises, of course. But we have our 
ordinary school lessons together.'   

'Do the girls and the boys ever.....?

'No! They're all gay! Our boyfriends are all outside. Lina's is a taxi driver. 
Mine's a policeman at present.'

'Tell me about the boys.'

'Hey, General! You go both ways!' She laughed. 'I'd never have thought 
that! If you like them pretty, Daniel's the one for you. He's blonde and slim. 
And he loves it...same way as me! Hey! You're getting hard again.' 

The thought of a pretty blonde boy who liked it 'the same way as me' had 
excited him. 'I'll ask Madame Blatsky to show me the boys next month. 
Don't you ever take it in your lovely little cunt?' While she was tickling his 
balls and stroking his shaft, he had been teasing and rubbing her clit. She was 
wet and juicy, and his finger was sliding easily in and out her cunt.

'No way! I like it from behind, and it's safer. I mean no chance of getting 
pregnant,'

'You know what a vasectomy is?'

'You've had that?'

'Mm'

'Then it's safe?'

'Mm'

'Then let's.'

He lay over her, propped on his elbows. His cock rested against her cunt. He 
looked into her eyes and saw trepidation there. For all her apparent 
sophistication this was a little girl who had never been properly fucked 
before. She was wondering what it would be like. His cock slid down too far 
in her slippery crack. He reached between them, and placed it properly again. 
The knob slid in. Still propped on his elbows he pushed gently but firmly and 
the whole shaft slid in till his hairs touched her shaven mound. She gave a 
little squeak, but her eyes were laughing again .

Now it was all delight as they fucked, long, slow, deep strokes. He let his full 
weight rest on her, her tits crushed between them, but her hard nipples boring 
into his chest. They kissed, and her tongue was in his mouth. Her arms pulled 
him to her and her fingers clawed into his back muscles. They fucked faster 
and harder, and he felt her cross her legs round his back, over his arse. The 
noise of their bodies slapping together reverberated round the room. He lifted 
himself so he could play with her tits. He pressed them, stroked them, teased 
the nipples, and finally licked each one with a pointed tongue. The ebony 
velvet was salty now. He took a nipple in his mouth and tweaked it between 
his lips. She was coming. Her eyes closed, her head rolling, she was panting 
and grunting. He rested his full weight on her again, and shagged as fast as 
he could. She was shouting now, words in her own African language, and he 
could feel her cunt contracting and releasing again on his shaft. It was as if 
she was milking him. Her finger nails clawed into his back. He came too. 

He must have slept for a few minutes, because when he woke up the last of 
the day's sun was giving way to twilight. Melanie had washed, and was 
dressed again in her lime-green panties. She sat beside him on the bed, 
finishing a glass of bubbly.

'That was good, Melanie. It was your first wasn't it?'

'Mmm. I was always afraid that....'

'I know. You told me.'

'It's better, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'I gotta find a regular lover who's been cut. Shall we?'

'I'd love to. But that would annoy Madame Blatsky, and spoil my 
arrangement with her. I coukd introduce you to a colleague of mine. 
Lieutenant Colonel. Safe, like me, and younger, too. '

'I'd like that. Shall we again now?'

'Give me an hour or two. I'll shower. Then dinner round the corner from 
here. Then again! And then I want to drip honey on your pretty cunt and lick 
it all off.'

She laughed. And we'll dip your cock in it, and I'll lick that off.'

As he showered he pondered the choice next month. A pretty little girl with 
Latin looks, and submissive. Or a blonde boy who liked it in the arse. 
Probably the boy, and he would have to ask Madame to show him the boys 
practicing.

                                                    FIN (For now) 




 




