Author: Knight
Title: Jonas
Part: 2
Summary: The saga of Jonas Randall, a man with an extraordinary gift.
Keywords: mF, teen, size

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   Note From The Knight:

   The saga of Jonas Randall, a man with an extraordinary gift.

   And remember: more feedback = more stories!

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   It took Jonas half an hour to deal with the phone messages that had come
in during the morning.  By the time he returned, Hannah was sleeping
peacefully.  Jonas smiled and closed the door softly.

   "Miss Maxwell?" Hannah awoke with a start, then flushed and straightened
in her chair.  "Please, excuse my absence," Jonas said quietly, and Hannah
got awkwardly to her feet.

   "I'm sorry, I was just -"

   "No need to apologise.  I like this room primarily because it is so
restful."

   "I was just thinking about your story," Hannah said hesitantly, sitting
down again.  "And then, I suppose, dreaming about it to.  You know, Lady
Jane:

   Virgin Hunter was one of the first porn films I ever saw."

   "Indeed?" Jonas asked with a warm smile.  "My installment, or one of the
others?"

   "No, I didn't see your film until I started research for this interview.
I hope you don't mind me saying so, but it was wonderful!" she flushed a
little, and leaned over to fuss with her recorder to cover her
embarrassment.  "No, the first one I saw was the one with - God, I can't
remember his name, the black kid with the shaved head."

   Jonas nodded.  "Taylor Brown.  Pleasant fellow.  He worked for a while
in the US under the name Big Bad Brown."

   "Oh, I remember him," Hannah said in surprise.  "I didn't know he was
English.  Lady Jane was responsible for giving the world more than a few
porn super-stars, then?"

   Jonas looked to the window.  "Oh, more than a few, yes." He sat down
opposite Hannah, and rubbed his hands together.  "Well, where did we get
to?"

   Hannah smiled and clicked the record button, and settled back to listen.

   * * * * *

   Now, where were we?

   I told you earlier about my first meeting with Lady Jane, and my first
sexual experience.  How I made it home from school that day, I have no
idea. My next memory is waking up in the early evening, on my own bed,
still fully clothed, clutching the Vixen Productions business card that
Jane had given me.  It all seemed like a dream - or more than a dream, a
fantasy.

   It took me about two seconds to decide that I wanted to see her again,
and as soon as possible.  I wandered down to the kitchen and made myself a
cup of coffee, eschewing my usual coke in favour of a drink more suited to
a man who had been balls-deep inside a beautiful porn-star just a few hours
earlier.  I was so ridiculously proud of myself, I'm embarrassed to even
think of it now.  In any case, after an hour of procrastination, I steeled
myself and called the number of the card.  It rang four or five times, then
she picked up.  "This is Jane."

   "Hi," I said nervously.  "It's Jonas."

   "Jonas?" came the reply.  There was the sound of movement in the
background.  "Sorry, Jonas who?"

   "Um, Randall," I said, my insides turning to ice.  How could she have
forgotten about me?  "From the - um, from the school?"

   "Oh, Jonas!" she said excitedly, and everything was fine again.  "Sorry,
darling, I'm in the middle of something and my mind was somewhere else. 
How are you?"

   "I'm fine," I replied, grinning idiotically.  "I was wondering if maybe
you'd like to go out with me.  If you want to."

   "You mean like a date?" she asked in an amused tone.

   "Sort of.  I mean - "

   "You're just so adorable, I can't bear it!  Listen, darling, I have to
go right now, but maybe you could stop by my place for a drink this
evening. Do you have a pen?"

   I quickly scribbled down the address she gave me on the back of an
envelope and, after promising to be there at eight, hung up.  Then, still
grinning stupidly and excited like a kid on Christmas morning, I went for a
long shower to prepare myself for my woman.

   The address was for a modern apartment building in the former bohemian
quarter of the city, where you could now find sex shops right next up to
sophisticated boutiques; strippers sharing the streets with artists, porn
actresses sharing a croissant in a secluded cafe with an advertising
copywriter.  I caught the bus across the city, then wandered around the
streets until I found the building: a diversion that was an education in
itself, believe me.

   I was dark by the time I jogged up the stairs to the main door, and my
stomach felt like it was stuffed with butterflies.  I flashed a hesitant
grin at the doorman, an older man in a immaculate blue overcoat.  "Can I
help you, sir?" he asked genially.

   "Hi, yeah, I'm here to see - " Then it struck me.  I didn't know her
real name.  Lady Jane was obviously a pseudonym - who should I ask for? 
"Um," I faltered, "Jane?"

   "I see, sir," said the doorman, quirking an eyebrow.  "Jane."

   "She gave me a card, and asked me to stop by," I explained, fumbling
clumsily in my pocket for the Vixen card.  "She wrote her number on the
back.  It's here somewhere -" The doorman smiled softly and raised a hand.

   "I'll just check, sir," he said in an amused tone, the stepped into a
little booth by the door and picked up the telephone.  "Your name, sir?" he
asked me as he dialed the number.

   "Jonas Randall," I said with a rush of relief.  Jane would tell him it
was okay.  I hadn't blown it.  "J-O-N-"

   "Jonas, yes sir, I'm familiar with the spelling." He turned away from me
and spoke a few quiet words into the telephone, then glanced back at me. 
"Yes.  Very good, Ma'am," he said, and hung up.  He brushed down his
overcoat and emerged from the booth, then flashed me a grin and opened the
door.  "Eighth floor, sir.  Your lady friend is waiting for you."

   It took every scrap of self-control I possessed not to run across the
lobby.  The lift opened as I approached, and I waited patiently for a pair
of middle-aged women to maneuver themselves out of the way, then stabbed my
thumb at the button for the eighth floor.  I rubbed my hands together, I
paced backwards and forwards, I exhaled slowly and tried to calm my
pounding heart, but it was no use.  I was as nervous as I had ever been,
and as excited.

   Finally, the lift doors swished open, and I emerged into a small
hallway. In a doorway opposite the lift stood Jane.  My eyes widened - she
was wearing an elegant black evening gown, slashed to the thigh, with a
modest neckline that still managed to emphasise her wonderful breasts.  She
held a champagne flute in her right hand, with the left behind her back,
her ankles crossed in manner that suggested a curtsy.  "Hello," she said
softly.  "I'm glad you could make it."

   "You - you look beautiful," I said in an awed whisper.

   "You're sweet.  Come in, Jonas.  Let's get to know each other better."

   I followed her into the apartment, my gaze fixed on the way her
fantastic body moved under the thin dress.  "You can hang up you coat by
the door, darling," she said over her shoulder, moving ahead of me, and my
heart sang.  Darling!  I scrambled out of my jacket, and hung it on a hook
next to what looked like a raincoat made of a tough, shiny plastic.

   The lounge was dominated by large plate-glass windows that gave a
breathtaking view of the city, constellations of lit windows and
streetlights laid out in the inky blackness.  A hidden sound system was
playing soft jazz: in any other circumstance, it would have seemed banal
and trite, but in my aroused state I thought I could make out a sinuously
erotic harmony in the sweeping scales and syncopated rhythm.

   Jane was pouring a second glass of champagne, and I took the opportunity
to gaze with ill-concealed longing at her lush, magnificent body.  She
looked up and caught my eye.  "See anything you like?"

   "I - uh, this is a great place," I stammered, as she handed me the
champagne flute.

   "Thanks.  I don't get to spend much time here, these days, but it's
always nice to come home."

   I opened my mouth to reply, but the words stuck in my throat as Jane
reached out and took my hand.  She stepped forward, our bodies pressing
together, and, so slowly I thought I was dreaming, our lips touched.  "Come
with me," she said softly, and I nodded mutely, knowing that I would follow
this woman anywhere on Earth.

   Leading me by the hand, she crossed the lounge to a deep, comfortable
couch.  She sat down and elegantly crossed her legs, and I bit back a groan
of desire - this woman, so refined and yet so wonderfully slutty, was a
goddess.  Jane sipped her champagne, then rubbed the seat next to her. 
"Sit," she said.  "I won't bite unless you ask me to."

   I sank onto the couch gratefully, my knees trembling, then steeled
myself and put my arm around her slender shoulders.  She sighed happily at
the contact and turned to face me.  The kiss, when it came, was as gentle
as before, but seemed to carry with it a promise of a deeper hunger, a
rising passion that would soon demand fulfillment.

   We kissed gently, then she giggled.  "This is so naughty," she
whispered. "I really shouldn't be fucking you, Jonas, you're so young."

   "I'm old enough -" I started, but she kissed me again.

   "You're not," she told me sincerely, then grinned impishly.  "You're
really not.  But I couldn't forget about that magical dick you've got,
darling." Her fingers alighted on the large bulge in my trousers, and she
nipped my bottom lip with her perfect, white teeth.  "Would you like to
play with my breasts, darling?"

   I nodded again, the promise of Jane's wonderful body robbing me of
speech.  Slowly, obviously relishing my excitement, she pulled the thin
straps of her dress off her shoulders, and let them fall.  Then, with a
single finger hooked wickedly into her cleavage, she pulled the front of
her dress down until her breasts were almost bursting free of the thin
material - and then, with a joyous bounce, they were revealed in all their
glory.  Jane clasped my hand in hers and brushed my fingertips over the
soft flesh, and I moaned in pleasure, then began to stroke and massage them
enthusiastically.  "Gently," she whispered.  "You're stronger than you
think, and that's good, but there's a time for strength and a time for
softness."

   "Sorry," I replied, the colour rising in my cheeks.  "I mean, I didn't
mean to...  Sorry," I repeated.

   "You really were a virgin, weren't you?  When we met at your school, I
mean."

   "Yes," I confessed.  "I was waiting for the right girl."

   "And did you find her?" Jane asked, leaning forward so that her breasts
pressed against me, and kissing my warmly on the lips.

   "I did," I replied, my voice cracking, my senses filled with her taste,
her scent, and the touch of her body.

   We kissed for a long time, and slowly, we each explored the other's
body. Jane's dress hit the floor, followed a moment later by her black
satin thong.  She took her time stripping off my shirt, undoing one button
at a time and teasing the newly-exposed skin with her lips and tongue, then
moving further down my body.  My trousers were removed somewhat clumsily,
and my shorts too.  Then, naked, we kissed and stroked and embraced,
delighting in the presence of the other, and in the promise of what lay
ahead.

   Finally, it seemed that Jane was ready for me.  Breaking our kiss, she
stroked my stiff cock one last time, then smiled at me.  "I rode you," she
whispered, leaning right back on the couch and spreading her legs wide. 
The air was heavy with the scent of her arousal.  "This time, you ride me."
I slid backwards awkwardly, and knelt on the floor between her legs.  Her
pussy was hairless save for a small tuft of jet-black pubes, and her lips
were glistening with her moisture.  I had no thought of teasing her, or of
delaying our gratification - I shuffled forward on my knees until the blunt
head of my cock split her sex in two, then thrust forward - two inches
vanished into her, then four, then six, and her eyes rolled back in her
head.  "Slowly!" she gasped.  "God, slowly!" I moaned at the warm embrace
of her tight, wet hole - and, with the next thrust, eight inches slid into
her smoothly.  "Are you in?  Darling, Jonas, are you all the way in?"

   "No," I grunted, thrusting again, stretching my self-control to the
limits.  "Not yet."

   "I - ah, sweet Jesus fuck!  Give me more, then, baby, but slowly -
you're so big, so deliciously big!" Trying to obey her instructions, I
pushed a little deeper with each thrust, every deep lunge stuffing another
half-inch of hot cock-meat into her hole until she trembled and cried out
in desire - then, greed overwhelmed me, and with a vicious thrust that
seemed to come from the soles of my feet, I gave her all of it, the last
unfucked inch finally slipping between her wet lips.  I stayed there for a
heartbeat, my foot-long cock buried so deeply inside her that I thought she
must be able to taste it, then withdrew.  She exhaled with a shudder as her
pussy clutched at the departing cock.  "God, Jonas, you're going to ruin me
for any other man.  I'm so fucking full!" She licked her lips and ran her
hands over her breasts and stomach.  "Now fuck me - fuck me like you mean
it."

   And so began the first true fuck of my life - I held Jane by the hips,
by the thighs, hooked my arms behind her knees, anything to pull her harder
onto my giant dick as I pounded into her body.  I was like an animal,
unstoppable and merciless, all of my youthful energy and enthusiasm
dedicated to the task in hand.  Jane, in turn, responded eagerly to my
inelegant conquest of her body, my inexperience only underlining the
illicit nature of our coupling.  "Fuck me, you beautiful boy!  Stuff your
giant man-cock into me and make me - ah!  - make me fucking cum - ah!  -
all over your - ah!  - all over your dick!" I fucked harder, sweat pouring
into my eyes, my thighs slippery with the juices that were dripping from
Jane's wonderful pussy.  Her tits were bouncing beautifully on her chest,
the skin bright and glistening with sweat that ran in droplets between her
perfect breasts, her half-inch nipples erect and pointing straight at me.

   "Fuck!  My!  Cunt!" she screamed, and I redoubled me efforts, grasping
her womanly hips and fucking her so hard and so quickly that I thought I
would fuck her right through the couch to the floor.  Watching the
foot-long length of my thick, veined cock pounding this goddess' hot slit
was the most erotic thing I had ever seen - and there's nothing I've seen
since that matches it.  She trembled, and her manicured fingernails clawed
at the couch; she gasped and swore and met me thrusts with passionate
lunges of her own hips - she was cumming, I realised, I was making a woman
cum!  The thought was enough to make me increase my efforts to a new peak,
my heavy balls slapping soundly against Jane's bottom But then, just as my
cum was starting to rise, Jane gasped sharply and touched the palm of her
hand against my chest.  "Ah!  Fuck - steady, darling," she gasped, then
swallowed.  "Slow down, lover, or you'll rip a girl apart."

   "I - I'm sorry," I stammered.

   "Don't be sorry," she replied, lifting her hips and sliding off of my
swollen dick.  "Not many men have a cock like you, and not many women will
be able to take it - not for long, anyway." She pushed her fingers through
her hair and sighed happily, a broad smile settling on her full lips.  "Oh,
but you are so fucking good..."

   "You are, too," I said gallantly, balling my fists by my side to stop
myself from stroking my cock and covering this Earth-bound angel with long
sticky jets of my cum.  I needn't have worried: Jane was as sensitive to
the needs of her lovers as any woman I've met since.  She slid onto the
floor beside me and, without hesitation, grasped my cock and sucked the
head into her mouth.

   It does me little credit, but the truth is that the first touch of her
tongue was enough - electrical surges raised through my body, and before I
could warn her or offer any defense, the first explosive jets of my cum had
coated her tongue.  I threw back my head and cried at the skies in anguish
as my balls emptied themselves into her soft, warm mouth - then, as she let
the tip of my cock slip from between her lips, I oozed thick rivers of cum
over her lips and chin, where large wet drops dribbled onto her heaving
tits.

   I couldn't breath.  I couldn't think.  I barely managed to control my
collapse onto the couch, the sound of my heartbeat loud in my ears, my
hands reaching, instinctively, to cradle and comfort the woman I loved.

   "Better?" she asked in a gentle whisper, leaning her head against my
chest.

   "I love you," I moaned, taking her hand in mine.  "Jane, I love you so
much."

   "I know, darling," she whispered, and stretched happily.  "You're
amazing.  I'm going to have a shower."

   And she was gone.  In my exhausted state, it was all I could do to turn
my head and watch her naked body run lightly across the lounge - then she
turned and asked asked me if I wanted to join her and suddenly I wasn't so
tired after all.

   Over the next month or so, we fucked each other in every conceivable
way. I would go over to her apartment every evening, on the pretense of
studying at the library, and we would spend three or four hours delighting
each other in the most imaginative way - Jane particularly liked
role-playing, and wold often meet me at the door in some innocent guise,
and then tease me until I filled her body with my cock while she protested
her innocence.  Schoolgirls were a favourite, her lush womanly body
constrained by a crisp white shirt and pleated skirt, but she also favoured
police women, secretaries, and, on a handful of memorable occasions, she
dressed in a sexy version of a nun's habit and whispered prayers before
slurping on my cock lasciviously.  These adventures were punctuated by
countless other encounters - Jane taught me how to give oral sex, as well
as how to receive it with a measure of self-control; she taught me how to
vary the length and depth of my strokes to keep a woman on the brink of
orgasm for long, hot, wet minutes, before finally satisfying her; she
taught me everything I know today, and I never for a moment forget what I
owe her.

   At that time, of course, I was exactly stupid enough to think that
things could continue this way for ever.  As much as it pains me to say it
now, I was blinded by my love for her; I refused to consider what it was
that she did every day, how she made her living.  I didn't want to think
about it, so I didn't.

   It couldn't last, of course.  And it didn't.

   * * * * *

   "But that," Jonas concluded, "is a tale best reserved for after lunch. I
instructed the chef to prepare something light.  Would you care to join
me?"

   "I'd love to," Hannah said, trying to hide her disappointment at the
break in the story.  She watched him hungrily as he got to his feet and
offered her his elbow, and had to suppress a growl of desire as she stood
and slipped her arm through his.  "So what happened next?" she asked
curiously.

   "A great many things," he replied with a grin.  "Don't worry.  I'll tell
you all of them, in good time."

   And with that, he escorted her from the room.

   ----

   (c) Knight Of Passion 2006 Feedback, comments and criticisms gratefully
received at knight-of-passion@hotmail.co.uk

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