Don Cabot jumped up from the bed in his overheated Budapest hotel room and ran to the long mirror on his bathroom door. He had on only a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, both drenched with perspiration. He was breathing heavily, as if he was in some sort of daze and had to shake the cobwebs out of his head to think where he was, and why he was there.
Marie, Louisa, Paris, the burly bodyguard. Yes, they had been real enough. The dream had been perfectly accurate up until the point of the plane suddenly becoming Soviet, and his being ordered shot through the balls by Louisa. Actually, the mission had been quite successful if not a little emotionally involved. The beautiful Louisa had fallen so desperately in love with him that she was willing to defect and provide Western Intelligence with a complete list of all Communist agents and their descriptions, their modus operandi, anything that would help.
The only condition was that he should kill Marie. Louisa was insanely jealous of her. The "killing" of Marie was not too great a. problem, he recalled. With the use of a small plastic bag of catsup under her dress, blank cartridges and help from a news reporter in writing up her "obituary." After that, Louisa went to Washington and told all. The information she provided helped to almost wipe out the world-wide Communist spy network, force them to start from scratch, all over again. It was one of the biggest coups of Don Cabot's career up until that time. And he was only twenty-eight years old.
But that had happened eleven years ago!
Don never had long dreams or nightmares then. He was on the go constantly, always trying for the encore that would be the greatest feat in the history of East-West espionage. But now, he realized pain fully, as he took a shower, put on a clean shirt and fresh suit, that he might not even get out of Budapest… alive.
After packing his suitcase, Don suddenly realized that it was night, late… how late? Ten or eleven o'clock. He shook his drowsy head again. He needed… no-no… he wanted a drink. He only wanted a drink. To think otherwise, that he needed a drink, would be to completely admit defeat. He looked at himself in the mirror again as he adjusted his half-windsor to precision. He didn't look like an old man.
Don studied his tanned, handsome features in the mirror. The corners of his mouth were twisted, giving him a mocking, almost sneering and cynical expression. It was the look that made women crawl to him. Or, at least, it used to. The exception was Eva Harnecz, the brilliant and beautiful and young Hungarian scientist who was the reason for his trip to Budapest.
"The bitch!" he said aloud, watching his snarling expression in the mirror. "The beautiful, bright-eyed, sexy genius! Damn the perverted cunt!"
Five minutes later, Don Cabot was down at the almost deserted hotel bar. He hated to work in the Iron Curtain countries with their lack of personality, mirth friendliness and cheerfulness. He downed his first Scotch neat and ordered another one, sipping it as he glanced around the colorless bar and lounge.
Why did it have to end here, he thought to himself? Why not in sunny Italy, Paris, the Riviera, or even Florida? Why Budapest? And then he reminisced again. His life had been exciting, adventuresome. He had a better record than any other agent in Western Intelligence. Maybe the dreams were good for him. They haunted him though, because the endings were always such that they became nightmares. There was the time in Rome, he recalled with a smile. He had dreamed about it two nights ago-the eighteen-year-old Italian girl with the overdeveloped body of firm, smooth flesh, and her twenty-four-year-old sister…
Then he pulled himself up sharply. It was no good, he reminded himself sternly. This is no time to get sentimental and nostalgic. If your premonition is correct (and, deep down inside him he knew that it was) you've got to get word back to “Alfa."
Don had already made two copies of his report, reading it into a miniaturized tape recorder using the maximum security code. It was simply a question of finding a reliable carrier for the second tape. He would carry one himself, of course, because it was vital that the Communists should think they'd successfully prevented the “leak."
What if they caught him? He assumed they would break the code without too much difficulty, and then it would be vital to his side that they assumed it was the only copy. They had merely to eliminate him and double their own security arrangements. But even if he did get through, even if his present lack of confidence in the future was simply due to nerves, he knew he was of no further use on this particular assignment.
The bartender refilled his glass with scotch and Don drank it down quickly. It was then that he realized he wasn't even tasting the drink. Pure alcohol would have served the same purpose. He merely wanted to dull his senses, not savor the enjoyment of a well-mixed cocktail or even to take pleasure in the slow, relaxing warmth of the whisky.
He replaced the glass on the bar counter and had to fight to keep his hands from trembling. He had been close to a crack-up on a couple of occasions in the past, but never before had he felt so utterly, so completely finished.
The girl, of course, had been the turning point for him. He had tried every trick in the book, used every ounce of his charm to seduce her; and she had simply laughed in his face! The fact that Eva was clearly an exclusive lesbian did very little to soothe his ruffled pride. In the past, he had enjoyed the favors of several girls as perverted as Eva-had persuaded them to sample the pleasures of normal sex after everyone else had failed.
But Eva wasn't to be one of his conquests. And the fact hurt! It hurt like hell! Especially since this wouldn't have been an off-duty seduction, a brief Interlude between assignments. Far from it… Eva's seduction was to have been the very center of this mission.
Don's orders had been to make very careful inquiries about her, induce her to fall in love with him I and then persuade her to defect to the West. Now, they would have to call in a girl agent to finish the job. And he would melt into the background; taken off the case because he wasn't able to see it through.
It was more than likely, he reminded himself, it was more than likely that pretty soon now he'd be feeling the effects of his hectic, danger-filled life. He was thirty-nine now, and you couldn't cram enough adventures for a dozen lives into eighteen years without sooner or later suffering for it.
Another thing, he had been a gambler all his life, and long ago he had realized that there came a point when you knew that you were going to lose. That was the time to throw in your cards and quit the game as gracefully as possible. The present situation was equally undeniable, equally absolute. He wasn't going to make it. They'd get him before he could report back to Western Intelligence.
His self-confidence had been cracked right down the middle, and he knew that this made him a sitting duck for the enemy. Well, he vowed, I won't go down without a fight. And I'll make sure I take a few of them with me.
Meantime, there was the question of the carrier for the second micro-tape. He looked carefully around the bar-and his eyes came to rest on those of a young girl in the uniform of an SAS stewardess. His eyebrows lifted slightly and he inclined his head, smiling pleasantly at her.
The girl responded by lifting her glass and toasting him before she sipped at it. He swung himself lightly off the bar stool and walked across to the small wooden table where she was sitting, not taking his eves from hers.
"I'll bet you speak English," he remarked. "Do you mind if I join you?"
She smiled. She was even younger at close distance, scarcely in her twenties, he thought. She wore very little make-up, her only concession to fashion being a carefully penciled eye-shadow. Her face was very pleasantly attractive. She had the sweetest pair of lips he had ever seen. They pushed forward in a kind of pout, as if the girl was begging to be kissed. It gave her a sulky little-girl look that was belied by the far from innocent appraisal in her clear blue eyes.
Her eyes traveled slowly up and down the man's powerful frame before replying. Then she said, "Be my guest. I'm Danish but English is my second language'" He sat down opposite her and crossed his legs. "Are you staying at the hotel?"
He shook his head. "I'm going out on the 2 AM flight to Copenhagen," he told her. "Are you in transit, too?"
Her eyes showed an unmistakable twinkle. "As a matter of fact I'll be your stewardess," she said.
He studied her more closely. “Wait a minute." he exclaimed. "You were on the plane that brought me in, weren't you? Four days ago?"
“That's right," she replied. "But it looks as if I paid more attention to you than you did to me! Your name is Mr. Cabot."
"Call me Don," he interrupted her quickly. "Tell me, what happens when you get back to Denmark? Do you stay there for a while or go out again?"
"I go on to New York the next day," she told him, her frank eyes meeting his in a provocative challenge. “Why, what did you have in mind?"
"I wondered if you'd mind mailing a small parcel for me," he asked. "It's rather important and I want it posted in the U.S."
The girl shrugged her shoulders. "All right. I don't mind." Glancing quickly around the bar, he pressed a small sealed package into her hand. She slipped it into her handbag and snapped it shut.
"How about buying me a drink?" she suggested. "The bar will be closed soon."
He beckoned the waiter over, ordered a Slivovitz for the girl and another Scotch for himself. The bar was now otherwise empty although it was only eleven p.m. It was a big and spacious place and in the stillness their voices, though lowered to a quiet volume, seemed to bounce off the stone walls back at them.
"My name's Erica," she said. "Erica Sondgaard. And I've got a funny feeling we've met somewhere before. Not on the plane. I mean before that."
"Possibly," he replied. "I travel quite a lot. We may have bumped into each other almost anywhere in the world. I'm afraid I can't quite place you." His first thought had been to get rid of the girl as quickly as possible after getting her to mail the micro-tape for him. But now, talking with her and using the time to give her a thorough physical examination, he grew more and more attracted by her possibilities.
Maybe it was simply a case of reasserting his masculinity, using Erica to wipe out the unpleasant memory of the episode with Eva. Well, all right; if that was the case… so what? He was becoming more resigned to his fate, to his conviction that his number had finally come up. Why shouldn't he go out with a last, voluptuous sex fling. He had evidently lost his connoisseur's appreciation of good liquor, but he felt quite certain that his taste for women was unimpaired.
"It doesn't matter," Erica was saying. “It's just that your face seems so familiar." She gave an involuntary shiver. "God, it's cold in here," she exclaimed…, suppose they wait for the tourist season before they put the central heating on."
"Why don't we adjourn to my room?" he suggested. "I have a bottle or two up there and I'm sure we can persuade the bartender to sell us ice and mixer.”
Erica gave him a frank look which told him that she knew precisely what he was really after. She drank the last of her Slivovitz and licked her lips, running her tongue slowly over the top one and keeping her eyes on his face the whole while.
"I've been a stewardess for too long not to know what you're after," she told him. Between the couple passed an electric wave which spoke volumes. As they stared at each other, he consciously poured every ounce of his personality and his charm into the gaze. For a moment he thought she was going to walk out on him, just like Eva. Then she leaned forward across the table.
"The only thing that bothers me is… what took you so long to invite me?" Her blue eyes sparkled brightly as she blatantly told him she was more than willing to go to bed with him.
The man threw some coins onto the table and stood up. He took her arm and, without another word being spoken, led Erica up the wide staircase to his room. He locked the door behind them and pulled the girl into his arms. Her body strained into his, her arms going around his neck and her fingers tightening about his broad shoulders.
He looked down into her eyes, quietly savoring her upturned face, her half-parted lips and her dreamily closed eyes. This may be the last time, he told himself. The very last time.
Don cupped her head in his large hand, opening the fingers as wide as possible and drawing her face firmly down onto his. Forcefully, he crushed her tender, full red lips against his own, feeling Erica gasp into his open mouth as the girl felt his urgent passion. He kissed her as soundly and as expertly as he was able, thrusting his tongue deeply between her sharp young teeth and searching for hers. He tasted the fresh, sweet juices of the girl's mouth, letting their saliva mingle and feeling her body pushing against him, her hard breasts pressing into his chest.
For several minutes they kissed wildly and desperately; as if she, too, had guessed that she might be the last woman he would have. Then he bent her slowly backwards onto the bed, lowering his body on top of her, stretching out at full length across Erica's softly rounded curves.
She was breathing heavily now, panting and gripping him tightly, her fingers running up and down his back, caressing the nape of his neck and fondling the thick black hair.
Don withdrew his mouth at last and worked his lips around the girl's face until they were poised at the softness of her earlobe. Seductively, he licked the underside of the fleshy lobe, letting his teeth close firmly and securely on Erica's fragrant smelling ear. She shivered, her body trembling like a child's beneath the weight of his body. He felt for the buttons of her uniform but instead of gently disengaging them, he tore savagely at them, pulling the neat black fastenings away with one swift downward stroke.
His hand closed tightly over the upthrust globe of the girl's right breast; fingers clenching and pulling at the large orb with a rapist's fury. He got his other hand up onto her chest and with an animal grunt, his eyes red and lust-rimmed, Don seized the fragile straps of the brassiere and tore it loose.
Don looked down at the two peaks of loveliness which his hands had exposed. Erica's breasts were full and beautiful. They had a lovely texture, like sweetly furred velvet. He stroked the breast he was holding in a kind of wonderment, running his fingers more gently over the undulating slope and caressed the lovely orb rather than roughly handling it.
He lay hall-propped up by his elbows, both hands now moving over the girl's breasts. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, breathing heavily and unevenly. She kept her arms wound tightly around the man's shoulders but lay quite passively; allowing him to do whatever he wished with her body.
Erica's nude breasts jutted out from her white skin like twin pillows of satin, each topped by a hard, thick nipple. Don drew his forefinger slowly across the intriguing surface of one red nipple. The action made the girl's orb quiver, the whole milky globe shuddering in a creamy wobble.
The nipple itself swelled and grew harder under his touch. The bud rose in a provocative thrust out of the center of Erica's breasts. The man studied it for a few moments, then flicked it lightly again. Once more, the aroused nipple seemed to grow more fiery and more erect.
Don pressed his forefinger and thumb securely around It, squeezing with an insistent pressure so that the girl's bud stood out more prominently than ever. The rest of his fingers were pressing into the giving white surface of the breast itself, sinking with a voluptuous ease into the pliable flesh.
His attention was focused entirely upon this one small nipple. He seemed to be pouring all his willpower, all his soul, into the contemplation of the imprisoned nipple, the inflamed red bud which protruded so fascinatingly out of Erica's breast.
Don was looking in awe-a look that spoke of tenderness rather than lust; of gentle, mutually satisfying caresses rather than the rapist's cruel manhandling with which he had begun. Erica felt his other hand begin to play absently with her second nipple. His eyes were still burning into her right breast and out of them came an almost electric intensity, a concentration of desire that nearly overwhelmed her, so powerful and magnetic was the force of his stare.
"Beautiful!" he murmured at last. "Beautiful… beautiful!" Don bent his face down over the nipple he was squeezing and pursed his lips. She felt his warm, moist mouth close softly around her breast and felt his teeth gently biting into the enlarged bloom.
He drew the bud slowly and carefully into his mouth, beginning to work his tongue around and around on it. It tasted like solidified honey, sweet and intoxicating, and he sucked with long, glowingly ecstatic bliss on the girl's precious nipple.
Erica was stroking his hair, running both her hands through the thick locks, holding his face down onto her breasts as if she was fearful that he'd withdraw his mouth too soon. But he obviously had no intention of leaving this inspiring soft globe until he had drunk fully and deeply of its nectar.
Don opened his lips wider, stretching them as far apart as he could; then sucked as much of Erica's breast flesh into his mouth as possible, keeping his tongue fastened firmly onto her throbbingly hard nipple. In a slow, unvarying rhythm, he tit-sucked her; and as the minutes passed, Erica felt herself growing more and more delirious, unable to control her mounting desire to be fucked!
She could feel, through his trousers, the stiffness of his prick, thrusting up against her crotch with a wild, angry potency. As unobtrusively as possible, she pushed her loins down onto it, urging the pointed cock to press more closely to her aroused crotch.
After some minutes, Don became aware of what she was doing. He at last took his eyes away from Erica's nipple and glanced down at the girl's thighs. Her blue skirt had become disarranged, showing the metal clasp of her garter where it clipped tightly into the top of her stocking. An inch of bare thigh white-and alluring-could just be seen between the hem of her skirt and the tight swath of her nylons.
Don reluctantly released one of her breasts and let the freed hand pass down Erica's body until it rested on the exposed thigh flesh. His fingers moved on the soft, delicate skin, marveling at the satin texture. So sweet and pure; so warm, he thought; his hand pressed more firmly into the girl's leg, now stroking around to the inside of her thigh.
Erica helped him by opening her legs a little wider, giving him easy access to the supple flesh of her exquisitely shaped upper thigh. He reached his fingers up under the tightness of her dress until they could feel the tingling silk of her panties, stretched tautly across the girl's hips and crotch.
On impulse, Don rolled off Erica's body, sprawling out full-length on the bed alongside her. His left hand still encompassed the warm, throbbing globe of her breasts. His right began to explore the fascinating bulge which pushed the front of the girl's panties outwards, forming a swollen mound at her lovely crotch.
His fingers probed lightly across the spot, pushing with the gentlest possible pressure. She still lay quite motionless, offering her body to his intimate inspection as though they were performing an ancient ritual.
The mound was hard and muscular, but at its very center he found a long, deep crease which gave easily under the fondling of his fingers. It was as if he had never before touched a woman between her thighs, never explored a female's hidden sex organs. With a thrilling joy that brought back to him the still vivid memory of his very first sexual experiences, Don began to lift the waistband of Erica's panties away from her hips, drawing the thin nylon over her well-curved waist and then down, down until the triangular bush of hair started to appear.
He inched the panties carefully over the girl's pubic mound, pressing her thighs together so that he could drag the strip of wadded nylon down them and off her ankles.
Don's eyes traveled slowly up her legs again, savoring the sight of her sexy stockings, until they alighted once more upon her now naked cunt. The sweet curve of the girl's mound was covered in a growth of luxuriant dark hair, through which he could just see the puffy lips.
They peeped prettily through the bushy tangle, pink and moist. He retraced his fingers up the inside of her fulsome thigh until they crossed over onto the mound itself, rubbing and fondling at the entrance to the girl's creamy pussy.
Erica moaned softly now, turning her head from side to side on the pillow and clenching her hands into tight, white-knuckled fists. Her thighs were tense, her ankles drummed spastically on the turned-back sheets.
But Don still made no attempt to speed up his seduction. He was leisurely parting the fine hairs surrounding her cunt, watching instantly as his fingers slowly exposed the puffy red opening of the girl's lips. He began at the topmost part of the slit, peeling the thick lips open to reveal the hard prominence of Erica’s clitoris.
The thick button appeared in all its sexy glory, fully erect, sticking up out of the complex of the girl's outer cunt-lips with a quivering horniness. He inserted his forefinger into the gash which he'd made and started to fondle it. The pert little clit felt alive to his touch, moving with a life of its own under his finger.
Moving his thumb downwards under the rest of his fingers, Don began to delve it firmly into the actual hole itself. The channel was so tight, the moist red walls clung so adhesively to his digit, that he began to wonder if it would be possible to insert his cock into the girl without tearing her apart.
He toyed with her cunt for several minutes, scratching softly at the tantalizing knob of her clitoris and finger-fucking her with a skillful circular motion of his thumb. Then, just as he was preparing himself to strip off his own clothes and somehow guide his prick into her, Erica lifted her head and shoulders up off the bed and threw her arms around his neck.
“Oh, darling!" she gasped. «I can't stand it any longer! I can't! Please, give it to me. Give me your cock!"
Don looked down into the girl's hot-lidded eyes. Her cheeks were stained a glowing pink, her hair was violently disheveled. He got up quickly off the bed, gently disengaging her hands from his neck.
Hurriedly, he unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his trousers. In a moment, he stood at the bedside, naked except for his shorts. Erica leaned toward him, her. hot eyes riveted on the ominously thick bulge which strained upwards beneath the cloth.
Her anxious fingers reached toward the hard growth of his penis, watching it pulsing steadily in a vibrant straining against the shorts which encompassed it. The slender fingertips brushed meaningfully across the rigid length, making it leap more wildly than ever. The crested crown could be seen plainly, defined under the tight-fitting underpants as the knob rose and pulsed lustfully. Erica quickly pulled the pants over the massive dick. His cock burst into full view, a live, rock-hard prick that was red-veined and angrily stiff.
The girl fumbled the shorts down Don's legs, 1'eturning her hands caressingly over his thighs until they could close tightly over the naked prick. She stroked it soothingly, babbling endearments as her fingers petted and caressed the throbbing organ.
She pulled it nearer to her mouth, opened her lips and popped the pointed shaft between them, starting to suck greedily on the head. Her liquid tongue roamed ceaselessly over his Cock, licking and lapping at the satin-soft crown and running teasingly over the little hole at its top.
Don stooped slightly, reaching for her breasts again. His hands closed possessively around the orbs and the sensitive fingers began once more to milk the girl's globes, holding them firmly and pulling them into every possible shape his imagination could devise. The nipples were hotter than ever, so hard and pert that they felt like twin cherry-stones, unyielding and bumpy.
His prick, now buried a1most completely inside Erica's mouth, was jerking dangerously, warning him that the climax couldn't be long delayed.
His entire body felt stiff and aching with held-back semen. Erica was sucking so hard and so long now… Her angelic tongue flicked over and over his cock, never still, constantly moving across his imprisoned shaft, licking him into a state of unbelievable ecstasy.
And then, utterly unstoppable, came the first pulse of his climax. The premature cream started to shoot into Erica's mouth, his prick jerking violently between her full, ripe lips. For one brief moment he tried to hold it back, then, realizing that the itch in his cock was too strong to resist, he clenched his buttocks tightly and urged every last bit to escape.
Erica's fingers came up instantly to Don's dick and she manipulated it expertly, helping him to flood her with his cream until the very last drop. He sank down onto the bed beside her, his prick still firmly embedded in the girl's mouth. She drew on it gently, kissing the fully erect penis and keeping it at a rigid, stiff erection.
They both knew that this was only a preliminary to their love-making. For reasons of her own, Erica wanted to insure that Don never forgot her. Even if she was the last woman he fucked.
She knew too that unless something happened to bring him out of his self-despair, the most highly prized, most feared Western agent would never I make the flight to Copenhagen. Would never, in fact, see the dawning of the new day!
Erica Sondgaard, unknown to Don, was also employed by Western Intelligence, though in a somewhat minor capacity. She had been detailed to keep a watchful eye on the top secret agent, as it had not escaped the notice of the high brass that he was beginning to take the:first, faltering steps to oblivion.
That was the reason he'd been given this particular assignment. It was a job which could have been carried out by almost any of the Western Intelligence men, merely a feeling-out of a situation with only a faint possibility that he would be required to see the mission right through to the end.
"Alfa" too, had heard rumors that Eva Harnecz was exclusively lesbian. He had doubted all along whether Don would have succeeded in seducing her and then persuading her to defect.
Erica now realized that their mutual boss had been correct once again! The man lying on the bed with her looked tired and resigned to his fate, the fate of being intercepted by Communist agents and liquidated. Agents who had been tipped off about his approaches to their leading woman scientist by none other than Miss Harnecz herself!
At least, Erica assumed that this was the case. It would, at any rate, account for his deep depression and fear. The fear was obvious enough, if only because he had asked her to mail a copy of his report for him. That certainly showed that he didn't expect to be able to deliver it in person.
She looked down at the man in her arms. Don was relaxing now, waiting for the pounding of his heart and loins to quieten before making love to her more. But his eyebrows were drawn close together in a perpetual frown, as if he was unable to forget his failure and the price he felt he had to pay for it.
Erica Sondgaard mentally shook herself. There was no place in her job for sentimentality, for involvement with people, whether they were on her side or not. Her role was simple and straightforward. She had to do her best to give this man back his self-confidence and, failing that, do all she could to insure that what he had discovered about the mysterious Eva Harnecz got back to Western Intelligence.
Erica stroked his hair again, smoothing it away from his forehead. He was beginning to stir, slowly coming back to full consciousness.
His cock, which had started to droop as Don fell into a light doze, now regained its full potency with startling speed. A few gentle caresses from the girl's clever fingers, and his prick soon swelled up to its full.
They lay facing each other on the bed, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Erica's right hand was between their closely embracing bodies, holding his penis in a soft, loosely fondling clasp. She had removed the rest of her clothes and her utterly naked body now pressed itself against the man's, her undulating curves moving provocatively against the rippling muscles of his torso.
Don's hands were resting on her buttocks, feeling the generously fleshed hemispheres with his powerful fingers, rolling the flaccid cheeks around and enjoying the feel of Erica's tensed ass with leisurely, unhurried pleasure.
The dark intensity of his eyes seemed to speak volumes to the girl, but speech was totally unnecessary. His eyes told of past conquests, past sexual delights, and they also spoke of a fulfillment which had always eluded him. A life-long search for a true union with a woman, a union that wasn't based on the necessity of business, using his seductive power to further the interests of Western Intelligence.
Don began to kiss her. Not with the wild desperation of their first embrace, but with tenderness and love. His lips moved softly on hers, persuading her mouth to open and admit the arousing sexiness of his tongue.
Erica pretended to resist at first, puckering her lips and making him work her into a state of helpless compliance. He caressed the cheeks of her lovely ass, holding the globes in his spread fingers and pressing the warm, willing flesh fim1ly but gently. The tips of her fingernails stroked softly into his balls, fondling the sensitive testicles as gently as she possibly could, no more than a feather-touch, a barely perceptible tickling.
His prick surged once more with vibrant passion; the crown urgently demanding to be squeezed into the tight confines of Erica's cunt. But not yet, he told himself. Not yet. First, there's a great deal more to do with her body, to make her as responsive and as desperate for it as you are!
Don's old need for the heat of sexual battle was again upon him, he realized with a start of surprise. And with it had returned some of his self-confidence. He no longer felt so completely used up, so dry of real emotion. Maybe there was a chance for him yet! He felt his entire body jump at the thought. Was this merely a hopeless illusion, this resurgence of promise in a longer life-span? He still couldn't tell for sure.
Don felt her fingers drawing his cock nearer to the slick slit which contained her tight little cunt. She lifted it so that the head was almost between the lips, and left it there; removing her hands so that she could run her.fingers up and down his muscular back, stroking the bronzed flesh and drawing her I sharp nails across the base of his spine.
Don made no attempt to thrust his prick further into the girl's pussy. For the moment, he was quite content to leave it lodged just within the portals of the hot slot, feeling the outer lips snugly holding his cock in position.
He returned his hands to Erica's breasts, moving them away from her softly pliable buttocks with some reluctance. However, the orbs of her breasts were tipped with those juicy and intriguing red nipples and he wanted to feel them squirming under his fingers again. He held the girl's tits from underneath the heavy swells, lifting them and looking down to watch his hands as they firmly manipulated the sweet globes.
The nipples themselves were being brushed against the hairs of his chest as he moved her breasts first one way and then the other. She lowered her face onto his shoulder, beginning to kiss and bite at the tanned skin, and knead the heavy muscle of his upper arm. The man could feel her teeth sinking delicately into his flesh, nibbling slowly and sexily.
Erica's thigh was lifted, the girl's leg swung across his own. Don was tom once again between the pleasure which her exciting cunt offered to his fingers and the equally sharp delights of her nipples. Finally deciding that he could satisfy both urges at the same time, he contented himself with feeling the nipple of one breast only, stroking the fingers of his other hand down to her waist, over her sleek, upraised thigh and then working them underneath Erica's leg, feeling for the girl's back-hole.
His fingers came to rest on her anus. The tiny crater was like a hard rose petal. It pouted outwards from the base of her ass crease in a twin-lipped orifice, thrust into prominence by the spread of her legs.
Don stroked gently around the protruding hole, feeling the fantastically soft and supple skin which surrounded it on all sides. As he touched her ass, Erica's teeth bit more sharply into his shoulder, warning him that this was one of the places on her body where she was most vulnerable.
Slowing down the action of his finger as much as he possibly could,.Don caressed the very tip of his forefinger into the pursed asshole. The spot was exciting and incredibly tight; but he realized that without some form of lubrication it would be impossible to penetrate it without causing her pain.
Then his eyes brightened briefly. Of course! The perfect type of lubrication was readily at hand! He left the asshole for a moment, moving his fingers a little further under Erica's crotch, until they came into intimate contact with her already liquid cunt.
He touched his prick, sliding the hard rod a little further into her pussy and making more room for his fingers. At the touch of his caress, the girl secreted more of her juices, anointing the tips of his fingers abundantly.
Don took the opportunity to give her a short but satisfying fondling, pushing his forefinger alongside his cock and easing it gently into the tight confines of her cunt. The rich and abundant cunt juices creamed lavishly over his fingers as he wriggled the sleek outer lips well apart to make room for his searching digit.
When he was well supplied with the intimate cream, Don pulled his finger out of her cunt, letting the slit close again over his cock's head. Then, once more back to Erica's anus, this time, his finger plentifully moistened by the girl's own love secretions.
As he had anticipated, Don found that the finger slipped easily into her succulent anus, sliding in right to the knuckle without meeting too much resistance. But, God, how tight it was! He could feel Erica's asshole clenching rigidly around his exploring finger, the soft, fleshy walls clamped like a vise!
She pushed her body quickly downward, forcing his prick to penetrate her cunt with one steady, surging upward thrust. She didn't stop pushing until she could feel that its entire length was firmly embedded in her. And then she began to twist her hips in a circular grinding action, working steadily to make every bit of her pussy feel the hard tool of desire which had entered her.
Through the thin membrane dividing Erica's back and front passages, Don felt his penis throbbing. His finger touched the underside, he could plainly make out the ridge of flesh around the head. And as he automatically began to fuck the girl, the driving action of his prick was like a piston, relentlessly coursing ill and out of her in a steady, thrusting rhythm.
Erica lifted her face up, offering her mouth to him in a sweetly innocent gesture of trust. Their tongues merged, meeting like old friends. It was as thrilling for him as the first time had been, but with the additional pleasure of knowing her and being able to relax completely with her now.
As they kissed, Erica groped down between their bodies until her fingers could close over his cock. She slipped her forefinger and thumb around its base, forming them into a thickly gripping circle.
As he withdrew from her cunt and paused a moment before the next long, slow and satisfying lunge inward again, the girl gave the entire length of his prick a beautifully voluptuous caress, rubbing the circle she had made with her thumb and finger up and down his thick and well-moistened shaft.
At the same time, Don began a very slow, very deliberate fucking of her anus with his index finger. Moving so gradually that the eye could scarcely tell whether it was in motion or not, he slid the finger in and out of the girl's sensitive asshole, getting a renewed thrill each time he reinserted it.
Time had completely stopped, and his entire being was concentrating upon giving Erica as much pleasure and excitement as he possibly could. But, finally, neither of them could delay their climaxes a moment longer.
Erica started to bite his tongue, her sharp even teeth teasing and nibbling at it, while her body began to shake all over. Every muscle, every nerve screamed for release!
She was twisting herself in his arms, frantically pressing herself down onto the cock which filled her cunt to thick, wonderful capacity. Her head suddenly lolled backwards as she reached the summit of her lust and he felt his prick jump and tingle with a surging power! Don launched himself at last on his frantic flight to ecstasy; knowing a delirium, a bliss that surpassed every other experience he had had.
And when he thought that there wasn't a single drop of cream left in him, Erica suddenly fought to press her thighs tightly together. She held his prick in an iron grip between her legs, at the same time fingering his balls so teasingly (nails scratching with the barest suggestion of sadism) that he shot a further stream of his come into her, feeling it jet out of the top of his cock in a violent, pulsing arc.
And then, they clung to each other as closely and as tightly as possible; seeking to prolong the warmth and the intimacy which they had known. He held her hot and trembling body against himself, and she sobbed against his chest.
The luminous hands of his watch caught his eye. They pointed to 12:45 a.m. Gently, he roused the girl, kissing her back into wakefulness.
"It's late," he told her softly. "The plane leaves quite soon." She stirred in his arms, reluctantly leaving the state of sleepy bliss which had stolen over her. "You'd better get dressed and I'll see you after take-off," he was saying.
She touched up her eye shadow in the one mirror and slipped into her uniform. Her body shivered and she couldn't be sure whether it was due to the fear inside her or to the cold air coming in the window Don had opened.
Acting as cheerfully and as naturally as she could, Erica kissed him goodbye. "You'd better get a move on," she said. “You're supposed to check-in at the airport by 1:15 a.m."
"Yes," he replied. "Don't worry. I'll be there." Don ran his hand over her face, stroking the softness of her cheek. "Don't forget to mail the package for me, will you?"
She nodded quickly, feeling her lower lip starting to tremble. So he still believed he wouldn't make it! She picked up her handbag and walked to the door.
"Why don't you come with me?" she asked him. "It doesn't matter if I'm a bit late."
Don shook his head. "No," he said. "I'd rather we went separately. I've got a couple of things to do before I leave, anyway."
Erica opened the door, gave him a brief wave of her hand and was gone. He could feel his throat constricted, a strange feeling of opportunities missed nearly overwhelming him. Using every ounce of his training, the man pulled himself together and got dressed. He picked up his small attachй case and then rang down to the desk and asked for a taxi.
The clerk was extra friendly, it seemed to Don, as he paid his bill and waited for the receipt. The stocky little man was not at all so serious and aloof as he had been during most of his stay.
“Your taxi is right outside, sir," the man said, bowing and clicking his heels when he handed over the receipt. "I hope your stay in Budapest was pleasant. Please… come back again… "
Was there something ominous in the tone of the pudgy little man's voice when he spoke those last words? How stupid at me, Don thought, once again looking forward with new confidence to seeing a great deal more of Erica Sondgaard. He quickly opened the door of the waiting taxi, its motor already running.
"Very clumsy of you, Mr. Cabot!" a shrill voice greeted him in a thick accent, and a gun pressed painfully into his stomach.