Chapter 4
The Jamaican sun was shining down as walked the several miles of road to her school. She hated to go to school during the summer. In fact, she hated going to school any time.
She was not a good student, not because she wasn't intelligent. She was a bright girl, but she just didn't apply herself.
It really didn't seem too important to her to learn about numbers and adding them. She never did so. She just didn't use that kind of knowledge in her life.
She wanted to learn about adventure and excitement. She was tired of walking the barren dirt road from her shack of a house every day. There was nothing to see along the-way except the trees and bushes which lined one side of the road. But even they seemed dull to her compared to the lushness of the city life she had heard about when people spoke of America.
She hated reading. In fact, she wasn't very good at it. But when one of the teachers in the school started talking about New York, with its skyscrapers, she pictured the tall, needle-like structures which scratched through the blue of the sky and she marveled at the idea of it. She wanted to go there, even though it seemed like an impossible dream.
She would be stuck living in the shack of a place with her brothers and sisters, all piled together in one room. Now that she was maturing sexually, she didn't feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed as her brothers.
They were younger than she was, but when she played inside the folds of her virgin pussy, causing the droplets of girl juice to trickle out when she began to convulse deep inside of herself, and shudder as her pussy felt climax, the boys sensed it, even in their sleep.
She had no privacy. She had nothing.
It was so hot on these summer nights, they all had to sleep in as little clothing as possible. Yet, they couldn't sleep in the nude. Their mother wouldn't allow it, particularly of Claudja.
She wondered if Grace would sit next to her at school. After what she had done to Grace, by running off when Grace was up on the top of the roof after dropping the damp panties on the head of the black man in the bar, Claudja wasn't going to be surprised if Grace didn't speak to her again.
She didn't really care. She didn't need friends who wouldn't laugh with her at her pranks and jokes. It was just that not everybody was in agreement with her about what was funny.
Grace did not find it amusing being raped on the roof because of Claudja's taunting.
It was a typical day - hot, with a hazy sun. Claudja didn't expect to see anything out of the ordinary on her way, but something different was just around the bend. She heard it before she saw it. It was the buzz of a motor in the distance. When it came close, she saw that it was a buggy car.
In the car, were two white men. They were young guys, in their early twenties, and very good looking. Claudja was fascinated. It was rare that she saw white men in this part of the island.
In fact, it was rare that she saw white men at all, unless she went into the tourist sections. She lived in a black ghetto, and the school she attended was ninety-five per cent black. There were a few whites and Orientals, but Claudja knew none of them. She had spoken to Charing Tablante, a lovely girl with long, straight black hair. Charing was from one of the Polynesian islands. Claudja had touched Charing's hair. She found it incredibly straight and soft. But she had gotten no farther with her. Their friendship had been restricted to the secret time Claudja touched Charing's hair from behind when Charing was unaware of it.
The young guys in the car couldn't help but notice Claudja in every way.
Her white, cotton dress was nothing more than a few pieces of cotton material sewn together. Though it hardly fit her, that was why she was so good looking in it. The few pieces .of cotton clung to her warm flesh, revealing the curves of her perfect body. Her large breasts pressed insistently against the top of the dress. Her nipples, circled with what looked like chocolate drops the size of half dollars, could be seen through the white material.
She didn't wear a bra, and today, since her fun with the man at the bar, she didn't wear any panties either.
The men stopped the car a few feet in front of her. They turned their heads back to get a better view of her. She looked good from behind, too. Her waist was tiny enough to invite a pair of hands to fit around it, flaring out to a beautiful pair of hips which flattered her rounded ass. The globes of her ass were like two pieces .of ripe fruit in that cotton dress.
She turned back to look at them, too. Her lips were like the fruits of the trees. Juicy and sweet. The men were sure of it.
"But she may be a wildcat," Bruno said to his partner.
"She looks like one. But I think two of us can handle one of her, don't you?" his buddy Karl asked.
"You know the orders. We're here on business. The last thing we're supposed to get into is these native girls. We're supposed to be establishing friendly relations with the natives, remember?”
"My relations with her will be real friendly. Real friendly. A deep friendship, you might say.”
"Cut the shit, Karl. We've got work to do. They'll be no buzzing around her honeypot," he said, and he revved up the engine and headed off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.
Claudja stood there on the parched ground, watching the car take off. Karl was still looking back. Claudja wanted to lick her lips or touch her breast, or let her hand wander up and down inside her thigh.
She wanted even to raise her skirt and show the men that underneath her dress she was, wearing only what nature had given her — a beautiful cunny.
But she didn't do any of those things. It was alright for her to be a brazen girl and tease a mail with her damp panties, if the man were one of her own kind. But these men were white, and she didn't know quite how to act.
She was afraid of them, of course, even though they aroused her much more than black men did. She had never had contact with men who were white, and therefore she knew nothing about them from a practical point of view.
She was sure that her magnificent face and body would turn them on, and she was correct about that, because color was no boundary when it came to appreciating the unique sensuality which breathed from her every pore.
She was enough to turn a statue of a marble saint into a raving maniac, and even the fantasies she provoked so effortlessly would be nothing compared to the way she writhed and moaned beneath a man in reality.
But she wouldn't stay beneath a man for long. She was indeed the wildcat they saw. She would claw and bite and work her way on top. She would do the bumping and grinding, sitting with her cunt on a man's dick as she worked her body on it. She was sure of it. Although none of it had ever happened. She was still a virgin.
Determined to keep her virginity for as long as she could, she continued on the road without trying to do anything to attract the men back to her. She was already late for school and it was probably all for the best that she forget about men who looked at her with lust in their eyes. Especially if they were not her color.
She heard a lot about the white men who came to her island. Recently, in fact, she heard more about it than ever. She didn't know if the situation had always existed, or if she was just becoming aware of it, and that was why she heard of it so often. But what she heard about the white men, aside from their sexual habits, was not good.
People of her parents age called them red-eyed devils. She wondered if the eyes of white men were really red. She hadn't gotten close enough to Bruno and Karl to see.
Recently there had been a lot of talk against them. She didn't pay it much mind until now because she so rarely saw white men in her area. It gave her something to think about. What were they doing on her turf now?
The school could now be seen in the distance. She started to walk faster to get there without being terribly late. Then she stopped herself. She didn't want to rush. There would, be time for everything.
Grace was not in class. Perhaps she was home, recovering from what Claudja had set up in her own way. Claudja was unaware of the extent of the damages.
The teacher was talking about geography and weather, but it was too hot for Claudja to pay attention. She was glancing put the window, as usual, when she saw Charing Tablante running toward the school. Her beautiful, long hair had been cut off. Her dress was hanging in tatters.
"Oh, Yazuks!" Claudja screamed.
Everybody turned around. The discussion was halted. They rushed to the window. By this time, Charing was at the door.
"What happened to you?" the teacher asked.
"Some black girls attacked me," she cried. "They ripped my necklace off my neck and ripped my dress. We fought. They attacked me for no reason. Maybe they did because of my color. All of them were black. And look at my dress. There's blood on it.”
In a way, Claudja was glad that something had happened to keep the teacher from asking for homework. As usual, Claudja had not done her work. She hadn't been caught for a while. It didn't really matter to her if she did get caught. Her grades were already poor enough. But it was better to get by without the teacher bringing the subject up.
But Charing, with her hair cut off! It was shocking.
Claudja was confused. Blacks were attacking Charing for the color of her skin. Whites were said to be invading the island and taking it over.
The tropic summer was steaming. Everything seemed to be in a state of turmoil. Even her practical jokes and nasty pranks wouldn't help.
The teacher brought Charing inside and seated her. He was going to tend to her wounds, but outside, a band of black men was marching. They were carrying lighted torches and chanting.
The chant could not be understood all at once. At first, the garbled words could have been anything. It was some kind of a nursery rhyme. "Yeah, whitey must go. Whitey must go!" That was it. That was what they were shouting.
A bunch of kids rushed to the door. Some followed the men, out of their curious interests. The teacher called them back, but clearly, something was going on here, and the kids took advantage of the situation.
"I'm getting out of here and heading my black ass home," one of the kids announced. "There's gonna be rock throwin' and all kinds of trouble. I can feel it in my bones.”
"What's going on? Why all this marching and chanting?" Claudja asked the girl nearest her at the window.
"The white folks are coming in on our territory. There’ve been some incidents.”
Claudja wanted to know more, but if she wanted to be part of the group of kids who got away from the classroom in the rush and excitement of this incident, she knew that she had to get out now before things settled down.
She didn't want to be left behind with the goody-goodies.
She ran out of the classroom and trailed along at the back of the mob. She could sense the anger which had brought them to this point. They had been stepped upon, or so they felt, and they were righting back because they didn't want to take shit any longer.
They marched together, calling out slogans, and warning their white enemies that they were out for blood. They brought their rampage down the dirt road (in the direction away from Claudja's house and the jeep with Karl and Bruno.)
As they marched toward the city, toward the hotels and tourist places where people were unaware of the plight of these poor people who now felt that they were being invaded for the manipulation of the white man, Claudja stayed at a good distance behind them.
She had a lot of spunk when it came to her prankish jokes, but in this situation, she clammed up, unsure of how to deal with the white people she was afraid to meet at the end of this journey. There was going to be trouble, and although she was drawn to adventure, she did not yet feel the hatred and anger that the rest of this band of people felt.
As the group rounded a curve, Claudja saw a rustle ahead in the bushes at the side of the road. A man stuck his head out and looked at the angry mob. Then he ducked back into the bushes.
His hair was sandy blonde. He was a white man.
Because he was following the sound of the mob, he looked out after them when they had gone beyond him. He didn't think to look back until a few moments later, and when he did, his eyes caught sight of Claudja.
She was staring at him, too, and he didn't duck back into the bushes as his instinct first provoked. He was stunned by her beauty.
She looked at him, but stopped in her tracks.
"It's alright. I don't want to hurt you," he called out. "I'm only here to be a friend.”
She didn't respond in words. She walked closer to him, though.
He looked at her so hard that she thought he could see right through her. She felt that his piercing blue eyes were staring through her dress.
Yes, his eyes were blue. Sky blue. He was not a red-eyed devil.
"My name is Scott," he said, trying to break the ice with her.
"I am Claudja."
He smiled. He was wearing blue jeans and Claudja had not seen such pants on a man before. They clung tightly to his body; much more tightly than Jamaican clothes on Jamaican men. She could see that his cock was not small. Although it was not clearly outlined, she could see the bulge at the front of his jeans.
She looked up at his face. She could feel a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was confused and felt faint.
A strong girl, she was not used to behaving like this. But she couldn't help herself. She felt weak, and then she collapsed.
Scott rushed out from the bushes so fast that he caught her before she hit the ground. He supported her with his strong arms. He wanted to give her first aid there in the middle of the road, but with the violence that was in the air, he decided to pick her up and carry her into the bushes at the side of the road.
If the angry bands of black youths came back and saw Claudja lying prostrate in his arms, there was no telling what conclusions they would jump to.
He cleared the way with his shoulder and the side of his body, carrying Claudja through the path his body made. On the other side of the bushes there was a small clearing, and he rested her body on the ground.
He hovered over her, kneeling down at her side. He unbuttoned the buttons of her dress, starting at her neck and working downward. She was breathing, but she was not conscious. He needed to give her air and increase her breathing.
Scott was going to stop at her breasts, but he decided that she would do better if he opened the buttons all the way down to her naval. As the flimsy material of her dress fell open, one of her breasts fell free.
He looked at it. The shape of it was luscious to him. It was curved upwards where the nipple became pointed. The aureole of darker flesh around the nipple was perfectly round, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of energy in his cock at the thought of running his tongue around it.
But he had her survival to think of, and he untied the sash which held the dress tight at her waist. He wanted to allow her room to breathe, but when the sash at her waist was unfastened, the bottom part of her dress fell open, since that was how it was holding together.
Scott hadn't realized this until the dress had fallen open, exposing her naked body.
He straddled her, without putting the weight of his body on her body at all. This was just to get his face positioned on her face. He brought his lips down to her lips. His fingers led the way, and finding her soft mouth, he pulled it open.
Her tongue was pink and wet inside and he grabbed it gently and saw to it that she would not choke on it. He placed his lips on hers and started to blow air into her body through her mouth.
When he had positioned his mouth on her so that his lips were inside of her mouth, he moved his hands to her chest. He blew his breath into her and pressed down on her chest just above her breasts, trying to force her to take some deep breaths.
It didn't work at first, but in a few minutes she responded. He could feel her breathing in deeply, taking his tongue in her mouth as she did so.
He could feel her breasts heaving. They rose and fell as she breathed normally again.
Her eyes opened. She blinked a few times.
He was still positioned over her, looking into her face with his big, blue eyes. When she realized what was happening and who she was with, she screamed, and jerked her body, causing him to fall on top of her, pressing his weight into her.
"Hey, it's only me, Scott, remember? You passed out. You must have had heat stroke or something.”
Claudja was breathing hard. She was still now, wondering if she should conserve her energy for a few moments before pulling out and scratching and kicking her way away from him.
But she could taste his saliva inside of her mouth, and now she could feel the bulge at the front of his jeans on top of her, on her leg, near her thigh.
It didn't feel bad at all. In fact, she liked it.
A droplet of sweat dripped down him from his face. It dripped over his chin and onto her neck before rolling onto her bosom.
She was breathing even harder than ever now. She was excited, and she could feel the heat of sexual passion swelling in her body.
"I don't know you," she whispered.
"And I don't know you.”
"But," she said, and then she swallowed hard, "I think I want you.”
He was silent, unsure of what to say. He looked at her in that way that made her cream. She reached up tentatively and ran her fingers through his curly blond hair. His hair was not smooth and soft like Charing's, but it was different from her hair. And when the light from the other side of the bushes touched it, it gleamed with a golden color.
"I'm excited," she said. "But I don't know what to do.”
"Tell me what you want," Scott said. "Tell me your greatest desire. I'll see what I can do to fulfill it.”
She paused. She felt heat flushing through her. It was wrong to be there in the bushes with him. He was a white man. She was black. She had been warned that his kind was no good, but she had to see for herself.
"I want," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "I want to see your cock.”
She had wondered what to call it. The black boys around the school and in the area where she lived called it "dick" or "cock." It seemed natural enough to say it. He smiled.
He arched his body off her and stood up. He was towering over her now. She felt weak with excitement. She wanted him. She wanted to see what a white man's dick looked like.
He unzipped his jeans. Claudja could see white cotton beneath. He was wearing underpants. Then he pulled the jeans open. He didn't stick his cock out. He pulled his pants down, getting naked from the waist down.
"There, I've bared myself. This is my cock,” he said.
Lying down between his legs, she looked up into his crotch. She could see his balls hanging over her. She could see the head of his dick pointing at her, but she couldn't determine the length of it, or anything else about it.
She pulled herself to her knees. She looked directly at the prick, taking her hand and cupping his big balls with it. Both his balls and his cock were in her hand. Her hand was darker than the dick, even though her palm was lighter in color than most of her, and his dick was darker in color than most of him.
He was still soft, but as she stroked his shaft, the cock began to grow harder. It wanted to stand up straight, but she held it down in the palm of her hand first. She wanted to feel it all over.
She was most fascinated by a vein which ran across the bottom of his shaft. She stuck her finger in her mouth and traced a path along the vein,-wetting it with her saliva.
Her touch was arousing. It was delicate, and yet it was not so delicate that he didn't feel it. He had to shiver and moan several times when she touched him in a certain way. He could feel the cum inside of him. It felt that the cum had worked it's way up from his balls and was filling the length of his shaft. His entire dick was tingling with a sensation which tensed the rest of his body. His entire attention was physically on his dick.
Claudja looked up at Scott. He was staring down at her, watching her face as she stared at his privates in wonderment and desire.
Then he closed his eyes and rested his head back on his neck. He allowed her to get lost in his dick. He told her to take her time and get off on him.
She felt the weight of his balls in her hand. She ran her finger very gently over the tip of his cock, making little circles on the head of it.
His eyes were closed when he felt something that he had never felt before. She was down on his cock! Other girls had sucked him before, but they had never given him a sensation like this. His girlfriend at home had nipped him with her teeth and been unable to take him all the way down. This pleased him and boosted that macho part of his ego because it did make him feel that his cock was a monster, which is just what his girlfriend had said in explanation of why she couldn't get all of it down her throat.
But Claudja, who had never done this before, must have been constructed in such a way that her oral cavity just took him all in.
She had no difficulty in sucking all the way down on his dick. He could feel her wet inner lining, and it was very, very hot. Her mouth and throat seemed slippery on his dick as she sucked. He could feel her teeth gently grazing the base of his cock as she quickly sucked back to the head of his dick.
She was working real hard on him, sucking up and down, and running her hand around the balls. Every inch of his dick was taken care of. When her mouth and throat weren't enveloping it, she used her soft hand to stroke it. Somehow, she managed to stroke it in ways that even he had never thought of. He always believed that as much as he loved being sucked, he could never find a cocksucker who would do as good a job as his own jerk-off hand.
But he had been very wrong. He had never anticipated Claudja.
Physically, they were a perfect match. His cock seemed made for her throat, and vice versa.
Her expertise at cocksucking was not based on experience. It was based on desire. She wanted him. As the spit stuck to her face, dripping from her eager mouth and wetting her chin as well as his crotch, she wanted him.
"I want to fuck you," he said, holding his dick at the base and squeezing it so that it became even harder and the vein she loved showed even more.
"You have a beautiful cock," she breathed softly. He could feel the heat of her breath on the bulbous head of it as she spoke. He was holding his prick so tightly, the head was fat and purple.
"I want to fuck you," he repeated.
"I can't," she said. "It will have to wait. We'll have to see each other again another time. Right now, I can't.”
"Why? Are you afraid?”
She couldn't answer. She felt uneasy.
She started to suck him again. He soon forgot about fucking her. She sucked his cock so well, he felt the cum bubbling up in his balls. He didn't want to cum so soon, but it felt so good. He was so damn hard. He could never remember being this hard before. With his girlfriend he had lost his erection from time to time. Now he realized that he had not been as turned on as he was now.
She was pulling the cum out of him with the suction of her sucking mouth. Her tongue was swirling around the sensitive part just under the head of his cock. He was squirming and moaning and she pulled off long enough to look him in his blue eyes again.
"Ahhhhh," he groaned.
It was too late to hold back. Just as she took her mouth off his cock, he started to shoot a load of pent-up jism.
“I’m cumming," he groaned.
She pulled back and watched the first fountain-like gush of hot semen rush from his dick slit. It splashed on her chin and she pulled back at first when the hot liquid splattered on her face.
But instinctively, she threw her opened mouth on the shooting prick, getting down in time to catch the flowing^ flowing sperm as it unloaded without stopping.
She took the sticky cum inside her mouth and gulped it down. She tasted the strong flavor of it even after she swallowed it down.
He came and came, shooting all of his semen into her mouth and down her throat. He was moaning and groaning as he came, holding his bouncing balls as they emptied their heavy load.
"Whew!" he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I needed that. It was getting to the point where my nuts were hanging heavy, if you know what I mean.”
He looked at her. She didn't know what he meant. She was a vixen. She was the kind of girl who would tease a stranger with her damp panties and she was the kind of girl who would suck the prick of a white man in the bushes, and still, she was unaware of what he meant when he told her that his balls were hanging heavy until she came along to relieve him.
But there was really more to tell her than that. Much, much more.
He had to tell her the truth. It was the best blow job he'd ever had.
"You're great. I can't remember anybody ever doing it better.”
She smiled, with cum on her full lips.
She thought he was fooling her. Or perhaps he said that to all the girls.
"It was my first time," she told him.
He smiled. He thought she was fooling him. Or perhaps she said that to all the guys.
"I thought you were afraid of me when you first saw me. You were trembling, and when you collapsed, I wasn't sure what had caused it, the heat or me.”
"Many things caused it," Claudja said. "I've no been through a lot in the past few days. Not that much that shows on the outside, maybe. But I feel it on the inside. I'm going through changes. Thank you for saving my life.”
"Oh, I don't know if I really saved your life.”
"I think you did," she said. "And you gave me my first white man's prick. It tasted .wonderful. I loved the way it felt in my mouth.”
"You start talking like that in that sweet Jamaican accent and girlish voice of yours, and you'll get me hard again," he said, feeling his cock stiffen a lurch forward already.
"I can't help it," she said, and when she said the word "Can't" it was purely Jamaican sounding to his ears, "It filled my mouth and throat. It was warm and it felt good. It tasted like nothing I've ever tasted before in my life. It was sweeter than the mango, but bitter, too.”
"I've often wondered what my cum tasted like," Scott said.
"Have you never tasted it?”
"Well, I've tasted a drop of it on my finger, I'll admit. But I never was down on it while it shot.”
"I'm a mixed up girl," Claudja said, out of the blue. He had imagined that she was going to tell him about tasting the flow from her pussy.
But she had other things on her mind. This was what she had been wanting to tell somebody for a long time. But she never had the right person to tell it to, and so she acted out like a bad girl.
"I'm not really bad," she told him, "but I have evil inside of me. Sometimes I feel that I want to do the strangest things. I don't know, I see girls in the street and I want to run them down. I want to pull their hair out. I want to do to them what the black boys did to Charing.”
This was not making sense to Scott, but he listened for what it was worth. The girl was so beautiful. He thought that she should be a model. Her face belonged on the cover of a magazine. She was gorgeous.
"I see a cat walking in the street. I want to pull its tail out. I don't know what's wrong with me. I have so much anger in me.”
"I don't know how I can help you," Scott said, "but I'm willing to try.”
"I get so frustrated,” Claudja continued, "I have no friends because of the pranks and tricks I play on people. I don't trust blacks. I don't trust whites. I live in a little shack with so many brothers and sisters that ... ”
"That's it," Scott said.
"What?”
"Living in close quarters with many people. It'll get a person crazy.”
"It's a run down shack and we can barely afford to feed ourselves. I can't work because I have no skills except work on the land.”
“You should be a model and pose for pictures in magazines. You're beautiful enough for that, I'm sure. You're frustrated here. Frustration leads to aggression. You want to strike out. You have these impulses.”
“I want to, oh, it's sick. I can't say it.”
“Say it," Scott urged her. "It's alright. I'll understand.”
"Well, even right now, I want to take your cock and twist it around. I want to bite your balls and pull the hairs out of them one by one.”
Scott was startled.
"I'm not into that scene," he said. "There are plenty of guys who are, but I'm not one of them. Have you thought about seeing a doctor? Psychiatrists know the workings of the human mind. This won't shock them.”
"There are none here that I know of. It's unheard of for someone from my village to see a head doctor. A voodoo person, yes. But I've been to one of those.”
"What did the voodoo man say?”
“It was a woman. An old, grey-haired woman who lives alone in a little shack. She said that I was possessed with devilish ways, but not to worry. She said that I would find, well, hi your words, she said that I would find the right outlet for my ways. When the time was right, they would serve me well.”
"So, you see, you have nothing to worry about.”
"What are you doing here in Jamaica?”
"I'm here on vacation. I'm not with the white people who've been accused of looting the land and misusing the labor. Not that the roving bands of militants would make that distinction if they caught me.”
"Can I see you again?”
"Of course, I want to see you again. But I'll only be here for a few more days. I'm going back to New York after then. My vacation time will be over.”
"I wish I could go with you," Claudja said. "It's hot and I'm bored here. I need to be free. I'll never change if I stay here. I have no money, but in New York, I would have to earn money.”
"It's not that easy, Claudja," Scott told her. "Besides, this is just an infatuation you have for me.”
"Don't flatter yourself," Claudja shot back. "I'm hot for you and I want to see you again, but that's not what I'm talking about when I talk about New York. I have to get out of here. There must be a better life for me. You say I'm beautiful. Maybe in New York they have enough to appreciate and pay for my beauty.”
"You'd be a tramp, a whore?”
“I thought you said that I looked like a model”
"Claudja, you do, but it takes time, and money. Where would you stay?”
“You have a wife?”
"No, just a girlfriend, but you couldn't stay with me. I'd like it, but it would be impossible. I just couldn't.”
"Will you take me back with you to the hotel?”
"Here? In Jamaica?”
"Yes. It's alright. I stay away from home for days and nobody minds. It just means one less body in the bed, one less mouth to feed.”
Scott couldn't help but beam. He didn't want to get saddled with Claudja in New York. It wasn't that she was anything but a beautiful bounty to get saddled with, but he wasn't going to take on that responsibility.
However, the chance that he could have that warm and voluptuous brown body in his king-size bed at the plush hotel for a day and a night or more, well, that was ideal. That was the traveler's dream come true.
"You could walk back to the hotel with me now. We could walk arm in arm, and that way neither of us would be hurt on the way. None of the militant blacks or whites will harm us because we'll be together as one. A couple — you know?”
He loved the sound of her voice. It was so light and lilting with its Jamaican flavor. He couldn't resist reaching out and touching her lovely, long hair. He felt the black strands in his hands, and he moved his palms down to her bare shoulders.
Lovingly, he pulled the white cotton dress back up over her shoulders. He told her that he would love to take her back with him to the hotel. There would be no difficulty slipping her into the room. The hotel was a large one and nobody paid particular attention to the comings and goings of the people who stayed there, at least not as far as Scott was aware of.
Besides, he was allowed to have a guest in his room. Especially one as gorgeous as Claudja.
He had felt her warm wetness on his cock. He longed to taste her cunny. They walked arm in arm back along the road. He had rented a car which was parked a mile up the road. They got in it and drove to the hotel.
Her head was filled with dreams. She had never been inside of a hotel. She knew that it would be wonderful. She was thinking that he had a lot of money, and that he would relent and bring her to New York where she might become a top model. She was thinking of the huge buildings and the air conditioned stores and all that she had heard about.
He was thinking of her cunt. He wanted a taste of it.