Chapter 1
Angel wasn't her given name, of course. It was Angelique, but because of her appearance she was affectionately Angel ... pronounced Ahhn-gel, with a very soft "g" in the manner of the Jamaican islanders.
That summer, when she was fifteen, Angel discovered that she was made of flesh and blood. Her body became a new-found land and she embarked on a voyage, exploring the whole of herself, climbing her own mountain ranges, penetrating the moistness of her secret valleys. For hours she would stare at herself, naked, in her mirror; she would follow with her finger the marvelous structure of her rib cage, where her heart fluttered under her flesh like a caught bird, and she would trail a long line from her breast to her navel and spin about, clasping herself and laughing out of the sheer exhilaration of the discovery that she was no longer a little girl.
She loved to pose in attitudes, pretending that she was a famous artist's model. For Raphael, she combed out her long blond hair to fall straight down from a center parting and she thoughtfully regarded herself as she held a gardenia from the garden next to her cheek. For Toulouse-Lautrec, she piled her hair whorishly on top of her head, letting it fall seductively over her violet eyes and would assume a pose that was unmistakably a slut's. And her Botticelli, a brilliant Venus! She posed on tiptoes, stretching upwards with a bit of net falling around her shoulders and violets stuck into her downy pubic hair.
Tired of posing, she fell back on her bed, hugged herself and breathed the word ... "darling" to her phantom lover.
In readiness for him she spread her long legs apart and flexed her pelvis again and again and pinched her pink nipples until they hurt.
Suddenly Angel stood up, bored with herself and her make-believe lover. She sat down at the dressing table and idly drew rings around her nipples with a pink lipstick. She spoke to herself in the mirror.
"I am not going to die a virgin! In spite of Daddy, I'll have a man!"
Her father, a widower, was an over-zealous man who protected his daughter from any and all contact with young men. Angel hated him for it and retreated to have her fantasies in the privacy of her own locked bedroom. But today was different ... she had not locked the bedroom door because her father was away in France on business. Angel luxuriated in her new freedom. She knew that imaginary lovers were childhood dreams and that she had to have a real one—real flesh against her flesh—the weight of a man's body against hers—the thrust of his cock!
Her fingers stroked her soft vaginal lips. They were damp and welcomed her touch. Gingerly she touched her moist finger to her lips and tasted.
"Mmmm. I wonder if the man's taste is similar? Wonder, wonder, wonder ... I'm tired of wondering. I want to know!"
Angel irritably twisted her body around on the bed.
"Goddamn Daddy anyway! Such a hypocrite ... he has sex all the time."
She thought back to the time she first realized that after her mother had left, her father had affairs with other women. Angel discovered that late at night, a constant stream of women slipped up the staircase into her father's bedroom. All of the women were black and were employed in some capacity by her father. He treated his blacks as rudely as if he were a plantation owner in the eighteenth century and as if they were all his slaves. Angel wondered if they came to his room willingly. She wanted to know.
One night after she had heard the soft padding feet on the carpet outside, she crept out of her window and eased her way down the long balcony to the end of the house where her father's room was located. She knelt beside the sliding doors of his room. She knew that she was well hidden by the shadows of the bougainvillea which grew over and around the balcony. She peered inside the large room which was softly lit by a flickering candle. Which one was it tonight? she wondered. She strained her eyes and stared into the dim room.
It was Ottilee, the cook's helper. A young, dark-caramel-colored beauty with a full, rounded body. She was sitting on the edge of Angel's father's bed and in a short time her father came in from the bathroom. They were both naked. It was strange for Angel to see her father without clothes. He was always so careful not to expose himself in front of his daughter. Angel marveled at the size of her father's cock. It was as thick as a baby's arm. As he neared the bed Ottilee reached out and took it in her hand.
It was very stiff. She lay back on the bed and Angel's father told her to open her legs. Ottilee's eyes were wild with passion. Maxim Leveque lay down next to her and began to suck on her full breasts. Ottilee's hand gripped his huge cock. She was whimpering as his tongue caressed her lush tits. Ottilee squirmed her ass on the bed as he slowly drew his head down to her stomach. She threw her legs wide as his tongue licked over her raised mound.
Angel could see, the large opening of Ottilee's cunt in the light of the candle. Ottilee kept groaning and grunting loudly when her father's teeth would snap over her clitoris.
"OH! MON!" she cried out. "Do it! Stick yo' tongue in!"
But Angel's father took his time. His tongue seemed to be licking every one of her cunt hairs separately. Ottilee writhed about on the bed, thrusting her hips upward, her hands clutched his head urging him to suck her cunt. But, he just took his own sweet time.
"Oh, Mon!" she screamed. "Ooooo ... OOOOH!"
He dipped his tongue into her blazing cunt, making her clitoris itch. She was sweating profusely as her body thrilled to his searching tongue. Suddenly he threw her legs up in the air until her knees were touching her hot nipples and then he reared up like a pent-up bull and poked his giant cock against the lips of her cunt.
"Jugg my hole, Mon! Jugg my hole!!"
Angel was watching the scene with wide-eyed wonder. She had allowed her own fingers to trail down between her legs and unconsciously she was fingering her young pussy.
Ottilee was writhing feverishly on the bed as Maxim's huge cock began to force its way inside her. She squealed like a stuck pig as his huge cudgel dug deeply into her sweltering cunt. Then he pulled out and rolled her over onto her belly. He raised her up until her behind was close to his ferocious cock. Ottilee was alternately purring and screaming as his thick spear slammed deep inside her.
The room was filled with the sound of his balls slapping against her damp ass.
"Fuck me, Mon! Puck me ... fuck me," she cried aloud.
Maxim pumped faster and faster as his cock plundered her stretched cunt. Her breasts were swinging from side to side as he pounded it into her frenzied slit. Angel could see that Ottilee was biting her lips as her father's cock pierced her depths. Angel bit her own Up as she watched. The scene took on a dream-like quality for her. It didn't seem real ... her father and this woman. Was he like that with her mother? Angel couldn't imagine it. Her father began snorting and yelling at Ottilee: "Come on, you black bitch! Move that hole of yours. Move it, I said."
He brought his open fist down across Ottilee's buttocks with a resounding slap. Angel winced in her hiding place. He raised his hand once again. Slap!
"Come on, you black whore. Take it! Take it all!"
He was now thrusting into Ottilee like an enraged animal. He continued loudly slapping her across the buttocks as he fucked her in rhythm with the slapping.
"You filthy cunt," he screamed. He yanked his cock out of her as roughly as he had inserted it. He pushed her head down on the bed and took a pillow and placed it on top of her head to deaden the frightening noises her mouth was making. Ottilee was actually screaming now, whether from desire, disappointment, or what ... Angel didn't know.
Angel watched him as he roughly jabbed two of his long fingers into Ottilee's ass. As he punched his fingers in and out of her ass, he dug the fingernails of his other hand into the skin of her back, raking back and forth. Angel thought she could see blood. He pulled his fingers out and scooted behind Ottilee. He jammed the huge head of his cock against her ass. This was something that Angel hadn't heard of before.
Her father pushed forward and Ottilee let out an ear-piercing scream as his cock entered her ass violently. He didn't pause, just plummeted forward while his fingers ripped at her swollen cunt. Again and again he banged his pelvis against her backside.
"Move your ass, bitch!" he roared.
Reluctantly Ottilee moved her buttocks in a rotating manner. He was going at her faster now, digging his fingernails deep into her flesh, and roaring like a bull as he climaxed, expelling every last drop of his orgasm deep into the ravished girl. He pulled his cock out savagely and walked into the bathroom. Angel could see him washing his cock.
He reentered the room, his eyes blazing. He grabbed Ottilee by the hair and threw her to the floor. "Get out! Haven't you had enough? You don't think I'm going to allow you to sleep here! Go on ... get out!"
Ottilee gathered up her dress and stumbled out of the room, her head bowed. He spat after her. He pulled the sheets off the bed and tossed them angrily a couple of times before dropping off to sleep.
Angel sat quietly in her hiding place, listening to his heavy breathing. Her fingers were still between her legs. She looked down at her small cunt and wondered if she would ever be able to take anything as large as her father's ponderous organ. She thought about it for a long while and then she decided that she wanted to see it closer.
She climbed up on to the window sill and sat there, silently making certain that he was not aware of her presence. When she was sure that he was sleeping soundly, she climbed into the dark bedroom and crawled stealthily over to his bed. He was lying on his back and was snoring. She looked up over the side of the bed at his cock which was hanging limply across his thigh. Even soft it seem to Angel to be gigantic, and in spite of her dislike for her father, she was strangely excited by his tremendous sex organ. He turned quickly in his sleep and threw his thighs wide apart. His cock fell down between his thighs and rested on two huge balls. Glinting in the moonlight like a tiny diamond was a drop of clear moisture on the tip of her father's cock. Angel bent her head forward till her face was only inches from his crotch. The heat from his flesh made her face feel like she was blushing. Angel stuck out her tongue and lightly touched the cock head. Funny, she thought, it tastes salty. Her father grunted and stirred in his sleep. Angel's heart began to pound in fear of being caught in the room and she crept softly back to the window and climbed out.
Upon reflection, Angel wondered if all men were as large as her father.
Her mind raced. She thought of all the men on the island that she had seen and been attracted to. Angel, unlike most girls of her own age, did not think of movie stars in her fantasies, but real men who were nearby ... men who could be had! There was only one problem.
She was still a virgin.
Angel wanted experience. She was sure that she would be good, but she didn't want the man balking at her obviously inexperienced state with the messy love-making that she had read about, or, worse yet, she did not want his guilt feelings. All she wanted was to have sex.
"I must get rid of it," she stated to herself with determination. Her eyes darted about the room. Nothing seemed to be the right shape.
"Daddy's hair brush!"
She ran naked out of her room down the hall to her father's room. She entered and went straight to his dressing table and picked up the elegant brush with the long silver handle. The silver handle felt cool and smooth in her hand, almost like skin that had somehow become unsupple by some form of magic.
Angel's imagination began to grow in her like a flower.
"Perhaps this really belonged on a man ... and perhaps he quarreled with the Houngan (a Voodoo priest) and the Houngan put an evil curse on him ... and here he is! All mine!"
She pressed the brush to her stomach and ran back to the privacy of her own room, being careful to lock the door so that none of the servants could happen in. She stretched out on her bed. The morning sun fell through the shutters in slivers and the room was filled with the lazy drone of the ceiling fan. A perfect setting for Angel and her silver lover.
She ran the bristles of the brush over her breasts. Her nipples hardened and their color became more intense. With her other hand, she felt her pubic mound. She slid a finger inside her moist vagina until it was stopped by the obstruction— her hymen.
Savagely she thrust the handle of the brush between her wet vaginal lips and pushed. Her eyes blinked with pain but still she pushed harder until ...
"Aaahhhhh!"
Just as suddenly as it had come, the pain disappeared.
"Old wives tales," she muttered, and slowly began an in and out rhythm with the silver phallus. Angel arched her back to meet the thrusts and with her free hand she stroked her throat. Beads of perspiration trickled down her flesh and caressed her. She opened her full lips and flicked out her tongue to kiss a man who wasn't there. A rush of new sensations began to flood her body as she increased the tempo of the hairbrush. The feeling was so marvelous! Why hadn't she done it before? she wondered. How much more marvelous it would feel with a real man. She closed her violet eyes tightly and tried to envision a lover. For a moment she saw nothing but the blinking lights of stars and then, he appeared.
Damien!
The young man who worked for her father; she could see him as clearly as if he were there.
His curly black hair fell over his deep-set blue eyes ... eyes that told her that he wanted her. His imperfect nose—broken, she wondered—or inherited? His lips—always parted—waiting for hers. Angel wet her lips and kissed his image passionately. She could almost feel the hardness of his body against hers, his swollen ... She hesitated, and then said it aloud:
"COCK!"
Her breath came in little gasps and she instinctively knew that she was approaching her first climax. Needles of desire, like slivers of ice— or was it fire?—tingled her body. She pushed upward fervently and cried out:
"DAMIEN!!"
Her orgasm began. Angel thrashed her head from side to side and trembled violently as the brush handle became coated with the cream of her passion. It seemed hours before her body was quiet once again and before she could open her eyes. She was afraid that the world had changed but she had to see. She opened her eyes slowly—Damien disappeared—and her room came into focus. Nothing had changed.
Except herself?
Angel got up from the bed and danced around the room, delighted with her new state. She ran to the shuttered windows and opened them all. She stretched her body in the warm sunlight and then turned to look back at the bed. There lay the .hairbrush catching the sunlight, and she felt slightly sad. Once more it was just a hair brush and not a disembodied lover, the spirit that had been sent to her through Voodoo. She picked it up off the bed and went into the bathroom where she carefully washed it, dried it, and set it aside, ready to be returned to her father's room.
She turned on the shower and stepped in. There was some soreness between her legs, but even that seemed to disappear as the water soothed and cleansed her body.
"I'll go down to see Damien," she said aloud, "and I'll go down alone!" Damien worked for her father's shop as a packer, shipping clerk, and general strong arm. Angel had been attracted to him immediately, and he to her, and now she intended to explore that attraction. She wrapped a towel around herself and went to sit on the balcony to let the sun dry her fine blond hair. Through the greenness of the acacia trees, she could see faint blue winkings of the sea which surrounded Montego Bay—her father's shop—and Damien!
After her hair had dried she ran to get dressed. She searched her closet to find something seductive. There was, of course, nothing! Her father disapproved of sophisticated clothes on his young daughter. She finally selected a white organdy dress. After she had put it on, she stood in front of her mirror dissatisfied.
"I don't look like much of a woman. Damien probably won't even notice me."
She took off the dress and removed her bra. She picked up some rouge from her dresser and rubbed it into her nipples and stepped back into the dress. Through the sheer material, her nipples shone like two small red lights in a fog.
She smiled to herself and left the room, not forgetting to return the hairbrush before she descended the staircase. She went through the house to find her companion, Verbena, to tell her that she was leaving.
She found Verbena in the kitchen eating a mango and fanning herself with a paper fan which beat around her curly head like a delirious moth. Verbena had been Angel's companion, babysitter and maid for several years. She was a tall, gaunt woman, the color of a burnt tree stump. She had fled from Port au Prince, Haiti, to Jamaica and had eventually been hired by Angel's father. Verbena looked up inquiringly.
"Verbena, I'm going into town."
Verbena set aside her fan and started to rise.
"No! You stay here. I'm going alone," Angel said.
Verbena smiled knowingly.
"De little chick looks like she's goin' to do some scratchin'."
Angel ignored her remark and left. One of her father's concessions to his daughter was a small yellow sports car. Angel had been driving since she was thirteen but she had always been accompanied by Verbena or one of the other servants. Today she was alone.
She started up the car and sped down the mountainside toward Montego Bay. It was August—off-season for tourists and the colorful Caribbean town was uncrowded. Angel drove through the narrow cobblestone streets past pink and lime stucco houses and black street vendors until she came to her father's shop. She parked the car and checked herself in the reflection of the store window. She peered inside, but no Damien.
He must be around back, she thought. She went down the back alley to the back of the shop where she found Damien unloading a shipment from Paris. He was shirtless and his muscular upper body was streaked with sweat. She stood still for a moment and watched him. He was wearing only faded jeans and sandals and she followed his movements as he lifted and bent, unpacking the crates. She marveled at the sensual movements of his legs and thighs and buttocks straining in the tight confines of his pants.
Damien felt her presence and turned to look at Angel as if she were something cold to drink. For awhile they didn't speak, but looked at each other openly. The electricity of their emotions passed back and forth from body to body. Damien began to get an erection and he became flustered and began working again. Angel moved toward him until the hem of her dress touched his leg. He froze.
"Damien, father's gone away for awhile and I'm all alone and bored. Why don't you take me out tonight?"
She pressed her breasts against his chest and the sweat from his body stained the sheer material covering her nipples. He knew that if he did as she asked and her father found out, he would be fired. But he didn't care. He could feel the heat from her body. It felt hotter than the burning sun above.
"Yes ... yes," he replied dumbly.
"I'll pick you up here at eight o'clock. Is that all right?"
He nodded silently and wondered if he'd be able to wait until then.
Angel brushed her lips against his damp cheek, turned in a flounce of white, and left. Damien stared after her ... clutching his aching groin.
Angel drove back to Cinnamon Hall, as her father's house was called, and spent the rest of the day preparing for the evening. She selected a sheer print dress to wear. She shortened the hem by about four inches and lowered the neckline. She had a light dinner with Verbena who kept watching her with amused eyes.
"Yo' look like yo' swallowed the canary."
"Not yet, Verbena, but I intend to. I'm going out with Damien tonight and if you tell my father I'll get you sent back to Haiti!"
"Oh, no, Miss Angel. Yo' daddy won't hear nothin' from Verbena."
After dinner Angel bathed herself in a fragrant oil bath and then she made herself up very carefully, highlighting her sensuous lips with a pink lip glaze and emphasizing her violet eyes with the slightest hint of eye-shadow. She slipped into her redesigned dress and stood looking at her reflection. She was happy with what she saw.
"I look older—and very desirable."
The light from behind her silhouetted her nubile body beneath the sheer fabric of the dress. On her way through the garden she picked a stem of honeysuckle and thrust it between the valley of her breasts.
As she reached her car, the sun had given up for the day and a thin slice of crescent moon was beginning to appear in the night sky. Angel spotted the first star, silently made her wish, and drove off to meet her first real lover.
Angel arrived at the shop a few minutes after eight. Damien was waiting. He was wearing sandals, a white turtle-neck shirt, denim jacket and white duck pants. The pants were skin tight and Angel could see the outline of his cock. She checked herself—that would come later she thought. He smiled gently at her but his eyes were burning.
"Hi! You look beautiful, Angel."
"So do you Damien. Do you want to drive?"
Damien nodded. She moved over and he sat next to her. Their thighs touched and a shock ran through her body, reminding her of the time she had touched an open socket when she was a little girl. He turned to her.
"Where would you like to go? To a club?" he asked.
"No. No, I don't feel like being indoors. Let's just drive."
Damien turned the car around and drove away from civilization, past the savannah and toward the inland rain forest. The warm night breeze licked their faces and contributed to their sensuality. As they neared the rain forest, the air became filled with the scent of freshly rained-on flowers.
"Let's stop here," said Angel.
Damien pulled the car up under a giant satinwood tree weeping with vines, and turned off the motor.
"Aren't you afraid of the spirits," Damien asked.
Angel didn't reply, but ran the tips of her fingers lightly down his cheek. He took her hand and softly kissed her fingers, then took them one by one into his mouth and sucked them.
"Let's go for a walk," said Damien. His voice became a hoarse whisper. They got out of the car. There was no entrance into the rain forest, just the beginnings of several paths.
"That way," Angel said, selecting a path that was bright with orchids. He took her hand in his and they entered the dark forest. Inside the rain, forest it was like being in a tall cathedral made not of stone, but of trees and vines and flowers. Scraps of moonlight guided them and bird calls welcomed them. The ground was covered with moss and Angel reached down and took off her shoes. She wriggled her toes in the soft carpet of the rain forest.
Damien watched her and could not hold back any longer. He pulled her to him with such force that they lost their balance and fell, still embracing.
"Oh, God, Angel ... I want you!"
She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. Her hair had become undone and was tangled around both their heads. The honeysuckle between her breasts was crushed against his broad chest. He opened his mouth and covered her lips. His tongue parted her lips as he slid it inside to find hers. Angel responded to his kiss by rubbing her tongue against his, sliding it out of her mouth and into his, touching and exploring the entire inside of his mouth. They had to break for breath, their faces wet with each other's saliva.
"I've got to have you, Angel!"
Angel ran her tongue over her lips and laughed seductively as she rolled away from him.
"Then you'll have to catch me," she said as she scrambled to her feet and ran away from him.
Damien got up smiling, "I'll catch you all right!"
Angel ran further into the rain forest with Damien close behind her. She was filled with a kind of perverse excitement that comes from putting off something pleasurable just a little while longer. She hid behind a tree and let him pass her. She could see him stop and look around, puzzled. She giggled and ran in another direction. He turned in time to see her disappear into the shadows behind him.
Angel ran until she was at the other edge of rain forest where a graveyard began. She hung her shoes on a tree limb and continued on, tingling with excitement. It took Damien a little while to find Angel's direction. His eyes caught the shoes—still swinging from the tree limb. He took them down and tucked them each in a back pocket and walked on until he came to a bush that was growing an unusual product.
Angel's dress!
He picked it off the bush with a trembling hand and involuntarily ran his other hand down to his cock which was agonizingly hard and threatening to burst through the material of his pants.
His mind raced. Which direction? Certainly not the graveyard—not even Angel ...
But there it was, hanging on the wrought iron gate and blowing gently in the breeze like a flag of surrender.
Angel's bra!
He was sweating now and having difficulty catching his breath, not from the race, but from knowing what was at the finish line! He slipped through the gate and stared before him. He could see nothing but rows and rows of eroding tombstones grinning at him like uneven teeth in a black mouth. He walked straight into the graveyard, looking from side to side for some sign of Angel. He stopped. Hanging over the edge of a stone were Angel's sheer panties.
Some sign!
He picked them up and pressed his face into them. They were slightly moist and smelled of cologne and the sweetness of a young girl's body. A cloud moved away from the sliver of moon and he saw her—poised on a chair-high stone—nude and in the, frozen position of an angelic statue. Her body was beautiful! High graceful breasts pushed toward the sky, the line of her rib cage melted into lovely rounded hips and her legs were long and supple, exquisitely shaped. Damien walked toward Angel as if he were in a trance, dropping her clothes and shedding his own. By the time he reached her, he, too, was nude.
She looked down at him. "You caught me," she said softly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face between her breasts. He could feel her heart beating as quickly as his own. The scent of the crushed honeysuckle was still there, clinging to her flesh. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue wetly over her breasts. Angel sighed and twisted his curly black hair through her fingers. He caressed her firm, young breasts. After he had completely licked them with his tongue, he made small teasing circles around each nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. He could feel her nipple grow rigid in his mouth. He sucked it softly at first and then with more pressure. He bit on it lightly and then moved on to the next to repeat the action.
Angel leaned forward and kissed his hair, running her tongue over his curls and pulling on them with her teeth.
"Go on, Damien. Go on!"
He went on. His tongue left a slick trail down her stomach. He stopped at her navel and twirled around inside it ... and then onward. He could feel the soft brush of her pubic hair against his chin and then against his lips. Through Angel's downy pubic hair, Damien could see the delicate pink slit of her vaginal lips. He moved her legs further apart and pressed the lower half of his face against her crotch, moving his face from side to side and rubbing it against her. He ran his tongue lightly over her lips, then opened his mouth and covered her completely. Angel gasped and pulled his head in closer to her. He sucked noisily on her cunt, finally pulling away and, grinning with pleasure, sang: "Angel is the perfect name for you—this is heaven!"
With the forefinger of each hand, he gently parted her outer lips and buried his mouth once again over the pink velvet of her cunt. He forked his tongue inside, laving the soft membranes of her vaginal walls. His tongue tickled her clitoris and he sucked and chewed on it until it grew as hard as a nut. He wrapped his hands around her buttocks and began pulling her down. As he did, his mouth kept working—up her stomach, over her breasts, across her throat, and, finally, his mouth, still wet from her cunt, was pressed against hers once more and he was filling her mouth with his tongue.
They were both on their knees now, facing each other, their hands rapidly touching and exploring each other's body. Angel ran her hands over the smooth skin of Damien's back. It was hairless except for a small circular pattern of hair at the base of his spine. She felt his buttocks. They were firm and indented on either side. She slipped her hand between them and clasped his cock—it was the first time she had ever touched a man's sexual organ. She loved the feel of it, soft, but muscular and so big ...
Damien was well set up. Soft, his cock was about five inches long and it could grow to a length of about eight or nine inches depending on how excited he was. Right now it was nine inches ... and Angel wondered if she'd be able to take him. His cock felt good, but she wanted to see it-see it up close.
"Damien—I want to do it to you!"
Damien lay back on the soft grass, his cock pointing skyward. Angel knelt over him and looked at it. It wasn't just long, it was also thick and lightly laced with a network of almost imperceptible blue veins. The head of it was large and shiny and reminded Angel of a Christmas tree ornament Beneath his cock, resting against his thigh, were two large testicles. She touched them. The skin was soft like a fine material. Angel leaned forward and touched one of his balls with her tongue. Damien's body jumped and he moaned loudly as she ran her tongue all over it and opened her mouth to let it slip inside. He reached down and felt her lips surrounding the skin of his scrotum. With two fingers he moved his other ball to her mouth and slowly stuffed it inside till it was beside its mate. He ran his finger over her wet lips and in and out of her mouth as she sucked on his balls.
Angel was delighted that she seemed to be pleasing him. She liked the feel of his fleshy toys filling her mouth and she ran her tongue over and around them. After a while she pulled her mouth away and moved upwards. She flattened out her tongue and ran it up the underside of Damien's cock, up over the thick cord until she reached the head. She moved her tongue over it in the same manner that he had licked her nipples. He seemed to like it. His face was contorted with desire and his arms outstretched, fingers digging into the earth.
"Angel—Angel! Go down on me!" he cried.
She opened her mouth and took the large cockhead inside. He thrust his pelvis up and more of the shaft went down her throat. Angel pushed her head down until she could go no further and stayed there. Damien sensed that she wasn't sure what to do next. He cupped his hands on either side of her face and moved her head up and down—up ... until her mouth almost lost him—and down ... as far as she could take him. Angel picked up the rhythm as he moved his hands away from her head and on to her swinging breasts. As she sucked him, he massaged and caressed the firm flesh. He bucked his hips up higher, urging her to increase the rhythm. Suddenly he felt the unmistakable sweetness of an oncoming climax.
"No!" he cried as he pulled away from her mouth and then more softly he said, " ... I don't want to come yet."
He held her in his arms and kissed her. As he did he guided her onto the ground and lay on top of her, holding her tightly until his ensuing climax passed. Then he pressed the head of his cock against the lips of her cunt. Angel moved her legs apart and pushed against him. Quickly he rolled away from her. From the expression on his face she could tell what he was thinking.
"Damien—please—I want it, too! Don't think of me as any different from any other girls you've had sex with. Treat me the same."
"But you are different, Angel. You're better than they are."
"Am I? Then teach me to be better!"
She grabbed his cock and pulled him toward her.
"I want you, Quentin—I want you to—fuck me."
Her words made him dizzy with passion—words he had imagined her saying to him since he first saw her. He was ready now. He pressed his cockhead against her moist cuntlips, they parted and he slipped inside. There was a moment of pain. Angel cried out and he covered her mouth with his.
"Relax, Angel, relax."
Damien slowly worked his cock into her lush interior until he was all the way in. The brief pain had caused her eyes to tear and he kissed away the salty drops.
"Oh, Damien, you feel so—so good inside me. Guide me now. I want to learn!"
"Just follow me, Angel, and hang on—it's all fun!"
He started the rhythm slowly at first and then increased it. He reached under her buttocks and lifted her legs up until they were wrapped around the small of his back, allowing his thrusts to be deeper and more pleasurable to both of them. Damien eased his hands between their bodies and clasped her clitoris between his two fingers. He squeezed and pinched it, doubling her passion. They wildly licked each other's faces as they fucked with complete abandon. They rolled over on their sides without breaking the rhythm. He moved her legs higher and higher until they were nearly behind his head. Damien was ready to come, but he was waiting for Angel. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted them to come together. Angel gasped.
"Oh, Damien ... Oh, Damien ... it's happening! It's happening!"
Damien let himself go. He began working faster, his balls became tighter as ...
"Oooooo ... sweet Damien!" Angel screamed. Damien screamed, too, as his cock exploded into her steaming cunt. Their juices mixed inside her as they thrashed around on the ground, hanging onto each other like it was the end of the world—or the beginning!
They lay for a long time with their arms around each other. All was quiet. Even the din of the night birds in the rain forest had ceased. It seemed to Angel as if the earth itself had stopped spinning on its axis. Damien gently withdrew from her and gathered her in his arms. Her moonlit hair spilled across his tanned chest. They said nothing but stared at the stars and enjoyed the warmth of their bodies and their sexual satisfaction.
"Damien?"
"Mmmmm?"
"Was I ... good? Was I ... ?"
"Good? You were fabulous! I'll write you a testimonial! Angel, if it's not crude of me to ask ... I'd like to know where you learned all of that."
Angel smiled to herself.
"Instinct, I suppose ... since you were the very first."
"The first? But ..."
"I had an accident," she replied, crossing her fingers.
Damien helped Angel to her feet. They were both streaked with sweat and dirt and grass stains. They laughed together.
"We must look terrible," said Damien. "C'mon, let's go to the falls and wash up."
They gathered up their clothes and walked arm and arm through the rain forest to the falls.
The falls were actually a collection of four or five small waterfalls which spilled down a small mountain like transparent hair flowing from the head of a beautiful woman. They dropped their clothes at the edge of the pool and waded in. The mountain water was cool but marvelously refreshing. They swam toward the falls where they could stand up. The water cascaded over their bodies and cleansed them both. They held each other tightly and Damien began to get hard again. The length of his cock was pressed against Angel's stomach and was throbbing. She wanted him again, she wanted to go down on him.
He sensed her desires and pulled her under the falls until they were beneath a rock ledge. There, he placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her to her knees. Angel brushed her wet hair away from her face. She kissed Damien's stomach and ran her teeth through his profuse black pubic hair. He pressed his cock against her cheek, rubbing it back and forth over her pink skin. Angel blew hot breaths over the base of it and took it in her hands. Even with both of her small hands wrapped around it, there was still enough to fill her mouth. She opened wide and took him inside.
"Jesus," sighed Damien. Her mouth felt as good to him as her cunt had. Angel "stretched her lips over it and toyed with the head of his cock with her tongue as she sucked him. Damien spread his legs further apart and squeezed his own balls as he bucked forward lunging down her hungry throat.
One of his hands left his balls and ran over her lips, exulting at the feeling of touching lips that were sucking him off. He slipped a finger inside her mouth and felt the side of his cock and her tongue. He kept it there while she sucked him ravenously. Damien couldn't hold back. He generally didn't come so quickly ... perhaps it was the night ... or Angel ... but he didn't care. He just gave in and let himself go. His buttocks and the muscles in his legs and thighs tensed and he cried out:
"Here it comes, Angel. Swallow me!"
He shot down her throat. For a moment Angel was afraid that she would choke, but she managed to keep swallowing him—all of him—savoring each drop of this new taste sensation. She was reluctant to let go of him. She sucked until he began to grow soft in her mouth, a marvelous feeling to her. His soft cock was so pliable as taffy. Finally she released him. Damien's eyes were rolled back in his head and his body was still shuddering. Angel stood up and kissed his nose.
"How did I taste?" he asked her.
Angel didn't answer, but kissed him passionately.
Their tongues met and their saliva mixed.
"How did you taste?" she smiled at him questioningly.
Damien licked his lips. "Not bad! I'll have to try me sometime!"
Angel turned and peered into the blackness of the cave under the waterfall. "Look," she cried. Far back in the cave, almost covered by watery shadows was a crude stone altar which was surrounded by various small wooden carvings of human figures.
"Voodoo!" exclaimed Damien. "But here?"
"Sure, here," replied Angel. "Some of the natives who came from Haiti here still practice it. My companion Verbena told me all about it. I wonder if it really works?"
"I guess anything works if you believe it hard enough," replied Damien. "C'mon let's get out of here."
They left, but not before Angel took one last look over her shoulder at the strange sight.
They were both dry when they reached the car. Damien started to dress. Angel stopped him.
"No! Let's drive back naked!"
"You're crazy," he said. "We'll be arrested or something."
"No we won't. If we see anybody I'll cover us up with my dress. Besides, I want to be able to touch you while we drive." They got into the car and left the rain forest. As they sped back to town, Damien had one hand on the wheel and the other between Angel's thighs. Her hand was also between his legs.
"Come back to Cinnamon Hall, Damien, and sleep with me."
"But ... the servants ... "
"The servants will do as I say. Please ... I want to sleep with you."
Damien drove back to Cinnamon Hall. It wasn't till he stopped the car that he realized ...
"How in the hell will we be able to get inside? We're both naked. We'd better get dressed."
"Why bother, Damien? We'll only have to get undressed again. Besides no one will be up now."
They entered through the kitchen door. The house seemed quiet. She asked him if he were hungry.
"I'm starving!" he replied.
She opened the refrigerator and piled some cold chicken, some cheese and some fruit on a plate and then she took out a bottle of white Chablis.
"There's a corkscrew in that drawer, Damien. Will you get it?"
Just as he opened the drawer she had indicated, the lights in the kitchen went on. There, standing in her nightdress, was Verbena.
"I thought I heard ... "
She got no further. Her eyes bulged out of her head like squeezed grapes as she stared at Damien and Angel in their altogether. Angel smiled and said lightly: "It's just us, Verbena. We're awfully hungry since we just spent the entire evening fucking!"
Verbena eyed Damien's cock appreciatively.
"My-oh-my!" she muttered as she sauntered out of the kitchen and back to her room.
Angel and Damien collapsed in giggles and were still laughing as they went up the back stairs to Angel's room. She turned on the ceiling fan, opened the shutters and pulled the mosquito netting around the bed. They both sat down on the large bed, ate the food and drank the wine until they were satisfied. Then, they brushed the crumbs out of the bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.