Chapter 7
Angel, Lucien and several other orgy participants bathed themselves in the pond at the base of Damballah Falls. Lucien looked at Angel slyly and winked.
"It look yo' enjoy yo'self," he whispered.
"You should have told me it was going to be a sex orgy."
"Would that kept yo' from comin'?"
"Well, no, but ... "
"It all part of de Voodoo. We pleasures ourselves at de end and in doin' it, we pleasures de gods."
"Well, it sure beats being a Catholic," replied Angel, dipping her hand underneath the surface of the water and grabbing Lucien's cock. Angel glanced to her left. Lying by the side of the pond were several natives who had begun indulging in sex once again. A beautiful young native girl was kneeling and sucking off a tall, strapping black. Nearby another couple were in the soixante-neuf position and next to them, a cluster of people were involved in a minor orgy. Angel, holding Lucien by the cock, led him out of the pond and they lay down on a soft carpet of moss.
The pink rays of dawn had just begun to filter through the tops of the trees and highlight the glistening black and brown bodies with an almost unearthly glow. They were lying next to a couple. The man was standing and the girl was on her knees, sucking on his cock. Angel, deciding to follow suit, knelt down and took Lucien's flaccid organ between her lips. The native couple stopped having sex in order to watch them. The man pulled his cock out of the woman's mouth and stepped near Lucien, holding his glistening spear erect. Angel pulled her mouth off Lucien's prick and sucked on the other man's immense erection. The two men pushed their bodies close together until both cocks were side by side. With her flattened tongue, she licked the two swollen cocks as one.
The native girl, a beautiful brown creature with great luminous eyes, knelt behind Angel's kneeling form, put her hands under Angel's arms and began massaging her globular breasts. Angel was slightly stunned. She'd never been touched by a woman before in that manner, but she felt excited by the new experience. The girl trailed her tongue over Angel's back. Before Angel knew what was happening, the girl had laid down on her back and scooted her head between Angel's thighs. Angel took her mouth off the cocks and glanced down. The girl looked up at her and smiled. Then she flicked out her tongue and drove it deep into Angel's cunt.
Stretching her lips to the fullest extent, Angel was able to get the heads of both cocks inside her mouth, but no more. She manipulated each cock with her hands and contented herself by sucking on the swollen ends. Glancing up, she was surprised to find the two men were kissing and fondling one another's bodies. The girl's tongue sank deep inside her clitoral passage lapping and probing at her soft inner tissues. Angel began to undulate her hips, grinding her pussy down into the girl's face. The girl pushed Angel's legs further apart and her mouth was completely enveloped by Angel's cunt. Her tongue drove deep into Angel's hole with a firm steady pressure. Each man took one of Angel's breasts in their hand, massaging and squeezing them, stopping to twirl the tips of her nipples with their fingers. Angel's tongue lathed around the two cockheads and she speeded up the jerking motion with her hands. She wanted them both to come in her mouth at the same time. She felt the girl nibbling her clitoris and she pressed her pussy harder onto the girl's lips. The girl's groans trailed off into a smothered murmur as she stiffened her tongue and licked at the cunt hotly.
The men's breaths were coming in ragged gasps. They were both burning with the need to climax. Suddenly the shafts of the cocks felt like they were going to swell to the point of bursting. Angel opened her mouth wide and waited. Within a split second of one another, the cockheads began shooting. Hot, thick come came spurting out and Angel let go of the cocks with her hands and pulled the corners of her mouth even wider to receive it. Some of it dribbled down her chin. She felt her own orgasm approaching and she rocked her body back and forth in ecstasy as she climaxed. The girl's lapping tongue drove furiously into her moist passages lapping up her juices as Angel drank down the last of the two shooting loads. She squeezed the shafts of the cocks with her hands, milking every last drop of come out of them. When every drop had been licked up, the two men stepped away and helped Angel to her feet. The girl lay on her back, licking her own wet mouth and smacking her lips. Angel and the two men walked to the edge of the pond and dove in.
Later Angel and Lucien walked back to the clearing. There was nobody left. Just several articles of clothing and the smell of burned out candles. They searched for Angel's dress, but when they found it, it had been ripped to shreds.
"What am I going to wear home, Lucien?"
"Put on dis here shirt. Dat'll cover yo' up good 'nuff." He picked up a dusty shirt from the ground and Angel slipped it over her head. It came down to her mid-thighs. Lucien found a pair of pants which may or may not have been his and stepped into them. Then they headed back through the rain forest toward Angel's car. As they were walking under the towering bamboo trees, Lucien stopped and picked a hibiscus and handed it to Angel. She stuck it behind her ear and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Yo' mustn't tell anyone where yo' were tonight," said Lucien.
"Don't worry. I won't tell a soul."
They reached the car and got in. Angel dropped Lucien off at Sugar Hill and drove to the other side of the mountain to Cinnamon Hall. As she reached her house, the sun was rising in the sky like a red-orange ball. It was going to be a very hot day. She put her car in the garage and walked around to the back of the house to the back stairs. When she opened the balcony doors, she was surprised to find Verbena sitting on the floor next to her bed. The old woman had fallen asleep. Angel felt guilty that she had worried her companion. Gently Angel touched the old woman's shoulder and Verbena stirred, opened her eyes, grunted and got to her feet.
"What fo' yo' don' tell Verbena yo' goin' out for de night? I be mightly worried, Miss Angel. I not tellin' yo' to stay in, but I jes tellin' yo' to tell me."
"I'm sorry, Verbena. I won't do it again ... without telling you."
"We got big trouble—Voodoo trouble."
"What do you mean?"
Verbena related the story of the mysterious figure and the dead black cat she had discovered hanging in the gazebo.
"I think it's de work of dat Calinda. She try to put a spell on yo'. I goin' to Maman Lala's and ask fo' help."
Angel thought that no harm could come from humoring her friend, whose main pleasure in life was her trips to the Houngan woman. So she didn't say anything. She showered and crawled into bed to get a few hours' sleep.
Verbena went to find Roose, the combination chauffeur and gardener. In the garden she saw his tall, gaunt figure bent over a rosebush with pruning shears. Roose feigned irritation at seeing Verbena. It was time for their usual banter regarding Verbena's trip to Maman Lala's. Verbena put her hands on her hips and admonished him.
"Roose, yo' buffuto (big worthless person), why ain't de car ready?"
Roose suppressed a grin and replied in mock surprise, "Miss Angel goin' someplace?"
"I goin' some place. Miss Angel said yo' was to take me to Maman Lala's."
"That Obeah woman—why yo' wants to see her?"
"I got big business with her and it ain't nothin' for yo' to be knowin' about. Now get dat car 'round front."
With the decree laid down, she stomped off with all the aplomb of an African princess.
Roose went to change into his ill-fitting chauffeur's uniform, a dark blue affair, the sleeves of which barely reached his wrists. He topped it off by a bowler hat which sported the tail feathers of a parrot. Then he squeezed into a pair of black patent leather pumps and went to get the Bentley out of the garage.
Verbena appeared at the door dressed in her brightest clothes, all blue-green and purple, making her look like a speckled bird. She tapped her foot, awaiting his arrival. Roose got out of the car and held the back door open for her as he muttered.
"Kitchen-bessy carry-go show show (the kitchen help is putting on the airs)."
Verbena pretended not to hear and settled herself into the back seat. She rapped on the partition with her parasol as a signal to drive on. Roose sped along the countryside, slowing only when they reached the outskirts of the native section of town. That, too, was part of their ritual.
The car crawled through the village, enabling Verbena to play the part of a wealthy woman. Grownups ran to the edge of the road and waved. Verbena regally waved back. She rolled down the windows for this bit of theatrics and kept a chartreuse handkerchief pressed to her nose to keep out the red clouds of dust. Multi-colored children scrambled onto the back fenders, hitching a ride until Roose shouted them away.
The road narrowed as they neared the swamp district. The foliage became heavy, and the air was filled with screeching birds protesting the intrusion. At the edge of the swamp, the ground began to get soft. Roose threw on the brakes, nearly throwing Verbena to the floor.
"Why yo' stop so sudden?"
"Dis is as far as I go."
Roose swung open the back door and Verbena struggled out. He extended his hand to help her, but she slapped it away with her parasol. He asked his inevitable question. "Yo' want me to wait?"
"Of course, I want yo' to wait 'less yo' afraid of the swamp duppies (ghosts)."
"I ain't afraid of nothin'," he answered, getting back into the car and locking the doors.
Verbena trudged through the arrowroot grass and into the swamps. An army of soldier crabs marched past her, eternally on their way between sea and mountaintop, seeking fresh water.
The interior of the swamp was dark, and the atmosphere smelled of decay. Tropical leaves fluttered like huge hands and broke the stillness with whistling echoes. The ground was soft. Verbena gingerly speared her way with the tip of her parasol, careful not to get caught in a sinking bog. Each step made a hissing sound as the water squished through the moss. In the darkness, Verbena could barely make out the bamboo hut of Maman Lala. It was perched on stilts to keep out night-crawling things. The hut seemed to be the result of falling branches, leaves and flowers caught in the end of a spider web.
Verbena cupped her hands and called out, "Maman Lala. Maman Lala."
An ancient woman looking older than the swamp itself slammed open a Coca-Cola shutter and stuck her head out. When she saw Verbena, her menacing look vanished and a smile crossed her brown face like newly ploughed earth. Her gleaming teeth had been filed to sharp arrow points. Maman Lala lowered a rickety ladder and filled two cans with a dark rum which she brewed herself.
An overpowering stench of herbal cures, mummified animals, potions and the old woman's living habits filled the single room, making Verbena dizzy. The interior of the shack was cluttered with the tools of Maman Lala's trade— bowls of animal bones and graveyard dust, playing cards, dog and cat skulls, alligator skins and clumps of feathers. Packets of leaves, roots and herbs hung from the rafters. Around the walls were shelves lined with scores of bottles containing ashes, ground spices, powdered leaves, animal entrails and human hair. Verbena sat down on a keg and waved away the odors with a palmetto fan. On the table sat a mummified white crow, Maman Lala's pet and companion, Zozo, with which the Obeah woman conversed with regularity.
After handing Verbena a tin of rum, Maman Lala sat down on another keg, smacked her lips and said in a voice which was surprisingly young and musical, "What'sa on yo' mind, sister?"
Verbena explained to Maman Lala about Calinda and the black cat.
"But I done go through Calinda's room an' I got dese here things."
Verbena handed the Obeah woman a piece of material. Inside were two toenail parings, several pubic hairs and a green colored bead. Maman Lala took the items and set them aside, mumbling to herself and occasionally making comments to Zozo. Then she refilled their cups.
"Yo' gotta' cutacoo (a sack of trouble) an' we got to get rid of de bad loas (spirits), but ol' Maman Lala is gonna' empty it."
She went to a boiling pot on her woodburning stove and began adding the contents of various bottles and chanting a native prayer.
Mu prale mare loas
Hi Hi
Chen ki chen
Maman Lala li Kasi li
Ki dire kod.
(We are going to tie down the loas
Hi Hi
Chain which is a chain
Maman Lala has broken it
As if it were a rope.)
Then she cut a section of alligator skin and dropped it into the boiling brew. She mumbled a few prayers to herself and then she plunged her hand into the bubbling water and extracted the skin. Maman Lala sat down and pulled a candle to her, tore several coarse hairs from her head and put them through the eye of a needle. She added the personal things that Verbena had given her into the center of the skin and sewed the package shut.
Thoroughly pleased with herself, she chuckled and patted Zozo's head, "Dat will give de devil a kick in de batty." She turned to Verbena, "Listen good, sister. Yo' take dis and throw it in the bay, den when yo' go home, yo' lines the doorway of de gazebo with conch shells and yo' put de Bible under Miss Angel's bed. Den yo' watch the girl real close and let Maman Lala know how things go."
"I'll keep my ol' eyes strained," vowed Verbena. She pulled a gold bracelet from her arm and gave it to Maman Lala and left feeling somewhat relieved, once again she was plunged into darkness. As she trudged forward cautiously, feeling her way with her parasol, she heard the flapping of wings. She looked up and high above her, cawing as if to lead her out of the swamp, was a white crow!
Angel dressed and drove into Montego Bay to her father's shop. She wanted to talk with Damien about the prospect of keeping it open and his running it for her. She parked in front of Les Bijoux de Mer. She had rarely been inside the shop and was surprised to find how attractive it was. Damien was in the back next to a counter, talking to a wealthy female tourist. He glanced up and looked at her warmly. Angel walked around the shop looking at the various bottles of original perfume and glass cases of one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry. Perhaps she might keep the shop going if Damien would run it for her. After all, it seemed to be profitable. The wealthy tourist made a purchase and left the shop.
Damien came over to Angel, put his arms around her waist and kissed her. Then he took her on a tour of the shop and the workrooms in the back, explaining that the jewels were cut to order in Paris and that most of the jewelry making was done right there in the back of the shop by himself and the native craftsmen, following her father's designs. The native workers were off for the time being because of the slow tourist trade. He also explained that her father had taught him to blend perfumes using the oils of flowers, herbs and various other ingredients and that he, himself, designed jewelry. Then he showed her the books. Angel was astounded at the amount of money the shop made.
"I would like to keep things running here, Damien, but I want to be bothered as little as possible. If you'll continue working for me, I would appreciate it. But instead of a clerk, you'll be the manager."
"That would be marvelous, Angel."
"You tell me what you think is a fair salary and I'll pay it."
"Thank you, Angel. You're being very sweet."
"Not at all. I didn't realize how much my father relied upon you. He gave me the impression you were nothing more than a flunky."
"Your father was like that. By the way, Angel, I made something for you." Damien went to the back and when he returned, he was carrying a small plain bottle.
"What is it?"
"It's perfume I blended just for you. It's called Angelique."
Angel was touched. She took the stopper from the bottle and inhaled the aroma. A blend of patchouli and flowers native to the island, it was both sensual and aloof at the same time.
"It's lovely, Damien. I'll never wear anything else." She kissed him on the lips. "Come, business is slow. Why don't you close the shop and go with me to Hattie's and help me pick out new clothes."
"Whatever you say, boss." He closed the front door to Les Bijoux de Mer and went with Angel to Hattie's where she bought practically everything that was in her size. As they were carrying the packages back to Angel's sports car, they saw the Bentley pull up in front of the shop. Verbena emerged from the back of the car and rushed to her mistress.
"Roose, put des things in de Bentley. We take 'em up to de house fo' Miss Angel."
"How was your trip to Maman Lala's?"
"Everythings goin' to be pickney white (beautiful)."
"Good. I'm going to ask Damien for dinner tonight. Will you cook him something special?"
"I'll have Roose pick up some lobsters."
Angel and Damien unlocked the shop and went back inside as Verbena walked back to the Bentley, spouting orders.
"Roose, I want yo' to fetch me two lobsters—nice and big and good an' hoppin'. Got to make a special dinner fo' Miss Angel tonight. So don'tcha bring me back no crayfish or I breaks dis 'brella cross yo' lazy back."
Roose ambled off, glad to be rid of Verbena for awhile. Verbena, hands on hips, watched him trudge down the waterfront streets and then, satisfied that he had passed a certain tavern which catered to the natives, she searched her thoughts. She reached inside her pocket and felt the package to make sure it was there. Then she walked to the pier. It was empty except for a few native children casually fishing. She reached the end of the pier and looked around cautiously. The cry of seagulls, the laughter of the children and the lapping of the water against the pilings all blending together into a lazy, peaceful sound. She drew the packet from her skirt and held it between her hands, then her thick lips chanted the prayer that Maman Lala had given her.
Suddenly she felt the packet jump in her hand and she clutched it tighter. It became scalding hot, but she did not let go. She repeated the prayers until she felt it grow cool once again. Then, according to instructions, she crossed herself three times before dropping the packet into the water. It hit the water with a quiet splash and floated upon the azure surface of the sea. It began to spin slowly, then faster and faster as if it were caught up in a miniature whirlpool. Finally, it sank and a few air bubbles rose and broke on the surface.
Roose was waiting by the Bentley with a tin bucket containing two large lobsters by his feet.
"Roose, ain't yo' got mo' sense dan to set dem lobsters in de sun? I don't want 'em boiled before I's ready. Now get dis car movin'. I got some cookin' to do."
Angel felt nervous as she dressed for dinner. She didn't know why, except that Damien was coming. She ran downstairs twice to check with Verbena on the preparations. She wanted everything to be perfect. Verbena finally shooed her out of the kitchen by saying, "What yo' think? I don't know how to make de bickles (food)? I make up a meal dat please de most fenky-fenky (finicky)."
Angel went back to her room, took off her robe and anointed her body with the perfume that Damien had blended for her. She held the sparking bottle aloft. The light streaming through the glass made the liquid shimmer like a cordial fit for a goddess. "Angelique," she said aloud.
He had named it for her. It was her own particular scent and it suited her so perfectly. It suggested sex as well as sensuality, young innocent girls and full-grown women. She rubbed some on her shoulder and sniffed her skin. Self-discovery was the only word she could think of to describe it. She thought about Damien ... his darkly handsome face and the way he looked at her. Angel didn't know whether she was in love with him or not. She loved him, but that wasn't the same as being in love.
After carefully making up her face and arranging her hair, she went to her closet to get one of her new dresses. It was the one, that Damien had particularly liked on her. A full-length floral print with a mauve background. It was made of a clingy fabric, cut on the bias, which showed off the outlines of her lovely body. She slipped into T-strap shoes and went downstairs to pester Verbena again.
Verbena turned when she walked into the kitchen and caught her breath. "Amassi, Miss Angel, yo' more beautiful dan yo' mother!"
Angel kissed her companion on the cheek and asked if everything was prepared.
"Everythin' just fine, Miss Angel. It all set up on de veranda like yo' asked."
Suddenly the chimes of the front door rang.
"That must be Damien. Verbena wait and answer the door. I want him to see me coming down the staircase."
Angel ran out the kitchen door and up the back stairs to her room. Verbena put on a fresh, frilly apron and went to answer the front door, which was just a formality because it was always kept open. She exclaimed, "Goodness, Mr. Damien, yo' look mighty handsome!"
"Thank you, Verbena."
Damien was dressed in a yellow, summer linen suit that a native tailor had made for him. Following the European styles, it was tapered at the waist and the shoulders were slightly padded. Under the jacket he wore a sheer light-orange shirt.
Verbena stepped aside and Damien stepped into the great hall. Angel appeared at the top of the steps and waved her hand. As she descended the staircase, Damien thought that he had never seen anything so lovely in his life. He walked to the bottom of the staircase and reached for her hand.
"I'm glad you wore that dress, Angel. You do a lot for it."
"Thank you. Let's go out on the veranda and Verbena will bring us drinks."
They seated themselves in high fan-backed rattan chairs and Verbena brought out her specialty, two Planter's Punches on a tray.
"Verbena, why didn't you bring one for yourself and sit and chat?"
"I can't do it, Miss Angel. Got to watch de bickles."
Angel and Damien toasted one another and drank.
"I've been thinking about the shop, Damien. I've definitely decided to keep it open and I'd like to consult with my lawyers and make you a partner."
"That's not necessary, Angel."
"But I want to. I'm going to depend upon you a great deal. I have no desire to be a businesswoman. Probably you'll have to fly to Paris and discuss things with my Uncle Philippe. Funny, I only thought of closing the shop because I didn't like my father, but, after all, it does have quite a reputation and ... "
"And it's making money," supplied Damien, "a lot of it. And I can make you even more, Angel. Your father was a smart businessman, but he was unimaginative in a lot of ways. There are many exquisite crafts on the island that we could incorporate into our business. For instance, some of the native women know how to make beautiful lace. It's as fine as the things I've seen from Paris. It could be very profitable."
"I'll leave all those decisions to you, Damien."
Verbena called out that dinner was ready. They seated themselves at a beautifully appointed table and Verbena brought out her specialty, baked Lobster Jamaican. Accompanying the lobster, Verbena served a chilled bottle of champagne from the wine cellar.
The young people ate in silence, each contemplating the other. Damien wondering where he stood with Angel in terms of a long relationship and Angel wondering where she stood in terms of herself. She didn't know what she wanted yet. There was a wildness inside her, a curiosity about life that had to be satisfied. She didn't know exactly what she was searching for and whether or not she would find it.
After dinner Damien went to the table where he had left his cigarettes as Verbena was clearing the table. She bent over and whispered to her mistress, "He a mighty good catch. I don't think yo' ought to let him off de line."
"What do you mean?" Angel whispered back.
"Yo' ought to marry him."
The thought had occurred to Angel, but only slightly. After seeing the terrible marriage of her parents, the thought of being married herself made her feel extremely nervous. On the other hand, Damien was a wonderful man. Not at all like her father. She would keep it in mind and whatever happened, happened.
While Angel and Damien were having coffee and brandy, a cold gust of wind swept across the veranda and brought with it the far off sound of Voodoo drums.
"Listen," said Damien.
Angel listened to the staccato beat of the drums. They seemed to be entreating her, commanding her attention. The incessant invitation of the drums found her with its enchanted voice, "Come to me—come to me—come to me!"
The moon ascended into view, its lights forming halos around the trees, adding another dimension to the night. It cast a silver glow over the veranda and suddenly the whole setting seemed unreal.
Damien stared at Angel. The loose strands of her hair stirred slightly in the night breeze, capturing the amber from the lamps and framing her face in kind of a burning luminescence. The flickering light glowed in her eyes like a miniature forest fire and Damien thought to himself that she had never been more beautiful.
Verbena came out and joined them. From somewhere in the folds of her skirt she produced a small crooked black cigar. They were one of her chief pleasures in life. She deftly bit off the end and spat it into the garden. She clenched it tightly between her teeth, lit it, and savored its unique flavor. Verbena got the cigars from a Cuban sailor. They were called "Devil's Tongues" because of the twisted shape and strong taste. The tobacco was cured with dark rum and cayenne pepper.
Angel noticed, with a mixture of amusement and affection, that her beloved servant had changed clothes before she had come out to put on a show for Damien. She wore every piece of jewelry she owned and swathed herself in her favorite dress, a pink batik print. Completing the outfit she wore a pair of net gloves with the fingers cut out to show off her many rings.
"I swear, Verbena," said Angel, "I don't know how you smoke those things."
"Well now, honey, dey clear de head and dey warm de heart." She blew a smoke ring and laughed. "I guess I leave yo' two young people alone. I ain't so old dat I don't remember what's comin' up next."
Angel got up, walked to the edge of the veranda, and gazed across the garden to the gazebo which was nestled beneath several magnificent cabbage palms. The clouds parted and the moonlight came shimmering through, illuminating the gazebo so that it resembled a decoration for the top of a wedding cake. The night air was filled with the island sounds. Cicadas trilling, mosquitoes humming, and tree toads twanging like tropic guitars.
Damien walked up behind Angel, put his hands on her shoulder, turned her around and pressed his lips against hers. Angel parted her lips and took his tongue inside. She could feel the outline of his cock in his pants, pressing against her thighs.
"Let's go upstairs," she said.
They left the veranda and started up the grand staircase. Damien swept Angel up in his arms saying, "Isn't this how it's done in the movies?"
Angel laughed, threw her arms around his neck, and nibbled on his ear. When they were inside the bedroom, Angel asked Damien to help her unzip the back of her gown. As she stepped out of it, her full breasts flopped free and Damien reached out to touch them. He cupped them both in his hands.
"Every part of you is beautiful, Angel."
She bent over to step out of her panties and he felt the twin globes of her ass. His cock was straining against the linen fabric of his trousers. Angel hung up her dress and got a hanger.
"Stand perfectly still, Damien. I want to undress you."
He smiled and nodded. She took off his jacket, hung it on a hanger and put it in the closet. Then she wiped off her lipstick on a tissue and came back to him. She kissed him on his eyelids, running her tongue over his eyelashes and eyebrows. Running it down the full length of his nose, she paused to suck the tip of it. Then she traced the outline of his full lips and moved down over his chin, pausing to suck it. Down she slid over his adam's apple to the very top button of his shirt.
"Now stay very still," she whispered.
He stiffened his body like a mannequin. Angel worked on the button with her lips and teeth until it came undone, and then moved on to the next one. When she had finished all the buttons that she could reach, she pulled his shirt out of his pants and undid the last two buttons. Then she bit into the fabric covering his shoulder, pulled off his shirt and dropped it.
Angel knelt down and nuzzled her face against the hardness of his crotch, blowing hot breaths through the fabric of his pants. Damien's cock ached in his pants and he wished that she would hurry, but, at the same time, her slow-motion stripping was turning him on tremendously. Angel tugged at his belt and it came unclasped. She tugged at the snap at the top of his pants and pulled it loose. That left nothing but the zipper. Deftly catching the hook between her teeth, she slowly yanked downward.
Ziiiiiip!
Damien's pants fell to the floor and his cock bounced free, standing stiff and straight. Angel rubbed her cheek against the hot flesh of his prick and moved her head under his cock and balls. Damien parted his legs slightly, feeling the softness of Angel's ash blond hair between his legs caressing his buttocks, his heavy testicles and the underside of his cock.
Angel moved her head slowly back and forth, stroking his sensitive areas with her blond tresses. Then she threw back her head, stuck out her tongue and trailed it under his balls between his legs. Slowly she licked each ball with her wet tongue. Then, opening her mouth wide, she sucked one of them inside, pulling on the sac with her mouth. She opened her mouth wider and, using her fingers, stuffed his other ball inside. She sucked on both of them, letting them roll around in her mouth and coating them with saliva. Then she leaned backward and let them slide out of her mouth. Angel attacked the underside of his cockshaft with her tongue, running up the full length, pausing to tickle the underside of the cockhead.
"God, Angel, oh, God," Damien murmured.
He could feel the perspiration running down the inside of his arms, and his hands were trembling. Angel slid her hands between his legs and clasped his buttocks. She massaged them while she rubbed her face against his pulsating prick. She longed to take it inside her mouth, but she kept putting it off, as one often puts off something pleasurable to build up the anticipation. She pursed her lips and planted a kiss on the small opening at the end of his cock, letting her tongue dart out and dig into the small slit.
Angel opened her mouth wider and let the soft pliable head of his prick ease into her mouth. She clamped her lips around it and sucked, running her tongue over it inside her mouth. Then she began to move her mouth farther down on the cock, slowly taking it in inch by inch, adjusting her position so that she could get it all down her throat. She kept swallowing until her lips brushed the curly black pubic hair at the base of Damien's cock. Then she reared her head back, letting it slide almost all the way out and took it back in again. She continued this sucking rhythm, slowly increasing her tempo.
Damien ran his fingers through her blond hair and clasped his hands together behind her head, holding on but letting her control the rhythm of her sucking. '
Angel pulled her mouth off his cock and said, "Step out of your pants, Damien."
He kicked off his sandals and stepped out of his pants. Angel opened the door of the closet, angling it so that they could see themselves reflected in the mirror.
"Stay exactly where you are," she breathed. She got back down on her knees and took his cock back in her mouth. The two of them glanced at the mirror and watched while she sucked him. Seeing Angel doing it in the mirror turned Damien on even more.
"Oh, that's it, Angel. Suck it! Suck it good!"
She put on quite a show for him, sucking his cock and his balls and rubbing her face over his crotch area. She let her finger ease between his buttocks to play with his asshole.
"Turn around," she commanded.
He swung his body around so that his buttocks were against her face. She started at the base of his back, chewing lightly on a small curly patch of hair which was just above the crease between the cheeks of his ass.
"Bend over," she murmured.
Damien complied and braced his arms on the foot of the bed. He watched her in the mirror as she trailed her tongue down between his muscular buttocks. She pulled his cheeks apart, buried her face between them, and pressed her lips against the soft opening of his ass. She kissed it noisily and then ran her tongue around it before spearing it deep inside. Damien watched her at work and groaned with excitement as she sucked his ass. She ran her hand under his legs and jerked on his cock with the same rhythm with which she was sucking his ass.
"Angel," Damien groaned, "I'm afraid I'm going to come."
"Then lie down on the bed," she replied in a muffled voice.
Angel continued ramming her tongue in and out of his asshole. Feeling his thighs tense, she knew that he was close to climax. Damien fell across the bed, his cock stuck straight up and throbbing like the heart of a long distance runner. Angel put her finger where her tongue had been and coated his cock with saliva. Using her hand, she jerked him off and sucked both of his balls into her mouth.
Damien stuck both of his legs straight out and cried, "Here I go!"
Angel looked up and watched raptly as his thick white load shot out of his cock. The first spurt landed just below his shoulder near his nipple. One, two, three more jets of come, each landing a little closer to his cock, until there was a trail of white sticky sperm down the front of his body. Angel crawled onto the bed, and still fucking his ass with her finger, began licking it up. She started at his chest, pausing to bite on his nipple, and continued on down to the thick hair around his cock. She sucked on the hairs until she had completely licked up every drop of his come. Then she lay down beside him on the bed and pressed her head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart grow normal.
Damien's cock didn't go soft, but remained stiff and hard. He moved down, parted Angel's legs and buried his face in the soft moistness of her cunt. He parted her cunt lips, dove his tongue inside and began ramming it home. Angel spread her legs apart as far as she humanly could and urged him on. She bucked up her pelvis, rubbing her slit against his face. Damien pulled his tongue out of her pussy and searched for her clitoris, the tip of it. Angel writhed wildly as his tongue touched the small organ and it sprang erect. She trembled as the pink invader made love to her clit. Damien moved her body up so that she was balanced on her shoulders and her legs were draped over his shoulders. His legs supported her back as he continued his labial lapping. Her thighs pressed against the side of his head with a crushing force as she pushed her pussy up against his lips. Damien licked her cunt with long strokes of his tongue.
"Ahhhhh, that's beautiful, Damien, that's so good."
He chewed on the tip of her clitoris and Angel's climax began to build inside her. It was a steady, unwavering progression of sensation. Her fingernails dug into the sheets and deep gasps came from her throat. Finally, she cried out and Damien licked her pussy with long hard strokes of his tongue. The more Angel cried out, the harder he lapped, licking up the sweet juices of her cunt. Finally he let her slide back down on the bed and he lay on top of her, pressing his lips against hers. He was completely aroused again and his cock was aching with passion.
"Let me slip it inside you, Angel."
"Yes, do it, Damien, before I come down. But let's do it a different way this time. I told you I wanted to do everything with you."
"Okay," said Damien, "you get on your hands and knees and I'll get behind you."
Angel turned over and positioned herself on her hands and knees. She brushed her hair out of her face and turned her head around to look at Damien. Her violet eyes flashed with desire. She ran her tongue over the outline of her lips and gave him a long, sensuous look. Damien crouched behind her and flexed his knees slightly so that his stiff prick was even with her cunt. He moved forward, sliding his cock between her buttocks, searching for her cunt lips with his fingers and the tip of his swollen cock. He glanced at the mirror and could still see their complete reflection. It was like having another couple in the room and it thoroughly turned him on.
His cock head touched her vaginal lips. He slid it in with a quick movement of his hips. Angel groaned, and her entire body shuddered. He pressed his hand on the small of her back, moving it downward, and turning her buttocks up toward him. He looked down at his thick cock disappearing between her smooth white buttocks and the blood rushed to his head. Delicious sensations of ecstasy roared through his body. He slid his cock in and out of her in a rapidly accelerating rhythm, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips. Angel rocked her buttocks back and forth, meeting his violent thrusts. Then she spread her arms out, lowered herself to her shoulders and buried her face in the pillow. Damien continued slamming his cock into her until his orgasm burned inside of him, making his entire body ache for relief. He bit on his lower lip and tried to hold it back as long as he could, but his need to climax became unbearable and his semen began soaring upward. He felt it burn down the full length of his shaft before it exploded into her pussy.
Angel cried out as she felt it begin to pour into her cunt. She held her body absolutely motionless, so she could feel the raging power erupting from Damien. He shot deep inside her. When the last drop had shot into her cunt, he clasped her around her waist, and pulled her down on her side where they lay quietly gasping for breath. His prick slowly deflated inside of her. They fell asleep in that position, his cock still buried in her cunt.
Early the next morning, Verbena was preparing breakfast for Angel and Damien in the large kitchen of Cinnamon Hall. She was making angel food, which is not a cake as it is in the United States, but a dish of fruit consisting of peeled oranges and grated coconut. There was a knock on the kitchen door. Verbena looked up and saw Roose's hulking figure framed in the doorway.
"Come on in, Roose. Yo' want a cup of coffee?"
Roose sauntered in, mopping his perspiring brow with a blue bandana. Verbena poured him a steaming cup of coffee and placed a fresh pitcher of cream beside it. Roose added the cream and sipped thoughtfully on the coffee.
"I done heard some news last night."
"Oh," replied Verbena, "'bout what?"
"Yo' knows dat Calinda?"
"Dat no account dat Miss Angel fired? Of course, I knows her."
"Well, yo' don't knows her anymore."
"What yo' mean, Roose?"
"She done wash up on de beach early this morning. 'Pears like she done drown in de bay."
Verbena looked up from her kitchen work and replied, "Is dat so?"