Chapter 3
He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, sending the Aston Martin in a fierce forward thrust down the wide four-lane freeway. The throaty growl of the exhaust modulated to a screaming roar as the carburetor opened up and the speedometer needle hovered in the high nineties. Although the maximum California speed limit was 65 mph, Caine rarely kept the high-powered sports car coupe within the legal limit. He had gone through several types of automobiles, both European and American, before he had finally allowed himself the luxury of the Aston and now, even though it had been several months since he'd first picked it up, he still thrilled to its responsiveness and power.
The rush of commuting traffic had passed a couple of hours earlier and as he headed into San Francisco the freeway was relatively deserted. The Bay on his right and the green hills to his left sped by as he drove on, watching the long silver-grey hood of the car greedily swallow up the few remaining miles.
Caine was a large man; but his muscular body was that of a much younger man. Tanned and toned by regular exercise and by his twice weekly tennis workouts, he still retained the angular lines and the even distribution of weight of his youth. His eyes were brown and his face, now twisted into a dark scowl, normally expressed the calm, cool confidence of a man who has found his niche in life and is contented with it.
The lines of middle age were prematurely etched into his forehead and around his full and rather sensuous lips. But this, instead of being damaging, leant maturity to his almost too handsome face and instilled confidence in his business associates who might otherwise consider him too young for the heavy responsibility he shouldered.
He had long ago trained himself to neither reveal or be shaken by emotion: and he dealt with the everyday crises of television advertising with calm, methodical deliberation.
As a matter of fact, if his associates or clients were asked to pinpoint a flaw in Caine they might have said he was almost too reserved ... he had a way of making others feel a little inadequate because he seemed to be able to disassociate himself from the minor weaknesses that made human beings out of others.
But these same people; if they knew just a little more about Caine, about the double private life he was leading, probably would have felt more at ease around him. There was another side to him that virtually no one knew about ... a yearning that had gradually caused a tremendous change in his personality-it was scarcely apparent to his business colleagues, though those who knew him on a social level had started to remark on his sudden abruptness, his frequent bad temper-and his highly changeable moods.
The simple reason for Caine's discontent was that he had reached the age of 35. In itself, the fact meant nothing. He still had many years of relative youth to him; he had an assured, safe future ahead-and outwardly he had every reason to be satisfied with his life.
And yet the thought had struck him a few months ago that none of his secret dreams and ambitions as a boy had been realized. None of them. He had settled for an unimaginative, pedantic existence: burying himself in the everyday demands of his work, letting his life revolve around church fetes, visits to the City theatres, bridge clubs and all the other narrow, time-consuming activities of the half-asleep minds around him.
That was the crux of the matter: he, too, had been half-asleep all these years, Caine saw. Doing all the "right" things, like getting married and working his way up through an increasingly tedious job. For twenty years he had spent his life like a man in a dream while the promises he had made to himself as a youth lay forgotten in the recesses of his mind: slumbering while he wasted his good years, his vital years ...
He had wanted to travel, to write, to meet exciting and creative people. He had meant to learn several languages, extend his awareness of the world.
Bitterly, Caine moved the car out to the center of the highway and overtook a truck. As he passed it and drew back into the nearside lane, a mad urge came over him suddenly, to hit the brakes and let the truck slam into the rear of the Aston Martin and put an end to his self-pity.
His hands were damp-he gripped the steering wheel tightly, forcing his foot to remain on the accelerator. A bead of sweat trickled from his forehead into the corner of one eye and he blinked it away, hating himself for being so cowardly and indecisive.
The moment had passed. The moment when he might have taken the quick way out of his misery was gone-perhaps never to return. Because, as his tension slowly evaporated, Caine realized how childish and neurotic he was to think of suicide. Killing himself was the very last resort-and he hadn't yet exhausted all the possibilities of redeeming his life. Not yet.
His affair with Samantha Beattie had proved a failure but so what? There were plenty of other women who would be willing enough to become his mistress. And he still might be able to bring himself to leave Mona ...
Caine was forced to smile wrily as he reflected once more that good old sex was at the bottom of it all. The deep, ancient biological urge to fornicate! Give him the opportunity to fuck without remorse, without guilt-and he knew that his salvation would be in sight.
Because sex represented freedom to him. Freedom to prove himself, freedom to show the world that he was an individual, a cut above the mediocre level of his snobbish, insipid neighbors. And yet, for reasons he didn't understand, Mona was unable to fulfill his need in this direction. It may have been simply that she was his lawful wife; there was no element of surprise, of titillation in their relationship. There never had been, Caine recalled. From the very first, Mona and he had been the most perfunctory of lovers-rather wooden, unimaginative in their sex-play.
And although he wanted the challenge of another, a younger girl, Caine had been unable to seriously contemplate leaving his wife. Perhaps she represented the bonds which still tied him to his present environment. Or maybe it went deeper than that, he couldn't be sure.
But now that Samantha had left him, he knew that he simply had to make some sort of break from Mona, even if it was only a temporary estrangement. The pressures were again building up in his mind. He could feel his head beginning to ache with the taunting of his newly-awakened ambitions, insistent and demanding.
As he drove, having to slow down now as he neared the city, Caine thought back to the previous evening and his last encounter with Samantha. She was a girl an advertising agency had brought over one afternoon sometime ago to be used in one of the television commercials-more than just being pretty, she was a strikingly beautiful girl and an electric shock seemed to crackle between them as they were introduced.
Under the pretense of having to discuss the mood he desired in the commercial before they filmed it the following day, he asked her to join him at the SEXTANT, on lower Powell Street, his hangout in San Francisco, for a drink. They both knew the commercial was only an excuse and when they sat down in the dimly lit cocktail lounge which always seemed to be crowded with secretaries and stewardesses, they didn't even go through with the hypocrisy of discussing business.
The event was so out of character that Caine was amazed to find himself chatting quite easily with her, as if he'd been doing this sort of thing for years. As they talked Caine found that nothing in her personality diminished the attraction he had felt when she first walked into his office ... on the contrary, her smoldering glances and spirited conversation made him feel vibrantly alive-the envious glances in his direction only increased his excitement.
Samantha told him that she only came into San Francisco when she received a modeling call from her agent, that she spent most of her time painting and strolling the beaches near her home in Carmel. It seemed that even before they sat down they had mutually agreed that she would become his mistress and rather than move her into an apartment in the city Caine started making plans to get down to Carmel as often as possible.
The irony was that Caine had frequently spent weekends away from home, letting Mona think that he had been sleeping with other women, for years! Now his pretense had suddenly become a reality ...
For a month or two they were very happy together. He'd drive or fly the hundred or so miles to Carmel and she'd be waiting eagerly to meet him. He'd take her to the theatre, to some of the finest restaurants down the Coast-and she'd take him back to her cottage among the cypress trees by the ocean. It was a cluttered little place, jammed with her paintings that he never really understood. But he grew to love the messiness of her studio and the small bedroom, because to him it represented the disorderly chaos for which his soul yearned: the complete antithesis to his usual surroundings. He liked to sit on the shabby, Victorian sofa she'd bought cheaply at a junk shop. He liked to climb the crooked path through the trees and pretend as if he lived there permanently: that his work and Mona and Anne didn't exist.
But most of all, Caine liked to take Samantha to bed with the sound of the surf crashing and reverberating outside the opened windows. The thunder of the waves and the screeching seagulls added a forbidden orgy-like daring to their love-making, making him feel that he was at last catching up with the missed opportunities of his youth.
But last night he had seen the cottage for the cheap, unattractive mess that it was. The peeling wallpaper, the stale cooking odors, the pathetic attempts that Samantha had made to brighten it up ...
"How can you stand it here?" he heard himself asking her. "It's so dirty, so sordid-and the people all around you: they're nothing more than a bunch of cop-outs from responsibility. You're in great demand as a model, surely you can afford something better than this?"
Samantha had looked at him in surprise. His criticism had come right out of the blue and it shocked her to hear so much supercilious distaste in his voice. She felt at home here; more than that-she wanted to live here. It gave her a sense of living in the creativity of a Bohemian community and although she had to travel to San Francisco for her modeling jobs, Samantha entertained hopes of one day throwing up her job and trying to make the grade as an artist.
She had been to art school but so far hadn't been able to summon the courage to show her work to a gallery. Came had seen most of her paintings; they were modern abstracts and he professed a polite admiration for them while suppressing his private opinion that they were hideous daubs scarcely worth the canvas they were painted on.
Poor Samantha ... Caine allowed himself to feel a momentary regret for the sad, lost little girl who would probably never leave her modeling until age had taken its toll and she was no longer in demand. She would probably end up married in some Mid-Western town, settled down in a terraced house somewhere in the suburbs. Her brief artistic flowering would die a painful death, strangled by her own lack of talent and the pressures of the mass media-which exhorted her and thousands of girls like her to live a "normal, healthy, everyday life ... "
As soon as he'd voiced his opinions of her home, Caine wanted to bite the words back. Samantha wasn't so very far removed from him at all, he realized. She, too, was struggling to escape from her background-and, like him, seemed doomed to an early failure.
Before she could reply, he reached out quickly for her hand and pressed fingers gently. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to say that. Honestly-I apologize."
Samantha had shrugged both his remarks away as if they didn't concern her. "What do I care?" she told him. "If you don't think much of it, that's up to you!"
He lifted her chin until her lips were in line with his and kissed her. Her body shivered slightly against him and he knew for certain that she had been hurt by his words. He squeezed her tightly, his hands on the back of her shoulders, fingers feeling her flesh through the thin material of her dress.
Her mouth slowly grew more responsive under the pressure of Caine's lips. She began to pant, thrusting her body forward until he felt the hardness of her crotch pushing against his loins.
"Darling!" he breathed when they at last broke for air. "Oh, my darling!" (Wanting to tell her that he loved her but finding the words obstinately sticking in his throat).
Her eyes were still closed, her lips moist from the kiss. Samantha's passion was easily aroused, no more than a sufficiently prolonged kiss serving to make the girl misty-eyed and eager for greater intimacies.
Caine's cock stirred upwards as he looked down into her face. She was so very young, not much older than Anne, his daughter. He couldn't help thinking of her, all the same, as an object rather than a person. Samantha represented no more to him than a pliable, beautifully curved body which merged with his and brought him a sweet and deep sexual satisfaction.
Her identity as a separate individual, her existence outside her usefulness as an instrument of pleasure was vague and lost to him. Small wonder, Caine thought, that the words "I love you" wouldn't come to his lips. They were meaningless ... an empty phrase which merely seemed appropriate in this situation: much as "I beg your pardon" was obligatory if you bumped into someone in the street.
However, this realization, far from diminishing his lust, served to intensify it. He slipped his hands down until they encompassed her warm, soft buttocks, then raised the girl off her feet-holding her tightly against his body, supporting her by pressing his fingers into the warm, pliant cheeks of her bottom.
She wound her arms about his neck, opening her mouth and beginning to nibble softly at his earlobe as he carried her to the bed.
Caine sat her down so that Samantha was standing on the sheets, her breasts level with his face. Keeping his hands on her buttocks-starting to massage the softness of her curves with wandering fingers-he rubbed his cheek against them, feeling the globes flatten slightly and press warmly into his nose. He could hear her heartbeat, thudding with a muffled but distinct rhythm next to his ear.
Slowly, she knelt, dropping to her knees so that her head was just barely below his. She kissed his throat and began, at the same time, to unbutton his shirt. His whole body was trembling slightly now as his shirt came open all the way down and she eased it gently out from his trousers and helped him pull it off his arms ...
She kissed his chest tenderly and her own hands seemed to indulge in a tremoring delirium as she stroked his back, his sides and then her hands moved down to his zipper.
Caine's breath was coming in burning gasps. He found it impossible to keep still as she teased the zipper down. His stomach hollowed and expanded, his hips writhed gently as if a great outside force was making them do it.
Her hands had nearly completed their work. He waited tensely for the first touch of her deftly moving fingers on the thin tissue of his shorts. As he felt it he convulsively jerked his hips away just as she undid the catch that held his trousers.
His trousers fell to the floor, a ridiculous pile around his ankles and he stepped out of them, reveling in the sensual freedom of the cool air on his legs.
Her lips moved over his chest and stomach and then he felt her fingertips slipping under the elastic band of his shorts. Slowly and tantalizingly she tugged them down ... his throbbing penis slipping suddenly into view as she pushed the shorts all the way down.
When he had kicked his shorts away and looked up, Samantha's eyes were fastened on his organ and her mouth was slightly open. She moved her gaze up his body until their eyes met ... there was a smokiness in her look and under the thin material of her dress, Caine could see her breasts heaving as if they were trying to escape.
For a moment they gazed at each other. Caine tried to swallow, but his breath seared his throat ... fiery gusts pouring from the furnace of his lungs. He had no control over the tremoring of his body.
Samantha moved her hands up to her breasts as if she would try to still their rise and fall and she breathed, almost as if to herself the words: "Do it to me, darling."
She moved backward on the bed ... and Caine almost lost his balance as he leaned to join her ... his testicles swaying and brushing against his thighs as he moved.
She waited for him to reach her and as the impact came, her mouth opened wide and her arms swept around him. She bit at his lips as he kissed her and then her tongue was worming silkily into his mouth and she was drawing him further back into the bed. The covers were drawn back and she allowed herself to fall backwards into the soft sheets, pulling him down with her.
His organ was pressing hotly against the soft, coolness of her dress and the weight of a great animal instinct raged in his loins.
Under him her legs wriggled apart and caught his penis between them, squeezing it gently between the walls of her thighs. His genitals seemed to break out into a sweat.
Gently, Samantha levered him off her and he allowed himself to fall away to her side, willing to be instructed, obedient to her wants. He subsided on his back with warmth pressing along his side as she rolled over towards him.
Then, with a quick movement she threw back the covers and his rampant penis, thick and veined, its broad sensitive tip almost purple from the sensual friction of her thighs, shot into view.
He tried to lay quiet, stroking her breasts with one hand while her eyes wandered down the length of his organ. She reached over and brushed the length of her cascading hair away from its protruding rigidity and at her touch his penis gave an involuntary jolt, moving sharply up towards his belly and then receding again to the perpendicular. Her eyes moved away over his testicles and fingers moved away too, to stroke them. Caine closed his eyes and as he tensed, his penis seemed to elongate-presenting itself to Samantha like a rigidly rearing snake.
As if the slight movement of tension had been an offering to her lips, she suddenly lowered her head down to his loins and took the hardened pink head of his cock deep into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.
At the soft, moist pressure, Caine opened his eyes. With his entrails contorted in the pain of a new sensation, he saw her, dark head bent, eyes narrowed in passion, concentrating on the gentle sucking. He watched her cheeks hollowing, her lips moving as she sucked and the urgency of his passion seemed to become unbearable.
Her head was moving forward and backwards as she urged more and more of the thick, pulsating organ between them.
Wildly, Samantha sucked and caressed his trembling cock. She held its base steady with her fingers, keeping the throbbing rod in position, while she ran her tongue over and over the sensitive pulsating head ... making it jerk spasmodically with every velvet swirl around its circumference.
He looked down. She was making frantic little noises, her eyes staring at the length of red-veined maleness which kept disappearing between her lips and then slipping half out again pulling the flesh of her inner lips out with it as though they were fighting to retain it inside.
She had opened her mouth as widely as possible, but it was still all she could do to contain the enormous width and length of his fully erected cock. Her lips were stretched wide around it, their pink lipsticked edges clasping him like a wide, red rubber band.
With every inward draw of Samantha's lips, Caine felt his penis thickening and growing harder. The tight pressure of the girl's mouth seemed to be trying to suck the building sperm from him prematurely. He had, more and more frequently, to forcibly restrain himself from yielding to her lusting urgings ...
Why not? Why don't you let her taste it? The idea came abruptly to his mind. Give it to her-go on, let her find out what it's like!
This was the very first time they had practiced this form of love-making and Caine wondered for a moment how Samantha would react to having her mouth flooded with his hot, liquid semen.
But it was increasingly difficult to hold himself back-and, seized by the novelty of the desire, Caine began to urge his prick further and further into the girl's mouth. He felt her trying to hold his cock away; the full length of it between her lips was gagging the girl and she fought against his efforts to jam it completely inside her.
Ruthlessly, he brought his hands up and drove his fingers through her hair. Then, holding her head in a vice-like grip, Caine kept her steady while he lunged his prick all the way in until he heard her gurgle slightly.
Right to the hilt it sank, until he could feel Samantha's hot, pulsing mouth covering every inch of his straining cock.
He withdrew slightly, only to thrust it forwards again with even greater determination. Samantha put her hands on his thighs, choking and vainly trying to push him away.
Her nails scratched desperately at his legs ... and then he felt her submission. Slowly, the girl's desire outgrew her initial fear of the immensity of his weapon and she began to lick her tongue hungrily along the underside of Caine's stiff and pulsating penis.
It quivered like an arrow in its target, the nerves feeling raw and vulnerable as Samantha extended her tongue as far as possible and repeated the swirling caress.
Again and again the girl licked the very tip of her tongue along its length, curling it backwards so that Caine could feel it lapping insatiably around its hard pulsating head. At the same time, Samantha worked her lips in a side to side movement-making them slither with wet freshness against his fast-jerking penis.
Now that she had herself under control, Samantha moved her hands from Caine's thighs ... around to the backs of his legs. At first, she just massaged the cheeks of his buttocks ... but then she went further ...
Her skillful hands eased the straining spheres apart and she coaxed her forefinger slowly and provocatively into his anus.
Insistently and steadily, she penetrated the back passage, sticking her ringers as deeply into his small tight orifice as it would reach: using the remainder of her fingers to softly caress his tender scrotum.
Caine felt himself shivering and trembling with desire. Mona would never, never have done such things to him. This beautiful girl! This wonderful, beautiful, thrilling Samantha!
He panted harshly as her finger wiggled around inside the tightness of his ass. But, in spite of the obscene action of her finger in his rectum, it was the never-ceasing fondling of his scrotum, the base of his penis and testicles, that brought him finally to orgasm.
Her finger tickled its way from the hanging sacks of his balls, stroked lovingly and breathtakingly down the hard ridge of flesh ... then pause for a moment around the raised bump of his anus before returning by the same route to his testicles again.
An all the time, with her saliva continually moistening his prick, Samantha was sucking like a hungry child on his fully embedded penis. Sucking as if she wanted to savor the sweet, pungent taste of his manhood forever!
The almost obscene combination of her attentions was too much to bear for very long. Caine was forced to close his eyes; the room had started to spin helplessly before him and he could hardly keep from screaming out into the room.
A more insistent urgency than he had ever experienced welled up in his penis. It seemed to generate from the pit of his stomach and streak like an electric current through his balls. With a muffled shout, he groaned and launched a torrential flood of steaming warm sperm jet-like into Samantha's mouth-contracting the muscles of his ass and urging the thick fluid deep down into her throat.
There was one long excruciating gush; immediately followed by several shorter ones. The fluid jetted with maniac power, as if it had lain dormant for years inside his testicles.
Caine's fingers clenched into the girl's hair, unable to release her until every drop of his precious white-hot sperm had been pumped far down into her contracting throat.
And she obediently drew steadily on his prick until she was sure that the last bitter globule had been wrung from its tiny spurting opening. The fluid still rushed down her throat, heady nectar which she swallowed with mounting enthusiasm-knowing that she was drinking from the most secret spring of all ...
Only when Caine's penis began to wane did he withdraw it limply from Samantha's mouth; thin strings of his semen following it out. Then he half-fell back onto the bed, pulling her with him. He held her tightly, kissing her and tasting the strange but not unpleasant moisture surrounding her lips.
While he rested, waiting for his breathing to become less labored, Samantha ran her eyes slowly over his body. He was still a complete stranger to her really, despite the intimacy of their bodies. Perhaps that was all he had wanted from her: uncomplicated sex-with no strings or emotional involvement attached to their relationship.
She sighed. How could it be possible to do what she'd just done to a man and still feel so cold towards him?
Maybe it was her own fault for going to bed with someone so much older than herself, Samantha reflected. He wasn't really her type after all. His eyes were dead. His conversation was stilted. And he had made not the slightest attempt to get close to her-for all their physical knowledge of each other, she felt more remote from him than the newspaper vendor on the corner.
At least he hadn't lied to her, though. He hadn't sworn that he loved her when it was transparent to her that he didn't. That was something, she supposed.
All the same, she was clearly wasting her time with him. That was obvious. He was presumably having a few final flings before resigning himself to a dull marriage. She meant nothing more to him than perhaps a symbol of his virility.
And Samantha wanted much more from a man than that. She wanted-
Caine opened his eyes and immediately noticed the troubled expression in her eyes. He held out his arms and Samantha moved close to him, snuggling up to his body, her stockinged legs crisp against his thighs.
She didn't know why she was so complaisant when he reached out for her. She enjoyed their love-making, but the periods in between were becoming increasingly flat and tedious. Surely it would be better to simply tell him they were through? End their affair before it was killed by mutual indifference?
Coolly, she let her body lie passively against his as he began silently to undress her. She moved from time to time to assist him but found no excitement in the ritual.
Caine drew down the small zipper at her hip and released the hook. He pulled the dress up over the girl's thighs; the sight of Samantha's tiny black panties reawakening his desire.
The panties formed a very sharp Vee, coming almost to a point at the slight swelling of the pubic mound between her legs. Their sides were cut away to nothing but a flimsy half-inch strip of material-exposing her long slim thighs and the fleshy curve of her hip.
Samantha helped him take her arms out of the straps and Caine tugged the dress off completely. She wore a conventional bra which contained her breasts in twin cups of black silk.
He reached behind her and unfastened it, lifting the undergarment away from her bosom. Caine stared for a moment at the naked challenge of Samantha's breasts; the ivory orbs wobbling gently as they came free of the restraining cups.
The aureoles around her nipples were larger than usual; brown circles that strongly emphasized the hard red centers. Although Caine had studied them on several previous occasions, he always found Samantha's breasts the most fascinating part of her body.
He left her panties, stockings and garter belt on-bending his face nearer and nearer to the heart of the girl's right breast. The nipple swung sweetly against his teeth. He opened his mouth and the pearl slipped neatly between his lips, growing stiller as it came into contact with his exploring tongue.
Caine licked across it tentatively. The nipple tasted warm and intimate; a delicious drowsiness began to steal over him as he gently sucked it wetly into his mouth. He drew it firmly in, taking a generous portion of the firm but resilient flesh between his lips at the same time.
Then his teeth sank in a possessive bite around the soft white skin, trapping the nipple and surrounding firmness. He chewed into the globe, relishing the succulence of the girl's breast with his lips and pushing the fragile orb back and forth with his tongue.
Meanwhile, Caine's hands wandered leisurely over the rest of her body. They fondled slowly down her chest to the flatness of her midriff. He paused there, running his fingers across the tautly nipped-in garter belt just below the curl of her navel.
He lifted it up gently, then let it fall with a faint but exciting whack back onto Samantha's hip again. Still caressing her nipple and breast with his lips, he petted his way over her abdomen and stroked the satin smoothness of her belly.
She stirred slightly, turning her hips in an exciting though momentary wriggling. Caine's fingers touched the top of her panties: he lifted them away from her stomach tenderly, just enough to slip his fingers beneath the elastic band and feel downwards toward the juncture between her thighs.
He felt the marvelous flatness of her stomach ... and then the soft fleeciness of her pubic mound-scarcely a mound at all, so gently did it taper off into nothingness.
He stretched his fingers a little further below the tight fit of her panties. There it was! The tender opening of her vagina! Caine rubbed softly at the tiny opening to the already moist slit, coaxing the lips apart, urging them to yield and permit his finger to enter the moist opening of her vagina which lay throbbing behind the concealing hair-lined lips.
Samantha trembled again-and gradually raised her buttocks up off the bed, spreading her legs at the same time so that his fingers could have the easiest possible access to her tingling vagina.
Once more she felt excited by his clinical detachment as he gently opened her and began to insert his forefinger into the hot pulsating moistness of her cunt. Before slipping into a blissful enjoyment of what he was doing to her, Samantha realized that it was possible to be aroused sexually by the very treatment that repelled her emotionally.
She was mildly shocked to think that she was lying here, enjoying Caine's extremely subjective caressing of her body. It seemed immoral, somehow, more so than the fact that she was committing adultery!
There wasn't the slightest doubt in her mind that he was thinking exclusively of his own pleasure and did not care about her at all. He betrayed the fact with every gesture he made. With every movement of his lips, every caress of his fingers, he showed her that he regarded her as a living, breathing, responsive ... model!
A figurine on which to practice his lust; that was all she meant to him. And yet, Samantha, despising and loathing him for this when they were fully dressed, admitted secretly to herself that she got quite a kick out of the sheer perversity of the situation once they were naked and in bed together.
And now Caine's actions were rendering her quite incapable of introspection and analysis. She felt a rising pleasure growing between her legs and which intensified rapidly and she relaxed herself to savor the delights.
Caine was rubbing his finger up and down the moistened slit between her thighs, as slowly as humanly possible ... not yet penetrating it, but the friction and excitement he caused as it passed back and forth across the rising bud of her throbbing clitoris was beginning to almost drive her out of her mind.
And his teeth had closed even more tightly around the base of her nipple-nibbling with a mock ferocity on its tender rigidity; a trembling passed through her breast that inflamed her almost as much as the ruthless fingering below. Her breast was being sucked as it had never been sucked before! She longed to tear it from his mouth-to put an end to the tortuous biting! But those sharp teeth!
Instead, Samantha reached between Caine's thighs for his penis-determined to make him suffer for the torment he was subjecting her to.
To her surprise she found that his cock was already thick and swollen again! Her fingers closed around its middle and the stiffened prick throbbed in their grasp ... the veins pulsing in the palm of her hand.
Samantha started to toy with it, making the ripe, reddened penis jerk madly from side to side. She rubbed it meaningfully against his thighs-first one, then the other-turning the sharply pointed head so that it pressed painfully downwards and was tickled by the dark hairs on his upper leg.
Next, she manipulated the whitened skin covering the thick, hardened phallus ... sliding it up and down its entire length until small mewling moans escaped from his lips. Then, she traced her finger across the very tip of his cock: at the same time turning it rapidly in a tight twirling movement.
She felt Caine shudder with pleasure at this exquisite torment. Carefully, she repeated the caress; now keeping the tip of her finger softly on the tiny opening in the head and working it teasingly over and over the tender spot.
She showed no sign of stopping and Caine was being driven almost insane by this sweetly agonizing petting. Then he could feel Samantha's other hand moving down to encircle the lower half of his aching penis loosely between her fingers.
They lazily wrapped around his raging tool, forming an "O" around the thick stem and teasing him excruciatingly as they brushed the tingling hairs on his testicles.
Almost unknowingly, Caine slipped a middle finger gently between the wet, waiting lips of Samantha's cunt and let it sink to the palm of his hand. The hot, clinging moistness of her throbbing flesh stuck urgently around his finger; she felt so tight, so very tight! Experimentally, he twisted the finger slightly. The soft inner flesh yielded immediately to his gentle thrust-letting him move about in any direction he chose.
His thumb, which had been resting on the edge of the hard bone above Samantha's cuntal opening, now moved a half-inch downward. It slipped into the open lips, found her distended clitoris and teasingly began to fondle it.
At once, Samantha's cunt grew wetter and he realized that he had started a preliminary flow of love-juice. The fluid bathed his fingers in sticky warmth, helplessly seeping from her trembling body.
Caine held his finger steady, waiting until Samantha had spent herself ... When he judged that she was over her first tiny orgasm, he allowed her breast to escape the tight hold of his teeth. The fiercely sucked globe now had a circular welt running around it, making a second aureole where Caine's teeth had gripped her. Samantha's breast bobbed and swayed as he released it the nipple incredibly large and swollen.
She opened her eyes, heavy-lidded with passion, ... her fingers still playing tormentingly with his prick.
"Fuck me!" she urged him hoarsely. "Oh, darling, fuck me, fuck me now! Please!"
Caine slowly, tenderly, pulled his finger out of her cunt. But before moving it completely away, he let it stray deliciously up over the girl's clitoris, giving the now erected organ a final caress.
Then he rolled his body on top of hers, maneuvering his hands below Samantha's buttocks and grabbing the firm, well rounded cheeks tightly. She steered his cock to the lips of her cunt, cursed as it slipped from her fingers-then gave a heaving sigh of relief and pleasure as Caine's prick sank deliriously down inside her, cramming its extraordinary length up the tight, liquid passageway to its fullest depth. She shuddered slightly as it hit bottom and his balls pressed tight in the wide-spread crevice of her buttocks, brushing teasingly against the sensitive lips of her anus.
She brought her hands free and he felt her fingers on his back, moving urgently up and down, nails digging frantically into the base of his spine. As his penis began its fierce, thrusting drive in and out of Samantha's cunt, Caine opened wide the cheeks of her buttocks and inserted the tip of his forefinger almost cruelly into the tight, tiny opening of her rectum.
She flinched and her haunches stiffened momentarily. But as his finger wormed insistently past the first tightness, the girl relaxed and bravely kept her buttocks supple and loose.
The sleek shanks lifted as Samantha arched her body to make him penetrate her more deeply. Caine could feel the silky rustling of her stockings as she opened her thighs wide and wound her legs around him-and he thrust himself forward and into her hot, willing pussy with renewed lust.
Samantha fastened her teeth on his ear-lobe and alternately chewed it and darted her tongue deeply into the tiny, sensitive crevice. Caine's prick seemed to be spurring the girl on to previously unattempted love-play: she squirmed like a bitch in heat, lunging her crotch upwards with as much force as she could muster.
Her fingers again found the tightness of his asshole, played briefly around the small raised circle, then impertinently thrust the sharp-taloned forefinger once more into his still-aching orifice-in and out as if she were vicariously playing with herself.
Together, the man and the girl thrust at each other's anus and fucked with ever demanding, powerful strokes on the bed. Once-and once only-their eyes met hazily and exchanged a brief look of mutual understanding. Then they glanced away again, moving into their private worlds of sexual reverie.
Much too quickly, Caine felt his orgasm welling up. He tried desperately to hold the imminent flood back, but Samantha was goading into a state of terrible, overpowering ecstasy and her loins meshed so frantically against his that to delay the impending outpouring for more than a few moments would be completely impossible.
His eyes glazed over helplessly, his entire body thirsting for the release that only a violent, exploding climax could bring him.
Then, with a roar of mingled rage and passion, he gave himself up to the cosmic forces which flooded through his entire being. He thundered his boiling sperm with every atom of his strength into Samantha's hot, squirming cunt: sending his boiling semen in a mighty, single torrent gushing headlong up the deep, tight passage of her wildly contracting pussy.
She came at almost the same instant-locking her body to his and making them one creature, a two-backed beast of fiery, flooding lust ... straining herself in every muscle, every nerve, to throb out her orgasm in rhythm with his hot, desperate flooding of her belly ...
Caine had slowed, driving the Aston Martin automatically, his mind reliving in painful detail that final night with Samantha. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, bring them back to the present.
But the too-recent memory of the recriminations and abuse that had followed their last experience in bed haunted him persistently. There was no way in which he could understand what triggered it off. Probably Samantha herself didn't know. Perhaps it was simply a slow culmination of small, trivial details. Anyway, the actual cause wasn't important.
What mattered, ultimately, was the fact that she had rejected him, had seen through his inadequately assumed role of attentive lover and ordered him out of her life. Would the pattern be repeated? That was the question that worried Caine intensely.
Could it be that he was totally incapable of giving and receiving love? That he used people-seeing in them nothing more than extensions of his own desires?
He slowed the car as he entered the worm-like overpasses of the freeway entrance to San Francisco. After leaving Samantha's, he had gone to one of the small hotels in Carmel and spent the night ... not leaving until about nine this morning. Mona would probably be waiting for him with that sad, pleading expression on her face; but he knew she would never voice the fears it concealed.
That just wasn't done! Not with her breeding. Hardly the right thing to do, to bring delicate matters like that out into the open, is it? Simply not proper!
Just what he was trying to do to her, Caine refused to contemplate. Possibly to drive her away, though he knew she would never take the initiative and leave him. Not for the first time, he felt himself caught inextricably in a web of uncertainty; a maze of confusing and conflicting desires seemed to envelop him, leaving him empty and unable to make decisions.
Even in this mood of self-retribution, Caine was aware of the same idealistic wish that had coursed through him for so long now: the fierce longing to break away from the existence in which he was trapped-to snap the chains of normality-to do all the things he had yearned for as a young man. Burst out of this safe, predictable shell and live-live for the first time in his life! He had to! He couldn't bear the thought of another thirty or forty years of sheltered existence-knowing that every coming day and year would be just like the last ... growing to an old man dreaming of all the things he should have done ...
Caine turned up the street leading to his home. The rows of neat, semi-detached houses stretching in every direction. It was an expensive neighborhood and although most of the homes had been designed to the personal architectural desires of each owner, somehow they had all achieved a certain sameness. The trees planted at regular intervals, colors that didn't clash with each other-the shingled and cedar-shacked roofs that were supposed to be unique; they slanted and pointed in different directions and all ended up looking alike.
Caine paused for a moment after locking his car and stood on the cobbled pavement looking down the hill. From there he could see not only most of the city, but the Bay and both of the great bridges stretching to the other side.
Everything was so peaceful, so well-planned, he thought. And it became so easy to allow yourself to become just another part of the landscape-the humanscape-to abandon the impossible dreams that haunted you and grow as unchanging and orderly as your environment.
That was what happened to nearly everyone. The temptation to settle down in a comfortable rut was very strong. It absolved you from doing anything but insuring that your routine was not interrupted. All you had to do was be competent at your work, polite to your neighbors, disguise your real feelings, attend the local functions-and lose your identity in a regular ritual that would slowly anesthetize your dreams.
There was still a chance for him to escape, he told himself. He vowed he would learn to break away completely from his present life. It might take time, but he would do it. It wasn't too late to do it-perhaps in another country ... at a later time. ...
The craving in him for excitement and newness was too acute now to ever be suppressed again. Somehow, he would find the way and the determination, to free himself of the shackles he'd known all his life.
Meanwhile, there was Mona-waiting in the house for him, her recriminations unspoken but slowly widening the gap between them. Another hour or two of silent reproach ... followed by his usual, half-hearted attempts to treat her sympathetically and kindly. Followed in turn by a quick, equally unrewarding session of lovemaking.
The knowledge that he would again repeat this stupid, meaningless ritual made him angry: both with himself and with Mona for not seeing through it.