Palmer Ch. 05



Erin ran a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. It was the colour of sunlight in the morning. She loved to show off her fabulous legs in her sexy, little power suits and right now, Max Williams was leering at them. That was typical - he could be a cocky bastard when he wanted.

But with a body like his, he could usually get away with it. Today, in just the plain red robe that perfectly complimented the colour of his skin, it was easy to see why he felt cocky.

She chose to ignore his supercilious grin. "Max, you know what's expected today?"

"Sure, Mrs DeVere," he grinned in that arrogant way of his, leaning back against the wall.

That was the great thing about Max. Despite having a body and a dick to die for, he was about as dumb as they came. That made him the perfect candidate for these sorts of tasks.

"The two models you're working with are special," she explained. "Especially the blonde..."

"Brooke's pretty fuckable too," he leered, his eyes still running across her body.

But then, why wouldn't they? The exquisite looking former supermodel was still devastatingly beautiful. Many a man had chosen her classic beauty compared to the youthfulness offered by other women.

Max was a little different. Less discriminating. If it moved, he'd fuck it.

"Yes, Max, I know," she answered with a sigh, waiting to continue until his eyes found her face again. "And Brooke is in on this, too. Both Brooke and I want you to make the blonde – Kelli – as hot as you can during the shoot. Understand?"

"Sure," he smiled. "You want me to fuck her later?"

Erin's heart momentarily missed a beat as she thought of that black cock fucking her new acquisition. That would happen somewhere down the line, most certainly, but she had to be careful not to run before she could walk. This was still a softening up process.

"That's a possibility, Max," the American woman hummed. "But not today." His face dropped, like a ten year old kid who'd asked for a sweet and been refused. "But if you do this properly," she added. "I'll let you fuck Brooke. How's that?"

The ten-year-old face brightened immediately.

All of a sudden, Erin couldn't resist. At six foot four, he was an impressive physical specimen and she wanted a piece. Jumping to her feet, she crossed towards him. Her hand sneaked between the folds in his robe. Feeling his monster grow instantly hard, she knew she'd have to fuck him again herself. Soon.

"Just get her hot, Max," she purred, trying to stop her breath form quickening the way it was.

He nodded. The cockiness had gone from his eyes, replaced with a dreaminess. "Like the last time?" he moaned, thrusting his hips forward as she stroked a little faster. "With Jennifer?"

"Almost, Max," she whispered, enjoying her control. "But Jennifer was ripe for fucking and you did it perfectly."

A slow grin spread across his face at the compliment. His ass was pressing against the wall as he thrust his hips forward in an attempt to fuck her hand.

"Kelli isn't," she emphasised, sliding her thumb around a drop of precum and spreading it across the head. "Understand?" she emphasised. "Just tease her a little."

"Got it," he moaned.

Erin hoped he did. Pushing too hard could ruin everything. Her only consolation was that she'd be on hand to control proceedings.

When the two models appeared, she reluctantly withdrew the hand controlling his libido and licked her sticky fingers. It was such a shame that body and IQ so rarely complimented one another.

Max instantly returned to his cocky self as the two models made their way onto the set. But then, he was used to women, beautiful women. Used to working with them. Used to fucking them. She knew the two beauties were about as hot as he'd ever have seen. And that was saying something.

The smile he gave Kelli looked like it almost made the blonde turn around and run. Erin quickly intervened. "Come on ladies, we're late. Chad's waiting. Let's get started..."


Dominic DeVere's grey eyes flashed with excitement as he stared down at the scene unfolding beneath him. The realisation of his dream.

The oversized, glass window of the control tower gave him the perfect view. His gleaming eyes spanned the lush grass, heavy undergrowth and the trees that edged along both sides of his vision. They wanted to look in three different directions at once.

This was his world. His new world. The five acres to the north of Aberdeen would soon be known to the world as Dinosaur Land.

Building the complex so close to Donald Trump's planned new resort and golf course in Balmedie, north of Aberdeen was a masterstroke. Both ventures would attract visitors, feed off one other. They couldn't fail. That would ensure an introduction to the American magnate. He would be one of many billionaires that DeVere would begin to form friendships with. Alliances. The future was full of possibilities.

The imported crack of thunder signalled the start of the action. Amélie had a talent for detail. DeVere's eyes gazed at the expanse below.

A huge animal claw emerged from the trees, gripping the cables of the electrified fence. One by one, the grey hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. Moving into the clear, the Tyrannosaurus rex stood maybe twenty-five feet high, forty feet long from nose to tail, with an enormous, boxlike head that was five feet long by itself.

That was some beast!

The ferocious roar echoed all the way up to his position in the control tower. As it took a step forward, the fence began to buckle, its posts collapsing into themselves, the wires snapping free as the rex bent to chew its way through.

Stepping over the ruined barrier and into the middle of the dirt track, the dinosaur stood there for a moment, swinging its head from one side to the other. With a quick movement that belied its size, the rex strode around to the side of a Cherokee 4x4, snorting as it peered down from high above.

Slowly circling the vehicle, it bent forward to allow it a clearer view of the passengers through the window. Knowing its vision was based on movement, they stayed stock-still.

The dinosaur bent further, peering right in through the window. Its giant, yellowing eye was only a fraction smaller than the entire pane of glass. Seemingly satisfied with what it saw, it pulled away slightly, almost teasing them by pretending it was about to leave. It wasn't. With a snarl, it reached down and rocked the car with its snout.

The follow-up roar just before it banged down on the roof was almost frightening and the force of the blow knocked the roof down into the vehicle. For anyone watching, it was a heart stopping moment.

Keeping up the attack, the rex bent down and nudged the car with its head, attempting to roll it onto its side. Like a wild animal, it put one foot on the chassis and tore at the undercarriage with its jaws. Biting at anything it could reach, the rear axle ripped free.

The rex casually tossed it to one side, immediately searching for its next target. The tyre provided it. Gripping the rubber between its teeth, the explosion saw the creature take its first backwards step.

Even as it bellowed with anger, a figure emerged out of the trees. A young man, bright flames shooting from the flare in his hand. He waved it from side to side, the rex's eyes locked on his moving arm.

With another roar, it left the vehicle and thundered towards him.

DeVere clapped his hands in excitement, the glee of a small child reflecting in eyes that flashed with delight. "Awesome, Amélie," he blurted, turning towards the woman at the control panel. "Quite incredible," he enthused, "You have outdone yourself."

Amélie Pascal purred with satisfaction. It had been DeVere's brainchild. It was her creation.

"That's all I need to see," he almost shouted. "We have our masterpiece. Tres bon, Amélie!"

The blonde Frenchwoman smiled a contented smile, her fingers deftly working on the keyboard in front of the large, electronic control panel. Outside, the Tyrannosaurus rex came to a halt. Slowly, the entire scene they'd witnessed went into reverse. Like someone rewinding a dvd.

"Wonderful," DeVere enthused. "It's impossible to tell that we are dealing with robots, rather than the real thing. A controlled environment, and yet everything appears so realistic. You are a genius, Amélie."

It took a couple of minutes until the beaming Frenchwoman was content that all aspects of the robot display were back in place. Eventually, her satisfied smile confirmed everything was in order. She closed down the computer screen and turned towards DeVere.

Both knew what was on her mind. It was her reward. His treat.

Eyes wild, she tore at her clothes, dropping them around her as she headed towards him. Dropping to her knees without so much as a kiss on the lips, she yanked down on his zip. Dragging out his hardening cock, one quick glance at his manhood was enough. Her lips were practically drooling with saliva as she practically lunged forward and took the engorged member deep into her throat.

DeVere knew the butch looking Frenchwoman was unstoppable in this mood. The excitement of their joint achievement had driven both their arousal levels higher. It was a real turn-on.

He reached back to grip the edges of the desk behind him as her skilled mouth prepared him for her next onslaught.

Satisfied he was hard enough, the wild blonde pulled away and almost threw herself on the large desk, her legs opening to fully reveal the thick blonde curls between her thighs.

DeVere's preference was for smooth mounds, just as he favoured buxom women. Conversely, it was the fact that so much of Amélie's body was the opposite of his normal liking that made her so attractive to him. That and her uninhibited way of fucking. Like a wild animal.

"Want to fook me, Dom-en-eek? You want Amélie's cunt?"

The Frenchwoman was on her back now, her body flat on the desk. Smiling up into his aroused eyes, she grabbed his cock and edged the long shaft down to her centre, easing him along her heated furrow. "Ees good? Want to fook Amélie?"

It was a rhetorical question. With a quick undulation of her hips she guided him home. Three thrusts saw him bottom out. The untamed woman's legs pinched up over his shoulders as she urged him on.

"Fook me, Dom-en-eek. Fook me weeth zat big cock..."

Her dirty talk was an aphrodisiac. They both knew that. Even as she pushed upwards, she felt him grow another inch at her words.

Responding to her urgings, he eased up onto his elbows to give himself a better angle to thrust. Soon he was fully into it, varying the pace from fast to slow and back again.

"Oui, Dom-en-eek... faster..." Her words were as urgent as the feet she locked behind his ears.

He did, pummelling her like a machine. One that was almost out of control. "How's that, you hot bitch," he groaned.

He was an animal, rutting in the most basic way. Unrelenting, a hand grasped each of her ankles and held them wide, above her head, while he pounded her. Hard, fast and deep. He'd show her who was boss!

Both gave in to the purely physical act of fucking. It went on for longer than they could have expected in their heightened state.

DeVere thought he was in charge. He wasn't. The Frenchwoman decided enough was enough. Her fingers gripped his short, grey hair, jerking his head up so that their eyes met. Her sex tightened around him in that way of hers. He groaned. Tightening the lock her feet had around his ears, she smiled in that 'I'm-in-control' way of hers.

"Want to cum een Amélie? " she asked in that innocent schoolgirl way that aroused him most. Her tongue softly ran across his neck. That always took him there.

"Yesss," he hissed, his face tightening into a cringe.

Her legs pushed their way back down his body, her feet planting themselves on his desk. "Do eet!" she snarled, the leverage allowing her to hump back so hard, it began to bounce.

The weight of her movements drove his cock deep into her and he went off like a depth charge, filling her slick walls with wet, satisfying heat. He howled out loud as one burst followed another.

The Frenchwoman let herself go with him, rolling her head back and screaming like a banshee. Her bucking body tossed him up like a rider at a rodeo.

"My, God," he panted, his heart threatening to burst from his chest.

The Frenchwoman shook her head. "'Ee won't help you, Dom-en-eek," she huffed. "Amélie wants to fook again..."

Even as he struggled to turn and look at her, she was on the move again, flipping positions and pulling her body across his until she was sitting on his lap. Roughly lining him up with her wet opening, she jammed her tongue deeply into his mouth. Her hand stroked him. He was hardening nicely.

Long fingers dug into his chest as he penetrated her in one clean movement. "Tres bon, Dom-en-eek," she gasped. "Such a good boy—"

Rotating her hips in circular motions, it was her turn to dominate.


Kelli was firing on all cylinders. A sexy diva! It wasn't just that she gave herself completely to the camera, and to the two models with her. It was the uninhibited way she gave herself. Erin's pep talk this morning was what she needed. So was the snow.

And rather than take the edge off her arousal, her encounter with Brooke yesterday had made her even hornier. But how could anyone not be aroused working with a Playboy-destined model and a hot-bodied ex porn star?

Even the relief she'd given herself in the bathroom at the second interval hadn't doused her fire. Maybe the second hit of coke hadn't been such a good idea after all?

She glanced across at Max. She hadn't met anyone quite so arrogant – but even so! His toned, ebony body made her feel weak at the knees. The smell of honeyed mango on him was a real turn on. So was his rich black skin. And the pièce de résistance – his cock was simply a monster.

If only she wasn't married...

She hadn't expected a naked shoot. It hadn't fazed her. She'd thrown herself into it without a hint of embarrassment. He body was hot. She knew that. Brooke and Erin had both told her.

The day had been intoxicating so far, and it wasn't over yet. Their three bodies were continually being smothered in oil, slipping and sliding against each other as they shifted from one position to another.

It was Brooke who oiled her, insisting that Kelli return the favour each time. Every touch simply increased the heat setting on her thermometer.

As yesterday, Chad drove each session, coordinating the three of them into one position after another as if conducting an orchestra. With the same driving beat of techno as yesterday filtering over the speakers, the master built up the pace, changing the mood with each new position. This was his masterpiece.

"I want that innocence," he kept telling Kelli. "That sexy naiveté. That vulnerability. Can you do that? Keep giving me that! The real you!"

But how could she focus on sexy vulnerability when Brooke kept pressing her tits into hers, and the African model continually rubbed his monster against her ass? It was as if they were deliberately working her up!

Brooke wrapped her arms around her again and ran her lips and tongue along the side of her neck. Max thrust his swollen manhood against her taut backside. "Perfect, perfect," Chad encouraged.

It was like being in a sex film but being denied the sex.

They were only halfway through the day when Chad picked up the sexual pace. "Max, I want you to cup Kelli's tits..."

Oh, God! His palms feel so good on her flesh. The way he manipulated her nipples sent sexual shockwaves to the very heart of her sex.


His cock pushed into the crevice of her ass as he complied with the instruction. Even half erect, he was as big as Jack. What would he feel like inside her?


"Fuck, you've gotta be joking," Goodwin gasped.

"It's true," Sandra Wilson smiled, carrying two mugs of steaming coffee into the room. She handed one to her barrel-chested boyfriend. "I made Palmer bacon and eggs."

Goodwin winced slightly as he took the coffee from her, a few drops slurping over the side and burning his index finger. "No, you goofball," he said, swapping the mug between hands and licking at the burn. "Not that. You said Palmer had fucked up."

"Too right," she said, dropping down on the couch beside him and taking the finger. "And not just that coffee stain on the carpet. He fell asleep."

"Fell asleep?"

She nodded, raising his digit to her mouth and sucking on it like she would a cock. "Missed the mark leaving," she mumbled. "No way of identifying him unless Taffy produces a name when he cleans up the recordings... removes the background noise."


Her eyebrows arched as she held his finger up. "Shit he fucked up? Or shit, that feels good?"

"Both," he grinned.

"Not only that," she continued, taking a second finger in her mouth. "He overslept and missed Roxanne this morning."

Goodwin pulled a sympathetic face, forgetting about her mouth for a second. "We've all done it. But I wouldn't want to be the one to tell Webster."

"No," Wilson slurped. "How about you and I keeping out of the way when he does that?"

"Where's he now?"

"Back at base. Checking a few things out. Said he'd be back here in an hour or so."

"Doesn't he ever ease off? Especially with a wife like his. Have you met Kelli?"

"I've met her," Wilson replied. She slipped his fingers back in her mouth again, sucking them deeper. "You saying she's sexier than your new girlfriend?" she mumbled.

Goodwin struggled to slip his mug on the carpet beside his feet. "No way," he groaned. His cock was as hard as a rock from watching the way she fellated his fingers. "My girlfriend is as sexy as hell. And the thing is, she gives great head!"

Wilson's eyes smiled into his. "Okay, big boy. Just for that, I'll show you just how good I am until Palmer gets back. And I've got an added treat for you."

His eyebrows shot up. "Treat?"

The black haired beauty smiled, reaching towards the recorder. "This is what happened last night. I was listening to some before you arrived. It'll blow your socks off."

The sound of a door outside interrupted her even as she reached for the switch. "Roxanne," they said in unison.

"I told Palmer she'd be back." Wilson smiled, pulling him into a kiss. "Now we can rest easier. But to get back to the business in hand - let me put last night's recording on loudspeaker. It might inspire you..."

Her eyes gleamed wickedly as she reached for his slacks.


Showered, Kelli felt invulnerable. The shoot had been a triumph. Her arousal levels were running at an all-time high. Only Brooke's presence in the dressing room had stopped her from masturbating.

As the two models made small talk on the couch, it was an effort not to rip off her robe and expose herself to Brooke. Maybe the raven-haired beauty would finger her again, if she asked?

Erin came to the rescue, just in time. The Agency Head swayed into the dressing room carrying a bottle of champagne.

"We need to celebrate, darlings," she smiled, popping the cork with practiced ease. Smiling at Kelli, she filled three of the four glasses she'd brought with her on the tray.

"I've asked Max to join us later," she explained. "We must let him celebrate with us, too. But first, it's just us girls. And a toast!"

"A toast?" Kelli repeated, her dreamy eyes smiling at her employer. "I'd like to toast you, Erin. For everything you've done for me."

Erin beamed at the blonde, handing the two women a full glass each. "That's so sweet, darling. But the toast is to a successful shoot today. And to your debut in two days."

Kelli almost choked as the bubbles found their way up her nose. "My debut?" she coughed.

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