That Special Someone

Gently, I pulled my labia apart, letting Eric see right inside me for the second time – the first time sober – and wondering how long he'd be able to resist what I was offering. And as I thought that, I realized it was true: I was offering him more than just a photo opportunity. I'd waited a long time for that someone special and now I'd found him.

"We'll have to do this again, when I've had a chance to rig the lighting." Eric put his camera aside. "It's too dark in here right now." Eric's finger on the edge of my vulva demonstrated that 'in here' did not refer to the studio. He inched closer and dipped his head between my splayed thighs, flicking at my clitoral hood with his tongue. "I guess I'm the first guy to do that too." That wolfish smile was back. Eric's face disappeared between my legs again as he set to in earnest, teasing my pussy with his tongue as he worked his way from my clit to my perineum and back. He wasn't as gentle as B but it was a difference in technique, not ability. I was coming in seconds and as one orgasm subsided, the next seemed to be just starting. It helped, I am sure, that I was so keyed up, but I don't want to take anything away from Eric: He played me like a virtuoso on a violin and by the time he'd finished, I was panting for breath and sweating so much I needed another shower.

"Whoa!" I tried to stand up and my legs crumpled under me. I went down in a heap on the bed, laughing.

"Relax, Kelsey. Just lie back and catch your breath. I want to get this lighting right." Eric, still dressed but with a conspicuous erection, busied himself with weird lamps, silver umbrellas and assorted other paraphernalia while I lay there wondering why I'd let Danny's betrayal make such a shrew of me for so long.

Eventually, Eric was satisfied with the light and knelt between my splayed knees, lifting and spreading my legs and quietly instructing me how to pose as he clicked away. After a few dozen pictures, he wiped me gently, removing the glistening traces of my orgasms. Again the click-click-click of the camera punctuated his quiet instructions. Then it was his fingers on my labia, teasing them open, and still the click-click-click. He enthused about a trickle of my juices as it oozed from my vulva and crept down towards my anus: His finger caught it there and spread it around that puckered hole making me tense and, by tensing, squeeze out another trickle of juice.

"Is this another first?" He asked as his finger eased into my ass, just one knuckle deep. It tingled and felt itchy. I tried to relax for him.

"No. B did it to me last night." She'd told me just how anally fixated Eric was and persuaded me to let her show me how much fun it could be. It dawned on me now that she must have known before I did that I was going to succumb to Eric.

"How many fingers did she try?" Eric was easing a second digit in now.

"Three." I husked. Two of his fingers felt bigger than three of B's had.

"I'll get her to do it again later if you don't mind: It makes a great juxtaposition."

"Juxtaposition?"

"Yes. One hole clearly – conspicuously – innocent in the biblical sense, while the other hole is perversely and just as conspicuously being violated. It won't be just fingers either. I'd like to get B's tongue in there."

I was thinking I'd like B's tongue in there too. I missed what Eric said next. "Pardon?"

"I said I'd like to have the girls shave you tonight too. It'll make you much more sensitive."

"Ok." I'd been smooth for a while in college but it had made me very self-conscious in the locker-room at the pool: not least because it made my swimsuit creep up my crack and there were a couple of times other people noticed that before I did. But the idea of being able to bump shaven pussies with B was more than enough incentive.

"Kelsey, can I ask...?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, Eric. You are going to be my first..." I watched his eyes widen and his tongue moisten his lips as he grinned at me.

"Let's go and get cleaned up. Then I'll take you to lunch: we both missed breakfast." Eric finally took his fingers out of my ass, put down his camera and offered me a hand to get me on my feet.

* * * * *

It didn't surprise me when Eric followed me into the bathroom. I was half expecting him to want to watch me shower. I was surprised, however, when he stripped off his clothes and joined me, his semi-erect penis swinging in front of him.

"Here?" I thought perhaps the moment of truth had arrived. I reached out to touch his swelling manhood.

"No. Not yet. I have some more pictures to take then tomorrow we'll fly down to the beach house for a little romance. You deserve your 'prom night'." Eric grew stiffer in my hand until his penis bridged the gap between our bodies and I felt the hot, hard head of his cock against my abdomen.

On a whim I knelt under the torrent of hot water from the shower, putting Eric – or at least that part of him I was most interested in – at eye level.

"I've never... I may not be very good at this." I licked my lips nervously as I looked up at him.

"I've heard the story. I know you never did get that 'lesson' from the girl who stole your prom date." Eric's smile was reassuring.

I recalled the couple of blowjob scenes I'd seen in porn films, opened my mouth, dipped my head forward and got my first taste of Eric's manhood. It was hot, firm and silky smooth in my mouth and I caressed it with my tongue, probing the tiny slit at its tip and the ridge behind its swollen, plum-like head. I remembered that in those films the girls – and one guy – had used their hands too. Even with my mouth crammed full, there was plenty of Eric's cock left to wrap my fingers around. I pumped back and forth as I sucked hard on the end of it and teased him with my tongue. It took ages and my knees were throbbing more than Eric's cock by the time he came in my mouth, groaning and pulling out so that the second salvo splashed across my face.

I let his semen pool on my tongue, trying to decide if I liked the taste and, more importantly, what I should do with it. I decided it wasn't as pleasing on the palate as female juices but it wasn't so unpleasant I'd spit it out. I duly swallowed it with a smile for Eric, who'd slumped against the wall of the shower room and slid down so that he was now facing me. He looked very pleased with the sight of me covered in slimy white semen and, as I swallowed, he watched my neck move and grinned.

"Thank you." He was so polite about it.

"You're welcome." I was pretty sure I'd put in a clumsy performance but I made a mental note to ask B and Helen for the lesson I'd wanted from Emma Holt. I suspected my new tutors would give me far better advice than that boyfriend stealing bitch – Sorry. You've heard all that already. But whenever I think back to that night and the subsequent damage it did to my self-esteem and my love life... I'm only getting over it now, via some admittedly weird therapy, and I just can't forgive her.

Anyway, I was going to get my prom night after all. Eric had promised – well, said so, and I took him at his word – romance on the beach!

"Eric, Where is your beach house?" maybe Malibu? Eric was certainly rich enough to have a house there.

"Antigua." He still wore that grin. It was getting easier all the time to see why two beautiful girls are willing to share a man – Eric has a bad-boy charm about him that makes you instantly sure he'll never be faithful but it doesn't matter.

"Antigua? Wow!"

"A private beach and attractive staff, just in case..."

"In case of what?"

"In case of anything. They're very amenable. I keep a girl down there just to lick up spilled semen."

"You're joking, right?" Only, after a few days in this household, I wasn't so sure.

"Well... Ok, notjustfor that."

After I'd showered properly, with Eric's soapy-fingered help, much giggling, more than a little kissing and cuddling and a brisk rub down with a huge bath towel, we did get to go out to lunch.

* * * * *

"Auntie, you wouldn't believe the week I've had." I'd practically bounced into the flower shop after lunch and was in danger of cracking Aunt Tittie's ribs in my ebullience.

"You haven't been gone a week." She chided with a smile and a squeeze of my ribs.

"Really?"

"Three days." She nodded

"Only three? It seems longer. But ithasbeen amazing! Eric took the pictures he wanted this morning and-"

"Only this morning?"

"It took until today to get me used to being naked. They confiscated all my clothes and made me stay in my skin until I stopped blushing every time Eric looked at me. But I was trying to tell you: Eric took the pictures this morning and now we're off to Antigua. Do you know where my passport is?" I let go of Auntie and headed for the stairs to her – our – apartment.

"Iowa?" She followed me up the stairs.

"No. I definitely brought it to New York with me." I thought it might still be in the bag I hadn't unpacked – with my winter coat.

"Why Antigua? More photographs?" Auntie sat on the foot of my bed while I rummaged for my passport.

"Probably. Eric has a beach house there. We're going in his private jet...Isn't that cool?"

The bell on the shop door rang. "I'd better get that." Auntie stood to leave.

"Kelsey?" A distant voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Up here B!" I yelled back, still rummaging through my stuff. Wherever that passport was, it wasn't with my winter things.

"Hi." B arrived and the room suddenly seemed brighter. She really is that radiant. I stood in time for a hug and a not-so-platonic peck.

"B, this is Aunt Tittie. Auntie, B." I made brief introductions.

"Titania." Auntie reintroduced herself then went on to explain. "Kelsey likes to tease me about my modelling career." She pointed to a framed picture I had insisted on appropriating for my room. It was the cast of a 1960's production of Midsummer Night's Dream and there was Auntie, right in the middle, stark naked. All the fairies in the cast were, though Auntie was playing Cobweb, not her namesake.

B picked up the frame to look at the photograph. "That's you." She spotted Auntie instantly.

"That's me." Auntie confirmed. "In my salad days, when I was green in judgement."

"Right playwright, wrong play. That's from Antony and Cleopatra."

"Careful Auntie." I teased. " B's got more brains than she admits to."

"Hush child." Auntie silenced me with a smile and turned all her attention on B (for which I don't blame her) "Nor was I ever cold in blood." An understatement: Auntie is notorious within our family for her 'warmth'. I asked her once if it was true she'd had more lovers than all my other living relatives combined. She just smiled and made another pot of tea.

"You were beautiful." B put the picture frame back down.

"It didn't last." Auntie sounded wistful.

"It never does, which is all the more reason to make the most of it." B certainly knows all aboutthat.

"I'm glad you realize that. I didn't and it came as a shock when all the pretty boys and girls lost interest in me."

"Boysandgirls?" B raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes." Auntie's eyes sparkled but she sounded wistful again.

"Do you mind if I mention this to Eric?" B waved at the picture frame. "He's been doing a series of images reprising Rodin's sculptures and I think he'd really go for the idea of photographing you as the fallen Caryatid."

"Child, I think my days of posing nude are long gone... but thank you for suggesting it." Auntie patted B's cheek and I noticed her hand lingered a moment longer than necessary.

"Found it!" I retrieved my passport from a draw full of correspondence. I should perhaps have looked there first, but who thinks straight under these circumstances? I tossed it onto the bed alongside a holdall then started to pick out clothes for the trip.

"What are you doing?" B asked.

"Packing." I though it was obvious.

"No you're not." B picked up my passport and tucked it in her purse. "Eric's minding the gallery for a couple of hours. We're going shopping. You need a 'prom dress'."

"Prom dress?" Auntie looked puzzled. Damn! I hadn't got around to telling her why I was going to Antigua tomorrow.

"Auntie." I took hold of both her hands. "Eric's the one. We're going to Antigua for my 'prom night'." I hoped the penny would drop. It did.

"Oh, my darling child!" It was my turn to be on the receiving end of a bear hug. "I thought you'd never get over that..."

"I'm over it. Thanks to B... and Helen."

"Me?" B was paying close attention.

"You." I mumbled past Auntie's shoulder. "You taught me that I didn't have to be head over heels in love to desire someone."

B wore an expression of mock solemnity. "But you said you loved me." She wiped away an imaginary tear.

"I do, B. I love you to bits." I pulled free of Auntie to hug B. "But you don't love me... and that's ok. I don't mind just being your latest plaything." I'd thought about this a lot over the last few days and I really believed what I was saying until...

"You're not just a plaything. You have a lot of catching up to do before you'd be entirely comfortable with our crazy family set up, but I'll help anyway I can because I really don't want to lose you."

"Really?" I didn't wait for an answer, or care that Auntie was still I the room: I kissed B with all the passion I could muster, which at that moment was quite a lot.

"And..." B managed to get a word in edgewise. "Helen's only been letting me monopolize your time because you were clearly a little infatuated and everyone felt I should be your 'big sister' until you got over it."

"I don't want to get over it, but I mustn't leave Helen out, must I?"

"You won't get any say in it once you're back from the Islands. Helen's already miffed that we're not invited but Eric said he wanted some alone time with you. This is special for him too, you know. He never thought he'd have a virgin.

We'd better hurry!" B caught sight of the clock and let go of me.

"Why?"

"Because your plane leaves in two hours and you still need a prom dress."

"But... It thought we were travelling tomorrow." Wasn't I due for a shave tonight?

"Change of plans I'm afraid. Helen needs the plane tomorrow for a fraternity fundraiser in Boston.

"Oh... Bye Auntie. Wish me luck." I hugged Auntie briefly, feeling squeezed again.

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time, child."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Titania." B said as Auntie let go of me. "C'mon Kelsey." B seized my hand and practically dragged me through the door.

* * * * *

I was twenty minutes late getting to the airport but, since Eric owned the jet, they'd waited for me. I'd never even travelled first class before so having a plane all to our selves was something of a culture shock.

We arrived at the beach house just in time for dinner: a banquet to my way of thinking but, I was assured, just a few of Mr Eric's favourite dishes. Pierre, Eric's Gardener, waited on us most professionally while Mary, the housekeeper, bustled in and out with more dishes for the sideboard.

After dinner we went down to the beach for a stroll in the moonlight and Eric told me the story of how Pierre and Mary got their jobs. Again, it didn't surprise me. I just clung to Eric's arm and rested my head on his shoulder while wavelets lapped at our toes.

"Eric. I don't want to stay in the guest room tonight."

"Nobody said you had to. Where would you like to sleep? Out here, under the stars?"

"In your arms." I turned to kiss him, feeling those arms close around me as our lips met. "I just want to be held. Is that all right?"

Eric kissed me again and that was my answer. Before I knew it, he'd literally swept me off my feet and was striding back up the beach with me clinging to his neck and laughing. On the dry sand, we lay down under a sky filled with more stars than I'd ever seen – no light pollution here – and I moulded my body along his while he named the constellations for me and told me far-fetched stories of ancient gods and goddesses as their silent images circled over us.

When we finally got back to the house, there was no sign of Mary or Pierre but they obviously hadn't expected me to stay in the guest room either because the route to the master suite was lined with tea lights and, when Eric opened the double doors, his bed was strewn with flowers, lit by more – lots more – candles.

"How did you know?" I asked. Howdidhe know I'd end up in his room?

"I didn't. But if I had to guess, I'd say Mary had a tip-off before we even arrived."

"B?"

"Almost certainly." Eric decided that further discussion would only spoil the romantic mood so he shut me up. He is areallygood kisser.

I undressed while Eric blew out most of the candles, leaving but the two either side of the bed to allow us to see each other.

"Eric? Whose fraternity is Helen fundraising for?" I slipped between the sheets while he was still unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hers. Mine too. Making B and Helen the first female members of Phi Kappa Delta was my last official act as President."

"So she's taking a private jet to Boston for a fundraiser." It was odd. The flight would cost thousands: how much were they trying to raise?

"It's not an official fundraiser. She's taking a Harvard alumnus up there to persuade him to pay for a pool for the new fraternity house I'm building. I could just pay it all, but Helen likes to do her bit for old Phi Kappa Delta."

Eric climbed into bed beside me and I settled my bottom against his semi-hard cock while his hand found one breast and cupped it gently. He rolled the ball of his thumb over my nipple and I felt his cock swell a little more against my buttocks and the backs of my thighs.

"I don't think Helen will have much problem parting him from his money. I can't imagine many men being able to resist her."

"Oh, he won't resist. He's fucked her before."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what I was hearing.

"Kelsey, didn't you know Helen's a professional escort?"

"No!" I was stunned. Why would Helen do that?

"Yes. But she prefers the term 'whore'. Helen doesn't like to mince words. She's been doing it since her freshman year but she's about to retire. This Alumnus – Francis Deerborne – is a former client with a very kinky fetish. Helen could have just blackmailed him with a video she has of him... indulging this little peccadillo, but she's not a bad person so instead she offered him the carrot instead of the stick."

"Where does she put the carrot?" I was shocked by what I was hearing but I still couldn't help myself. Besides, this conversation was making Eric harder so it obviously didn't bother him.

"You're closer to the truth than you think. Dear Mr Deerborne likes Belgian chocolates. As if Helen's ass wasn't sweet enough already."

"Ugh! Gross!" I got the picture.

"Who am I to judge? I'm a pornographer hell bent on seducing and defiling a virgin."

"True." I reached down and drew his hard-on between my thighs so that his length rested against my labia and I could still get both hands around what protruded beyond my body. He let me caress the swollen, bulbous head of his cock for a while before relinquishing his hold on my breast to still my hand with his.

"Save it for tomorrow." His voice was barely a whisper, punctuated by soft lips pressed against the nape of my neck. I actually felt a twinge of regret. I was ready now. I wanted him now. Couldn't he feel how wet I was between my legs, against his magnificent cock? He must have sensed all this.

"Leave it be and it'll sleep too." He drew my hand gently away from his cock and back up my body to my aching breasts. I pressed his hand over one nipple and moaned as much in frustration as in pleasure.

* * * * *

I woke up alone. Well, not exactly alone: Eric was gone, but Mary was opening the blinds to let in the morning sunlight. She was wearing less than I was, lacking even the natural cover of pubic hair.