The Cordova Keys

Working as a freelance photographer has always been a passion of mine. The soft, rapid clicks of the shutter and the diffused flashes of light dancing across the walls as I strolled through my studio's loft always seemed to put me into a hypnotic trance, the subjects positioned before me became nothing more than a fixture of the space as I positioned myself around them, always looking for that perfect shot...

The days that once started with searching the internet and local papers for my next gig quickly turned into photo sessions that earned more money than I had even though possible. Not only did I love what I was doing, it turns out that I was good. In fact, I was really good. Reservations were starting to come in months and even years in advance. The pay was amazing, the clientele were satisfied and I was happy. Lonely, but happy. As I glanced through my growing portfolio, my eye caught a picture that I had intentionally tucked away toward the rear of the pages. Face and neck glistening from the moist heat that settled on that private island in the Caribbean, a set of deep turquoise eyes gazed back framed by a strawberry blonde mane. Isabella.

Hearing the phone ring I quickly snapped back to reality. "Photos by Charlie" I said instinctively, all the while thinking it was time to come up with something more professional. The man on the line was a bit out of breath, almost panting, "Charlie! I'm glad I caught you!"

Wondering to myself where else I would be at 2am on a Thursday morning I responded, "You caught me. What's up?" What's up? Seriously Charlie, get a grip here.

"I need a huge favor! I have family flying in from the States tomorrow my waste of space son-in-law who offered to film the wedding has decided to back out at the last minute!"

"Flying in from the States? Who is this and how did you get my number?" Come on Charlie, act like a damn professional. It may be early in the morning, but this is still a potential client.

"Charlie! It's me, James! James Cordova!"

You have to be kidding me... James Cordova, the father of the turquoise eyed beauty Isabella. "Mr. Cordova I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize the number."

"James, call me James. And I should be the one apologizing for calling out this early hour. But tell me Charlie, can you make it? Are you free for the weekend?"

Without hesitating I responded with a yes. Looks like my little country getaway will have to wait.

"Grab your bags then. I have jet waiting and Isabella is on her way to escort you."

With a quick click of the receiver, I was left standing at the desk, phone in hand staring back at the photo of Isabella. I loved how they called their little homestead, "The Cordova Keys". To be honest, homestead is a far reach for words. James Cordova was a billionaire who earned his fortune in a joint venture with his brother Javier, a venture which had remained a mystery beyond that. For all I knew, it could have been gun or drug related. I laughed out loud at the image of James and Javier sitting back in lavish style on one of their island mansions, protecting their fictitious marijuana fields with outstretched arms holding weapons towards the boats that passed by on the horizon. The laugh quickly softened as the gravity of the situation took hold. I needed to repack. Hell, not only did I need to repack, but I needed to cancel my ride to the cabin and get my gear secured. I knew form my previous visit to The Cordova Keys that I would need every camera, lens and piece of equipment that was available in my arsenal. The diverse settings of the islands and the family homes scattered across them would take every trick I had learned over the years and stretch them to their limits.

Not long after I had finished repacking my clothes and securing my gear, there came a sharp knock at the door. When opened, I was surprised to find two older gentleman dressed in driver's attire beckoning for my belongings. Slowly stepping aside and motioning towards the pile of luggage in the middle of the room, I became aware of a second presence behind me and a light feminine caress on my arm. Turning slowly, I was awed to see the now 23 year old enchantress Isabella. Seven years had passed since my first visit to The Cordova Keys where I was hired to capture the sweet sixteen celebration of the youngest of the Cordova children. Now, at a staggering 5'10', she was the perfect picture of health and beauty. The tops of her tanned breasts were just visible over her white blouse that was cut to accentuate her toned and lean arms. Her white skirt swayed gently in the breeze of the corridor of the complex as she crossed the threshold and gave me a warm embrace. When I realized that the men holding my belongings were ready and starting to stare at the sight before them, I motioned towards the door as I locked up behind them and escorted Isabella back to the awaiting limo. As we walked, she spoke for the first time in a hushed tone, "I missed you Charlie."

Blushing, I quickened my pace, reached out and opened the door to the limo as I beckoned her to take a seat. As we rode to the airfield only a few miles away, we chatted about the minor events in our lives since we had last seen each other. She had just finished her schooling here in the States and was travelling back home for her sister's wedding. A breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that little detail and my mind drifted back to that island all those summers ago when the young Isabella had flaunted herself in front of me, showing me her young yet full figure as she pretended to drop her bath towel and teased me as we swam in the family pool. There was even the last night of my visit, where she had grabbed my neck and gave me a deep kiss before running up the stairs to her bedroom...

"Charlie?" Isabella said.

I glanced up to see her reaching for my hand. The door was open and the driver and his aide had already begun to load our luggage onto the jet who was idling nearby.

Laughing, she called out again. "Come on Charlie, we don't want to keep Papa waiting."

As we loaded onto the private jet, I took a seat on one of the plush leather reclining chairs that faced toward the rear of the plane. Isabella chose the seat opposite me and proceeded to pour us glasses of a 25 year old Hankey Bannister blended Scotch from her father's private collection. As I drank, the burn in my throat made my eyes begin to water and Isabella again let out a flirty laugh. While the plane tore down the runway, I glanced about the small jet and noticed that we were alone. The pilot had shut the cockpit door and we were effectively secluded off in the little cabin. Swiveling around I glanced out the window and Isabella's reflection caught my eye as she slowly adjusted in her seat. What am I doing here? I thought to myself. This is crazy!

I took this poor girl's virginity and here I am now, having these thoughts all over again. I finally settled back down in the seat and as we struck up another conversation, Isabella poured another glass of the Scotch. As she leaned forward to hand me my glass, I noticed that her skirt had started to ride higher up her lap than I noticed before. Her tanned legs slowly parted as she leaned forward and I had just caught a glimpse of her delicately shaved folds as she slowly straightened and returned to a seated position. My eyes were locked. I knew she was looking at me but I could not divert my gaze to save my life. A full minute had passed before I was able to compose myself and turn away. This young woman had not seen me in just over seven years. So much had changed since those nights on the islands. Did those occurrences really even happen the way I remembered them? Was it all my imagination? Was she truly just an innocent little girl?

Isabella finally broke the silence, "It's alright Charlie. I don't trust anyone else to admire my body the way that you do."

I gazed back into her eyes and she started to recite some of my more explicit works that were available on various erotic internet sites.

"The Jaden's Fire series was always my favorite..." she recalled. "I can see the passion in your work, your love for the camera and the pursuit to find that perfect image."

I was becoming a bit distressed at this point. I had intentionally used a pen name for some of the more questionable sessions and gigs I had performed over the years, yet here she was, reciting the names of various works back to me and at this point, there was no point in denying it. But why Jaden's Fire? What was so extraordinary about Jaden's Fire that it caught young Isabella's interest?

"I'm sorry Isabella", I said back in response. "There was a period in my life where I had to take whatever jobs were offered..." I was quickly cut off with a finger pressed to her lips.

"There are no apologies needed" she cooed as she slowly parted her legs again giving me another view of her wetness. In a single stride she had set aside her now empty glass of Scotch and slowly kneeled before me. Running her left hand up to my chest, she pushed me further back into the recliner as she removed my belt with the other hand. My mind was racing and I was still trying to process the significance of what was happening when I felt the head of my rod being engulfed by her warm mouth. Looking down, I could only see those glistening turquoise eyes as she slowly enveloped me down to the root. The view alone was almost too much to handle.

Isabella slowly let me slide from her mouth as she said, "I have saved the best parts of myself for you," and once again took my entire length into her awaiting mouth and throat.

I could already start to feel the heat rising from my loins before I could even fully process what was happening. Sensing that I was close to coming, Isabella slowly gripped underneath the head of my glans and held still as the sensation passed without incident. Then, in one swift motion she stood and straddled my legs as she lowered herself to me. I could feel the moist recesses of her entrance enticing me, beckoning to me but apparently she had other plans. Tilting her pelvis slightly towards me, she positioned me at the entrance of her rear and pressed the head of my rod against her now pulsating little hole.

"Jaden's Fire," I managed to call out, "I filmed Jaden Andrews in her first anal experience..." and with that, she dropped to my lap impaling herself on my rigid staff.

Grinding her hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion matched only by the thumping of the jet engines, she leaned forward and whispered close to my ear "Not only is this my first anal experience, but I have saved my core for you as well."

As I gripped her bottom firmly, she started to glide up and down my cock until she reached her first sexually induced climax. I pulled her closer and buried my throbbing stem harder and faster in her tender hole until she began to whimper in my ear, "Please! Oh Please! I have waited so long!"

As I began to ejaculate for the first time in years, Isabella let out a guttural moan that I am sure was heard over the roaring engines. I tensed as I shot stream after stream of my semen into her bowels which sent her over the edge and into her next orgasm. The rapid pulsing and contractions of her muscles milked the remaining semen from me as she slumped onto my chest panting. Over the next few minutes, my erection slowly subsided and Isabella reluctantly slid off of my lap and proceeded to gently lap up the expelled semen that had been forced out and trapped between us.

As my heart rate finally returned to normal, I picked up the exhausted young woman before me and carried her to the lavatory where I delicately placed her in the small tub and washed the combined sweat and semen from her body. Shortly after I had dressed her and carried her back to her seat, the pilot announced that we would be landing within the hour. I glanced quickly out the window and then returned my gaze to the young vixen napping peacefully across from me.

My eyes slowly started to close while exhaustion took its hold on me. "My dear Isabella..."