The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey (23 page)

The overhead light flashed on, and there was Henri, in his bathrobe, flanked by the suspicious guards. She feigned sleepiness
and asked groggily, “What is it, Monsieur Bouscaral?”

He cast a glance at her open window and at her clothes strewn about on the floor. “Get up. At once!”

“What is it?” she asked, and hauled herself out of bed, covering her nudity with a large corner of the sheet.

Henri whirled to the older guard, demanding, “Are you sure it was she? Positively?”

The head guard shrugged in confusion, looking to his companion for confirmation. The younger one was equally
at a loss and muttered, “The taxi on the road back. It could have been—”

Henri glared at her. “Why are you breathing so hard, as though you’ve been running?”

“I’m frightened, sir… what is this all about?”

Her acting must have been better than she thought, for he waved his hand in agitation. “Get packed. We’re leaving at once.”
With that he pushed the two guards out of her room, grumbling at them for having failed their duties. Relieved, she sank to
the bed and tried to recover her equilibrium. Only one thing was certain in her mind, but it was enough. Dirk was safe. That
was all that mattered.

Rented in Iquitos by Bouscaral, the splendid, 159-foot private yacht chugged slowly down the moonlit Peruvian Amazon. At the
aft deck rail, all by herself, Honey watched the moon’s reflection in the inky black water. Along the riverbanks the dense
jungle pressed close; twisting vines overhung the sluggish waters. Occasionally, lights from the passing yacht would flash
on the glowing eyes of animals hidden in the thick foliage, and she recalled some of the captain’s list of wildlife in the
area, which included monkeys, tapirs, ocelots, and caimans.

Under different circumstances, Honey would have treasured the experience, luxuriously cruising the headwaters of the world’s
longest river, surrounded by some of the most primitive and fastest disappearing jungle on earth. However, on this night she
felt imprisoned in a floating cell, the infamous Henri Bouscaral her jailor.

Honey’s nerves were strained to their limit. Only her
strong willpower and self-discipline had kept her from cracking thus far. Though the night air was heavy with the scent of
tropical flora, all she was aware of was an overwhelming desire to protect the vulnerable Kolina.

Without warning, the bright moon suddenly blackened and the skies released a torrent of rain. Drenched instantly, Honey ran
through the warm rain to her cabin on the upper deck. No sooner had she slipped out of her clothes to dry off when a piercing
scream shattered the night’s stillness. It was Kolina, she was positive.

Hastily, Honey pulled on a robe over her bare form and dashed down the covered exterior corridor toward the continuing and
rising shrieks of fear. Without bothering to knock, she burst into Bouscaral’s cabin suite and froze in shock at the bizarre
scene that greeted her.

A naked, tumescent Bouscaral stood at the foot of the large bed, on which lay a deliciously nude Kolina. Between the girl’s
supple thighs knelt a wizened, grizzled, and equally naked native man, as brown as a berry and as stringy as catgut. Proudly
and with great determination he was attempting to enter Kolina’s cunt.

But this was not what Honey found so strange. Her gaze was fixed in riveted fascination upon the elderly Indian’s groin—from
which sprouted two erect and quivering penises!

Honey shook her head, blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. No, the strain of the past days had not sent her over the
edge; the old man did, indeed, possess twin cocks, equal in size though somewhat smaller than average, each as dark as mahogany,
with a leek-like head. At once Honey knew that this was the sole reason for Bouscaral’s hurried flight to this remote part
of the world; he must have heard about this amazing old man through the underground grapevine of seekers of the unusual.

The proud possessor of this anatomical oddity was
grinning toothlessly, completely unaware of Honey’s uninvited presence as he thrust his duplicate dicks at the poor girl’s
passionless portal.

For her part, Kolina was too disoriented by the double assault to take note of Honey’s arrival. But not Bouscaral. He glanced
up, first startled, then enraged. “Get out!” he barked.

Thinking quickly, Honey stepped forward with a seductive smile. “Oh, Monsieur Bouscaral,” she pleaded in a throaty voice,
“since Kolina is so frightened, please let me take her place, I beg of you. The very thought of being pierced by this gentleman’s
odd couple reduces me to a quivering mass of arousal.”

He stared at her as if she had just volunteered to fling herself overboard for a skinny-dip in a school of piranha. “You
want
to fuck this old man?” he asked in obvious disbelief.

“Oh, absolutely,” she purred as she inched forward to stroke first one, then the other of the delighted native’s dual appendages.
“What is the American saying? ‘Double your pleasure, double your fun’?”

While Bouscaral wavered, considering her proposal, Honey seized the moment—and the two stiff cocks—yanking the elderly native
off the bed. Throwing off her robe, she flung herself upon him like a she-wolf in heat, wrestling the horny old man to the
carpet, throwing him flat on his back. Squatting over his bony hips, she took a prick in each and sat, thrusting the two organs
deep into her. Gasping in sheer delight, she began to rock up and down, her heavy, full breasts swaying and bouncing over
the scrawny chest of the startled but appreciative old geezer.

Though neither one of the twin dicks was large by itself, her pussy was stretched to its limits by the two together. Through
half-lidded eyes, she could see that Kolina had
ceased her caterwauling and had risen up on one elbow, her cries forgotten as she watched Honey’s amazing performance. Bouscaral’s
mouth hung open in amazement. The old man wheezed and whimpered happily while Honey rode up and down on the matched pair in
wild abandon.

Beneath her, the old man reached up his bony fingers and pinched her dusky-rose nipples. His toothless, withered face leered
up at her like that of a deliriously happy child as she impaled herself repeatedly on his unusual organs.

Honey felt her own climax approaching, and at the last moment she raised herself off the double helping of meat and turned
herself sideways to reach behind and beneath her. Grabbing one stiff pecker, she rammed it up her anus, while, with the other
hand, she jammed the other one into her dripping honeypot. The double entry did the deed. Moaning and quivering, she rode
the two-headed oddity to an extremely satisfactory climax, while the old geezer, giggling inanely, let loose with his own
double-barreled blast.

Weakly, Honey rolled off the old man and collapsed on the rug, her whole luscious frame shaking with sensual vibrations. She
cast a glance at Bouscaral, who gaped as if seeing her with new eyes. Kolina, however, pouted, obviously disapproving of the
entire episode, and bounced off the bed, grabbing her nightgown and fleeing from the stateroom. Honey wanted to run after
her, but Henri appeared to have other plans. For the first time since she had been in his employ, he revealed his drawn sword
to her. Long and sleek, it rose from between his legs like a lethal weapon.

Honey rose to her feet and, stepping over the recumbent form of the elderly native, swept up her robe. Pulling it on, she
smiled sweetly. “
Merci
, Monsieur Bouscaral,”
she murmured. “Forgive me for intruding upon your playtime.” She started for the door, the very epitome of decorum.

“Wait,” Henri barked, and kicked a lazy foot out at the old man. The ancient debauchee scrambled up and, grinning thankfully
at Honey, hobbled out the door, clucking happily in his native tongue. Bouscaral waited until the door was closed before patting
the bed beside him. “Come here, Mademoiselle Fortel,” he said quietly.

She hesitated. There was something out of the ordinary in his manner. The sharp planes of his decadently handsome face were
filmed with a light layer of sweat, and the way he smoothed the edges of his trim black mustache gave her pause. His streamlined
organ had not drooped a centimeter, and pointed at her like a knife.

Pretending embarrassment, she cinched the robe’s sash tighter. “Monsieur Bouscaral,” she began formally, “I think it is not
wise for us to… to become involved on a personal level while I am working for you. It has been my experience that—”

“Fuck your experience,” he said. “You have deceived me.”

Genuine alarm flooded her system, and a warning bell of caution sounded in her ears. “Deceived?” she repeated innocently.
“I do not know what you mean, Monsieur Bouscaral.”

He smiled wickedly. “All this time you have worked for me, I had no idea you were so sexual. Why have you hidden it for so
long?”

She bowed her head, blushing effectively. “I did not want you to find me a poor influence on Kolina.”

“
Au contraire
,” he replied, one of his jet-black eyebrows arching upward. “She likes you so much, she might have loosened up a bit by seeing
your example.”

“She is very young, Monsieur.”

“Nonsense. She’s a nymphet. Been screwing since she was twelve.” He paused, looking down at his hard root. “Did she tell you
how she threw herself on me when we first met? She begged me to screw her. And after I did, she pleaded with me to take her
away from her school. Did she tell you that?”

“A schoolgirl crush, perhaps? Very understandable. You are so generous and handsome. A fantasy come true for any girl.”

He eyed her appreciatively. “You have good taste.”

“Alas,” she sighed, “what has it gotten me? Very, very little.”

“What do you want that you do not have?”

She managed a small smile, wistful, longing. “So very much.”

“Perhaps I could help. If you are nice to me.” The implications of his statement hung heavy in the air.

She held his gaze. “As long as you have the girl, you do not need me,” she said.

“A man can have an appetite for many dishes.”

“True, I suppose. But I would not feel right with the girl around.”

“You want me to get rid of Kolina, is that it?”

“I do not want you to do anything you do not want.”

Bouscaral scowled, and his slim, sleek cock began to twitch like a divining rod. Honey decided not to press her luck too far.
With a slight tilt of her head, she offered demurely, “Now if you will excuse me, I will retire to my cabin for the night.”

“Dammit,” he grumbled, grabbing his hard organ in both hands as if strangling a poisonous snake. “I want to fuck you.
Now
!”

Raising her head stiffly, she replied, “I am flattered, to be sure. But I will not play second fiddle to the girl.
Bonne nuit
.” She turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Going to Kolina’s cabin, she tapped lightly on the door. “It’s Claudine,” she said softly.

“Go away,” came the girl’s sullen reply.

“Please, I need to talk with you. It’s important.”

It took a while, but finally the lovely blonde girl threw open the door. She was nude and pale, and she immediately returned
to her bed and crawled under the covers. Honey closed the door and crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. “Please, Kolina,”
she began, “why are you angry at me?” A small smile touched at the corners of her lips. “Were you jealous?”

“Don’t be absurd!”

“Then why were you carrying on like that in there?”

Kolina’s lower lip began to tremble. “The old man frightened me.”

Honey reached out with a gentle hand and brushed back a lock of the girl’s white-blonde hair. “Poor baby…”

“Henri used to be so much fun,” Kolina muttered, then broke down completely, weeping into the covers. “I used to love him
so desperately.”

Honey pulled her into her arms, patting her back, kissing her tear-streaked face.

Sobbing, Kolina clutched her French teacher, crying, “Oh, Claudine, I love you so. Promise me you’ll not leave me.”

“I promise I will not leave you,” Honey reassured her. “Not until we are out of Henri’s sphere of influence and you are happily
on your own again.”

That only made the girl weep harder, gushing great quantities of tears on Honey’s shoulder. “Oh, we’ll never be free. Never!”
she cried.

Honey took the girl’s shoulders firmly and pushed her away to arm’s length. “I will not let you even talk like that, understand?
We will escape, be assured of that. You must trust me. You do, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” the girl whimpered.

“I swear this all will be over soon.”

Tenderly she kissed the girl’s sweet lips, sealing her vow, and prepared to stand. But Kolina, clinging to her desperately,
would not let her rise. “Don’t go, Claudine. Please. Stay the night. Please?”

The invitation was so tempting, Honey felt her resolve wavering. The girl’s bare breasts poked fetchingly above the covers,
round as two peas in a pod. Honey bent forward and kissed each one directly on the tip of its tempting pink nipple. “I cannot
tonight,” she breathed into them.

“But why?”

“Because tonight I must persuade Henri to set you free.”

“But how?”

Honey managed to stand, smiling oddly. “That, my darling, is my secret. Now you sleep, my pet.” She kissed her again on the
lips. “Sweet dreams.” Before the dear girl could protest any further, Honey slipped out of the cabin.

The tropical rainstorm had ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Once again the night skies were clear and the moon shone brigthly,
casting a pale glow on the dense vegetation lining the banks, and on the slowly moving surface of the broad river. The engines
of the huge yacht were silent, and yet the luxurious craft moved steadily, drifting in the center of the Amazon, following
its natural flow toward the Atlantic, over a thousand miles away. From the jungle, exotic cries of parrots and other strange
birds called into the darkness, adding a lonesome eeriness to the unfolding scene.