Chapter One

The Storyteller

Like a rag doll flung down by some giant, Lewis lay sprawled in the middle of a pile of damask pillows. He was naked, spread-eagled, on his back, arms flung out far, and legs loosely parted. His eyes were closed; his breathing shallow. His flaccid penis nestled against his right thigh. But a closer look would reveal that the seemingly somnolent penis was in fact beginning to stir, slowly thickening, uncoiling with the very first hint of arousal. Maybe it was the exposure to the delicious coolness of the air-conditioned room, or an acute awareness of the satiny smoothness of those oversized pillows under his nude body. Or maybe it was the simmering anticipation of things to come; the exciting nearness of the girl who he knew was looking down on him, even though his eyes were closed. She stood over him, silently watching, studying his calm face, the gentle heaving of his lightly-furred chest, his responsive prick. But whatever the source of his excitement, his manhood was clearly taking reacting, expanding now with the first stirrings of renewed lust.

Otherwise, Lewis didn’t move a muscle, but lay as he had come to rest, his head propped up against the supporting sofa, his features relaxed in a placid expression, so that to the casual observer the man appeared to be dozing. But he wasn’t. Under that facade Lewis was keenly aware of the erotic sensations, the frisson of desire, every fiber of his nude body a-tingle with anticipation. He was waiting for her to begin.

And so Chloe began, like she always did, with the letting down of her hair; it fanned down, enveloping her softly rounded shoulders in a dark cloud as she stood over him, gazing down on the naked man. Smiling to herself, she would take her time, pausing to contemplate that well-made male body for a moment, before raising up a foot, reaching down to slip off a pump. Normally, Lewis enjoyed watching Chloe strip for him, but tonight he kept his eyes closed, knowing what she was doing. Moving methodically, she opened the front of her dress, slipped it of her shoulders, shoved it down her hips, and stepped free of it. Next, she reached back to find the catch of her bra freeing her softly-mounded breasts to settle. Bare-breasted, she dropped to her knees and came to him, squirming up under a cradling arm, while his prick tightened in eager expectation. The pretty girl, in nylon stockings and a slick, champagne half-slip, snuggled happily against the outstretched guy.

For the longest time the two lovers lay together like that, motionless, still but tense, both of them acutely aware of the simmering excitement that was building. It was only when she heard him sigh that she stirred, rising up to let a dangling breast brush softly over his arm and trail up his lightly-furred chest as she eased herself forward onto him. She tilted her head so that her silky hair spilled down in a fine curtain that partially shielded her face. And then she swayed back and forth, letting the slithering tendrils tease down his chest, and then trail across his taut belly, watching the flat muscles twitch as her hair and then her pointy nipples brushed across his chest with a maddening tickle. This calculated teasing forced a barely suppressed moan to escape from the man’s tightly-pressed lips.

Chloe lowered her head, and turned her cheek to lay her head on her lover