Charity Ball

Chapter II

Consommй of cuntjuice ladled along the insides of her thighs, Constance shielded her eyes from the sun. “Hello? Did I hear someone?”

She gave her clit one last squeeze.

Closed her knees.

Reached for the duster of raw silk brocade that lay loosely over the deck beside her. Tossed the lightweight robe over her shoulders.

Shading her tits.

Shielding her thighs.

Obscuring her fanny from prying eyes.

Constance raised a palm to her face. Replaced a stray strand of gold-dipped hair.

Cupped her hand above her brow.

Cocked her ears.

Scowled.

What did she hear? Constance made out a few words feeding into the breeze.

The shift of feet over sandy slats of dry wood. The tinkle of crystal.

“Veronica?” Constance sighed.

She let the duster fall open wide.

“Is that you, Constance? Thought you might be up here.”

Veronica appeared, “nude.

Body lubed.

Sucking an ice cube.

Pussyfuzz trimmed into the shape of a V.

Sporting bare clitoris where her labial forest had been defoliated.

She carried an opened bottle of champagne lazily by the neck, dangling it behind her bare fanny. Held two long crystal flutes against the cranny between her. brightly nipped tits.

“How’s about some champers, doll?” Veronica jawed slowly. “I’m like so totally awesomely wiped out I need some fizzwater in my veins.”

“Glad you brought up the bubbly,” Constance said, sucking out the melted liquid in her glass. “I too was in dire need of drink.”

“Bombs away,” Veronica said.

The bottleneck foamed. Sparkling liquid overflowed the champagne flutes. Rolled in frothy slips over her breasts.

Veronica tittered.

Shivered.

Shot a snootful of liquid into her gullet as she trained her gaze on Constance’s legs. Drew her eyes along the length of her gams.

Up past Constance’s partially revealed pubes and boobs, to her face.

“How’s the sunburn coming, doll?” Veronica drawled. “You in it for the long haul?”

“What do you think?”

Constance lifted her leg.

Showed her ass.

Pressed a nippletip between thumb and forefinger. Snapped it like a trigger.

She threw her other arm over her head like a ballerina and aimed a freshly depilated armpit at Veronica’s face.

“You could use a little more of that below the waist, Constance.”

“If you insist,” Constance smirked.

She herky-jerked her clit with her fist.

“No,” Veronica giggled. “I meant the depilatory, silly dolly. Your pussy’s beginning to look like a mangy collie.”

“Thought I’d get a trim this afternoon,” Constance mused. “Not that there’s anything to lose. I’ve got nothing pressing lined up.”

“Still,” Veronica snorted. “You never know when something might pop up.

Besides. You should always take pride in every aspect of your appearance.

Endear yourself to yourself, I always say.”

“Any other criticisms of my physique?”

“Well, the color of your tan seems a little weak. I mean, it’s even and all that. And I know you’re layering it on slowly-”

“I still want to look white,” Constance said, reclining back into sunning position. “You know, there are still a lot of people around who think I’m some kind of spic bitch.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Constance. And yours was just a little one.”

“Yeah,” Constance blurted. “I married for love. Tell me about it.”

“It might have worked out. If he had, like, changed his name to something-less-uh-more. Tee hee! Something like yours.”

“Right. But you know those Latinos. Arturo Mondragon Bourbon would not have liked to have been known as anything like a Meester Eastwick-Westbrook.”

“In Europe you can get away with that.”

“I’m not exactly royalty-”

“He wasn’t either-not really. Was he?”

“That remains to be seen. In any event, I won’t let it happen again-”

“You haven’t yet.”

Constance drank from the glass Veronica passed. “Since then,” Constance said with a smoky gleam to her eyes, “I’ve managed to keep my love life and my married life separate.”

“And your being Lady Farnsworth has to mean a lot, Constance-”

“Ah, Veronica. You must understand. There are lords and there are lords. My husband has a title, he is rich-but he’s not among the idle. He really does have a heavy load of diplomatic duties.”

“Least it keeps him away from you.”

“True.”

“And you do have your own independent career to tend, my dear.” Veronica cast her eyes at the small tape recorder. “Working?”

“Trying out first lines. Here.”

She snaggled on the machine.

A crackly version of Constance’s voice chewed out: “I never fuck. I just watch.”

“Omigosh,” Veronica twittered. “That’s delicious, doll. What’s it about?”

“I don’t know yet. I have a lot of thoughts on the cassette now. I should give it to Morrigana and let her figure it out.”

“Yeah, Constance. You’ve done enough work for today. Pack it away.”

“Okay. Talked me into it.”

“Want to take a dip with me?”

“I think not. That kind of exercise doesn’t seem to appeal to me right now. But thanks for the thought, dear one.”

“Yeah, well, anyway,” Veronica said. “I almost forgot. There’s this dude down at the big house waiting to see you.”

“Huh?”

“Morrigana told me when she saw me coming out here. I thought I had his card somewhere with me.” She puzzled her brow. Crinkled her nose. “Where the fuck is that?”

A bright look passed across her face. She reached around to the back of her waist Slid her digits between her asscheeks.

Brought out a mildly moist rectangle of cardboard. Held it aloft. Wafted it under Constance’s nose.

Constance read with utterly no interest to be traced on her face.

The card was embossed in the center with letters of the classic Roman order spelling out the name GRIFFITH POINDEXTER. In the lower left corner, set in small italic type, was the single word consultations.

“I know him,” Constance said slowly. “Or I know who he’s supposed to be. Didn’t expect him so soon. He’s a private dick I’m thinking of bringing in for the charity ball.”

“Something go wrong?”

“Not yet. Not as far as I know. But I think it’s a good idea to have a little house security on my side as a preventive measure.”

“Sure blows me away,” Veronica said. “But then, you’re the smarty-pants around here.”

“If you actually think that, Veronica, you are doing yourself a great disservice. You just need a bit more experience in certain areas.”

“Gee, thanks, Constance.”

“Stick around me, sis, and you’ll become a prodigy in a jiffy.”

“Yes! I want to! I want to be a-a-genius! What I wouldn’t do for you!”

“Can you do my back for me now?”

“Sure. I love to give you rubdowns. But what about that dude that’s waiting around? Tell him to kiss off or what?”

“Shit. I’ll see him.”

“Shall I send him up?”

“No. I’ll have to get dressed before I meet him.”

“But, like, Constance. He’s not one of us, you know. He’s like-almost like a servant. You shouldn’t have to care whether something like that sees you naked.

I mean, you wouldn’t care if a hound were around while you took a shit.-”

“I’m afraid I do have to treat the poor boy as if I think he’s half human. I need his good graces in light of the occasion.”

“Too bad.”

“Oh?”

“In more ways than one. I caught a look at him while he was talking to Morrigana in the foyer-he didn’t see me-and if he weren’t so common he might be a bit of fun.”

“Hmmmmm. That’s one thing you can begin to learn, Veronica.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to forgo sleeping with someone simply because of their social status or dearth of family background. There may well be limits as to your eventual involvement with them. But they’re not strictly off-limits sexually.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two young women sidled together side by side toward the door leading off the rear porch.

Veronica put her arm around Constance.

Leaned her mouth into her head and whispered into her ear cup. “As long as the conversation’s getting a little personal, Constance-just what was it that drove you to-uh-love Arturo?”

“In how many words?”

The pillow-talk routine.

Arturo’s favorite. Regardless of whether it was in the back of a Bentley, the cabin of a Lear Jet decorated whorehouse style.

Or as now. On the deck of one of Arturo’s more casual medium-sized yachts.

Anchored within telescoping range of the tit-bedazzled beach on the French Riviera slightly to the east of Saint Tropez.

Constance held her eyes shut.

Her lips were open.

Arturo’s member slithered between.

He talked away on the phone in a mixture of Spanish, English, French, and Arabic.

Constance had found out shortly after their first meeting that Arturo liked to be sucked off during overseas conference calls.

“Sheik,” he said, adjusting the focus on his telescope as Constance choked down his dingdong. “No hashish, man-no guns. You gotta understand my customers’ needs.”

Constance cocked her ears. Took prick in deeper.

“And, Mister Ambassador. That airplane that went down with nobody around. Just a bungle in the jungle. No. The cargo didn’t just disappear. Somebody has to have it. Finders keepers. But I might could get it back for you maybe if the price is all right. It’s just papers-huh?”

Constance choked on the slickness pestering her maw. The ballocks loomed up, increasing in size by the second.

The magenta tip of Arturo’s twanger wailed away inside her mouthcheeks.

Billowing scrotum wafted like a hot-air balloon. As the come coursed on down her chest, Constance swooned into his nest.

She felt the hot rush of jissom in her face. slugged down draughts of his joy juice.

Quaffed come into her tam-turn.

Inside her stomach, the jissom boiled.

Her snatch was a patch of hot oils.

Arturo wiggled his pecker.

A few snaggles of jizz traced the angle of her nose. Constance gnawed nuggets.

Played with his hose.

“So they got hostages in-where?” Arturo paused. “No hay problem, man.”

He wrapped his legs about Constance’s face. Brought her head up underneath his rump.

She sucked his asshole ravenously. Eating out anus about the crinkled rim.

His body jumped like a trout.

Constance’s fingers wormed in and out.

Her fingers hooked into the cranny of his fanny. Thumb banged on the outer edge of his asshole.

Corked right in.

“Awk! That’s a zinger,” Arturo stuttered, pulsing his buns. “Tell you what to do, though, man. Invite that father-fucking prime minister over for dinner.

Find out what he really, really likes. Then maybe you can take him aside. Get him addicted to drugs or little girls. You become his supplier, and, man- you be in like Flynn.”

Constance thumbed his bung as his ballocks bounced in her face.

She lapped the seam between his ass and his scrotum. Snapped teeth at his testicles.

Blew up his bottom until his legs spasmed weakly. Flailing her own clit maniacally.

Constance’s face was straining in the agony of her incipient orgasm.

Screaming clit touched off a frenzy from her toes to her brain.

Come rained from her cunny.

Pussy puled for attention.

Purring pussy, hungering for birdmeat. Mewing, stewing, fretting like a kitten.

Constance slashed her legs apart.

Rutted up into the air at his face.

Displaying widespread labia.

Pink, open lips.

Attempting to kiss.

Arturo’s mindless ranting excited her all the more. She suffered because she was ignored by her husband. Mental rough staff.

And.she was no creampuff.

She could take it.

Anywhere he gave it.

She snatched up his cock and waved it. The prong sprang forward.

Out and up.

Strutting like a fighting cock.

She hawked the head down her throat once more. Ate away the dregs of his last coming.

The dick jammed below her belly.

Slick underside of Constance’s haunch tickled as Arturo Mondragon Bourbon’s cocktip bounced back and forth between her cunt and her bung.

The balls swayed as they hung.

Then the twanger tipped into her front.

He began to rut.

The edges of her cunny stung.

She dropped her chin to her chest. Her tongue tolled forth and hung.

He pawed her tits as he syruped words into the mouthpiece of the telephone.

Droning on and on, wheedling deal after deal as he sent his pricktip home.

Constance felt the cockmeat quest deeper.

Drilling her to the bone.

Filling her froufrou with rivulets of rutsweat. Lathered ladyjuice caked the length of his stake. Constance’s cunt quaked.

Arturo patted the ends of her boobs.

Suckered them aimlessly in the sides of his mouth as he listened thoughtfully to the long-distance litany of monstrous problems of peculiar complexity. The blood in his erection increased in density. The size engorged to immensity.

Constance chattered wordlessly as the man’s blind (tick took control. She whirled like a spreading wildfire in the wind.

Din of orgasm ringing in her ears.

Sears of pain in her groin as the spear savaged her insides with tear after tear.

Arturo hunched his shoulders.

Threw his head back.

Flipped his eyes up and stared into the back of his brain.

As his dick drained nacreous sludge into Constance’s rawhide cunt.

The goo spilled over the rind of her froufrou fruit. Scum syruped between the crack of her ass as Arturo maneuvered fast.

He had his prick up inside her ass.

Pumped fast.

Erection returning as if he were automatic. Crack after crack into her rump.

He jackknifed forward over Constance’s haunch and peered through the telescope as he simultaneously spoke and lucked ass. He gauged the boob size of several Mediterranean Messalinas slinking along the surf line.

“What’s the matter?” Constance whispered. “Aren’t there enough tits for you right here?”

“Fucking gringuita bitch. You don’t never innerup me when I yam een conference.

Don you fucking laugh at me. Shut your sistersucking face. Theese ees is no something funny!”

Then Arturo snapped the telephone from his face. He gripped Constance about the waist.

Pulled her higher onto his cock.

Yanked her head back by her hair. Pulled it taut.

Gave her a shot with his knuckles on her chin. Tore her head to the side.

Pummeled her again.

“Unh.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Arturo spat.

“What?”

He smacked across her face.

“What on earth is that for?”

“Because I am your husband. And I will be king.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I talked to that ambassador man. That knight boyfriend of yours-”

“That was before-”

“But you see him now.”

“At parties-”

“Balls! He said to tell you he sends his best. His best right up your ass!”

“Ungh. Arturo. I’m telling you. If you hit me one more time when I don’t want you to, I will cut your face to shreds with my fingernails.”

“And he says that know he is no fucking knight no more. He is a lord! You don’t fucking think I don’t fucking know what the fuck-fuck-fuck that means. I know you whore for the lord!”

“Arturo, please-”

“My wife-she a slut. She a fucking whore. Puta. If! yam king, I can have you killed for even looking at another man. But you tuck him-”

“No-”

“I know you luck him all the time. But in this tucking gringo country they have laws to protect you tucking cunt criminals. I can’t do tucking nothing to you that I should do.”

“Do it to yourself from now on, your majesty. I’m gone.”

“So he really was a good screw, huh?” Veronica said. “Too bad about that temper.”

“So I did have an affair or two. Shit, Veronica. He was out banging every rotten slice of cuntmeat he could buy.”

“And he gave you a divorce?”

“It was my claim-abuse-at first. Then things got worse. The prick countersued, saying I was a prostitute from the first and entrapped him into marriage. Said it was fraud on my part.”

“Fuckingchrist. And him a fake king. Who won?”

“Well, no one. It was settled out of court. I guess if anyone won, the lawyers did.”

“All Jewboys, I bet.”

“Veronica-please be a bit more open-minded. Yes, coincidentally the attorneys involved did happen to be Jewish. But mine was a woman.”

“You fuck her, Constance?”

“You tease. If you didn’t have such tight little titties, Veronica, you’d never get away with half the foul things you say.”

“And who’s this private dick sucker supposed to be anyway?”

“He comes most highly recommended to me. He is apparently sensitive to the values people like us hold in our hearts and minds.”

“Can’t believe that. Are you gonna check him out? I mean, before you hire him for sure?”

“There is a minor task I have in mind that will assist him in proving his worth, Veronica.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to set him to a little matter that has come up pertaining to some of my pearls.”

“You mean the pearls you-”

“Those are the ones I have in mind. After all, it’s the season for the charity ball.”