Charity Ball

Chapter IV

Honeysuckle clit-clove shone like a gemstone in the labial centerfolds of the water sprite who floated on the still water. Then the woman’s wily body warped suddenly in a backward circle, sending wavelets skittering across the small lake’s surface.

Griffith watched, eyes pierced by the direct rays of the sun, as the woman submerged herself beneath the swirling drink.

Griffith surmised that in the near distance what he was witnessing was the fabled Veronica Van Damme, the lady of the lake, in her favored abode. A watery ring about a tiny island-what could be described, were it on a simpler scale, as a huge tiled pool with garlanded sundeck in the center.

Beyond, a sweep of greensward and a deliriously cluttered flower garden-which sent floral musk rampant through surrounding air-set off the pool’s pure glare like a liquid gemstone.

Griffith squinted.

The pale emerald-tinted facets of the facade of a small greenhouse glinted to the near side of the sundeck where Griffith saw stretched the supine nudity of his hostess and employer Constance Charity Eastwick-Westbrook.

She too resembled a jewel, for her oiled body shimmered in the scald of the sun.

What was the diamond, and what was the rough? And who, precisely, was this water nymph bathing in the buff?

Not that Griffith lent particularly heavy stock to what had been told him about Veronica by Morrigana.-after their strung-out verbal and sensual shadow-box.

He had planned to interview this houseguest of Constance next anyway. It impressed him neither way that he found her undressed.

Such was the nature of the place.

The nature of his business. Morrigana had her own reasons for distancing herself from Constance in her depiction of their relationship. It was Griffith’s job to determine her motivations and how or if they pertained to the situation in question.

And the same would be true of his upcoming encounter with Veronica.

Not a bad job, examining misses regarding the whereabouts of missing pearls.

And anyway, Griffith liked talking to girls.

“Excuse me,” he called, not bothering to avert his eyes.

“Oh. You surprised me.”

Veronica splashed the water to a froth about her bosom as she treaded toward the edge of the pool. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to sneak up on naked women like that?”

She spumed a spear of water toward him through slightly parted lips.

The stream snagged him along the leg of his pants. Wet the seam where his ballocks were piled alongside the stirring, coiled-up prick.

Veronica stuck out her tongue at him.

Griffith caught a glance of Veronica’s well’-trained nippletips.

Two panting pups. Standing up, like a pair of begging mutts. “I’m not exactly unannounced,” Griffith said with an inclination of his head.

“That’s okay,” Veronica said. “I’m only kidding. Help me out?”

She reached up and caught him about the forearm.

“Upsy-daisy,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

As he pulled upward, Veronica clutched higher on his arm. Kicked one gam out wide and slid her calf back in at an angle about his ankle.

“The fuck!”

Veronica jackknifed backward and to the side. Griffith sprang, plummeted into the water, the giggling Veronica splashing furiously.

She spat more water at him, turned tail and swam away. Her flutter-kick sent foaming water at Griffith’s face in his pursuit.

“You’ll never be able to catch me,” Veronica said with a snicker. “Not so long as you’ve got on those soaking duds.”

“We’ll see who’s quicker.”

“Or slicker. Come on, don’t be an ass-snarfing dweebo. It isn’t fair if I’m the only one bare.”

“I don’t care about fair,” Griffith said as he closed the gap between them. “Or bare.”

“Or that you’re a flaming aaaaassssshole! Who can never get a haaaard-on cause he’s got no dingdong and eschews the wearing of balls as an unnecessary vulgarism.”

He grabbed at her ankle.

Snapped out toward her wet tresses.

Snagged a slippery breast.

Veronica glided away with ease.

“Just flick yourself off if you’re gonna be like that, Mister Penismouth.”

Veronica called out gaily. “If you want to talk dirty to me about Constance’s shitty strand of pop-it beads, do it in the nude.”

“I’m no body beautiful.”

Veronica crinkled her nose. “I don’t care how crude you are. I like all kinds of naked. Just take off your clothes.”

“Will you let me catch you then?”

“That you’ll have to find out.”

Some little vixen.

Smooth as quicksand.

Griffith tore his jacket away. Kicked off his canvas slip-on deck shoes, allowing them to float to the surface. He shoved his wallet into one of the soggy floating shoes and snaggled off his pants and underpants over his legs.

As he peeled off his teeshirt, Veronica was on him, wrenching his unconstructed duck sports jacket around his neck.

Veronica swam strongly, pulling the material tight about Griffith’s head and neck.

His engorging dingdong broke the surface of the water. Veronica tittered when she saw the cockhead bob in the water from side to side.

When they had attained the side of the pool, Griffith ducked his head. Grabbed a handful of boob and a hank of pubic hair.

Veronica dipped beneath him.

Coiled about him and took his dick in her face as her legs choked his neck.

“Ngh.”

“Duck yourself, bub.”

Lance blew air out from his lungs. He sank to the bottom of the pool as Veronica extricated herself from his flesh and hopped up.

“Come on,” she hollered. “Or have you already had enough?”

“What game are you playing?”

Griffith pressed himself up partway out of the water with both arms.

Veronica let a palm drape over his forehead. Pushed down with all her weight.

Griffith again sank beneath the surface.

Sputtering, he clipped both hands about Veronica’s ankles, but lost the angle.

Veronica’s toes were in his eyes.

He bit out.

She kicked him playfully in the snout. Griffith reached his hand aloft. “How about you helping me out this time?” he said. “Make any sense?“

“I can handle it,” Veronica said offhandedly. “But first get your fucking clothes out of my lake. I don’t like the way they muck up my practice area.

Looks like seaweed.”

Griffith paddled about the pool. Gathered up his discarded clothing and piled them on the side.

Veronica’s tits swayed toward his face as she bent to help lift him from the water.

Her fingers squeaked along his skin.

Laughing, Veronica then released.her grip, and he slipped downward.

Griffith bobbed back up and rubbed his eyes.

And was thereupon blinded by the liquid slicing inside his eye folds.

“Na-na-na-na-na.”

The guzzling sound echoed in his ears. Fizzling noises drummed against his forehead. Griffith dodged left and right. “Yikes!”

Veronica followed him. Aiming her quim straight into his face.

Pestering his gaze with trickles of tinkle.

He pulled a smile.

His own rictus perpendicular to the crinkled grin of Veronica’s groin.

“Wheee!” Veronica chirruped. “Whiz-bang. I got you right in the teeth, you geek.”

Griffith’s jaws chattered.

His cock was abruptly hard.

Painfully erect in his grasp.

As he sizzled in the splash of liquid effervescing from Veronica’s gash.

His tongue slavered around the ups of his face. Face to face with Veronica’s sheared pubis as urine spumed from her lace.

He gargled her fresh piss as he stretched forth his neck. Buried his choppers into Veronica’s snatch, spewing and raw.

Griffith’s dentition tore into her labia like a saw. He worked his head from side to side.

Sucking in her succulence through her trimmed flocculence.

Tasting tartness of twat as the last traces of piss raced from her slit.

“So you like water sports,” Griffith gummed out into her grime.

Veronica shrugged.

“Stuff comes easy to me,” she said flatly. “I enjoy doing what I’m good at. How about you, Mister Private Dick? You like working over chicks in the line of business?”

“No. I’m not very good at it.”

“Then shut up, you old billygoat and work your chinny-chin-chin on my quimmy-quim-quim.”

Griffith chucked her thighs apart. Placed his hands athwart her haunch.

Launched tongue forward with liquid alacrity. Lashed labia with whip action.

“Not bad for a cad,” Veronica snorted. “Go ahead. Drive me mad.”

Griffith churned his chin upward.

Nipped into her clit.

Slowly, sucking in clam juice from Veronica’s cockleshell, he emerged from the drink. Veronica began to sink to her knees on the surface beside him. Legs glided aside.

She stretched back her neck.

Tits beckoned his fingers from her chest.

“Neaugh.”

Griffith found boob in his grip. Pulled a nippletip toward his yip.

“Omigawd, you’re good,” she said with apparently genuine surprise.

He ate at her breast as though it were a rum soaked sponge cake baba.

He savored the taste.

Ground a nipple into his face.

Then trailed his tongue down between her paps. Thundering the tip along her ribs.

Nibbling navel.

Scratching her skin with his two-day stubble of beard. Smearing saliva about her flat tummy.

Sniffing honey brimming alive from within her nearby hive.

His tongue tapered like a stinger toward her buzzing clit.

Veronica flapped her arms like a hovering insect. Several small jets of piss came again from her winsome snatch.

Dripping micturition from her soaking patch.

“Sssss,” she hissed through her teeth. “Oooooh. Love that sound.”

Veronica’s tongue clapped against the top of her pallet. Clacks and sucks echoed through her snout as the snot snorted out.

There was a cringe in her craw.

Drool drooped from her yammering jaw.

Whimpers strained from her gullet.

Smacking sounds emerged from her smirk.

And Griffith’s maw remained at work.

He herky-jerked his head.

Nuzzling fuzz in a rush of frenzy.

Nicking clitoris with his heavy stubble.

Rutsweat slimed from Veronica’s underarms. Her unshaven armpits asked for the fuck as much as did another woman’s slit.

“You know,” Griffith spoke grimly as he took a sip from her slime slit, “you are the first chickadee I’ve seen today with a monogrammed pip.”

“You mean the way my pussy is clipped into a V shape? I really like it like that too. I was gonna get a tattoo-”

“Just the initial? Or Veronica all the way?’ “The latter.”

“Would be a tight fit.”

“Always is.”

“That an invitation?”

“No-no-no-no-no. I never cuntfuck men. Bad for my training regimen.”

“But you still go all the way, I take it. Just not that way.”

“Depends. I just don’t need emotional involvement. I have to save that kind of energy for my athletic training and competition.”

“Must be very draining.”

“But I can kiss your dick.”

“Sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Bombs away!”

He kicked up his hips, balls in hand. Stuck his stick between her lips.

“See?” she said. “I can give you head. And, like- who needs flicking when sucking feels so good? And fingers you will agree are more nimble than that prick any time.”

The penis tooled on down her throat. Ballocks piled over the sides of her chin.

He rested his palms on the side of her head. fingered her wet tresses as she trussed his pecker within her neck.

He caressed her chin with the fingerprints of one hand. Ran the other beneath his ballocks and bobbled a boob.

“Indeed,” she breathed.

Veronica took hold of his testicles and squeezed. Yanked down hard.

“Awk!”

His jimjam jumped in her jaw.

Prick ramming like an animal on the loose.

Griffith’s mouthrut increased.

Then the thrusting subsided.

Veronica held his hog captive in her maw. Teeth clamped about the base.

Neck muscles strangling the tip.

Veronica played her hands along the length of her neck. Jacking the prick inside with wide flails of extended fingernails.

Griffith began to wail.

“Pawpaw-pawpaw-pawpaw-pawpaw hmmm maumau. Pah-pah ooohm mau-mau.”

Nuts clanked together.

Lather erupted up the wafting scrotum through the twining ejaculatory ducts.

Smutch tore through a sharp turn in the spermatic cords.

Bilge bulged at the base of the engorged penis and barreled down the shaft.

Spermlets raced neck and neck toward the light at the opening of the cockhead.

Veronica gave the pullulating penis a jab with her tongue.

Her lips milked the charging bull as it horned deeper, goring her gullet.

The first pellet of come crackled against her tonsils.

Dripped slickly to her tum-tum.

The next blast of jissom was a white-hot splash to the inside of her teeth.

Seed glistened her smile.

Prick pumping all the while.

Veronica knew how to chew in style.

On the next hump, Griffith shot semen directly into her stomach.

And piles of gnarled goo tumbled from her chin to her chest.

She worked the muck into her breasts.

Melting the nuggets of jissom into her breastflesh. Shellacking her nippletips with tweaking turns of her fists.

Griffith pried himself from her puss. Peeled his underside from her face.

Slid on spread haunches over her sperm-caked cookies to rest his asshole like an octopus’s sucker on her bellybutton.

Coming to rest on her waist.

He kissed her face.

“Don’t do that,” Veronica said warily. “I’m not quite in the mood.”

She winked one eye.

“Try this instead.”

She leaned backward.

Brought her heels up underneath her fanny and turned out her knees.

“You may kiss me here again if you please.”

She opened her crack.

Slinked on her back.

Undulated like a snake.

Griffith took the hint.

His eyes glinted.

He licked her snatch in the wake of her giggling wriggling.

Then Veronica twinged.

Flung all her limbs in a wide arc. Slid onto her stomach and posed with raised rump.

“Get hold of my hair from back there. But don’t tear it with your teeth.”

She waggled her meat.

Turned her head around and stared at him blankly.

Addressed him frankly.

“Know what? I’d like you to suck me. And don’t stop till after I come.”

“As the lady requests.”

“When you’re done there, stick your tongue inside my asshole and run it around in circles. Then you can stick your prick there.”

“Dream on,” Griffith said. “I’ve gotten my fillings all caked with your cuntslime already. I’d like to try a new flavor.”

He pointed toward her torso with a wiggling finger.

“First, Veronica dear, I’m going to fuck on you right there.”

“Where?”

With a stifled yelp, Griffith jammed his penis up the outside of her ribcage.

The enraged cockhead came to rest in the flap of skin beside her chest.

Prickmeat petted the inside of Veronica’s armpit. Working in and out as though it were but another orifice.

“Eeeeeh.”

Veronica’s underarms were charmed by the squiggling prick. She buckled, tickled half to death, twanger tight by her tit.

“Such wit,” she stammered. “Now hammer me where it really does some good.”

Prick curved outward.

Tight as hardwood.

Griffith aimed his spear stick at the yammering target of Veronica’s ass.

Slid into the crack.

His penis bent.

Snapped out straight.

Glanced off the sides of her asscheeks. Twirled around underneath.

“You’ll never get it in that way,” Veronica crowed. “The chlorine makes my skin go dry.”

Griffith wiped his fingers through her snatch.

He daubed the raised rim of Veronica’s anal donut with the slippery goo.

Then smooched the pink pucker with the flaps of his mouth lips.

His tongue traveled inside her yielding hide with tapered tip. She wove circles in the air with the torsion of her hips.

Asshole opened like the mouth of a fish.

Rim kissing lips.

Gripping tongue tip.

The musty flavor of Veronica’s fanny crawled through Griffith’s gullet.

He pulled his facecheeks reluctantly from between her buttocks. Lanced into her armpit with straight tongue.

Licked out.

As his penis snicked the edge of her bung.

“Aaaaanh.”

This time the cock squeaked in easily.

Curved up inside her haunch.

Lapping Veronica’s underarms in double-time, Griffith axed all the way up Veronica’s buns on the first slide.

Then he drew back.

“No.”

Pulled his dong out.

Then nuzzled it back in.

Asshole oinked once.

Cockhead buried to the neck. “Ahhhh.”

Fucking and sucking in counterpoint, Griffith anointed the conchlike interior of Veronica’s earcups with the message of his mission.

“You are familiar, I take it, with the missing beads?”

“Indeed.”

“Any guesses where they might have landed?”

“Didn’t know they flew anywhere. Unh. Keep that fuck going in my rump.”

“You knew where the pearls were kept?”

“Pump. Yes. Oh, pump.”

“Where?”

“Unh. In Constance’s chest of drawers. In her bedroom. Oh, gawddamnit. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck my asshole hard. Harder!”

“In her drawers?”

“In-unh-with-unh-her-unh-lingerie. Oh, please. Fuck my ass some more. Break my fucking buns. Just fuck-fuck-fuck me.”

“Did everybody know where she kept those things?”

“Just a couple of her friends.”

“Real close ones, huh? Like you and Morrigana. Her girlfriends. Any men?”

“Oh, Jee-susss! It’s so yummy with your dick up my ass to my tummy. So Morrigana knew too? Figures. Morrigana’s so nosy. How the flick should I know whether Constance told any dudes?”

Griffith corkscrewed his cock deeper into Veronica’s easygoing asshole.

He tugged her jugs as she pressed her cold assmeat into his belly.

Veronica winced.

Bouncing like jelly.

“Shit,” Veronica gagged. “I’m dead.”

Fission of senses streaked through her head. She heard colors. Saw sounds.

Orgasm caressed her brain.

Blowhole babbled in climax.

Griffith randied her rectum.

Chattered into Veronica’s straining face, held next to his in embrace.

“You ever see Constance wear the gewgaws?”

“Fuck me. Can’t I even come around here? Wear them? Only to some charity affairs.”

“What’s that?”

“You gotta fuck that ass with that prick! Just let me come awhile, huh?”

“Affairs. Constance wore the pearls to affairs.

“What kind were they?”

“Oh, fuck. It’s over now, you aaaaasshole. Constance wore those whory-booking black baubles to balls. Dinners. Polo matches or tennis tourneys where they gamble and the pot goes to deserving charities and such.”

“Noble pastimes.”

With a sneer, Veronica wrenched her rear end to the side.

Griffith’s prong squealed from her bung. Her bum nipped shut with a smack.

“Your haaaaawg’s snout is a dinky pigshit-feeder.” she snapped. “Sowfucker, fuck your piglet brother. You buttered my rump and then wouldn’t let me get over the hump. Go suck a pregnant skunk, man.”

“Anyone who attends these charitable affairs have a professional interest in pearl diving?”

“Give me a break. My asshole aches. You got off nicely right down my throat. I have to be satisfied with a few little jolts”

“About Constance’s habits? She misplace her things-often?”

Veronica wiped around the rim of her asshole with a finger.

Sniffed the fingertip in her nostril. Glared straight into Griffith’s face.

“Try asking the lady herself,” she said. “Isn’t that like something you’re paid to do?”

“In due time.”

“Oh, I see,” Veronica said, narrowing her eyes. “Like, first you want to have the all the answers yourself. So you can see if Constance is lying when you pretend to try to get it out of her.”

“Not necessarily. I simply think people’s rationales for their actions-as well as how they perceive those of others-are more informative than whether they lie per se. Lying is so much a given that in itself it tells you nothing. People sometimes don’t even know they are lying.”

“So where are you there?”

“You are primed to find the motive behind the deception-whether the deception is consciously calculated or is self-deception ingrained into their egos as a defense against past deeds.”

“Fuckingchrist.”

“Care to hazard a guess?”

“So, Mister So Clean He Won’t Come Up My Asshole. I see you’re a Sherlock Holmes and a Sigmund Freud rolled into one.”

“I try to be a bit of a psych-out artist. Part of the package.”

“Fuuuu-uck you say. Those pearls of hers are not anywhere near as valuable as some of the other jewelry-the stilt Constance keeps locked up. Likes the pearls a lot, though. She tell you they’re heirlooms? Maybe Constance likes to keep them near her person for sentimental reasons.”

Veronica drifted her gaze away. Played with her headhair as if annoyed with it.

Griffith continued. “Maybe she’s auctioning the pearls off for sentimental reasons, too.”

“You don’t understand how things can get when you’re rich,” Veronica sniffed.

“It’s almost as if your emotions don’t count.”

“Sorry for you.”

“Toodle-oo,” Veronica said, leaping to her feet. “Gotta get back to practice now-If I’m gonna be ready to compete on the synchronized swimming team at the next Olympics.”

“That’s like water ballet?”

“The shit you say,” she brayed. “It’s a brutally demanding sport. I’m a finely tuned athlete. I’m ordinarily not rude, but if! could fart on cue I’d do it in your face.”

“Didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just ignorant.”

“Your ignorance is an insult.”

“And top of the morning to you, too.”

Veronica turned toward the pool.

She jackknifed at the waist.

Brought her hands together behind her butt.

Her asscheeks flared open as she crouched slightly in a diving posture.

Her asshole juddered open.

“Toot,” she blew through her blowhole.

Her hinder flews shuddered. Anus stuttered.

“Craaa-ack!” Veronica hacked out breezily from her rump as she gave it a pump.

“Here’s another one, dude,” Veronica chewed.

“Boop!” her asshole chuckled.

“Talented girl,” Griffith wheezed.

He saluted Veronica with the still-sticky ‘tips of his fingers.

Touched his fingers to his lips. Wiped the inside of his mouth.

Stirred his spittle.

He slurped up a syrup of residue. Sensed the finny aftertaste of Veronica’s stew.

“Don’t forget to take your smelly clothes with you,” Veronica cackled as she sailed through the air. “Their presence distracts me.”