Something flickered in his eyes as if he had expected a totally different reaction from me. ‘Do you like my cock? Tell me what you see. Talk about it. Describe it. Go a little over the
top,’ he encouraged.
‘OK,’ I said slowly. Describe his cock. I decoded that as praise my cock. Mama used to say all men are in love with their own cocks. That should be easy enough. In fact, I could be great
at going over the top.
He fisted his beloved cock and waited expectantly.
I took a deep breath. ‘Your cock,’ I said in a grandiose voice, ‘is an exquisite work of art. It is so beautiful and so distinctive it should be hung in the portrait gallery.’
An odd expression crossed his face and was quickly gone. He was definitely … surprised, or probably even disappointed. Obviously, I needed to up the ante.
‘They should pen poems and songs about the fabulousness of your cock. Why, it should be considered one of the wonders of the world. They should name universities after it and … and …
build, yes,’ I said warming to my theme, ‘they should build a monument to it.’ I raised my hand and flashed it in the air on top of my head. ‘Greystoke’s Amazing Cock.’
He blinked.
‘People should come to pay homage to this cock that can stay titanium hard for hours. It’s like a Special Ops soldier: sleek, dangerous, and as strong as a charging bull. As a matter of
fact, it is so lethal it should be given a medal. Or an award of excellence. Wars should be fought over it.’
I looked at him. He did not look too happy. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Are you fucking taking the piss?’
‘No.’ I frowned. ‘You said to talk about your cock. Obviously you didn’t mean for me to say bad things.’
He gave me a slow motion assed stare. ‘That’s not how you talk dirty to a man.’
‘No? All right, give me an example.’
‘Fill me up, daddy, fuck my tight cunt! Make me scream with that big dick of yours.’
I grinned. ‘Where I come from you got your mouth washed out with soap for using words like that.’
‘What’s going to win, upbringing or me?’
‘Fuck me,’ I breathed almost inaudibly, watching the excitement on his face as he waited to hear me talk dirty. I let the words fall out of my mouth. ‘Fuck my cunt hard with that dirty
big cock of yours.’
‘That’ll do,’ he said. Reaching forward, he grabbed me around my waist, then set me on my hands and knees on the big sofa. He yanked my shorts down, tore my little bikini bottoms from my
body and flung them into the darkness.
His hands were on my hips and, snarling like a wolf, he slammed his full length deep into me. I let out a sharp gasp and arched back and up. He grabbed my hair, forcing me to keep that
impossibly twisted position as he pounded me mercilessly. With every thrust, my juices spurted around his cock and ran down my thighs. His grip hurt and his cock was too deep for
comfort, but that didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was the way my slick, hungry pussy welcomed his bull-like thrusts.
‘You’re mine,’ he snarled.
‘Yes,’ I gasped eagerly. I cannot explain what it felt like to be called his while being possessed and fucked in that primal way. It was indescribable. I was as God made me. I was his
cunt.
Underneath us the river rushed.
CHAPTER 32
Tawny Greystoke
“It is the hardest thing in the world – to do what we want.
And it takes the greatest kind of courage”
– Ayn Rand
One of the activities the Foundation undertook was to rebuild the reefs destroyed by illegal cyanide fishing, so there were three or four dives per day by the volunteers who were helping
to rebuild them by transplanting prepared samples from the ocean nursery to the reef. There were unlimited snorkeling opportunities so we spent our entire morning snorkeling and viewing
the new reefs. Some of the newly transferred coral was already the size of dinner plates.
Later I took Ivan to watch the volunteers mix the concrete to produce the bases for the hard and soft coral plantings that would later be attached to the reefs. It was interesting, and I
knew that Ivan was impressed with the conservation center’s efforts to return the reef to its natural glory.
We shared a simple lunch of rice, chicken and vegetables with the volunteers. By the time we got back Rosli had already sorted out the generator so Ivan immediately opened his laptop and
started work. I spent the afternoon on the beach. As I was about to go back for a shower, Rosli arrived on the beach with a durian. He had knocked it off a tree in the jungle.