Any Time, Any Place - Chapter 01

Genre: Vintage Sleaze / Love Triangle

Any time

Her naked body awakened him.

“What are you doing?” John whispered. “You'll wake up the others! We can't do it now!”

She ground herself into him. “We've GOT to do it now...!

Any place

Chapter 01

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The bed sheet had been tossed frantically aside during the night, and now she lay inviting, tempting, naked. Darrow lay next to her, drawing on a smoke. 

The sun played over her olive-skinned body, accentuating the gentle but ample curves of her breasts. 

She groaned sleepily, stretched, and opened her eyes. When she saw Darrow, she smiled happily and pulled him to her. 

Of all the women he had made love to—and there were many in every port—he had a special place in his mind (and his loins) for the Chinese and the American. The one was softly curved, submissive, but honest and perceptive in bed. They watched a man's every move, anticipated his every mood, transformed their own moods, even their bodies it sometimes seemed, to fit what the man wanted. The American woman—she was completely different. The ones Darrow had known, the big-breasted, long-legged goddesses of sex, whose proud, erect, hard-tipped bosoms had burning, extroverted desires of their own, desires they brought to a man and which he had to fight like a lion to satisfy. The Chinese girl and the American woman were as different as a river and an ocean. One was a rhapsody; the other a challenge. 

The girl's name was Mi Ling. She was an exotic dancer and her billing was "Flower of the Orient". Darrow had been with her for a day and two nights now. It had been good. As good as Darrow could remember, really. She had gone out twice, bought food, brought it back, and fixed their meals. But they didn't eat much. They lived off the passion which had accumulated in Darrow from a month at sea and which she reciprocated. 

But now Darrow was getting the feel for the wild female again. The feel for that excitement, dynamic adventure, over-sexed challenge that an American woman could only give him. An American woman with large, firm breasts and long, tapered thighs that moved like a tidal wave in the Pacific. The ocean, a voluptuous American woman they were both the same in a way. They demanded all a man's energy, all his power. Then, just when he thought he'd satisfied them, they'd throw their hot, ever-pulsing bodies on him once more and demand the best of his manhood again. 

Darrow felt the gentle eagerness of Mi Ling's body against his own. He felt the quiet brush of her lips against his chest. The play of her pert breasts on his hard stomach. The subtle movement of her almond thighs against the hard points of his knees. 

But when he moved down and met her lips with his own, he thought of the full, wide mouth of a white woman from Mississippi he had known once in the city of Singapore. He remembered the wild gyrations of her tongue the first time their lips had met. It had a life all its own, and Darrow hardly had time to explore the rest of her lush, naturally blonde body before he bent her backward and took her on the floor of the hotel room where he had found her. 

And when he cupped his hand around Mi Ling's young, half-circle breasts, he could not help but feel the large, perspiring, magnificently nippled bosom of a mid-west trader's daughter he had known in Hong Kong. He had known her only for one night, but it had been long enough. He remembered her too-full breasts writhing under his hands, hands that were big and muscular from hard work for the better part of his thirty-four years, but hands that could hardly cover their lush, exciting swell. Only his lips, he remembered, could meet the challenge of those taut peaks of femaleness, only the bruising, insistent onslaught of his mouth could satisfy the insatiable bosom and throw the rest of her body into throes of passion which nothing but hours of repeated lovemaking satisfied. And even then she would turn to him, her body slack from physical fatigue, but still the fires burning up again within it, and whisper to him, "One more time, Captain Darrow, one more time." And moved by the insatiable desire of her loins, the excitement would rise in him again, making him forget his own aching, depleted muscles, and he would turn to her and run his lips up and down the length of her voluptuous body one last time. 

And even now, as he was intertwined in Mi Ling's joyful thighs, his own strong legs for a split second thought they were again in battle with the feminine but firmly developed thighs and calves of an impossibly voluptuous New York dress designer whom he had taken fishing while she was in the Orient looking for new clothing styles. She had been a few years his senior, but her flesh was supple and ageless. 

She tempted him, tortured him; then when it was torture for her more than for Darrow, she demanded love of him he had to almost kill himself to give her. But even if he had died, Darrow thought to himself with a smile on his lips, it would have been a hell of a wonderful way to go. 

The smile on his face changed to a tight gasp as he felt his body shudder uncontrollably, and then a second later, felt Mi Ling do the same under him. But even as she gave out her familiar little moan, Darrow's ears imagined they were hearing the sensual scream of a tall divorcee from Texas he had chartered his boat for three years ago in the islands. 

"Christ!” Darrow thought as he zipped up his pants and looked across the room at Mi Ling, lying there satisfied and peaceful. "The ache is really on me for one of those wild American gals. Two nights with Mi Ling, and I'm still as bad off as I was when I started. But where is a female like I want? The ocean is the only cure. Tomorrow, Pete and I will set sail and give it hell. Maybe that'll make me forget. Maybe.”