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Subject: {ASSM} Darker Desires/Dave Whitley 13 (Otzchiim)
Date: Wed, 31 May 2000 04:10:16 -0400
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    While this is a multi-chapter effort, it began as a set of 
(unconnected, for the most part) short stories and still retains 
enough of that character that you do not have to read each one in 
turn to understand what is going on.  Think of it as a series of 
incidents in a biography.   The sexual activity is invariably M/F 
(or m/f in some cases and jurisdictions), almost invariably 
consensual, there being one exception in here.  Drugs show up 
once or twice, defloration more often.
                     
                          Chapter 13.  
                       Darker Passions
  
     Sarita Singh was in Ocean City for three weeks, sharing an
apartment with her girlfriend, Phyllis White (who was black).  She
was also sharing her bed during most of that time with her
boyfriend, Timothy Poole.  As Phyllis was doing with Jonathan
Hairston.        
     The people in Timothy's group-house didn't see much of him. 
He spent every night with Sarita, always giving and getting a great
deal of sexual pleasure.  The Tuesday that he went back home to
Rockville was the day that her period started, so the teen-ager
didn't feel like doing much for the next few days.      
     The Sikh girl had been born in this country, but by a rather
narrow margin.  Her father had been working here as an engineer for
a few years before her birth, and she herself was the result of a
short visit back to Angola, where her family had lived for
generations.  Perhaps because of the lack of contact with India,
her family was very traditional, and Sarita was brought up rather
strictly.  Once she had mentally broken away, she went very far in
reaction.  But she was good at leading a double life and her
parents still had no idea how thoroughly their daughter had taken
up the sexual morality of those around her.
     Going from getting laid once or twice a day to three days with
nothing got to her, and on Friday Sarita went out again, in a white
bikini top and khaki shorts, looking for something good in pants. 
The shorts almost matched her skin.  
     What she found this time was David Whitley.  He was somewhat
at loose ends since Joy Douglas had gone back home a week before. 
All the more so since he had filled in for someone else on the days
he was supposed to have off last week and therefore he had four
days of leave in a row, and nothing planned.    
     He was sitting on the edge of the boardwalk, drying from a
session in the ocean, when she came by, and they began to talk. 
Things progressed quickly.  He got Sarita so worked up on the beach
that the Sikh girl whispered to him quietly: "This little one is
feeling extremely interested, and would like to invite you to
indulge such interests in a private place!"  
     "I would very much like to be in your private place," David
replied.  
     She led him to the beach-house at four in the afternoon, but
started to change her mind then about taking him straight into her
bedroom.   
     Her body wanted more of what she had been getting from her
boyfriend, but she was unsure, deep down, if she should be as
casual about it as she wanted to be.  
     "What is it about you?" he murmured, more to himself than to
Sarita, once they had stopped by the couch.  "Why is it that I
can't stop looking at you?  And why do I feel that you may be the
best woman in bed that I'm ever going to meet?"  He was trying to
overwhelm her indecision.  
     Without giving her time to answer, his mouth settled on hers
in a hard hungry demand.  Heat flared instantly.  The shared kiss
was unabashedly erotic--hot, openmouthed and ravenous.  
     Wanting--needing--to feel her soft, warm flesh, David yanked
the bikini top up there in the front room.  As his hands massaged
her breasts, his tongue dived between her parted lips to taste her
sighs.  Without taking his mouth from hers, he slid his hands
around to cup her brown breasts.  Her avid lips drinking in his
dark taste, Sarita went with it willingly.  Eagerly.  
     She was almost the most responsive woman David had ever
encountered.  "Ah, Sarita," he breathed, his teeth taking sharp,
exhilarating nips of her tender lips, "you're going to drive me
right over the edge."  
     He spread his legs; his hands trailed down her sides to her
waist, his fingers digging into her skin.  Then with a masochism
he'd never known he possessed, he ground her against his aroused
body.  Once, twice, then a third time until he was in danger of
popping all five metal buttons on his jeans.  
     "Do you know how close I am to taking you right now on this
couch?" he growled in her ear.  His teeth nipped at the tender skin
of her lobe; his tongue swept the pink shell-like interior until he
felt her knees begin to buckle.  "Right here. On this beat-up
couch, where anyone might walk in."  
     "David, we can't."   Her weak protest was made on a ragged
moan; the idea excited her, especially since she had thought of
doing that with Timothy less than three weeks before.  Her hands
combed desperately through his hair, dragging his mouth back to
hers.  
     David slid one hand between them, manipulating the fastener on
her shorts with a deftness that defied her trembling.  The hiss of
the metal zipper lowering was unnaturally loud in the stillness of
the room.   Sarita froze.  
     She grabbed at the treacherous hand, trying to stop him. 
"Dave--"  
     "Don't say anything, love."  His hand slid into the denim
opening.  "Not yet.  Let me just touch you.  For a minute.  Then
we'll stop."  
     When his clever, wicked fingers made their way beneath the
elastic leg band of the cotton bikini briefs, unerringly locating
the ultrasensitive nub protected by the silky triangle of soft
curls, a familiar ache began throbbing inside her.  Her fingers dug
deeply into his shoulders; she sagged against him, the erotic heat
making her knees buckle.  
     "You're so hot," he murmured wonderingly.  "And wet."  His
fingers caressed the soft, slick petals with a sure, knowing skill,
then eased inside her.  "Is that for me, beauty?"  
     "Yes," she gasped as she writhed desperately against his hand,
trying to appease the  excruciating ache between her thighs.  "For
you."  
     "Lord, you taste so good."  His hands seductively worked their
erotic magic while he continued to tantalize her mouth and neck
with his mouth and tongue, igniting embers deep inside her.  "Like
rich warm honey.  And sex.  And temptation."  
     When his tongue swept the moist, dark interior of her mouth,
she began desperately sucking on it, drawing it deeper between her
lips in a way that told him exactly how desperate she was becoming
to have him inside her.  
     "I don't think I'll ever get tired of your sweet, sexy taste,
beauty."  
     Her own hand thrust between them to move anxiously against his
erection and to wonder at how huge it felt.  Her uninhibited
caress, along with the abandoned mating dance her tongue had
engaged his in, nearly drove David crazy.  
     Her own legs no longer steady, David sat down on the brown
leather couch, pulling her onto his lap.  Sarita's breathing was as
harsh and uncontrolled as his.  And every bit as ragged with need. 
Her legs were sprawled over his thighs.  Her head was on his
shoulder, her hair a tumbled black cloud.  Her eyes, half-closed,
were dark, heavy-lidded and slumberous.  She looked wanton and
willing and so exciting that he felt he was going to explode.  He
was aching to plunge into her, to fill both her body and her soul. 
     Her skin was the shade of fine wood, but her body was far too
supple for wood.  The stiffness was all his, though she was the
cause.  
     His fingers thrust deeper, stroking, caressing, adoring the
very heat of her.  She was so wonderfully wet.  So incredibly hot. 
And all that heat, David thought with a flare of pure masculine
satisfaction, belonged to him.  
     "Dave...please..."  Her whispered voice trembled raggedly. 
Her heated body shivered deliciously.  
     "Let it happen, love."  His deep voice was as warm and soft as
ebony velvet and filled with tenderness. "Just hold on to me.  I'll
keep you safe."  
     Trusting him implicitly, Sarita's surrender was absolute.  Her
control deserted her; she gave herself up to the feelings--to the
heat, to the power, to her lover.  
     When she arched against his hand in sweet release, David
covered her mouth with his, drinking in her moans.  
     After this there was no question of not going all the way with
him, and they closed the bedroom door behind them in a matter of
seconds.  
     He got her out of the top and shorts and stark naked in no
time at all, then he got himself the same way.  Sarita lay down on
the bed with her legs open and her knees up a bit.  She stared at
what was before her and pointed in her direction.  It was easily
the largest erection she had ever heard of.    
     It was a good thing that the sight made her wetter instead of
frightening her.  He entered her fast with little more than a few
touches on her breasts, knowing her to be ready, and he found her 
as hot as all of India.  While she would have expected it if she
had thought about it, the sea-salt on his erection stang when it
was surrounded by the tender yielding tissue inside of her.  That
gave Sarita a jolt, and it didn't take long for David to give her
a bunch more of other kinds.  
     After they had dozed, arms around each other, they dressed and
left her bedroom.  Now David met for the first time Phylliis White
and her boyfriend Jonathan.  Jonathan was a tall and rather thin
long-legged black fellow whose father owned a wholesale grocery
business.  Phyllis was a little tall for a 17-year-old girl, and
she wore her hair up in a tight bun that made her longish head look
even longer. 
     They got dinner at seven, but David had Sarita back in her
room only an hour later, preparing to take a shower together.     
     Sarita found out when they came back that David had a longer
and thicker tongue than Timothy.  He was inclined to hold it stiff
rather than wriggle it, but he had more practice at using it, it
seemed.  He was more violent at thrusting than Timothy had been,
and he gave Sarita faster climaxes, though not as good ones.  On
the other hand, he was almost insatiable.      
     Dave was still there in the morning.  And all day, and the
next morning.  
     He plowed into Sarita on Saturday morning, and again on
Saturday afternoon.  He brought Sarita to orgasm with his tongue at
eight on Saturday, then he was pounding between her legs before
midnight.    
     On Sunday morning David woke her with a kiss between her legs,
and then moved up.  On Sunday afternoon, they walked on the beach
and swam, and as they returned to the beach-house he began to play
at touching her and acting as if they had just met.  He even faked
a reluctance to enter her bedroom once again.  
     Her tingling lips curved beneath his tender assault.  "You're
just trying to seduce me," she accused.  The amusement in her voice
was also sparkling in her eyes.  
     "Guilty."  He traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue.
A painful, familiar fire had begun to burn in his loins.  His hands
left her shoulders to caress her back before settling possessively
on her hips.  He pulled her closer, pressing her intimately against
his chest, his thighs, his arousal as he rained hot, wet kisses
down the side of her neck.  "Is it working?"  
     The heat radiating from his body made her dizzy.  The
tenderness in his kisses shimmered through her like golden, liquid
sunshine.  "I don't know."  She moved tantalizingly against him,
spreading the warmth.  "I think so.  But I'm not certain."  Sarita
pressed her lips against his throat and imagined she could taste
the hot pulsing beneath her lips.  "Perhaps you ought to kiss me
again," she suggested silkily.  "So I can be sure."  
     "Whatever you say, beauty."  
     He thrust his hands into her hair.  But instead of the harsh,
quick kiss she was expecting, he appeared content to merely nibble
at her lips for a long, seductive time.  If he was trying to 
frustrate her, Sarita decided, it was definitely working.  The man
seemed determined to kiss her senseless.  
     His fingers pressed against the back of her head, holding her
still while he took his own sweet time ravishing her mouth.  When
he caught her full, seductive lower lip between his teeth and
tugged, she made a soft, sexy whimper.  "Dave...."  She could
barely recognize her own voice.  It was hoarse and ragged with
need.  And it was all his fault.  Sarita's fingers dug into his
shoulders, her lower body moved restlessly, sinuously, insistently
against his. 
     But David was determined to maintain the upper hand.  Before,
she'd bewitched him into losing control.  But not this time.  He
was determined to make slow, luxurious love to her no matter how
much she provoked him, to make her beg for him to bury himself in
her this time.  
     He raised her forehead, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose,
her chin.  His lips skimmed a trail of fire along her jaw, tasting,
teasing before finally returning to her sweet lips.  His breath
grew ragged; so did hers.  And although it was costing him dearly,
he managed to keep the pace agonizingly slow.  
     He's never known that he could suffer from a mere kiss, had
never realized that he could relish such pain born from what should
have been only a meeting of the lips.  When he finally deepened the
kiss, allowing his tongue to accept the invitation offered by her
parted lips, he tasted passion, sweeter, hotter, darker than
anything he's ever known.  Her soft whisper of feminine acceptance
blended with his deep growl of masculine need.  
     Would he never get enough of her?  David wondered desperately.
It appeared not. Because, against all reason, the more he took, the
more he wanted.  
     His lips plucked, his teeth nipped, his tongue plunged, deep
and greedy.  In turn, her own mouth was hot and avid, and her
tongue rubbed brazenly against his.  The ache that had been
spreading through his groin was now a wildfire.  Flames licked at
his blood, burned in his loins.  His carefully conceived plan to
drive her mad with desire had backfired and turned inward on him. 
     "I think we should go to the bed," he rasped on a deep,
painful draft of air. 
     "We can always use it later."  She tugged at his shirt,
sending buttons flying across the room.  "Because to tell you the
truth, I don't think I can wait that long to have you inside me." 
     His response was somewhere between a laugh and an oath.  
     They came together, falling to the floor.  Clothes were
scattered helter-skelter: her top landed on a chair across the
room, his jeans ended up on a coffee table, followed seconds later
by Sarita's.  The final barrier between them disappeared as if
blown away by gale-force winds, and then Sarita was lying atop him.
     "I've never felt this strongly about anyone before," she said,
her voice filled with soft wonder.  "I've never wanted any man the
way I seem to be wanting you."    
     "Join the club."  His hands skimmed down her back, cupped her
bottom and pressed her hard against him.  "Because your body has
been driving me crazy too."  Her sinuous movements had him about
ready to explode.  "If you're oing to choose such a damn
inopportune time to have a conversation, you're going to have to
hold still."  
     "I'm sorry, Dave."  She pressed a hot, wet kiss against his
frowning lips.  Then his chin.  Then, sliding slowly down his body,
she teased a trail of stinging kisses down his chest, over his
torso.  "But I don't think I can do that."  
     A low growl escaped from between his lips when her tongue
brushed playfully over one of his dark nipples.  Somewhere in the
dark recesses of his mind, he realized that once again, despite the
best of intentions, he'd lost control.  
     Then she blew a soft, warm breath against his stomach, and
lower still, parting the crisp dark hair below his belly, and he no
longer cared.  All he could think about was the molten heat surging
through his body.  
     "You're so hard," she breathed wondrously as she curled her
fingers around his aroused length.  "And so hot."  She began to
stroke the rigid flesh.  "Did I do this?"  
     He pressed his heels against the rug and thrust upward.  "What
the hell do you think?"  
     There was a moment's silence as she appeared to be considering
what had been, at least for him, a rhetorical question.  But her
hand didn't cease  its treacherous caress.  
     "I think," she said finally, "that you're beautiful.  And I
love touching you the way that you touch me."  Her teeth nipped at
the inside of his thigh, drawing a harsh moan.  His hands curled
into fists at his sides, clutching handfuls of plush carpet.  
     "And I love the way you taste."  Her words hummed against his
tightened belly.  "I'm so glad that you're here with me," she said
with a burst of possessiveness that he could recognize all too
well.  
     A drop of moisture glistened on the tip of his sex; when she
gathered it in with her tongue, coherent thought shattered.  And
when she took him fully, deeply in her mouth, David closed his eyes
and allowed the fires to consume him.  
     It was agony.  Ecstasy.  Torture.  Bliss.  When he didn't
think he could last another moment, he shoved his hands through her
hair and pulled her astride him. 
     "I want you so much I ache," he groaned. "But I want to be
gentle with you."  
     "Be gentle later."  She clung to him, demanding more. 
"Because I think I'll honestly die if you don't take me.  Now." 
Covering his mouth with hers, entwining her tongue with his,
letting him share his taste, descending slowly to allow her
internal muscles to adapt to his width, Sarita took him fully
inside of her.   
     David's fingers grasped her hips with a force he knew would
leave bruises.  "So will I, love." he admitted roughly. "So will
I."  
     Her softness was a hot, tight sheath for his power; her knees
pressed against his thighs.  He surged upward again and again,
making the fires burn hotter and higher.  And still she met him
thrust for thrust.  Until a burst of blazing ecstacy consumed them
both.  
     Their bodies were slick with perspiration.  Sarita was
collapsed on top of his chest, and his arms were wrapped around
her.  He was still inside of her and loathe to leave.  A scent that
was an evocative blend of him, her and the sweet, musky redolence
of their lovemaking surrounded them.  
     Her experiments at sucking Dave almost made her miss saying
goodbye to Jonathan who left that day.  On Sunday night Sarita went
back to those experiments, and this time she swallowed his semen. 
     On Monday morning Phyllis was eating breakfast when David came
into the kitchen dressed in his briefs and carrying his other
clothes in a little case.  Her hair was still down from the night,
her first spent alone in a couple of weeks.  Her head still looked
a bit egg-shaped, though much less so than before.  She had a lot
of trouble taking her eyes off that bulge, and he knew it.  He
started making moves on her.   
     That was, for him, half-intended as a joke, but he soon
realized that he did indeed want to go to bed with Phyllis.  He had
never done it with a black girl, not really.  Alice Newell had been
very willing to use her mouth on him, but paradoxically he had
never gotten even a hand into her panties.  
     During those three weeks with Joy, he had felt urges of lust
toward Suzanne and much more toward Anne Shimura, but even if Joy
had not been there, those were only passing thoughts.
     Phyllis and Jonathan had been much more discreet about their
sexual activity, but still he was excited at being alone with her. 
 From India to Africa was not much of a trip... 
     At first Phyllis thought that she didn't want him because she
was going steady with Jonathan, and he had just brought her off so
well last night.  But then she thought that nobody would ever know,
and having Jonathan's dickie in her twice a day for the last three
weeks gave her more appetite than she was used to, and it might
take a while to taper off.  Then Phyllis thought that it would be
disloyal to Sarita to screw her boyfriend, but then she had only
known him for a couple of days...  
     Her mother had warned the teenager that white boys would steal
her virginity, but that was long gone now...  And that bulge was so
tempting.  
     Anyway, he got his tongue into her mouth, and that made it
definite and unmistakable to her that Phyllis wanted him very much.
Then he got his hands under her blouse, and that made it all the
more definite that she was going to do with him what he wanted to
do to her.  Then they were beside her bed and David was taking her
clothes off.  His tongue went around her nipples and he pulled her
shorts down.  He picked her up and sat on her bed and lay her down.
When he took her panties down, he went right between her legs and
proved to Phyllis that he had the longest and liveliest tongue that
she had ever heard of.  
     It seemed like David made her come once a minute for hours and
hours, but it couldn't have been for more than a half-hour and it
was probably less than a half-dozen times.  Though she wasn't sure
about the last...  
     After a while Phyllis was just a quivering mass who would do
anything he wanted, and then David took off his briefs.  The tongue
was unreasonably long; what else he had was just big and broad. 
When he entered her it felt like he was stretching her from side to
side as far as she could ever go.  It may be that it was just the
excitement of sort-of cheating on Jonathan.  He increased the
penetration a bit more with each stroke, but then when her tension
was building he gave her all of him in a sudden rush and Phyllis
climaxed violently under him.  She wondered if she could stand
this.  But his hips had a lot of power and David gave the black
girl three more orgasms before she felt him expand yet more and
felt his sperm shoot out.  She knew for certain now why Sarita was
spending so much time with him.  
     They were both dressed before Sarita woke and stumbled out of
bed.  David helped them load up the car to go back.  But they both
forgot to even find out what town he lived in!  
     And the next time Sarita got together horizontally with
Timothy, on Saturday, he said that she acted so horny that he knew
she must have missed him a lot those last days down in Ocean City!  

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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