Dirk Saber P.I.: Jane Russell Ch. 04

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Making a fantasy come true.
2.2k words
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Part 4 of the 9 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 08/10/2010
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wilderness
wilderness
220 Followers

We stood apart for a few moments. The carnival sounds from the valley providing unique background music.

Becky made the first move. She didn't get dressed. Instead, she just put the hoodie back on.

As she zipped up, she admitted, "Mosquito bites would put a damper on the evening."

We headed back to my house.

"Thanks for thinking of my welfare."

"Ms. Croft, I'm your guide. It's my job to look out for your best interests."

"Thanks John, but I don't want to be Lara Croft anymore tonight. I'll be me, Becky. Okay?"

"Sure. Whatever floats your boat," I said, in a forced detached tone. As blasé as I sounded, inside my head, the vision of Rebecca Renaldi's naked splendor would not go away. I wanted her. I wanted to touch that perfection.

We continued on in silence, until we arrived back home and stopped when the bright, motion detector flood light blinked on. I held out my hand, and said, "My hoodie belongs in the garage."

Without hesitation, Becky removed the garment, revealing the female form I craved.

Handing it over, she said, "Here you go. If it's all right with you, I'm going to take a shower."

"Sure. Cleanliness is next to godliness." Transfixed, I watched her angel ass sway to the backdoor.

After placing the hoodie back on the garage hook, I let Dick Tracy out to complete his evening toilet. The fireworks hadn't left him incontinent. With mission accomplished, we went back inside. The main shower was running when I walked past, and I resisted the temptation to find out if Becky wanted her back scrubbed. Instead, I continued on to my bedroom and showered in the private, master bath, as my brain battled with an ethical dilemma. One side argued against involvement with a client - a prostitute at that.

The other, more persuasive side argued, 'What the hell. Why not?'

Exposing herself was obviously an invitation, after all. But my suspicious nature wouldn't let me totally enjoy her overt advances. I began to wonder about ulterior motives.

Unable to raise any opposing arguments, my final ruling on the matter- inconclusive evidence to convict, further cross examination was necessary. My plan, knock on her bedroom door and ask if she wanted anything - me for instance.

After the shower, I shaved, while practicing my opening statement in the mirror. Wearing just a towel, I adjourned to the bedroom to dress, stopping abruptly at the unexpected flicker of candlelight. The long, tapered candles placed around the room belonged on the dining room table. As I scanned the perimeter, I spied a different kind of dining experience. A feast for my carnal appetite reclined on the bed.

Becky, covered by the sheet up to her bare shoulders, said, "I hope you don't mind that I made myself comfortable. And... I was thinking we would both enjoy some bedroom fireworks this evening. Am I right?"

Yes! No! Maybe. My brain waffled. My heart leapt. My cock twitched.

I sat on the bed, and said, "Becky, you are beautiful, but you're my client, and-"

She sat up and put a finger against my lips. "Shush. I am the client. I hired you to protect me. There's no place I'd feel safer than in here with you. Now... if we happen to enjoy ourselves while you protect me, there's no harm in it, is there. We are two consenting adults, after all, celebrating Independence Day, exercising our right to pursue happiness." Her hand slipped under my towel to grasp my happiest part. "The truth is self-evident."

She had hard evidence, to be sure. I couldn't argue the facts, only the mitigating circumstances. "I don't have any condoms."

Reaching back under the pillow, Becky pulled out a small square package. "Really? Then what's this I found in the drawer next to the bed?"

"I guess I had one left."

"I counted nine."

Grinning, I said, "Just enough for the weekend."

Laughing, Becky lay back leaving her chest exposed to my lecherous gaze. She ran her fingers down her breasts and teased both nipples erect. "I have one request. I haven't been... intimate with a man for over a year. Be gentle."

Alarm bells went off in my head. A prostitute who hadn't fucked in over a year? Was it a lie? Acting out another role play? I decided it didn't really matter. I wanted my fantasy girl, and she was making an offer I couldn't refuse.

"Then I'll be gentle," I said, bending down for a kiss, "and slow."

As our lips met, she moaned pleasantly. When I shifted my weight to a prone position, Becky pulled off my towel, and fondled my ass.

We kissed softly- exploring, learning, warming up. Her bare breasts pressed against my chest, I enjoyed her softness, so different from Samantha's taught, high energy form. Hands slipped up and down my back, butt to blades in a lazy, no hurry travel.

My erection, fully formed, pressed against her thigh through the sheet, and she rubbed against it. As I kissed down her jaw to her neck, Becky whispered, "Impressive. I'm nervous."

Nuzzling the soft spot between her clavicle and throat, I said, "Don't be. I'll go slow. We have all night. Just talk to me, give me clues."

"Clues?" she said. "Am I a mystery to solve?"

"The best kind. The kind that has a happy ending."

Cupping my face between her palms, Becky encouraged my kisses to move down until I reached the intended destination. The nipple stood out, swollen and beckoning. Becky's hands, now tangled in my hair, pressed down, but I resisted sucking. Instead, my tongue flicked, wetting it, and then I puckered and gently blew.

"Mmm..." Becky shivered and arched. She really liked it, or she was as good an actress as she hoped.

At that moment I put aside all my questions of who and why, and decided to live out my Jane Russell fantasy. I didn't care if she was faking. I wasn't. And since this most likely was a onetime event, I was going to make it a once in a lifetime event. An amazing event I couldn't tell my grandchildren, but would reminisce about in my old age when I couldn't get it up anymore. So I set about worshiping fantasy Jane's breasts. My lips caressed, nibbled, and sucked the left, while my fingers stroked, teased, and fondled the right. Being fair-minded, my oral and manual stimulations switched sides.

Fantasy Jane moaned her approval. Her body twitched and arched with every change of sensation. I pressed my knee forward between her thighs, and she began to hump against it through the sheet, slowly at first and then forcefully with growing need. Her fingers raked wildly through my hair.

I pushed her breasts together and began randomly sucking and twisting her nipples with increased pressure. Fantasy Jane wailed, "Oh god," and arched in spasms of release. Her legs clamped mine tight between them as she rode the orgasm to completion, finally pushing my hands and face away.

"Stop. Enough. Take a break." She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "Wow, that's a first. Never came from just my boobs."

Stretching out on top, and kissing her gently, I said, "From the wet sheet between your legs, it wasn't just your boobs. I think you rubbed one out."

In the candle light I perceived a blush spread across Fantasy Jane's cheeks. "I suppose I did. I just... let go. Thank you. That felt wonderful."

"No problem. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it myself."

She laughed. "Glad to hear it."

With that said, I rolled off Fantasy Jane and pulled down the sheet to expose all of her voluptuousness. Straddling her knees, I informed her, "Time to continue my investigation."

As I gazed longingly, she turned her head away with demure charm. I almost believed she really was nervous and not acting. It was around this time that I just let go. If she could do it, then so could I. If she asked me to stop I would have, at least I'm pretty sure I would have. I'll never know, because she didn't.

Pushing her legs apart, I lay down between them and kissed her stomach. Then proceeded to kiss and lick down in a haphazard trajectory, until I reached the apex of her womanhood. Grabbing a knee in each hand, I spread them wide, watching her labia open like a bloom. Fantasy Jane didn't resist me, nor did she encourage contact. There was an air of anticipation, but it wasn't breathless anticipation. Fantasy Jane's chest rose and fell with rapid inhalations of panting expectancy. Teasingly, I kissed up the inside of her left thigh, and then the right, ever closer to the focus of my desire. She began to squirm and her pussy clenched and relaxed, the fragrance inviting. I had to taste. Using just my tongue tip, I lightly twirled it around her clit. On contact, she bucked and groaned, indicating the sensation didn't disappoint. My middle finger probed gently, finding the way slickened by natural desire. So I pushed on, curling, swirling, thumb caressing outside. Then the index was introduced as my lips encircled her clit with savoring suction.

"Oh god... oh god... OH MY GOD!"

I rode her arching, thrusting climax like a champion rodeo rider, never losing my seat. As the bucking eased, I heard tearing and looked up to see her place the unpack condom on her stomach.

She whispered, "Fuck me."

My Fantasy Jane wanted me. How could I refuse? Rising to my knees, I rolled the Trojan on my throbbing dick and then leaned over her with the tip poised to push. Our eyes locked as I slowly eased in.

"Mmm." Her eyes closed, and then her hands grabbed my ass and pulled me all of the way, clamping me tight with crossed legs. She trembled inside, around my cock, and I wondered if she was coming again. In response, I flexed my pelvic muscles, adding my own internal pulsations.

Opening her eyes, she laughed, and said, "I feel that, and it feels so good." Her legs released their grip, freeing me to move.

Pinning her hands above her head, I foolishly said to my Fantasy Jane, "It feels as beautiful as you look," and began slow thrusts.

Her head tipped back, eyes closed.

I moved faster. And the faster I fucked the louder she moaned, skin glowing with arousal, the candlelight enhancing her natural flush. The motion of her breasts, her hair fanned across the pillow, everything I'd dreamt about for years became reality. I was having my way with her. So different from Samantha, who fucked like it was a battle for dominance. That was fun, but this was better. I enjoyed Becky's submission. I liked the control. It turned me on to have my way without a struggle. My excitement grew as she seemed to revel in it. Even though she looked like my Fantasy Jane, I knew she wasn't. She was Rebecca Renaldi, and maybe she was faking the way hookers do to make their John satisfied, but it felt real and amazing.

When the beginning of my end approached, I lay flat against her, skin on skin, my nose buried in her hair.

Her arms encircled me, and she whispered in my ear, "Oh god, I'm going to come again."

I pumped faster, losing control in the all-encompassing release. Her legs crossed over me and clamped us together as we writhed as one flesh.

When the rush of climax receded, we lay panting and sweaty chest to chest, with me still inside. I kissed her passionately. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she returned the kiss fully.

The time came for me to exit before leakage. Gripping the condom, I pulled out.

Becky glanced down between our stomachs. Spying the pendulous load, she said, "Wow, you came a lot!"

Rolling off, I answered, "I did. I was really turned on. Plus, it's been a while."

"I was too." She watched through hooded eyes as I peeled off the safety sack. "I don't think I've ever come so many times in a row."

Just what a hooker would say. Aloud I responded, "Thank you. You are very beautiful and sexy." I'm polite like that and grateful any time a woman gives me intimate access.

Adjourning to the bathroom, I freshened up, and was immensely pleased that Becky was still in bed when I returned, although covered. Sam and I never slept together. She preferred to sleep alone in the guest room after sex. I blew out the candles, darkening the room by quadrants until pitch black ruled the night. Becky remained silent, as I slipped beneath the sheet. Her warmth radiated from the other side. Thank god for air conditioning.

"I'll make breakfast," she whispered.

"Okay, sounds good. Thanks."

"What do you like?"

"If you find it in the refrigerator, I like it. Just no beer for breakfast."

She giggled softly, very feminine, very sensual.

Round two crossed my mind, but I wasn't going to push my luck. "Sweet dreams."

"Mmm, I'm sure I will, after that."

Thinking, 'Anytime', I said, "Me too."

wilderness
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