Deep Blue Read online

  DEEP BLUE

  Aishling Morgan

  Rover Books

  New York

  www.RoverBooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction.

  In real life, make sure you practise safe sex.

  This book is made available in electronic form by permission of VirginBooks by RoverBooks.

  www.RoverBooks.com

  First published in 2001 by

  Nexus

  Thames Wharf Studios

  Rainville Road

  London W6 9HA

  Copyright © Aishling Morgan 2001

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN 0-7952-0064-1

  DOI 1335/0795200641

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The author and publisher specifically disclaim any responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.

  Deep Blue is dedicated to James Marriott, for the original inspiration, to Hilary Wade, for allowing me to use her character, Nich Mordaunt, and to Sigodin-Yth/Txcalin, just in case.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Other eBook Erotica Titles

  One

  Her bikini must have belonged to a ten-year-old sister. For certain it was never meant to hold what she had, which was plenty. Boobs, for one thing, big, round globes of creamy girl meat squashed in behind two tiny triangles of brightblue material. They were real, too, quivering as she walked, the nipples showing, stiff beneath the ridiculous bikini.

  Joe shifted his weight in the grass and made a tiny adjustment to his binoculars. The girl was walking along the beach, carefree and relaxed, indifferent to the indecent display she was making of her body. Most of her boobs showed, and the minuscule pants were pulled tight into the groove of her pussy. Long hair of the deepest possible black, pert features set in an easy smile, a firm rounded tummy, full hips and long, long legs completed her look; near bare and by far the most attractive girl he had seen while spying on the beach.

  There were others: smart young professional women who could afford the cost of the island’s holiday homes; older women, rich in their own right or with affluent husbands; one or two who might have been nannies or day trippers like himself. Most were scantily clad, one or two even topless, and his cock had been stiff in his pants for some time. None of them compared to the girl in the blue bikini, who made the best of them look poor, artificial and contrived, despite fashionably slim bodies and designer costumes.

  She stooped as he put his eyes back to the binoculars. For a moment she was in profile, showing the rear curve of a truly glorious bottom barely constrained in her pants. She picked up a shell, spent a moment admiring it and put it back on the sand, once more displaying the side view of her bottom. Joe swallowed and reached down to squeeze his cock, hot fantasies running through his head as he imagined stripping her, pulling off her tiny blue bikini and bending her over, fucking her from behind as he fondled her huge, dangling boobs.

  He was desperate to come, but a glance at his watch showed that the hydrofoil returned to the mainland in less than half an hour, and with a grunt of annoyance he pulled back from his hiding place. A quick check showed that the cliff path was deserted and he started back, nonchalant to all outward appearance, but burning internally with images of half-naked girls, most of all her, the beauty in the blue bikini, the innocent tart, the one who showed it all and just didn’t care.

  As he walked back he thought of how it might have been. If only he’d had a chance to talk to her, if he’d had enough money to stay on the island, if he’d been rich or famous, somebody she would want to talk to, somebody she might even go to bed with. It was impossible. For all his wishful thinking he knew she would never be interested. Doubtless she was rich, although with a figure like hers she was no catwalk model and with her air of innocence it was difficult to think of her as a businesswoman. Probably she was the daughter of some stuck-up banker or tycoon, and rich enough to be truly carefree. In any case, she was hardly likely to be interested in a delivery boy.

  His feelings of lust and resentment lasted as the hydrofoil took him back to the mainland, leaving the island behind, a low bulk of faded grey-green, highlighted with the paler colours of the beaches and houses. Seen from afar, it had always projected an air of mystery, of being unobtainable, a place where he would never fit in, never be welcomed. Having visited and spent a day spying on girls, the sensation was stronger than ever, with a good measure of envy thrown in.

  On shore it was worse, with the colourful bustle of Tawmouth tawdry and cheap beside the affluence of St David’s Island. The beach was crowded, mainly with families and groups of teenage friends, so noisy that they came close to drowning out the tinny pop music that drifted from the pier. Beyond was the sea, sparkling and blue in the sunlight, bobbing with heads and the colours of lilos and beach balls. Further out two ships were visible, a china-clay coaster making for the river mouth and the French ferry.

  Joe shrugged, then smiled as his eyes came to rest on the chubby bottom of a pretty young blonde in a pink bathing costume. As he admired her the irritating exclusivity of St David’s began to recede and he set off along the front, once more intent on his favourite pastime. However ordinary the Tawmouth girls might be, there were plenty of them, in every shape, size and colour, none bare, but with enough tit and bum spilling out of swimming costumes to keep his cock near to erection in his trousers.

  His intention had been to find somewhere private on St David’s and come in his hand over what he had seen. The girl in blue had distracted him, and as he feasted his eyes on the Tawmouth girls his urgency became stronger than ever. Jerking off was impractical with the crowds around him. Chatting up a girl was out, too, the process of finding her, flirting with her and hopefully enticing her into taking his cock in her hand or mouth too slow and too uncertain. For a moment he considered a visit to the town’s massage parlour, where hand relief was rumoured to be available for twenty pounds, only to abandon the idea as too sordid.

  With a sigh of regret he decided to return to his flat and employ a well-thumbed pornographic magazine to ease his tension. After that he could turn his full attention to finding the girlfriend he so badly needed. Reaching the pier, he turned towards the town only to stop as his eye caught a flash of bright blue on the beach beyond. She was walking out of the sea, the same gorgeous girl he had watched on St David’s, her overstretched bikini bulging with girlish flesh, wet and tighter than ever.

  He found himself licking his lips, his cock stiffening to full and embarrassing erection. She was glorious, irresistibly glorious, and, although sure he would be rejected, he knew he had to try. Willing his all too obvious erection to go down, he made for the steps to the beach, struggling for a good opening line as he went. She was walking up the beach, wearing the same happy smile she had before, her huge boobs boun
cing with every step she took. Trying hard to look casual, he angled towards her, praying she was not going to join one of the families on the beach or, worse, one of the other single men.

  She did neither, but made for an ice-cream van on the front. Joe followed, coming close behind her as she reached the steps. Climbing up, he found his face level with her magnificent bottom, the two plump globes of flesh moving inside her hopelessly inadequate bikini in a way that set his cock to a rigid bar of flesh. Most of her bum was out of her pants, two heavy, cream coloured hemispheres, with the scrap of blue material caught between them. Some hair even showed, down between her thighs, along with a shallow V of flesh above the waistband, the top of her split. He could even smell pussy.

  His eyes stayed fixed to the motion of her bottom until she reached the top of the stair. From below he could see the groove where her bikini pants were caught between her pussy lips, and was imagining her stripping, pulling down her pants for his enjoyment. Swallowing hard, he came up behind her, joining the queue for ice cream. Standing close, he caught the scent of sea water from her hair, which was so dark that the sunlight struck a sheen of deepest blue from her crown. She was quite small as well, several inches shorter than he was, although she had seemed taller on the beach and not quite so wonderfully busty. Her small size increased his confidence.

  ‘Great day, huh?’ he managed.

  She turned and smiled, showing none of the wariness or dislike he had expected, her large, dark-green eyes innocent and wide.

  ‘Neat swimsuit. Is it designer?’ he asked and immediately regretted the boldness of his remark as her expression turned to puzzlement.

  He opened his mouth to make an apology, only for her to turn as the ice-cream man asked what she wanted. Cursing himself, he let his eyes wander down her bare back to the swell of her bottom and the inch of soft crease where her bikini failed to cover her big cheeks.

  ‘Ha’penny cornet, please, mister,’ she said in a voice that belied her obvious maturity.

  Joe looked up, surprised by the girlish voice but also by what she had said. She was holding a coin out, a bronze one, green with verdigris.

  ‘You taking the piss, love?’ the ice-cream man demanded. ‘A cornet’s a quid, a quid fifty for a double.’

  ‘One pound?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, a quid. You foreign?’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Here, I’ll get it,’ Joe cut in, holding out a five-pound note over her shoulder. ‘Make it a double, with flakes and chocolate sauce. The same for me.’

  The ice-cream man grunted and turned into the interior of the van. The girl turned, her smile broader than ever and pathetically grateful. Joe smiled back, deciding that she obviously was foreign, perhaps French, although her accent was more like the local Devon, stronger if anything.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘You are so kind.’

  ‘No problem,’ he answered. ‘Fancy a walk?’

  ‘A pleasure,’ she said.

  Her voice had changed, now less girlish, more confident. Taking the ice creams, Joe gave her one. As they began to walk she took his arm in an unconcerned gesture, leaving his heart pounding at the feel of her flesh. Elation was swelling inside him, made stronger by the envious looks of other men as he walked along the front, arm in arm with a girl who might have walked straight from the pages of a dirty magazine.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Thomazina,’ she answered, then paused. ‘Maybe Tammy?’

  ‘Tammy’s easier,’ he said, ‘and nice, too. I’m Joe.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Joe.’

  ‘Where do you come from then?’

  ‘Across the sea, France.’

  Joe paused. He wanted to talk more, but everything he could think of seemed stupid, while he was sure that what he really wanted to say would get his face slapped. She seemed happy in any case, licking her ice cream and looking around, indifferent to stares, whether jealous, admiring or disapproving. His cock was still hard, and he knew it showed, praying she would not notice, only for her to look down at his crotch. The blood rose to his cheeks as he prepared for the string of angry words, only to hear her giggle.

  ‘Would you like to put him inside me, your man?’ she asked.

  ‘Jesus, you bet,’ Joe answered, taken aback by her bluntness but determined not to chicken out from the offer of a lifetime.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ she answered.

  ‘I’d like to,’ he stammered. ‘I’d love it. I wanted to from the moment I saw you. Come on — my place is just up the hill.’

  ‘By the sea,’ she answered, shaking her head.

  ‘We’d be seen!’ Joe protested, gesturing at the beach, less crowded than by the pier but far from empty. ‘I don’t know where you come from, but in England you can’t just fuck on the beach. We’d get arrested!’

  She nodded and took his hand, pulling him forward. Joe followed, eager to take what was being offered but certain it would all fall apart before he got his cock sheathed inside her gorgeous body. Yet she seemed as eager as he was, breaking into a run and laughing as he followed, along the course of the sea wall where the railway swung in from the town.

  Joe let his eyes feast on Tammy’s body as she ran, admiring the way her hair swirled and the movement of her bottom in her bikini pants. Before, she had been gorgeous, a beautiful, unobtainable thing, far beyond his reach. Now she had offered herself and the fantasies he had been building up, of stripping her and having her flaunt her naked curves for him, had become a very immediate reality.

  Once before he had walked to the end of the sea wall, where a headland pushed out to the sea with the railway running beneath it. The last part of the beach was a jumble of huge red boulders, with coarse sand and rock pools between them. He imagined this to be where Tammy intended to go, out of sight behind a rock for a quick knee-trembler. Instead she kept on, scrabbling out among the rocks in her bare feet, indifferent to the slimy weed and the splash of the waves. Joe followed, determined not to seem a spoilsport, around the headland to a tiny cove of fine red sand beneath towering cliffs of the same dark, rich red. Tammy was already on the beach, sitting cross-legged with an arch look on her face. Joe approached her, his heart pounding, wondering how to start without looking clumsy or inexperienced.

  She reached out, grinning openly, and caught hold of his zip, tugging it down. Joe could only stare as she reached into his fly and pulled his cock free of his pants, tugging at the shaft, then leaning forward to take it in her mouth. He moaned as her soft lips closed on his penis, trying to blank his mind to stop himself coming in her mouth and spoiling it. Looking down he found her eyes shut in bliss as she sucked on his penis, clearly enjoying it, far more so than either of the two girls he had previously talked into blow jobs. Nor was she inhibited about her body, with one hand already down the front of her bikini pants, massaging her pussy.

  ‘Jesus, you French girls are hot,’ he moaned. ‘Come on, get those gorgeous big tits out.’

  Tammy went on sucking, but put her hands to her bikini, tugging the cups up over her breasts to let them spill free, huge and firm, the nipples sticking up, rose pink and hard. Joe knelt, pulling his cock from her mouth, caution set aside in the face of her obvious willingness. Placing his cock between her breasts he began to fuck them, at which Tammy giggled and obligingly pushed them together. With his erection sliding between them he once more felt the urge to come, spraying sperm over her huge boobs and in her pretty face. Holding back with an effort, he stood away.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ he stammered. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to fuck you now.’

  ‘How?’ she asked. ‘Like the dolphins, or like the dogs on the beach?’

  ‘Doggie,’ he gasped. ‘Jesus, Tammy, you’re so fucking sexy.’

  She had turned, lifting her bottom in open invitation, her knees wide to show her sex, hidden only by the tiny scrap of blue material, her back pulled in to leave her big cheeks high and wide. Presented for rear entry, h
er bottom was more wonderful than ever, big, female and firm, a magnificent moon of pale flesh, with what little the bikini concealed his to expose. She was flawless, too, creamy and smooth, ivory pale, with a small, octopus design tattooed on the tuck of one plump cheek to add a daring touch to her rude display.

  ‘I’m going to pull your pants down,’ Joe grunted. ‘I’m going to pull your pants down and I’m going to fuck you, like the dogs on the beach, just like the dogs on the beach.’

  He took hold of her bikini pants and pulled, exposing her bottom and pussy, the lips full and pouted in a nest of jet-black fuzz, her anus a tight pink dimple between the lush cheeks. She giggled, then sighed as his cock nudged her sex. Joe pushed, taking her by the hips as his erection slid into the warm depths of her vagina. Tammy sighed again, then hung her head and began to pant as her body jumped to his first push. Joe reached forward, mounting her and taking her big, dangling breasts in his hands, fondling them as he fucked her.

  ‘You’re so fucking sexy,’ he repeated. ‘You look like butter wouldn’t melt and you’re so fucking hot. Oh, your tits feel good. I’ve never had such a big pair. And your bum, so big, so wobbly. Jesus, you’re lovely, Tammy, you hot, dirty bitch. I’m going to spunk in you right now, right up your hot little pussy. It’s happening. I’ve come in you Tammy, I’ve come up your pussy. Oh, Jesus, you’re hot.’

  Joe sank back, his cock pulling from her hole. For a moment he expected her to be angry at what he’d said, and for the way he’d fucked her so crudely and so quickly. Tammy gave no such reaction, but let her face and breasts slump forward into the sand, reaching back to find her pussy. Joe stared, open-mouthed, as she began to masturbate, panting and moaning with her knees wide and her fingers working in her sex, a display more lewd and abandoned than anything he had imagined. His come was running from the open hole of her vagina, down over her fingers as she rubbed, smearing the thick white mess over her wet flesh. The hole began to contract, squeezing out more come, her anus also, opening and closing as if winking at him. Her moans became more urgent, changed to short, frantic gasps and then a long, ecstatic sigh and he realised that she had reached orgasm, masturbating in front of him in a display ruder by far than anything he had seen in person.