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They headed back to their suite and Michael went to work on his laptop. Serena picked up her college schedule and list of courses, figuring to do some planning for the next semester.

"What are you working on?" he asked.

"Lesson plans for fall."

"Subjects?"

"English lit, American lit, some freshman composition classes and creative writing."

"Really? Do you write?"

"Not on your life," she laughed. "I dissect what everyone else writes, and then work with some of the students to improve their writing skills." Putting the planner aside, she tucked her feet behind her on the couch. Michael's brows rose and he smiled appreciatively, obviously having caught a glimpse between her legs.

"Shaved, are you?"

Her libido, already raw and primed for action, jumped up a few more notches at the realization that he'd seen between her legs. And liked what he saw.

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"Hell, yeah. Besides being sexy as hell, it'll make it easier when I lick your pussy. Nothing in my way when I stroke my tongue along the soft folds of your bare skin."

She panted, her fingers once again itching to travel between her legs.

"Can you imagine that warm wetness gliding over you Serena? Hitting that sweet spot until you dig your hands in my hair and push my face against you, screaming for more?"

She swallowed. Hard. She was never going to make it until this afternoon. Not if he kept talking to her like that and looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

Right now, she wished he would. She'd gladly spread her legs and welcome his warm, wet tongue on her clit. She wanted to come so bad right now she could barely keep herself from sliding her hand down there and letting him watch her satisfy herself.

Maybe he'd enjoy that. A little prelude to today's activities. Then she'd get off and ease a little bit of the tension that had been building inside her for over twenty-four hours.

But instead he turned back to his work. Just like that. As if what he'd just said had no affect. Didn't he see how aroused she was?

Serena had to give him credit. He had a lot more willpower than she did.

*

Michael glanced down at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen, mentally counting the minutes. Might as well find something else to do since he sure as hell wasn't getting much work done.

He had to be insane. Completely, certifiably nuts. This foreplay game with Serena wasn't even enjoyable. His cock had been painfully hard since last night with no let up, and his balls were drawn tight, begging for release.

A release that couldn't come soon enough. Just watching Serena on the couch was torture. Her wiggling and shifting position every few minutes gave him a clear view of the most beautiful pussy he'd ever laid eyes on. He was dying to scoot her down on the couch until her ass lay over the edge, spread her legs and drive his tongue deep inside her honeyed folds, then let her return the favor and swallow his cock whole until he came buckets down her throat.

He should have jacked off last night, taken the edge off a bit. She'd gotten him hot damn fast. Hotter and faster than any woman ever had. His balls ached all night long as he rolled around in bed with a perpetual hard-on, imagining sliding between her silken thighs and taking what she'd so willingly offered. He'd wanted to bust down her door and tell her he wanted her, right then.

But he hadn't, remembering what he'd asked Serena to do, knowing how much he'd tortured her by asking her to wait before she came.

Torture was a dual-edged sword.

What a fucking moron he was. He could have taken care of both of them last night. Instead he ended up with blue balls.

He raked a hand through his hair and inhaled deeply, blowing it out slowly, hoping to gain some semblance of rational thought before he went totally off the deep end.

The only good thing about this whole situation was he now had a very clear picture of the incredibly beautiful and very seductive heroine for his next novel. She would be brilliant, with a penchant for the arts and a body that tantalized men to death and destruction. Just like Serena. A scholar's brain and a body that would surely kill him before the week was up.

They'd spent hours talking about her career, and his books. She wasn't lying when she'd told him she'd read his stuff. She knew his characters almost as well as he did.

And she had some damn good ideas about future plotlines. Serena was wicked sharp, able to process information within seconds and spit out facts, figures and dates. What she didn't know, she knew where to find.

When he'd asked her how she knew so much about crime and literature, she smiled and a cute little blush stained her cheeks. She'd explained there wasn't much night life in a small college town in Kansas, so she spent a lot of time reading and doing research.

What a surprising woman.

Thankfully the day passed quickly. It was time to leave for their adventure.

"You ready to go?" he asked, his penis standing up and taking the lead.

"More than ready," she mumbled. He sensed her frustration. Good. The anticipation would make the release that much sweeter.

They wound their way through the garden paths towards their destination. Serena seemed fascinated by the tropical plants and flowers, stopping every few feet to read the signs proclaiming their rarity.

Unfortunately, every time she bent over to read a placard, Michael's cock strained toward her like a dog barely on the leash. The skimpy dress rode up her thighs, exposing the cheeks of her fabulous ass and that sweet shaved slit that he wanted to bury both his tongue and cock inside. As secluded as the garden areas were, it would be easy to nestle up behind her, lift her dress up and plunge into her heat.

And he'd bet she wouldn't complain one bit, either. From her inability to sit still to her half-dilated eyes and hard nipples, he knew if he made the suggestion right now she'd eagerly bend over for him.

But that wasn't the way he wanted this to play out. Stupid, he knew, but he had a plan. Try as he might to ignore Serena as a person, he couldn't. And she seemed, despite her bravado, more or less inexperienced. Not that she didn't have fantasies-- it was obvious that she had a vivid imagination. But if he took things too quickly, it wouldn't be as good for her as he knew it could be.

Why in the hell did he care? He never had before, certainly not with Ginny or any of the other women who came before her. He hadn't cared since Mari. And he wasn't going down that road again.

Ah, hell, what did it matter? Not much longer, and they'd both scratch the almost unbearable itch for each other. For the time being, he'd chalk it all up to research.

They arrived at Voyeur's Bungalow, a one-story ranch house. Michael followed Serena through the front door, watching her reaction. Her eyes widened at the theater type atmosphere. Everything from loveseats to sex swings to a standing area in the back was available. Even some chaise lounges where he bet there'd be some action before the event was over.

In front of the massive seating area was a stage of sorts. Nothing more than a bare room with dark brocade draperies and wall hangings, and silken pillows and blankets. Sex swings suspended from the ceiling were interspersed among the bedding.

Anticipation roared through Michael's body, his cock already twitching with excitement. This should be fun.

"You want to sit or stand?" he asked, stepping up behind Serena and laying his hands on her bare shoulders. Her fragrance wafted toward him and he breathed in the sweet scent of gardenia and musky woman. He couldn't resist trailing a finger down her beautiful neck, watching over her shoulder as her nipples hardened and pressed against the flimsy silk of her dress.

"Stand," she murmured, her eyes not once leaving the stage as couples began to assemble there.

Michael stayed behind and a little to her left so he could watch her face. Her eyes widened and her breathing increased as the participan

ts began to kiss and fondle each other.

The lights lowered to a candlelight illumination--bright enough to see, but more sensuous than the glaring chandeliers above. A slow, sexy jazz rhythm emanated from the speakers in the corners of the room.

There were multiple pairings, both heterosexual as well as gay and lesbian. Every voyeur's delight - a smorgasbord of erotic viewing. Clearly this event served more than one purpose. Eye candy for the voyeurs, and heightened sexual pleasure for the exhibitionists on the stage.

It didn't take long for the action to start. Clothes were quickly disposed of, kissing became groping. The sounds of moans and gasps increased as the foreplay built. The sounds and smells filled the room. Writhing bodies found beds and swings, mouths found cocks and pussies and the scent of sex was everywhere.

Michael had to admit it was a considerable turn on to watch other people fuck. His cock begged for release from his shorts. He pressed his erection against Serena's full, round ass, rewarded by her swift moan of pleasure. She backed against him and swiveled her hips from side to side, reaching behind her to clutch his upper thighs and hold his erection firmly in place between the cheeks of her ass.

Resting his head against hers he reached around and searched out the gorgeous breasts he'd been dying to touch. He slid his hands into the gaps in the side of her dress and breathed deeply as his hands found the ample globes. His thumbs grazed her nipples and she jerked against him.

Not once had she taken her eyes off the activities on the stage. Michael spared a glance at the action in front of him. One couple was in a sixty-nine position, the woman on her back taking all of the man's erection into her willing mouth. His head was buried between her legs, her hips bucking off the floor as she ground her pussy against his mouth.

Another couple had taken a position behind a high backed chair. The woman bent over at the waist and held onto the chair while the man pounded his lengthy shaft into her.

Michael spied an interesting three-way. A gorgeous, dark haired woman sat on the chaise, one leg draped over a man on either side of her, her pussy wide open for their questing fingers. She had a cock in each hand, stroking furiously.

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