Gamefinger

CHAPTER ONE The first thing I saw was a naked girl floating in the lake. She was floating belly down, and I first thought that she was dead. Then she raised her head, shook water out of her eyes, saw me, grinned and began swimming toward shore. When she reached shallow water, she put her feet down and waded the rest of the way out. The mere sight of her magnificent nude body was almost enough to throw me into convulsions. An sss, a blonde sss. She must have stood at least six feet in her bare feet, with broad shoulders and titanic pagan breasts that jutted proudly out from her chest like half-launched torpedoes. Milky white torpedoes. Her whole body was milky white, in fact. Milk white hips as broad as a lecher's dream; milk white thighs as sleek and full as Grecian columns; a milk white belly such as lovers' dream of pillowing their heads on. A blonde, too. Even without the wealth of flaxen hair that tumbled in wet waves past her wide shoulders down almost to her waist, even without that waterfall of spun gold and platinum, I'd have known she was a natural blonde. She was the natural blonde type. She waded out of the water, shook herself in a marvelous wriggling motion that set her giant, jaunty breasts to quivering and her full buttocks and thighs to shivering, then sauntered toward me. Her n*****s, I noticed with fascination, were fire-engine red-flaming pillars rising from the shocking pink halos of her aureoles. Fully erect n*****s. Erect because of the cold lake water, or because.... “Hi,” she said, stopping a few feet in front of me. She flicked a few drops of water off her breast, heedless of the happy jouncing this imparted. “My name's Kami.” She spelt it for me. “You're Rex Kingston, I presume?” I nodded, momentarily at a loss for words. Actually, I'm Trevor Anderson, SADISTO's most vicious licensed-to-kill operator, agent 0008-on vacation. True, this was Rex Kingston's cabin and lake and woods, and in a way I was Rex Kingston. That was the cover that SADISTO had chosen for me to hide under on my holiday. I smirked and looked over at the blonde. She pouted her full, lush lips. “Well-you don't seem very glad to see me.” I noticed then that her eyes had dropped from my face-that her eyes were fixed below my waist but above my knees. I glanced down. Curses! Until that moment I'd completely forgotten that I, too, was naked-around the cabin I usually don't bother with clothes. “Excuse me,” I said, “I'll go put on a towel or something.” She reached out a hand, clutched me. “Don't bother,” she murmured, her big, sky-blue eyes fixed on mine. “Why be formal? My, how warm your hand is,” she added. “That isn't my hand you're holding,'“ I told her-unnecessarily, I suppose. “No? Well, you're still warm And friendly?” She squeezed me in an affectionate fashion. Squeezed me in a way-and in a place-no virile man could object to. I almost grabbed her then and there-until the sheer incredibility of her being there, in front of me, struck home. You see, this hideaway cabin is on a lake, a tiny lake, way up in Maine. Got a map of Maine? Good. Look up in the Northern part, way up toward the Quebec border, where there are no roads shown on the map for the simple reason that there are no roads. Just miles and miles of forest as wild as it was when the Pilgrims landed, miles and miles of forest broken here and there by tiny lakes. Wild country, primitive country. That was where the lake was. Rex Kingston bought the lake a few years ago, bought it cheap for a simple reason: nobody else wanted it. It was too far out, geographically speaking. But it was just right as a hideout for a SADISTO agent on shore leave. Five days ago I had a float plane fly me and a mess of supplies to this tiny lake. I had arranged with Rex Kingston to use his retreat for two weeks during the summer. He was traveling throughout Baja California researching modern Indian weapons. When my vacation was finished, the float plane would return to pick me up. Aside from that, I didn't expect any visitors during the time I intended to spend at the lake. Not many people have float planes, and those that do, have a thousand bigger lakes to land on. Oh, you can reach the cabin by land if you have a trained guide and want to spend ten days hacking your way through the forest. But so far nobody has. So you can see why I was suddenly struck by the fact that this gigantic blonde chick had materialized out of nowhere. “How did you get here?” I asked, while the blonde continued to fondle me in the most suggestive and lascivious manner imaginable. She giggled, a throaty, sexy giggle. “I dropped in. See?” She let go my...my...she let go and pointed at her lovely loins. I stared. Faint, very faint lines of pink were visible across the upper parts of her mighty thighs. “A parachute harness?” I gasped. “You parachuted into my lake?” She nodded, smiling. “Stark naked?” “Of course not, silly.” She stretched a long white hand toward a tree limb, draped over which were some rugged but feminine-looking clothes-slacks and lumberjack shirt, plus white panties and a white bra as big as a brace of spinnakers. “I hung my clothes out to dry a few minutes ago, while you were clattering around making coffee.” Well, that explained how she'd gotten there. I knew I'd have heard a float plane or amphibian touch down on the lake... “'But why are you here?” I demanded-as her shameless hand snaked out and grabbed me again. “Who are you?” Her brazen fingers began to fondle me with renewed vigor-while she thrust her full, hard-tipped breasts against my naked chest, as her soft breath fanned my cheek. “Does it matter so much right now?” she whispered. “Let's just say that-that I work for the government.” I went cold. “The Internal Revenue Service?” I cried. “You lousy tax hounds after me again?” She shut off my flow of words with her ripe lips. Her lips were warm, soft, sweet tasting; and her tongue stabbed fervently into my mouth at the same instant as her hands slid around my waist and her thighs surged forward to thrust and squirm against my (by now) excited flesh. I couldn't help myself-I returned her kiss. Returned it with interest and slid my arms around her nude and splendid body, traced the long curve of her spine, cupped and squeezed the huge, silken-smooth half moons of her buttocks. She was no tax agent, that was for sure. I didn't figure her for a forest ranger, either.... Well, whatever she was, she was all woman. And all mine. I broke the sweet suction of our kiss, drew back my head. Her big blue eyes were half closed, her ripe lips parted. “Don't waste time talking,” she begged me. “Talk later!” I didn't argue with her. I couldn't, because a moment after she'd spoken, her head had moved forward again, and once more her lips were locked to mine, once more her tongue was a thrusting, writhing serpent of superheated lust lashing my mouth to frenzied flame. I dug my fingers deep into the hot resiliency of her rump, kneading and working the sumptuous flesh even as I pulled her hard against the throbbing urgency of my body, the rising expectation of my desire, the pulsing core of my being. For long moments we stood locked in an inter-locked embrace, her tongue darting deep into my mouth, my tongue sliding sensuously between her lush lips; her loins grinding and bumping suggestively against my upper thighs and lower belly; my ardor pulsing against her soft flesh. Then, by mutual unspoken consent, we sank slowly to the soft grass, sank to our knees and then slid on our sides.. Side by side on the grass we lay, chest to breasts, stomach to belly, thigh to thigh, legs intermixed, mouths locked. Then I rolled her over on her back, moved to crouch over her. She smiled up at me with her eyes, and breasts-a vision of dazzling feminine flesh-spread out like an erotic feast for my eager eyes. “Kiss me,” she murmured, touching her great globular breasts with the tips of her fingers, “kiss me nicely.” I bent my head and kissed her. Kissed the soaring ski slopes of her upper breasts, the rich rotund ripeness of their undersurfaces, the salty sweet scarlet candles of her big, burgeoning n*****s. I locked my lips over the tip of her near breast, inhaled and suctioned the hard-tipped succulence of her passion-pointed breast deep into my mouth, letting my tongue swirl and curl around the imprisoned and exciting flesh. She made a soft, throaty noise of sheer animal pleasure and gripped the back of my head, forcing my face down even further into the soft hot pillow of her bosom. I teased and provoked her n****e some more, bit teasingly into the tender, taut, tempting fullness of her breast-her right breast-while my searching hand found and captured the tip of her left breast, prisoning the hot pulsing n****e between my fingers, twisting and tweaking it, rolling it between thumb and finger as if it were the end of a cigar-the combination lock of a safe. Sensually inflamed by this dual attack on her boobs-her right breast tip in my mouth, her left being fooled with expertly by my fingers-Kami began to gasp and whimper with s****l delight. I bit her again, pinched her harder; and she squealed with pleasure-pain. What a fun feast of flesh this chick was. What a bountiful treasure chest of tactile treats! I raised my head, pounced with open mouth on her left breast, nibbled it, vacuumed it deep into my mouth, lightly chewed and teased it with teeth and tongue-while my hands kneaded and squeezed and roughly fingered the multi-textured temptation of her right bliss balloon. She squirmed with pagan pleasure beneath me, squirmed and writhed and rolled in animal delight. I knelt beside her lovely body and nuzzled the huge upflung cones of rounded rapture flesh that were her breasts-her milky orbs of passion-swollen ecstasy epidermis, her desire domes tipped with bright red towers of turgid, tongue-tempting n*****s. I slid my cheek along the snow white plain of her belly, I let my lips and tongue etch the swelling, sweeping curves of her hips, her thighs. Then I worked my way back-played on the way back, I should say, since it sure as heck wasn't any work-back to the brashly, blatantly, brazenly rounded ramparts of her big, billowing breasts. I cupped my bands over them, polished them, patted them. “Shake 'em,” Kami ordered. “Shake 'em good!” So I shook them. I shook them as if they were mounds of vanilla pudding, as if they were punching balls. I poked them and prodded them and slapped them. I cuffed them and jabbed them and buffeted them. I grabbed her big red n*****s between finger and thumb and shook her breasts. I closed my fingers and corrugated my flattened hands back and forth across her jutting n*****s. I grabbed the soft, succulent flesh and sank my fingers deep into it. I worked and worried the mountainous magnificence of her mammaries, then lowered my head and kissed them again-and again and again.... My lips moved in an idle but happy path over her body-kissing the smooth perfection of her shoulders, the pulsing hollow of her throat the creamy valley between her soaring breasts. I kissed the lobes of her ears, kissed her cheeks, her eyes; I kissed the softness of her upper arms, the sleekness of her rib cage, the inswept curves of her waist, the torrid convexity of her belly. I moved lower to kiss her further, and she murmured happily and wriggled on the grass and swung her long, luscious legs wide, wide apart-the easier for me to kiss the tempting white flesh of her inner thighs. I kissed them, working my way up the flesh of her left thigh, then down the flesh of her right, kissing her the while, kissing her ardently, probingly, searchingly; kissing her as she wanted to be kissed, kissing her where he wanted to be kissed.