Perverted Passions 1.

Every sensual muscle in her sleek body in motion, Katt MacNeil swung out of the Cessna and padded across the sand in the blazing noonday heat. The tall, leggy blonde was used to ignoring the scorching desert sun a well as the admiring stares from a few local males. There were not many fair-haired women to be found among the sand dunes in the Indian Desert. Eyes alert for her husband’s tall, lean form, Katt strode to the fingerprint-smudged door, and went in out of the sun. But it was even hotter inside and smelled stale and rancid. With relief she saw a trail of dust in the distance. A few seconds later, Sandor, her husband’s driver, stopped the jeep in a cloud of dust and bounded out. Feeling an incredible letdown because her husband hadn’t met her, Katt shoved the door open and went out. Loading her bags in the back of the jeep, Sandor looked up and saw her. His grin was broad and welcoming in his dark face. At least somebody was glad to see her, she thought irritably. The handsome native bowed respectfully at the waist. “Hello, Sandor. It’s good to be back.” He straightened. Even though he understood very few words in English, Katt didn’t know what made her say it. “I see you have a big hard-on for me again. I wish my husband did. In that case he would be here instead of you.” His head bobbed. “Yes, mem-sahib!” No matter what she said to him, Sandor would still answer her with, “Yes, mem-sahib,” or “No, mem-sahib,” depending on her tone of voice and her facial expressions. He was so willing. If he wasn’t at Ted’s beck and call all the time, she would teach him enough English so they could communicate easier. There were no doors on the jeep. She got in and they roared away. Katt sighed again as dust flew out behind them. Not until she returned to civilization again would she bother with glamorous hairstyles. It would have been nice if Ted could have seen her before her hair got caked with dust. Why hadn’t he met her? Ted was far too intent on this project. He lived and breathed it. Trouble had been brewing in their marriage because of it. Sure, they worked on the same project, but they never spoke intimately, or had any time alone even for breakfast. The noon meal was always alfresco, taken separately, because Ted was never willing to break for lunch when she did. And dinner she ate alone because he never came home until she was in bed fast asleep. Even though the Western monsoons would be starting in a month, and there would be blowing sands, Ted had promised her they would spend more time together when she returned from her sister’s wedding in the States. He was not showing good faith in that promise. Not good faith at all. Damn him! Other men panted after her. Why did she have to marry Ted? For no known reason, she’d fallen for Ted, her university professor, a man older, wiser, more experienced. When Ted was offered another grant to head an archaeological dig in Jakhanur, he had proposed. Katt had married him and came along, full of big ideas about working side by side on the prehistoric dig. The lure of unearthing a Dravidian civilization in the desert that would boggle scientific minds must have played a part in her decision. Perhaps it was the idea of being swept off to parts unknown by her lover? She was–had been–a diehard romantic. Not anymore. After two years of grim reality, Katt could not recall, with any clarity, exactly how she had felt about Ted in those days, or even why she had married him. This past month in New Hampshire, she had relieved her sexual tensions–discreetly. Her eyes homed in on Sandor’s big prick, so deliciously outlined by the thin cotton shorts. Sandor, as all the local labourers, was loyal to Ted. But he had a hard-on for her. Could she trust him to keep his mouth shut? It was a question she had asked herself many times before. She needed a lover here. All those nights alone… What would happen if Sandor spoke of it and Ted did in some way find out? Ted might divorce her… One thing for sure, it would certainly get his attention. For traveling, Katt had worn white heels, a slender, pale mauve skirt and white silk blouse. Now, she wondered if she had been crazy. No matter what time of year, the temperature in the Thar were high. To allow the wind to dry, if not cool the sweat, she worked the skirt up around her thighs until the tops of her silk hose came into view. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sandor looking at her legs. Her sexual encounters of the last month had reawakened her appetites, rekindled her needs. One more blissful time before she reached camp? Daring, Katt kicked off her shoes and twisted in the seat, putting her left foot on Sandor’s muscular leg, which served to part her silk-encased legs and expose her panty-covered crotch. Sandor’s eyes were ready to bounce out of his head. She grinned at him, but he didn’t notice. His attention was torn between her crotch and keeping the jeep in the dirt road. Through her panties, Katt massaged her pussy with one long finger until it was good and wet. She watched Sandor watch her play with herself, which she found highly arousing. Her clit grew stiffer and stiffer as she eyed his boner. Now she wondered if the fool was ever going to stop the jeep, pull over and make love to her. She was being so nasty, tempting her husband’s driver like this. Katt began to moan, and work her hips. She stared hungrily at the huge swelling between Sandor’s legs. Spreading her knees wider apart, Katt pulled her panty crotch aside, so he could see her finger herself. Sandor’s breath whistled past that even row of perfect white teeth. Although he slowed down, the man kept driving. Here Katt was, laid out in front of him, all wet and ready and the aggravating stud with the big dick didn’t jump her. Indians were surprisingly loyal. Did Sandor’s loyalty to Ted run to such lengths? His eyes flashed back and forth between her pussy and the road. She slid a finger deep into her pussy and plunged it in and out, making squishy sounds in her wetness. Katt masturbated her clit with her other hand. She was getting desperate. “Stop the jeep! Pull over. Take your cock out and fuck me!” Sandor grinned and bobbed his head up and down. “Yes, mem- sahib!” At least he caught part of it, she thought as she watched him unzip his shorts. Out sprang his dick. He drove on with the enormous, turgid cock sticking bolt upright, throbbing wickedly. Man juice leaked from the mulberry-coloured knob and ran down the thick stalk. “This is my last chance for a fuck before we reach camp. Pull the stupid jeep over and screw me, you fool!” she cried out, feeling totally horny. Katt waved her hand, indicating by gesture what she wanted him to do. Sandor grinned. “Yes, mem-sahib!” This time, he whipped the jeep off the beaten track, but there was no cover, no outcroppings of thin scrub of any sort. Katt looked around at the rolling sand hills. What the hell, there was no one about. Most likely there would be no one else through here for hours. She took her clothes off and placed them neatly in back. Then, she scooted her butt to the edge of the seat and pointed from his mouth to her snatch. “Yes, mem-sahib!” Sandor stuck his head between her thighs and she felt his hot breath on her cunt just before his tongue hit her clit. He slid his hand under her buttocks and lifted her up, jamming her sopping cunt against his darkly handsome face. Avidly, he sucked her pussy. Sandor was a thrilling cunt-sucker. His educated tongue darted swiftly and deftly into her hole, thrusting like a mini- cock. It teased her clit until she was ready to scream. The erotic sucking sound he made as he ate her pussy turned her on even more. He opened his jaws wide and gently licked at her mound. He made long, adoring laps up and down her pussy from clit to anus. He chewed and nibbled her pussy like Katt had never experienced before. “Eat my cum,” she cried, and squirted steaming cream into his slurping mouth. Katt was so flaked out that she clutched his wiry hair, scissored her thighs around his ears, squeezed hard, and wildly pumped her load into his mouth. How far her shrieks carried in the quiet landscape did not concern her. Sandor pulled her thighs away from his ears and came up gasping for air. His dark eyes, lust-fogged, were hopeful as he pointed from his dick to her pussy. “Yes! Fuck me!” Katt moaned, reaching toward his great stalk to draw it to her soppy hole. But Sandor was moving away. Damn! With long strides, he came around the vehicle to her side and turned her around in the seat. He said something that she thought meant up. Offering her a hand out, he drew her out of the jeep. Pointing to the uneven, sandy ground, he shook his head. Pointing to the hood of the jeep, he shook his head. Katt understood that he was telling her the sand was unsafe because of poisonous insects and snakes, and that the hood of the jeep was scalding hot. Sandor pointed to her, then bent forward until his head nearly touched the ground. He straightened, waiting expectantly. Katt laughed as she got his message. He wanted her to bend over and would fuck her standing up. Eager to have him take her any way at all, she turned her back to him and bent over. No more foreplay. Sandor took his colossal tool in his hand and aimed it at her fuck hole. With unbridled passion, the stud entered her, swift and sure of himself. Dark hands locked on each of her creamy hips, Sandor held her tight. Then he began to fuck her heat-sizzling pussy with far-reaching master strokes. Filled with a wild, uncontrollable lust, Katt spread her thighs wide to allow his talented passion pole to insinuate itself as deep inside her as possible. She felt like one voracious cunt. It was the biggest cock she had ever been stuffed with. She gave a cry of ecstasy as he plowed her more urgently. From behind, Sandor watched her labia, swollen so invitingly, swallow his dick time and again. Her beautiful ass was churning and that incredible gash was rotating on his impaling shaft. She was making him moan with anguish and joy. He could still taste her pussy on his lips. She squirmed more fiercely on his cock and cried out. He felt a rush of warm juice flood his prick. In a dizzy fury, Sandor fucked her and spurted his seed inside her boiling, sucking cunt. His spitting shaft rapidly unloaded its substantial contents, but it did not lose its virility. The sights of her upturned hind end was enough to keep his red-blooded erection throbbing strongly. Katt straightened up; the motion pulled his still-hard prick out of her cunt. She turned to face Sandor, and with a smile, wiped her finger through her cunt. She pointed to him. “You cum.” Katt pointed to her cunt. “In me.” Sandor grinned. “Yes, mem-sahib! You cum in me.” Katt smiled. “Close enough. Can I call on you whenever I need a good fuck?” His teeth flashed in his tan face as he gave her the closest thing she’d ever seen to a roguish grin. “Yes, mem-sahib!” Sandor stopped at the hut that she and Ted called home. Knowing full well her husband was at the dig, Katt changed her clothes and rode out with Sandor. Her husband did not look up when the jeep pulled up in a cloud of dust. He did not even rise when she walked over to him and said. “Darling, I’m home,” in a carefully light tone of voice. Ted MacNeil did fritter away a few minutes to smile and ask a few pointed questions. “How was the trip?” “Enjoyable.” Katt had learned from experience to keep her replies short and precise. “The wedding?” “Hectic.” “Your folks?” “They send their–regards.” She could not say they send their love. They didn’t. Neither of them had forgiven her for ‘throwing herself away’ on a man twice her age. “Good, good. We have found evidence of human life.” His face took on a sort of glow. “Facial bones … a vessel … I’m close here. Today, tomorrow…” His mind, as always, began to leave her. “We’ll talk more later.” He began to scratch around in the earth again. Katt had expected no more, yet she felt hurt, ridiculously disappointed and unreasonably angry. She wanted to grab Ted by the collar and scream at him that he couldn’t treat her this way. But she knew he would look at her with half-seeing eyes and mutter. “What way?” He hadn’t the foggiest idea of her misery, damn him. Why couldn’t he understand her? He understood this country, its soil, its history, its language–past and present. He knew its people and its politics. He knew everything, geology, chemistry, photography. Yet, Ted MacNeil did not know the first thing about his wife. Period. Katt plodded wearily across the sand to the tent to inspect the new finds that he had made while she was gone. Her own archaeological mind wondered if he had used the C14 radiocarbon test to date the artifacts–if he had chemically treated them to preserve them in a different climate? There were two pieces of bone in the glass case; both were tagged. Putting her hands on the edge of rough board, Katt bent over to decipher her husband’s scrawled handwriting. “How could someone with a bottom as pretty as yours be interested in ancient artifacts?” The tone was deep and lazy and Katt’s first reaction was to whirl and face the male intrusion. And it was male. No woman alive could mimic such bedrock bass. Besides, she was the only woman at the dig sight. Katt pushed herself to a standing position. Then, with a deliberately casual movement, she turned to face him. The first impression she received was of an American male whose stance and tight-fitting jeans emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips. “Well, well, well,” he said with frank admiration, his dark, insolent eyes sharp and assessing. In a matter of a second, Katt took him in. A thick crop of dark, wavy hair tumbled carelessly across his forehead. His wind and sunbaked face held the shadow of a beard, which gave him an even more manly aura. Massive shoulders filled the tee shirt he wore to bursting. His arms were muscled and his hands long- fingered and strong. Her eyes lingered at his crotch, acutely conscious of the tempting, magnificent bulk cupped by the denim. His long, quarterback legs moved toward her, and her eyes flew back up to his face. “If Ted would have told me he had a beautiful assistant arriving today, I would have rolled out the welcome mat.” He stopped and extended his hand. “Hunter Beal.” Katt shook his hand, trying to conceal the effect his electric touch was having on her. “Katt.” On hearing her name, he grinned, with more than a spark of eroticism. And even though it sent her pulse racing, she deliberately, omitted her last name. Something perverse in her wanted to give the devil all the rope he needed to hang himself. It would be funny to see his reaction when he discovered that she was not an assistant to Ted, but his wife. “Cat … short for Catherine?” “No. Just Katt.” She spelled it out for him. “Unusual, interesting but still just as suggestive.” “Oh? How is that?” “It suggests that you might purr.” “I do if I’m petted right,” she retorted, feeling her insides turn to mush as he took another step forward, bringing his bulging crotch within flaming distance of her own crotch. “How do you like to be petted, Katt? What makes you purr?” He pressed forward slightly, his firm cock a whisper graze against her. Light as it was, his touch was like an act of possession. Hunter gently stroked the backs of two fingers from the base of her chin up her left cheek. Her gaze met his and her heart turned over. Her core seemed to turn liquid and drip down her thighs. The flesh there began to throb. “This is insane.” Katt thought, and sidestepped, avoiding him without retreating altogether. His body beckoned to her irresistibly. In her own best interest, she stood rigidly erect, and remembered her resolve to behave herself once in camp. She glanced around. “This is hardly a place to make anything, even a cat purr, Mr. Hunter.” “Beal is my surname. Just call me Hunter.” “Well, Mr. Hunter Beal. Out here all cats are predatory. They’re quite wild you know.” “Not all. You are the one exception. You, I will make purr,” he replied with a devastating grin. “Surely, you have another, more significant reason for being here? Surely you aren’t an archaeologist,” she said a little testily, and in a defensive gesture, folded her arms across her chest. His soft, intimate laugh sent titillating shivers down her spine. “Why are you afraid of me?” She was afraid of what he could do to her. One touch, one kiss and she would forget that she was Ted’s wife, which would cause untold pain and scandal. Manner crisp, she scoffed, “Hardly that! I can call Sandor any time and have you thrown out of camp.” “Professor MacNeil would not look kindly on an assistant who ruffles the feathers of his major backer.” “Professor MacNeil’s grant is from the university.” “Is that so?” “Yes!” He shook his shaggy head. “The professor had a small grant from the university, which he used up months ago. He’s running on my time now.” Frowning, Katt gazed at him and sensed he was telling the truth. But why hadn’t Ted told her? No wonder he had been putting in such long hours. He had been trying to unearth something which would merit further financial support–from Hunter Beal, who seemed to be standing far too close to her. It struck her that this man she had been verbally fencing with was, in effect, her husband’s boss–and therefore hers as well. Oh, hell, and she had talked to him so… When he found out who she really was … Damn! What a mess and she’d been in camp less than an hour. “Well, Mr. Beal, since you are paying the bills, I’d best get to work.” She turned to the table and picked up the skullbone of some Dravidian tribesman with shaky fingers. “Show me what you have there,” he said coming up behind her, arms around her, hands braced on the table edge. He leaned over her, pressing the devastating length of his body against her back. Katt choked back a cry, half-alarmed, half-electrified, as his hard male cock pressed between her buttocks in a perfect fit. She fought to restrain her involuntary reaction to press back against him. A war of emotions raged in her. Katt was so disconcerted, cross at him for putting her in this position with her husband working close at hand. But then he didn’t know Ted was her husband. Her mind was a crazy mixture of hope and fear. She breathed in shallow, quick gasps. It was necessary to rebuff his advances, even though she wanted to melt against him as he nibbled her ear-lobe. “Get away!” Her voice cracked, wavered. “My husband will see you!” He withdrew his arms slowly, but his hands tightened on her arms, bringing her around to face him. He tucked a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear before letting her go. Katt flattened her sweaty palms against her thighs. There was a glint of the devil in Hunter’s eyes. “Which Indian is your husband?” This hadn’t turned out at all like she expected. Katt managed a tremulous smile, but there was no satisfaction in telling him who her husband was. None at all. “My name is Katt MacNeil.” He shot her a twisted smile. “The professor’s daughter?” She couldn’t tell if he was serious or being sarcastic. “Ted is my husband.” His surprised reaction, as her words registered, was too natural to be faked. Hunter Beal was taken aback. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you right off.” He seemed to give himself a mental shake. “Serves me right. Jumping to conclusions does not always make for happy landings, especially in this case.” Relief flooded her. He was being a good sport about it! Hunter made a slight gesture with his right hand. “To put it simply, I found you too attractive, too fresh and sexy and alive to be Ted’s wife. My feelings on that haven’t changed. Ted is a devoted man–to his work.” Her thoughts shot in three or four fantastic directions at once. He was telling her what the score was. He wanted to carry on an affair right beneath her husband’s nose! What a dreadful, irresistible idea! There was every possibility that Ted would find out. But if she refused … her mind reflected on the past two years of long, horny nights she’d spent alone. Those nights could be spent in the arms of this man, making love. How long could she get–sleeping with Ted’s backer? No matter what she did or said, it was either a halo or a noose. “I’ll have my cook prepare a special ‘welcome home’ dinner in your honour tonight. I’ll call for you and Ted at seven.” Hunter turned and abruptly left the tent. “He knows as well as I do that Ted will never leave the dig for any dinner, in my honour or not,” she muttered and wondered what she should do. There were four heads on her shoulders, each screaming a different answer. One thought played over and over in her mind. Hunter would be a devastating lover. Later, Katt strolled across the sand to tell Ted that his benefactor expected them to dine with him that evening. “You met Beal, then? Good man. Can’t leave tonight. You go, Katt. Give my regrets to Beal. He’ll understand.” It was no more than Katt had expected. She reminded her husband that it was not good form to ignore a dinner invitation from Hunter Beal. Even as much as Ted cared about finances, he remained adamant. “Keep him happy for me, Katt. You can do it.” What was Ted saying? Did he expect her to sleep with Beal? Surely he had not meant it as she had taken it. How could her husband not realize that Hunter Beal was a handsome, virile man and that she was a love-starved woman? In disgust, Katt had Sandor drive her back to their hut. She washed her hair, bathed and perfumed her body automatically, refusing to let herself think. The harsh, bright sky had gone twilight purple by the time Hunter arrived. He had taken a cottage on the edge of Jakhanur, less than half an hour’s drive from camp. It was as primitive as theirs. Cramped but cozy. The sitting room, bright with lamplight, was neat and tidy. One corner had been reserved for a desk and bookshelves. Through the doorway, Katt could see a small, square table covered by a spotless white cloth and set with two places. An Indian servant moved in and out of her line of vision. Hunter had been so sure that Ted wouldn’t come that he hadn’t even bothered having a place set for him at table. “How long are you going to be staying in India?” she asked casually. “Long enough.” Hunter’s eyes were half shut as he watched her from beneath long, sooty lashes. With a wide-eyed curious look, she asked, “For what?” “For you,” he answered quietly and advanced until she was pressed against the wall. Hunter did not touch her with his hands. The pressure of his body was enough to compel her to respond. “I’m not a one-night stand.” Long, lonely nights loomed menacingly before her. His vigorous, hard cock felt so immense and exciting pressing against her stomach. “Did I say you were?” “You implied…” “No such thing. Tell me, isn’t spending one night in rapture worth more than three dozen in tortuous need?” Her mind and every fibre of her being screamed, “Yes!” But Katt remained silent. Giving herself to Sandor had been different. The Indian was unassuming, safe. This man posed a threat … to her sanity. “I…” Katt got no further before his hungry mouth came down to smother any denial she was about to make. His kiss sent the juices in her snatch swirling. The involuntary jolt of her bush against his leg gave her away. Hunter’s hand swept under her skirt and up her inner thigh in urgent exploration. He nudged her legs apart. Katt felt his big, muscular shaft massage her passion-knotted belly. It was going to happen. Oh, God, he was going to make love to her and she was shaking like a virgin! This man could get too deep beneath her skin. He had already. She had to think of him as just another good lay. That was it … just another good lay! Hunter worked his finger beneath the legband of her panties and found his target. Her snatch was wet with desire. Good. It would get wetter. He had no intention of making love to her just yet. For some reason, he wanted to drive her mad with desire for him before he let her have it. Something perverse in his nature surfaced. He wanted to bring her to her sexy knees, to strip her of all pretense. She was in heat; an erotic, sexual woman, and he wanted her to prove it to him. Hunter teased her clit, which was already erect and throbbing. His other hand drew hers down to his heavy crotch. “Uuurgh.” The sound came from deep down as Katt gripped Hunter’s huge, hard cock as best she could through the white trousers that fit him like a second skin. It pulsed and jerked beneath her touch. Without warning, Hunter stopped kissing her and pulled his hand from beneath her skirt. It was with a shock that Katt realized his servant was standing beside them, softly speaking to Hunter. He had seen what they were doing! Hunter calmly replied, stepped back, releasing Katt from her trapped position against the wall. Afraid to move, afraid her knees wouldn’t support her, Katt remained where she was, her cheeks colouring beneath the servant’s passive regard. “Hazun will serve us now,” Hunter said, offering her his hand. For Katt, dinner was a blur of unreality. Hunter’s overwhelming presence shoved everything else far into the recesses of her mind. For all she knew, she could have eaten lizard or snake and never known the difference. “I want to pull your panties off with my teeth and lick your pussy,” he said as Hazun served them. His hand slid up her skirt to her cunt. Blushing and squirming, Katt shot an embarrassed glance at Hazun. “D-d-does he speak English?” “Yes.” Her colour deepened. “Don’t by shy. Hazun is a man of the world. He admires passionate women, don’t you, Hazun?” Hazun’s head bobbed and he grinned. “Yeeezz, Sahib.” “You are not being very discreet,” she reminded him, thinking of Ted. “Hazun and I have no secrets–from each other,” he returned pointedly. “As for telling our secrets to others–you can rely on us both, completely.” “God, I hope so,” she said with feeling. “Ted would never understand any of this!”