Big Dick

The following material is sexually explicit erotica.

If you are offended by hard-core pornography close this file.

Chapter 1

A Face in a Picture

Having won a construction consultancy contract with one of the European Union agencies some years ago, I established an office in Paris.

I had found I had something of a flair for languages at school and within a few months I was able to have an easy if not completely fluent conversation and even my continuing Australian accent proved to be a benefit rather than a hindrance. Because it was unusual and not easy to place it apparently added a touch of mystery as to my origins, so people tended to remember me, and that’s always good for business.

So as the years went by my business prospered and even after liberally greasing a wide range of contact wheels I was surprised at just how much money there was to be made in that disparate group of countries.

Although I had always loved music I could never consider myself a true aficionado, but kept an eye on what concerts and recitals were coming up and frequently took one or other of my female friends to something I considered special. So it was one Sunday morning, when I was glancing through the arts section of the paper to see what was coming up, that I first saw a photograph of Hanna. I didn’t know her name then and was curious as to why it wasn’t mentioned in the small box of copy accompanying the photograph. The men she was with were all named, and they were all names I had heard of as being prominent in musical patronage circles.

But it was the young woman that had first caught my eye, and it was her face I found myself returning to again and again as I slowly finished my brioche and coffee.

She was no classical beauty; her face had too many prominent features and her expression too much underlying strength to be called beautiful. But there was something powerfully attractive about the compelling, almost commanding look the photograph had captured.

A few discrete enquiries told me less than I had expected, just that she was reputedly descended from one of the older royal families of Central Europe, which perhaps accounted for the haughty, slightly bored expression on the face in the photograph. However, like so many of those families, whatever wealth there had been was long gone, no doubt dissipated by a series of idle and frequently dissolute relatives. Hanna had been left to survive as best she could in a world not overly impressed by blood-lines alone.

I was told she was somehow connected with a group of people who sought out and frequently sponsored promising musicians, especially composers, though exactly what the connection and her role was remained unclear.

Rumour had it that she had several, powerful, shall we say ‘patrons’, who provided for her material needs. Rumour was less clear as to what she had done, or perhaps still did to warrant their support. Some implied her potentially damaging knowledge of activities, either business or personal that the men had engaged in. Some that she was in fact a conduit to a complex web of political power-brokers. Some simply settled for her having strange, almost unnatural sexual capabilities.

Normally such a mish-mash of gossip and innuendo would have signalled the end of the business for me, I had too many more profitable avenues to explore to waste any more time or money. But I was not satisfied by a report that merely gave me name and a sketchy, rumour-filled background, and told my usually reliable sources as much. I also pointed out that if they began to be that ineffective in other matters we would soon all be without income.

Even so, although it was fairly predictable that an attractive, still apparently unattached and somewhat mysterious woman risked having the label hung on her, the hint of unusual sexual activity was intriguing and that spurred me on. I decided to do some leg-work of my own, attending more concerts, especially those that featured performances of new works, and keep both my eyes and ears wide open.

It was a couple of weeks before I saw her in the flesh, but even though fleeting, that one occasion added fuel to the strange fire that had been flickering inside me. The newspaper photograph had not done her full justice, the strong features were there, and also the air of authority I had seen, but she was in reality far more attractive than I had expected.

I had sat through one of the most pretentiously boring pieces of music I had ever heard, and gone to the bar for a reviving drink before skipping the second half of the concert. Standing there listening to the superlatives being cast about I had the feeling that everyone else had been listening to some completely different work to the one I had endured, then I saw her. She was alone, at that moment pausing on the short flight of steps that led down to the bar, her eyes quickly searching the crowd for whomever it was she was meeting. For a moment they caught mine, but their expression remained flat and, like the beam kartal escort from a light-house, swept on.

She stood there for no more than three, perhaps four seconds, but although I didn’t know it at the time, that was quite long enough for that particular image of her to become a permanent part of my memory bank.

She was relatively tall, her figure slim but not excessively so, even though the black business suit was designed to flatter, not flaunt, the body inside it was most definitely that of a woman. Underneath the jacket she was wearing a cyclamen coloured silk shirt that contrasted dramatically with the creamy whiteness of her skin. Her pale complexion in turn made her dark hair seem almost black, and although it was not cut in one of the latest fashions it was styled to suit the shape of her face. Softly framing it and enhancing her youthful beauty, while the three subtly blending streaks of grey complimented the air of maturity and authority she exuded.

I took in all those details in a split-second, using the rest of the few moments available to study her face. The strength I had seen in the photograph was there, the air of confident self-assurance. But what the photographer had not caught were all the other things I felt sure I saw. The beauty of the bone structure beneath the outer features, the Slavic inheritance clear in the high cheek bones that gave an attractive upward tilt to the outer corners of her eyes – and what eyes they were – large, set wide apart, and even from across the room I could see how brightly their light colouring glittered.

Her search apparently found the person she was looking for but before she moved down the last few steps she turned her head and looked in my direction again. When she found my eyes were still looking directly at her she arched one eye-brow, then when I didn’t immediately look away, I saw a faint smile curling the corners of her mouth.

Then the moment passed, she joined the crowd and made her way to a group of people chatting on the opposite side of the bar. I finished my drink and left, but remained bewildered by the surge of emotions I had felt during those few, brief seconds. I knew I had to see her again, see her, and next time, talk to her.

Chapter 2

A Chance Meeting

As luck would have it, or so I thought at the time, I did, just a few evenings later, at another, much more satisfactory concert. Again I had made my way to the bar at the interval and while waiting to catch the bar-tenders eye, heard a voice say. ‘Somewhat more enjoyable than the other evening, Mr. McHenry?’

Turning my head at the sound of my name I found myself looking straight into those eyes, which I saw were in fact light grey, flecked with silvery bronze highlights. ‘Definitely yes.’ I replied. ‘But you have the advantage of me Miss, Mrs.?’

She smiled. ‘Oh come Mr. McHenry, as you well know, it’s Hanna, two n’s, no h. I’m sure that appeared on the first page of the report your associates prepared for you.. I’ll have a glass of champagne please.’ she said as the bar-tender came to where we were standing. ‘I’ll be just over there, and you can tell me whether I should be worried, or flattered.’ she added with a smile as she pointed to a far corner.

Naturally enough I was intrigued by what she had said. Obviously her contacts had been far more professional than mine, but I wondered why she had disclosed she knew I had been enquiring about her. There was only one way to find out, so I carried the drinks through the milling crowd and found she had somehow managed to secure a small table for us. I handed her one glass, sat, and raised mine. ‘Votre santé.’

We clinked glasses and sipped the wine. ‘So Mr. McHenry, should I be worried or flattered?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Some day you’ll have to tell me which of my contacts has been less than discrete.’ I replied. ‘But I assure you my interest was, is, purely personal. But even if it wasn’t, your shields are very strong, I still know hardly anything about you.’

She laughed, a soft but deep-throated laugh that sent shivers of excitement up my spine. ‘Well perhaps all you needed to do was ask me. What exactly was it you wanted to know Mr. McHenry.’

‘Mac, please call me Mac, and may I call you Hanna?’ I asked, using the familiar pronoun.

‘Of course Mac. So, ask away, but first, tell me why the interest in the first place?’

I told her about seeing her photograph in the paper, and that my curiosity had been aroused not only by her face but also by the fact that her name wasn’t included in the caption beneath it. And that then my curiosity had deepened when my initial enquiries had been so fruitless. Of course I didn’t mention the one thing that had in fact spurred me to keep digging, the hint of unusual sexual activity that had been mentioned in the report.

‘So what do you think of the Foundation Mac?’

‘The foundation?’

‘The FCMM, the Foundation for Contemporary Music and Musicians.’

‘Ah, I knew you were involved maltepe escort bayan in assisting and promoting new music and musicians, I didn’t know there was a Foundation.’

‘Your contacts were either remiss or careless Mac, the Foundation is quite well known, in musical circles at least. We do very good work, quite a few talented musicians have already been greatly assisted by our support.’

‘I see, and what is involved in becoming a member?’

‘An initial donation, which, as we are registered and recognised, may have some tax saving implications for some, then an annual amount, which varies according to circumstance and need.’

‘And the amount of the initial donation?’

‘One hundred thousand dollars, US of course.’ she replied calmly.

The sum took my breath away, and she smiled when she saw my reaction. ‘Membership entitles you to tickets to a wide range of stimulating performances Mac. And the work we do is important for the future well-being of music. In these days of economic rationalisation mere talent all too often goes unrecognised and unrewarded. I believe what we do is actually vital to the Art.’

‘I can see and appreciate that Hanna, but a hundred thousand is still a lot to pay for feeling good about doing something for Art.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry if that is beyond your means, my own information about you must have been incorrect.’ she said flatly, making a move to get up.

‘No, wait!’ I said hurriedly, reaching across the table and clasping her hand. ‘It’s not the money, it just seems, well, it seems rather a lot.’ I added lamely.

She relaxed back into her chair, then leaned forward towards me. ‘There are other benefits too.’ she said in a much quieter voice. ‘But I can’t discuss those here, you understand?’

‘Of course.’ I replied, without having the foggiest notion of what she meant, but at the same time having a flash of inspiration. ‘Why not skip the second half, have dinner with me, somewhere discrete, then you can go into all the details.’

She smiled, and I saw how her eyes had suddenly taken on an extra sparkle. ‘That could be arranged, and it might be mutually beneficial, do you have somewhere in mind?’

I mentioned the name of a small restaurant I had used on previous occasions for delicate business negotiations.

‘Yes, I know it. An excellent chef and a good cellar, and more importantly, very private. But if I am to leave I have to talk to a few people first, I could meet you there in about half an hour. Is that all right?’

‘Sounds perfect to me Hanna, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to wait, drive you myself?’

‘Thank you but no Mac, I have my car here, it will be easier to drive separately. Now you must excuse me.’ she added as she rose from the table.

I sat and watched her go, moving gracefully, slipping easily between the knots of people, and briefly wondered exactly what I was letting myself in for. Then, using my mobile phone I rang the restaurant and made sure the Maitre d’ could reserve an appropriate table for us. My previous generous tipping had registered my name in his mind and he quickly assured me they would look forward to taking care of us.

That done I left and headed for my car, my mind filled with thoughts and images from the all too brief time with Hanna.

Although both the memory of the glimpse of generous cleavage I had seen when she leaned towards me, and the way her slim body moved as she walked away, returned from time to time, it was another image that dominated. Her face.

It was face that defied normal concepts of beauty. Apart from the unusual colour and expressiveness of her eyes, if one took each feature separately they would be considered too large or too prominent. The broad forehead and the strikingly high cheek-bones that gave an almost cat-like upward tilt to her eyes. The full, generous lips and mouth and strong, but still feminine jaw-line. It was a perfect case of the effect of the whole being far, far greater than the sum of the individual parts.

Knowing I would have time to wait for her to join me I drove unusually slowly, pushing away the image of her as I concentrated on the traffic and reconsidered what little information she had given me. A hundred thousand, plus an annual contribution of indeterminate size still seemed a ridiculously large amount for a small, not that well known organisation. Then I suddenly remembered what she had said that prompted me to suggest dinner. ‘Other benefits.’ What ‘other benefits’ could a musical foundation have to offer?

I also remembered the vague rumours my enquiries had uncovered, hints of ‘unusual sexual practices’. But the juxtaposition made no sense. Sex to live musical accompaniment? Sex with musically gifted performers? With instruments? I let my mind wander through a range of bizarre concepts, none of which either intrigued or aroused me, so gave up and decided to wait for more actual information.

Having explained to the Maitre d’ that the lady I was dining with had been delayed escort pendik he brought me a drink, and then I used the time to get on with some business notes and calculations. But unlike most women Hanna was as good as her word, within half an hour she had joined me, greeting me in English and then saying she would be happy to continue in that language.

Both her command and accent were almost flawless, having just a faint, most attractive inflection on certain words and we spent some time discussing the menu and the wines. Once our decisions were made we continued chatting, exchanging personal preferences for music and musicians and what concerts we had recently been to.

Even though we both politely avoided the subject that was the actual reason for us being there, I got the feeling I was being scrutinised, evaluated. The way those truly extraordinary eyes watched me was a little disconcerting, as though they were searching for flaws, weaknesses that might show up in the smallest uncontrolled word or movement.

So it was not until we had just about finished the main course that I finally turned our conversation to the matter that had brought us there. ‘You said there were other benefits to membership of the foundation Hanna.’

‘True.’ she replied, placing her knife and fork down. ‘But shall we order dessert and coffee first, then we won’t be disturbed.’

‘I am surprised that a woman with such a beautiful figure allows herself dessert.’ I said with a grin.

‘Nature has been kind to me Mac, and I have found that so long as I don’t over-indulge, she continues to do so. But thank you for the implied compliment.’ she added sweetly.

I added cognac to our dessert and coffee orders and once they had been brought to us she began talking. She kept her voice low, so I had to concentrate to be sure I didn’t miss, or misinterpret what she said and so left the questions that came to mind until later.

‘To begin with Mac, this is a most unusual conversation for me, you are the first to enquire about membership of the Foundation this way. Normally potential members are introduced by two or more existing members, so we have some way of knowing much of the person’s background beforehand.

I suppose the usual way is typically Gallic, the arrogance of not wanting to let ‘outsiders’ in. But then as you know, I am not French by birth so perhaps my standards are understandably different.

I trust that will help explain some of the caution you may think I am using in the matter. Although the Foundation is essentially my creation, there are now others who like to think their role is equally, if not more important.’ she added with an almost conspiratorial smile.

‘I should explain that Music has always been my passion. And my greatest disappointment has always been that I have no real talent for it. What few talents I have are for totally unrelated matters, organisation, communication, and some creative abilities in interpreting information. But more of that later I think.

So, with a great love driving me I suppose it was only natural I should look for other ways I could be involved in Music. That’s where the idea for the Foundation originally came from. But it was an idea that would need funds, and even at the time of my initial idea that meant large amounts of money. Where was I to get it? How was I to influence the people, usually men, who had it? How to persuade them to part with some of what they had?’

She paused to sip her coffee, but her eyes never left mine. ‘You understand the problem Mac, you have to deal with the same thing in your line of business. How to get what you want from people who are often reluctant to share it with you.’

‘Quite true Hanna.’ I replied. ‘But I have found most men have their price, not all, but most.’

‘And have you found that the price is not always cash?’

‘Frequently. Cash can be hard to explain, difficult to use or hide ‘

‘Exactly, some alternatives?’

‘Oh a variety of things. Property in out of the way places with titles lost in a web of complexity. Holidays in exotic places that are disguised as business conferences, meetings or seminars. Fine wines delivered in unobtrusive boxes. Depending on the size of the deal there are many ways.’

‘And sex?’

‘With men, very often sex, yes.’

‘That was what I thought when I began to think through my problem. But although I could imagine that sex with what is of course essentially just a prostitute, might be initially exciting, over time it would lose much of that. I thought that in order to keep the donors coming back for more, I needed to find something to make the event dramatically different.’

‘A tricky problem.’

‘Yes it was, and it took some time before the answer occurred to me, and even more time to work out how to go about it. The answer you see was, fantasy.’

‘Fantasy?’

‘Yes, we all have them, even you Mac. But again we’ll go into that later, that is if you want to.

But in brief, what we do is to provide our members with an outlet for their long-held sexual fantasies. That is so long as they do not involve actual harm to anyone of course. We have had to rule out several potential members because their subconscious desires were frankly just too disgusting, or too violent.’

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