Chapter 2

Being the youngest private detective ever licensed in Hawaii had its good and bad sides. I made money right away doing what I loved and discovered my precociousness. My mind acts like a safe cracker sensing the tumblers fall. With enough information, whether the information appears related or not, I can pull everything into coherency, discover the plot or sense the culprit.

The bad side involved a certain lack of respect from my colleagues, except Sandy of course. The worst as far as getting any respect were the police. I thought about becoming a police officer, but realized I would have been given even less respect, working my way up the hierarchy over many years before becoming a detective. I could have done the shit work, and with the many endless stakeouts I had gone on with Sandy had experienced something similar. But to not stretch my mind on cases would have been impossibly frustrating.

My youth helped cause without intention stepping on toes. I put myself in inappropriate positions; got in the line of fire so to speak. A case would overlap with the police investigation. I ended up solving it before the detectives had rendered a guess or had railroaded some innocent bystander. The clannish pride of the men in blue definitely got short circuited by my efforts.

Maybe my youth helped in these situations. It would be unconscionable for the cops with the most to lose, the dirty ones, the crazy ones, to get rid of me like exterminating a pest because I was just a kid. And I did have friends behind me, though those friendships became strained after my first case.

I mean when it gets right down to it, sleeping with the suspect is probably pretty much as low as you can go. And right off the bat that was what it was all about.

Sandy and I had done thorough checks on all the suspects, a small group of late twenties ladies who one way or another were in the vicinity during two jewelry heists and a murder. We definitely wanted to get to the bottom of it, the percentage on the recovery of jewels being substantial and the reward for information on the murder also being attractively high. But with murder involved, stepping on police toes followed.

Our presence in the investigation was legitimate. Sam recommended Sandy as the best private investigator in town to the insurance company involved in the case, the one that would have to pay out a substantial premium on both thefts. As her partner, I came along for the ride.

And I got the ball rolling so to speak discovering ties between the women. The stakeouts and personal checks on the six women involved seemed to vaguely confirm my theory and supported infiltration to get what we wanted. By the time I earned my license, I entered the world of deep cover.

Along with the discovery of my natural crime-solving mind, I also discovered my love of on-the-edge, dangerous, role playing situational spying. As much as pulling the pieces together to come up with a valid theory thrilled my mind, the danger of undercover work thrilled me at the opposite end of my spine, the lowest chakra. I am always a little hard, my body temperature a little higher, my seed factory continually active while playing undercover. It's my natural Viagra.

Michelle Murakami, the nurse, became the second woman to enjoy and exploit this discovery. My boss claimed the reward first.

"Sandy, I've got to come over!" I yelled desperately in the phone which had rung four times in her apartment at two in the morning, a late Tuesday or an ungodly early Wednesday before I heard her sleepy voice. She had never let me in her place. Too drunk and way too horny I wouldn't take no for an answer. "If you hang up, I'll just call again! If you disconnect the phone, I'll yell at your window!" I desperately readied for any contingency.

"Shit, okay." She finally said. While hanging up I barely heard her mumble, "Why did I get involved with a horny teenager?"

Minutes later I relentlessly rang her door bell. Once the door unlocked I burst through, took her in my arms, her body still warm from a deep sleep, naked under slim cotton pajamas, pressed my endless hard-on between her firm thighs and kissed her vigorously. She fought back a moment, keeping her teeth closed against my tongue. Maybe it was the contact of my hard cock against her barely covered mound. Maybe she had wanted an encore of that first evening of sex as much as I had. Maybe I had awoken her from an erotic dream. But the moment of resistance proved short lived.

She hungrily opened to my tongue, meeting it with her tongue, and we jousted ecstatically. She unbuckled, unlatched and unzipped to let out my demanding monster, keeping the kiss going until I had to bend down to pull her pajama pants off her legs and past her feet. The kiss and joust quickly returned as she straddled me.

I pushed her against the front door where I drove my cock deeply inside its perfect sheath and fucked her. My fingers held her hard at her ass cheeks, squeezing, opening, closing, seeking entrance through the asterisk asshole. A finger slipped inside and felt my cock sliding in and out nearby.

It took too much energy and felt too damned good to have only the nose available for breath. Our mouths separated and let out pent up groans and sighs that shook the room as much as our bodies shook the front door. We breathed a see-saw in and out groan and sigh at the tempo of our hard, relentless fucking. Despite everything, despite the hours I had been hard courting Michelle, despite the over-manufacturing of sperm in my throbbing balls, despite the shear exertion of holding this lean muscled woman by her luscious ass as I thrust into her, I kept at it.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh Joe, I'm Cumming, I'm Cumming, I'm Cuuuuuuuummmmmmmmiiiiiiinnnnnggg!" she wailed into my ear as I pulled her hard against me and the sperm dam finally let loose a torrent inside her. It felt so fucking good it hurt. My huge throbs of cum met her orgasmic throbs. Perfect.

I marveled at the exchange of throbs as they slowly ebbed like two plops of water meeting in a pond returning to stillness.

"You can let me down now," she whispered. I looked into satisfied eyes. She smiled. I smiled back. I slid her pussy lips oozing our combined elixirs down my thigh before she could get her feet beneath her to stand.

"Wow," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I forgot to say that the first time, but even more this time, Wow."

"Uh-huh."

We held hands and stared into each other's eyes like a couple of kids, which I guess I was but she certainly was not. Our lower half remained naked. My pants and underpants puddled around my still shorn feet. A draft, that wonderful constant trade wind which made Hawaiian nights always magnificent played against our skin cooling and drying our sticky fluids made the moment awkwardly clear.

Her smile transformed. It became a loving smirk. "You staying or going?" she asked, nodding down to my naked legs.

"Do I have a choice?"

"One reason I avoided this."

"What?"

"You coming here," she said.

"I'd say we were both cumming here," I said appropriately but gaining little appreciation for my lame joke. However she knelt down, looking up and smiling, and licked my hang dog dong, making it come alive.

"I'd say little Joey wants to stay," she said.

"Big Joey, too."

She uncovered and unknotted my shoes and slipped them off. "My little Geisha," I remarked.

"Whatever you say, Joey-san," she said in a perfect Japanese accent--an easy accent to grasp in the Japanese inundated town of Waikiki, not only tourists but young, beautiful students just out of High School who spent a year or two on the Island before returning to a serious life back in their home country, including a couple who became short-lived girl-friends in my early sex life. The accent brought back thoughts of their soft, pale white skin and seemingly innocent yet corruptible souls, bringing further tumescence to my hopelessly hard-on filled evening. The cock swayed and lengthened at a heartbeat rate. Sandy couldn't help but notice. "So you want Geisha, Joey-san?" She pulled my pants off my feet.

At last freed, I laid down on the wood floor of her entry hall, all I'd ever seen of her apartment, and pulled her over me. "No Sandy. I want you."

"Whoa buster! You know the rules!" she said, her arms holding her up, hands tense beside my head as she looked down at me.

"Yep," I said, still cocky and drunk. "Tonight," I began, returning my hands to her ass cheeks and pulling them towards my head, "I'm going to make you cum as many times as possible, cumming as many times as possible myself while telling you what happened to me in my undercover adventures, partner!"

Her pussy hovered above my mouth. My tongue licked its swollen lips, tasting the tart mix of earlier juices. I could see her pert breasts straight above shaping the pajama top she still wore. My hands took hold of each, thumbs tracing the edges of her hardening nipples. She undid the buttons and removed her top.

I was in love. I was in love with our rapport, the whole mentor thing. I was also in lust of the delicious pussy hovering above my face. I lapped at her juicy nether lips from her asshole and up the top edges to the swollen clit, happily peeking out and sensitive. She moaned and moaned and shrieked while pulling and holding on for dear life to my ever expanding cock behind her as I twisted the nipples with delicate intent and rapidly flicked her lips and clit and applied pressure with a steady, increasing rhythm until she moaned, groaned, shrieked and streamed out her orgasm.

The orgasm had made her breath rasp and her muscle tension lapse. Her torso, face up, lay across mine. Her head rested on my thigh. Her mouth found my towering, fully extended cock. She sucked along the rigid pole, her tongue slipping out and following it to the purple, throbbing cap.

Recovering her strength with amazing speed, she stood and taking my hand and my penis with two hard grips got me to stand as well. She guided me via her two hand holds through an open door and into her messy bedroom filled by her king sized bed. She pushed me down, releasing the hand in my hand and keeping a mighty grip on my cock. I sat down through the command of her grip. Her mouth took my glans. Her lips played at its edges. Her tongue lashed softly its entire surface. The point stabbed its little hole. Her lips tightened around it, and sucking she sent me back to heaven. Her hand grip loosened a little and she began to rub up and down my shaft. When her mouth left my knob, the hand brought the saliva she had given it to the rest of my shaft.

"Remove your shirt, Joe," she commanded in a low and lusty voice, exciting me more. "I want to see your fucking body." Her eyes glared open and hungry. Her face confirmed her need for continuous passion. I unbuttoned and flung away my aloha shirt while she returned to her amazing blow job. Her eyes smiled staring into mine, enjoying my ecstasy at her ministrations before lowering and appreciating my torso. Her hand not occupied with pumping my penis swept across my chest and pinched and played with my nipples.

"Oh God, that feels so fucking good," I moaned. Then, as I moaned, I talked. I talked about meeting some of the women, of separating Michelle the nurse from them, of dancing with her, talking to her, flirting, getting her to talk, getting her to want me, getting a date, kissing her, Frenching her, holding her against my body, having her feel my need for her.

"And the whole fucking time," I said, pausing to gulp down a particularly piquant moment (she had just deep throated me briefly, almost choking, then using the dampness her throat had given to let her pull harder with her fist with less worry of friction). "I was so horny. The whole thing, the disguise, the performance to get into Michelle's fucking good graces," I sighed and groaned. "It turns me on. Oh God. The undercover bit. It's fucking weird. But it's a fucking rush! So good." I reached my height, never higher with pleasure without cumming.

"Fuck me, Sandy! Now!" She jumped into my lap, guiding me inside her volcanic pussy.

"I love this!" I moaned, staring into her wide open lust filled eyes. I didn't say that I loved her. I told her what I loved.

"I love this too, Joe." She agreed within her groans. Our eyes closed to concentrate on pleasure.

I pulled her pussy off my cock and threw her face down on her bed. Opening her thighs wide, I penetrated doggy style, pulling her against my incredibly rigid pole hard and fast, her ass cheeks slapping loud against my hips. Her fingers pressed against her clit and rubbed. I felt the motion of her masturbating hand at the base of my cock. I reached the end of her canal, just barely hitting the back wall. It couldn't have been more perfect.

"Uh, Uh, Uh," we echoed in our groans until she twisted her groan into a long extended sigh, almost a whimper of pleasure. She went silent and tensed, then let go in an explosive orgasm. My cock swam three hard thrusts into her depth before I too exploded in a frenzy of release. My body wrapped around hers. My knees touched her nipples; my mouth kissed the top of her spine. We were literally wrapped up in each other.

Too much lust to not be love, but we clung to each other not in desperation, not in need, but in pure, unadulterated pleasure in the feeling of being together. It was amazing to be together. Let it happen when it happens. If it happens out of need or desperation, is it really being together? I actually thought those thoughts in that inebriated, in all senses of the word, moment. I felt drunk with pleasure, lust, love, undercover work, alcohol, everything. I remember this as a perfect moment in my life. I remember what Sandy and I both wanted. What we shared. What our love was. It was so powerful it reverberates, with later moments of equal pleasure, until this day and for as long as our mortality gives us to share it.

"Wow!" she said. I felt the vibration of the word as she spoke it.

"Doesn't half describe it."

"I guess not. But I can't help thinking it just gets better."

"Yep," I responded succinctly, kissing her spine again.

"You are a weird kid, though. Undercover turns you on?"

"Couldn't you tell?"

"Well, um, keep up the good work?" she said. We laughed. "So when's the date?"

"You're going to keep that night open?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I should if it ends anything like tonight."

"I have a feeling..."

"Wait," she said, shifting around until we could talk face to face, pulling me under her so she could rest on my shoulder. I enjoyed the movement of our naked contact as we slid against each other with the aid of the sweat and love liquid we had excreted. "Mmm," she murmured, echoing my thoughts.

"Anyway," she continued, "I know how great this was. I know how close we are. But..."

"No, I agree," I told her carefully and seriously, "I want you as a mentor, as a friend, as a lover, as a consultant, as my boss, and I would love to feel the feelings we just felt as much as humanly possible, but the bottom line is, to have all that, we have to keep things exactly the way they are. No girlfriend/boyfriend crap. No nothing beyond what is. However, if you want a repeat of tonight, you may want to keep this Saturday night free."

"How old are you?" she said in wonder.

"Old enough for you, my little Geisha."

"We'll see. Saturday? We'll see."

Unforgivable one might say of my pretense over the next few evenings and through the first date with the nurse. Michelle had scribbled down her number before we parted that memorable Tuesday night. I called her Thursday and Friday. We talked for over an hour both nights about whatever. I lied about my life as a law clerk, the kind of assholes I worked for and etcetera. She talked presumably truthfully about the asshole doctors she worked with. We shared a couple of truths about movies. Mostly she talked, a ploy I felt would garner more interest from her in a relationship with me, which in a way was a relief, having less of a burden to come up with new and hopefully convincing lies on my part, but it was less of a turn on when I didn't have to create a character. Still, I found myself trying not to sigh into the phone too loudly as I masturbated. The relentless pursuer of illegal thrills, whether a thief, a con man, or God forgive a serial rapist or murderer became clearer characters as I found myself utterly intoxicated by lust with my disguise. Both nights I found myself cumming while talking to her and then soon after we hung up.

That Saturday I was hard the minute I slipped into my brand new black linen suit, the jacket opening framing the lovely cream and red striped silk tie Sandy had chosen for me. I knotted it firmly into the light blue collar of my shirt, another Sandy choice. One reason I hadn't started the phone seduction on Wednesday was Sandy and I had continued our intense love making after the excitement ramped up with our shopping to create the Saturday date disguise which Sandy was nice enough to buy. She kept the receipt. "Expenses," she explained, which excited me even more. We fucked and sucked, sixty-nined and doggy-styled. She rode me and I rode her. We both rode each other raw. It took her until Sunday morning to recover. Being the young stud that I was in every way at that time in my life, I was raring to go, as mentioned before, for the five finger mambo by Thursday night.

When I finally abandoned the mirror, not so much studying myself narcissistically but carefully, and dashed off to meet MIchelle in front of the restaurant for our date, the erection subsided somewhat. I still felt the rub of my constantly inflated penis head with each hurried step. The cock bloomed into a tight mass again as soon as I spotted my date. Despite standing in front of a massive concrete mini-mall, the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center on the busy, tourist choked main drag in Waikiki, Kalakaua Avenue, seeing her approach me became a singularly exotic moment.

Michelle was a beautiful Japanese woman, born and raised on the Windward side of Oahu, third generation Hawaiian, who spoke well or with the humor of Island Pidgin English when appropriate. She stood on the short side of medium height. Her body type rarely appeared in girlie magazines but looked sexy to me. She had a big round ass, not fat but luscious and firm. She wasn't thick, but had an appropriate, healthy waist. Her breasts weren't large but strong and hung high. They needed no bra. Her body was made for sex. An extraordinarily beautiful face topped it off in grand style, full and round, the kind of beauty only a full figured girl seems to be graced with, with creamy white porcelain skin of a true Japanese lady.

She strolled towards me with a lovely, graceful movement. Her dress reached just above the knee, a light, flowing silk, reddish pink with subtle flower prints. The trade winds and her quick walk had the dress revealing her lovely figure. Her naked healthy leg muscles flexed. Her midnight black hair pinned up in a loose twist with strands dancing wistfully in the wind sustained the image of a relaxed, sexy woman. She smiled. She glowed.

I also noticed a luxurious diamond studded emerald pendant accentuating the subtle curves of her cleavage. It resembled a photo of one of the stolen items.

Coming at me fast, I thought she might jump into my arms. Pausing at the last moment, she took my hand. Then, the moment feeling awkward, she broke through it and went ahead and embraced me. I leaned my head down to hers. The kiss was soft and gentle, more a caress of lips. I pushed my hardness against her, which she must have felt at her abdomen somewhere near the navel. When we separated, she glanced down at the bulge. I swear I could see the point of her tongue emerge from her lips as she lingered on it. My hand still in hers, she tugged me towards the restaurant door. A diamond studded bracelet wrapped a wrist. The diamonds were several and nearly a carat a piece. Again my memory recognized it. Somehow her hand slid along my cock head. Her tongue licked the lips I had just touched. She had a mischievous smile on her face. God I was so turned on.

"I'm hungry. Let's eat," she said in her slightly high, confident voice, a tiny lilt of laughter in it, and pulled me to the host's desk. "Murakami, for two, we have reservations for..."

"Of course," said the Maitre'D, who grabbed menus and guided us to a dark corner booth. Barely enough light lit the menu. The subdued candle in an amber glass cast a shifting, flickering light across Michelle's face, making it even lovelier. Her dark brown eyes seemed to glow. Was I getting too deep into my cover? Was it method acting? I was falling for this lovely woman.

Most of the meal remained quiet with occasional murmurs. At first we commented on the richness and romance of the restaurant. I noticed the rich price for food. She offered to buy and I felt no obligation nor did I have the wherewithal to disagree. I did note she seemed comfortable with the exorbitant prices. The food, a delicious rich subtlety of creamy French cuisine caused appreciative murmurs. The incredibly expensive and incredibly delicious rosé added a murmur. Then we touched.

She began. Not wanting to offend or to hurry along the sex, I let her initiate. As we slowly emptied the bottle, I felt her petite fingers easing their way towards my tumescence. Sitting side by side in the booth the white table cloth hid her direction. When she felt the bulging ridge at the base of my helmet, we both murmured, a lot thicker and deeper and without words.

She leaned towards me. Thinking she meant to kiss, I turned towards her to meet her lips with mine. Bypassing my face, her warm breath tickled my ear.

"You are so young to be a professional," she whispered.

"Mmm," I sighed. Her breath made me tingle down my spine, across my heart and into my tensing balls. So did her challenge. It meant another foray into the lie. I cleared my throat. As I spoke, I felt myself further hardening, aided by her gentle rubbing. "I guess I'm a little precocious. I'm actually pre-law at the University of Hawaii."

"Precocious and ambitious," she said.

"My dad did alright for himself in the business, so..."

"A boy who knows what he wants," she said. Her other hand crept up to my chest and felt my muscles. She moved her head back so I could witness her wink. Her lips touched mine. Her tongue licked along my lips, but didn't enter my mouth. "I like that. So mature. You an athlete, too? A Rainbow Warrior?"

"I swam for awhile," I said, joyful in the direction this strange and intimate conversation went in more ways than one. I reached my hand to her soft naked thighs and began my own journey towards her sex.