Chapter 13

The opening act never had a chance. They might as well have been an elementary school, beginner band. The crowd came to hear U2 and nothing else was going to be tolerated. After about thirty minutes of giving it their best, the warm up musicians mercifully closed their set and the stadium went nuts. Daphne held my hand in a death grip as the lights went down and the music came up.

On the floor of the stadium, where rugby was usually played, thousands of fans danced, sang, and swayed to the thunderous music. Between some eighty-thousand stadium seats and ten-thousand, or so, field seats, the stadium rocked like a ship in high seas when U2 walked out to take their places.

For two plus hours it was everything everyone wanted. The band was perfection itself and Daphne’s eyes reflected the feelings of the entire stadium as the band played through an entire set of encores. When they finally ran out of tunes, they bowed, thanked everyone for coming to see them...

... and introduced me.

From relative anonymity to suddenly being the focus of over ninety thousand screaming rock and roll fans, I felt like a target outlined in florescent light. Several spot lights were trained on our box and I had no choice but to stand and wave, blow a kiss towards the stage and try to disappear before the raucous crowd.

Jessica was speaking furiously into her wrist mic, as police converged on our box from every direction. Fortunately, the band played one last song and that gave us cover to sneak away.

Everything went into high gear as we were manhandled out of the box, through the halls, down the elevator and into an armored military vehicle. Daphne, as big and strong as she was, was simply herded away from the danger, and the cars were moving before our doors were shut. Jessica chose to ride with us, as several additional guards squeezed in behind her.

Daphne’s eyes shone brightly as our cars sped through south London towards the Israeli Embassy. I could feel the energy coming off her as she remembered meeting the members of U2 and then watching them in live concert.

We got away clean according to Jessica, and the trip to the Embassy was uneventful, unless you count the firm grip that Daphne maintained on Mr. Johnson from the instant the driver put our vehicle in drive, until the doors flew open at the side entrance to the Embassy. Her fingers massaged me until Mr. Johnson was crying for relief, but I couldn’t figure out how one pursues such an aggressive end to a rather spectacular date, while being watched over by an entire embassy staff.

Daphne had no qualms about solving the puzzle for me as soon as we stepped inside the building. “Lord Terrance, please accompany me to my suite...” Her words and tone of voice were all that was necessary for her entourage and my detail to realize that they had been dismissed. Those seven were all the words she said, but having a young woman who towered over me and looked like she could snap me in two without taking a deep breathe, sort of convinced me to indulge her request and see where it went.

It and we went straight up to the third floor, to a suite facing south, where Daphne shed her clothes in record time, uncovering a body as tempting as any one I’d ever seen. Daphne had Nordic genes somewhere in her lineage, because her breasts stood against gravity like the sun overcomes night and her pubic mound glowed with the tiniest strip of blond hair I’d ever seen. Her nipples were hard as erasers, and as big as a fifty-cent piece, and her pubic mound was already soaked and maddeningly fragrant. This young woman had been there and done that. She was far too relaxed and intent to be a virgin hoping that I’d relieve her of her hymen without tearing her to pieces.

She wasted not a second maneuvering me onto my back on her bed. Daphne dropped on top of me and used one hand to fit Mr. Johnson into her, while pulling my mouth to her engorged left nipple with her other. Her first climax was lost to me because she experienced her second before it registered on me that she’d had her first. Once she started to orgasm, they kept coming like cars attached to a never ending freight train.

Making love to Daphne Bergendorf was definitely a marathon, not a sprint.

She used her entire body to please me and herself. Somewhere along the way I gave up my seed but not my erection, and she chugged onward, using me like a human sized dildo.

When Daphne Bergendorf comes, she says dirty words - a lot of very dirty words. It occurred to me that doing so somehow heightened the experience for her. Eventually I couldn’t hold back and my essence gushed forth like a wildcat oil well in west Texas.

In the quiet of afterglow, Daphne used what little strength she had left to push herself up on one elbow and look me directly in the eye. Her words were slow in coming, unlike her body which came early and often, because she was so out of breath, but they were clear in speech and intent.

“No one...” pant, pant... “has ever...” pant ... pant... “made me feel like that...” pant, pant. Looking up at her I could see that it might actually be true. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her makeup was a disaster area, and she was flushed from her hairline to where her skin disappeared against my chest. She looked like I’d rocked her world, so I chose to think she was telling the truth. The suspicious man in me remained skeptical because the truth eventually wills out.

Instead of answering I kissed her. It went on a long time. Daphne was a really good kisser. Even though it was our first kiss and I tried to erase her memory with it, she kept up quite well.

Kissing her lips led to kissing lots of other exciting things and places on her body.

Kissing those other exciting places led to Daphne kissing Mr. Johnson and doing it so well that I had no choice but to offer up my seed to prove my appreciation. When I returned the favor and introduced Daphne to her “G” spot, she came so hard I just knew she’d lose her mind and her memory.

Daphne was not about to forget me, apparently.

“Can you stay?”

It wasn’t what she asked.

It was the whole package.

Daphne asked me to stay the night with her entire body. She was stretched out on top of me, panting still from what she claimed was her very first “G” spot orgasm. We were trading little kisses and touches as we recovered. Daphne pressed her weeping womanhood into Mr. Johnson, opened herself to capture the head just inside of her, and asked me to stay as she relaxed and let me slide all the way to her cervix.

Some questions are divine.

I decided we’d have to talk about it in the morning, because we had a lot of ground to cover while it was still night.

I was up first in the morning. I needed to wash my face and brush my teeth. The Embassy staff had thoughtfully left all the essentials in a morning after kit, on the vanity, so I washed, brushed and generally got myself in shape to wash my dirty self. Her shower looked so inviting I just had to find out if my instincts were correct. The water was instantly hot and scattered around were all the bathing essentials that I might need. I’d just started to work on my hair when the glass door slid open and Daphne joined me.

“Why Lord Terrance, you look so different than you did when you picked me up last night.” Her smile was sincere, and I was pleased to know that she wasn’t a woman who hated her lover in the morning.

“Miss Bergendorf, I do believe you have not been properly introduced to Mr. Johnson, my faithful companion. When she took possession of my rising member, she giggled and knelt to give him personal attention and a very warm welcome.

Daphne was definitely a morning person. Being that I was a crack of ten sort of fellow myself, and that fact that it was just about ten, we were in perfect synch. She was also flushed with arousal, intently staring at Mr. Johnson like a lion looks at a wounded gazelle, and once I was fully engorged she wanted to couple in the shower to get her day off to a memorable start. As I noted earlier, Daphne had no intention of forgetting me, and had a wonderful way of proving it.

Once we felt absolutely, positively certain that we were clean as a whistle, I started to step into the bedroom to dress, but Daphne stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Here, Terry. Put this on in case any of the Embassy staff are in my suite bringing breakfast, or straightening up.”

It sounded like a good plan. I donned the terrycloth robe and started out to her bedroom where my clothes were waiting, only to find her parents sitting comfortably at a side table, drinking coffee and waiting for us.

“Oh ... ummm ... Good morning.” I spoke softly. That last thing I expected was to find Daphne’s parents patiently waiting for us to emerge, with no evidence of surprise, or anger on their faces. I’d never dealt with an outraged parent, following a sexual encounter before, but there was a first time for everything. I did pray that I hadn’t caused an international incident, and started to withdraw to dress and leave.

“Lord Terrance, please do not feel embarrassed,” Simone Bergendorf was the picture of pleasant and un-annoyed. “Our Daphne simply never has a man in her life. We’ve never known her to stay out all night, shack up with a fellow, or bring one home for an all-nighter. Sy’ and I are positively thrilled for her, and you, of course.

“The truth is ... we’ve stopped by Daphne’s suite this morning to offer you a proposal...”

Daphne walked out of her dressing area just then, and hit the ceiling. “Mother! Daddy! What are you doing in here upsetting Terry – Lord Terrance?”