Free Passion's Mistral by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

in charge of the situation. No doubt sensing her nervousness and embarrassment, the first two
    young men came to stand before her in their youthful, nude glory and displayed their penises in a
    matter-of-fact manner. They held their members this way and that as she stammered her directions, lifted
    the shaft upward so she could photograph the scrotum and at her expulsion of breath, lowered it for
    another photo or two before silently going on their way.
    She began to relax after the third young man winked at her behind his mask as he strolled nonchalantly
    away, flexing his ass muscles for her benefit. Silkie laughed and wagged her finger at him when he
    glanced around at her. She heard his low chuckle as he trudged through the sand and went down to the
    water for a brief swim.
    “I wonder who he really is,” she mused to herself. “If he’s someone I might know.” Dr. Carstairs had
    told her some of the men who wore masks at the cay were more than likely movie or television stars,
    even politicians biding their time at the Cay on a lark. Some even took a salary for their time spent there
    simply for the humor in it and certainly not because they needed it.
    “Some of the women wear masks, too,” Dr. Carstairs had commented. “They’re well-respected
    matrons—many of them—and can’t afford to have their identities known. Like people wouldn’t
    recognize most of them the moment they open their mouths!” She put a finger to her eye and pulled down
    the lower lid in a conspiratorial wink. “Of course, hiding behind a mask gives one the illusion of danger
    too, don’t you think?”
    It was the fourth specimen who ruined Silkie’s complacent attitude.
    From the moment she saw him striding toward her, she knew he was the man who had brought her
    supper the evening before. It would have been hard to forget those wide shoulders and narrow hips, the
    man’s imposing height and masculine presence. Just watching him heading for her made her pulse
    quicken. She licked her lips, anxious to have him strip before her. Her gaze met his through his black silk
    mask and she thought she saw a gleam centered in his dark depths.
    But then another man came into her line of vision and she flinched, looking up into the red leather-masked
    face with a frown. She was about to tell him to wait his turn but he stepped forward, his cock held like a
    weapon toward her.
    Silkie recoiled, moving back. She glanced at the man from the night before and saw he had stopped
    twenty feet away and was just standing there, hands on his hips, feet apart, the black silk britches
    straining with the obvious bulge of his erection.
    The man in front of her waggled his penis at her as though to gain her attention. It was an angry little thing
    with that one red-shot eye staring at her. If a penis could glare, this one was doing so for all it was worth.
    As short and stumpy as the pitiful little thing was, Silkie doubted it was worth much. When the man
    waggled it again, Silkie lost her temper.
    “All right, already!” she snapped. “Hold your horses, buster!” She reached for her camera, hoping this
    wasn’t the man for whom she was searching.
    As she took her pictures, the man pulled his cock left to right and down, stretching the tiny thing as far as
    it would go—and that wasn’t far. His shriveled balls were like withered prunes and then he lifted his penis
    upward.
    “Thank God!” Silkie said, spying no birthmark on the man’s scrotal sac. She clicked one last picture she
    was sure was cockeyed and waved the man away.
    There was a distinct snort from the young man as he hurried off.
    “Bastard,” Silkie pronounced and turned to the man from the night before.
    He had not moved. He was standing in the exact same position, staring at her through the narrow slits of
    his mask. His chest was peppered with sweat for the hot sun was beating down on him though he didn’t
    seem to care. As tan as his flesh was, he obviously was accustomed to