Free Agents In Harms Way by Don Winslow Page A

thighs and the shapely long and lovely legs of a high-fashion model striding the catwalk, their fine-muscled curves and slender ankles elongated by the high-heeled open sandals she wore on her stockinged feet.
    The slight lines of the smaller girl’s rounded shoulders, reedy torso and straight hips continued to form a pair of coltish legs, straight and smooth, with the suggestion of feminine contours. Under the short skirt, those supple legs, encased in the black pantyhose, seemed curiously youthful yet delightfully seductive, as the girl shifted her weight, setting her heels a little apart on the deep-piled carpet.
    Meghan’s hips were fuller, her splendid thighs, more richly curved than Mallory’s with a plump fullness of fleshy promise offered to the adoring hand that might slip in between to sample the tapering columns. Those statuesque legs showed the full flower of lush feminine curves, and the appeal of those succulent, robust, nylon-encased thighs was undeniable. The men made a leisurely study of those long stockinged legs, set off to best advantage, openly comparing their manifest attributes. It was a heated contest, but in the end it was the leggy brunette that won a close victory over the better-endowed blonde.
    Next, still standing side by side, the three women were made to turn in place, presenting their backsides to for approval. They were made to lean forward; hands braced on thighs. They would be further humiliated by the next command that, backed by threats of a public paddling, had them arching their backs, and bending their knees; three pert rumps jutting back in lewd presentation. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the captives were then ordered to reach back and raise their skirts, lifting them up to uncover their nylon-encased buttocks presented for the viewing pleasure of the rowdy sailors. Five pairs of hungry male eyes grew wide with lust as they watched the abbreviated skirts being hoisted up, and three mouth-watering feminine bottoms brought into spectacular view.
    On the left, Mallory’s delectable ass cheeks stuck out seductively, two sleek, elongated ovals; narrowly set. They appeared well-defined under the shadowy haze of nylon, a thin, tight crack separating them; the soft pouch of her vagina peeking out at them from between snugly-pressed thighs. On the far right, Meghan Dillon’s full-fleshed, shapely rear end came into perfect view, generous and inviting, each lush mound would overflow a cupping hand. Her underslung pussy, molded by taut nylon shaping her fleshy nether lips, peeked out with a certain saucy impudence. Sandwiched between the two taller girls, Kip looked like a little sister. In stark contrast to the more mature curves of those plumper, more shapely asses, her compact butt, straining against the tightly stretched satiny sheen of the pantyhose, protruded back with all the saucy insolence of a naughty schoolgirl’s. A curved masculine hand fitted to her bottom, could easily span and encompass that small-cheeked, firmly mounded little rump.
    Burning with deep-seated humiliation, the female prisoners were made to stay in place, striking, then holding, the most provocative poses, while they swallowed their indignation and raucous comments burned their ears. In the end, no winner could be named, for each girl had her champions, and so it was good-naturedly agreed that in the ass department, there could only be a tie. Mallory felt a flood of relief when they were allowed to let their skirts fall back into place and straighten up. But her relief was short lived, for there was one more contest to endure. They were made to turn, and once more face their seated captors.
    The Captain was sitting back from the table, seemingly indolent, his legs crossed, content to let his underling, Dewayne, assume the role of emcee, directing the performance while the rest of the crew chimed in with shouted advice and lewd, outrageous suggestions.
    “Okay, girls. Down with the pantyhose. Let’s see