Posts Tagged ‘sunbathing’
Note: The descriptions and accounts in these stories are fictional and do not portray any actual people or events. The delay in posting this chapter and perhaps the next few may be ascribed to some unexpected turbulence and travel in the author’s schedule.
The twins were little jumping blonde bundles of energy as we made our way from the hotel lobby back out to the car, which proved to be a big old silver grey Range Rover, very similar to the one Peggy had sold before she left Austin, but older and even more worn, and with British plates, several add on bumpers and brush guards, some aggressively treaded winter tires to handle snowy conditions and the steering wheel on the right hand side. I just can’t get used to that. They guided me into the middle of the back seat with efficient position blocking feints and shoulder bumps that suddenly reminded me of two taller blond copies of Eldee winning one of her herding trials. They each handed me one end of the middle seat belt and strapped themselves in on either side of me while I buckled up.
The unshaven and hung over tennis bum and our reluctant chauffeur, whose name turned out improbably to be Newcombe (B. for breaking) Connors, put on his own seat belt and started the engine, looking up in the mirror to gaze at the girls seamlessly pressed against my thighs and staring like I was about to be their breakfast. I had not had breakfast, and my stomach was telling me about it. They caught him looking into the back seat and cleared their throats dramatically, and in response he shrugged, donned a pair of ear buds and turned up some very heavy metal sounding tunes, effectively preventing him from listening in on the conversation. He pulled the Range Rover out onto Whitehall and I saw the big Ferris wheel across the river to my right as we then turned left. We soon passed what I thought I recognized from the guidebook as Buckingham Palace, then Paddington Station, and merged into a motorway. This looked like approximately the same route we had taken to the Tier Group offices in Watford to start our all day tour yesterday. But I soon lost all ability to try to follow our progress, as we turned onto some small and not so clearly labeled roads, and then two lovely faces and two pairs of eyes and two sizzling Suzie signals suddenly pinned me in place like a bug mounted in a collection for careful study.
“Abbie said we would like you, Robbie, and we sure do, or at least I do. Don’t you, too, Terry?”
“Most assuredly, my dear sister Jerry! He is absotively scrum-diddly-umptous, just as advertised!”
I sought some clarification on our budding relationship. “Tell me, girls, where are you in school?”
“We are home schooled, Robbie, as our intensive tennis training, overall learning style and natural proclivities are not well aligned with the typical classroom atmosphere!” That I could certainly believe.
“Sister, dear, I think Robbie was trying to politely enquire as to our ages, pursuant to Newcombe’s catty comment about ‘jailbait’, a term of American slang referring to those unfortunate girls too young to be legally consenting sexual partners.”
“Oh, we have certainly debated that one very frequently over the years at our house, Robbie. We just turned 18 and are well beyond legal age in the UK. Were we born in days of yore we might have been legal at 12 or 13.”
“But to address your concerns, Robbie Dear, our Mommie trumps the law around here, at least as far as we are concerned, and she has decreed that we cannot have sex with anyone unless she gives us prior approval!”
“Seems a waste of time and talent, but she says we have to wait until ‘our brains develop properly’!” That familiar phrase set my teeth on edge and my mind on guard.
“She says things like ‘why have some just some good stuff now when you can wait a little while and have all the very best for the rest of your life’ and ‘you will thank me in the future’. ” Another set of familiar phrases: what were the odds?
“She says she doesn’t want us to be like little girls in the candy shop and eat too much and make ourselves sick.”
“I do want to eat a lot!”
“But our Mommie is not exactly a stick in the mud, if you know what I mean, so there might be something to her concerns and cautions. At any rate, even though we are eighteen, she has not yet approved anyone for us!”
“After we turn 21, we can pick out own poison, so to speak.”
“So we have been making our lists of candidates for Mommie to approve since we were 14, sort of a ‘bucket list’ of people and things we want to do before we die, or in this case, as soon as she will let us.”
“In our lighter moments, we call it our ‘fuckit list’!”
“I’m penciling you in on mine, Robbie. Mommie wouldn’t have had step daddy Abbie invite you if you weren’t a prospect, and you look very promising to me!”
What does one say to that? “Well, girls, you are both charming and very attractive, and you certainly seem enthusiastic, but I think I’m just here to play tennis.”
“You have no inkling of how enthusiastic we could be, Robbie! Officially speaking, you are here to help sell insurance to Abbie, aren’t you? But something about you has piqued our Mommie’s interest. Are you attracted to older women?”
“Hush, Terry. If she does him we never can! You know the rules!”
Looking out the window showed me nothing but tree lined roads running through well-kept pastures. I suddenly longed for the simpler, more solitary, agricultural life.
“Speaking of tennis, we like to play strip tennis! When you lose a game, you lose one article of clothing. Set points are so thrilling!
“And we are very strict about how we count items, too! For instance, all jewelry counts as one item, inclusive of earrings, bracelets, watches, body jewelry, anything.”
“Shoes count as one item, as do socks or hosiery! None of this left and right counts as two items stuff.”
Sexually charged tennis bets made me think of Lara, and I started to get hard, perhaps not the wisest thing I could do in this situation. “Does your mother know about all this?”
They laughed nervously. “Mommie knows everything about us, and about most everyone else, too. You can’t lie to her and you can’t fool her, and you certainly don’t want to cross her!”
Terry nudged my thigh and leered openly at my erection, which was straining against the pleated crotch of my dark grey slacks. “Does YOUR mother know about THAT?”
Holy Toledo. That just made it harder, and more difficult. Change the subject, Robbie. Peggy seemed to really like Abelard’s wife, but she had described the daughters as ‘evil’. Was that her synonym for threatening?
“How often do you lose at tennis, girls?”
“Only when we want to – usually just a game or two to get our victims excited and set the hook. Then we scorch ‘em and strip ‘em. It’s the primary vicarious sexual pleasure that Mommie will let us pursue, so far. She invites potential candidates for a match, and then we see how they handle being defeated and disrobed, plus we get to check out the goods, so to speak, that might make it onto our lists. It’s delicious fun. I cross off the guys or girls that get all embarrassed and surly when they lose.”
“And I underline the guys that get all hot and hard when they realize we are going to get to see them naked. Bonus points for boners, I always say!” Jerry took a little Filofax out of her purse and drew two obvious lines on a page, looking from it to my crotch and back.
“Are you two really any good as players?”
“Abbie and our coaches all say we are going to be the English equivalent of the Williams Sisters!” That would be pretty good. Did I really want to play tennis against these two? Was that their mother’s plan?
The Range Rover bucked as we turned off the two lane country road onto an even narrower one, through a radio operated gate, and then down the winding road flanked by hundreds of huge trees. A big old house loomed in the distance on a hill, surrounded by orchards full of now dormant trees and what seemed like miles of low stone wall. Snow dotted the landscape, and wood smoke escaped from several chimneys. We went through the front gate in the stone wall, and around behind the giant home, passing a very big and tall metal building, painted in wide swaths of green and brown, almost camouflage style. Back home in Texas, a building like this would probably be painted in a khaki color, be surrounded by pickups and SUVs, have a sign that said something like ‘Bubba Bob’s Baseball Academy’ and be full of batting cages, pitching machines, and prospective baseball scholarship recipients or direct high school draft picks. I realized this was why ‘step daddy Abbie’ was so confident we could deal with tennis in the cold weather, and that this edifice must be full of tennis courts and serving machines. It was camouflaged and surrounded by trees even taller than it was to keep up the otherwise baronial appearance of the estate. I was suddenly a little apprehensive to see who I was expected to play first, and who would be in the gallery.
We stopped at the back entrance of the house, where lots of cars were parked. A guy dressed in what had to be a butler’s outfit drove up in a ‘stretch golf cart’ and took the girls coats and my little suitcase, and loaded them in the back of the cart where you would expect the golf clubs to go. This guy looked to be about 40 years old, and moved like a well conditioned cat, hardly what you would expect from a stuffy English butler. He had a clear eyed and very observant look.
He turned to me. “Come with me up to the Salmon Suite, sir, on the third floor of the main house, left hallway, the one with the salmon colored fabric on the door. My name is Jeeves, and you may call on me should need anything, anything at all.” He handed me a blue duffle bag. “This is some tennis equipment and togs and that you should change into, and then join the group in the dining room on the first floor for breakfast, before the tennis tournament begins.” I took the bag automatically, as the twins each took one arm and gave me a stereo wet kiss, one set of twin lips on each cheek.
“Darn it, Robbie. Thanks to the tournament, we won’t get to strip you. Mommies’ tennis tournaments are nothing more than thinly disguised social devices to get the proper people to meet each other and talk. She lays out the seeds in each bracket so that people she wants to put together get eliminated early, and end up sitting and talking with each other, assuming she has handicapped the matches properly. Since you most regrettably haven’t invited us to come and watch you change clothes, we’ll just see you downstairs at breakfast.”
Jeeves led the way up the massive stairs, and I got a load of the house, or perhaps I should say castle. This thing was huge and built a long time before indoor plumbing and electricity, and the primary components seemed to be giant blocks of granite. These steps would not have been out of place on an Incan pyramid. There were at least six levels above the ground floor, each separated by many widely spaced steps, up which we now trudged, although Jeeves seemed pretty light on his feet, even carrying my bag and what looked like someone else’s much larger suitcase. We turned left at the third floor, and I saw a huge wooden door at the far end of the landing with a center decorative panel of what looked like salmon colored satin upholstery on it. Jeeves entered the suite, delivering quite a push to move the massive door open, and deftly hung up my clothes in the closet and put my Dopp kit in the bathroom, then hurried out on some other mission.
I opened the blue duffle bag he had given me, and discovered a brand new Wilson Steam racquet, with the correct 5 grip, a pair of Nike ‘ballistecs in the correct 12 wide, and some rightly sized and very high quality tennis whites with that ubiquitous ‘Liverpool Tennis Center’ logo in the same blue, complete with a blue tennis jacket that matched the color of the lettering and the laces in the shoes, and a custom grip wrap and sweat band, also in the same color coordinated blue. I was impressed, and I now had no excuse for poor performance on the court. I actually hadn’t played anything but the charity tournaments since my match with Lara. I dressed out and then looked at myself in the mirror, and discovered that my newly developed thighs and butt did make me look very different in these tight whites than I would have back when ESU classes began.
I took a look around in the huge suite, which was decorated like some sort of a steam punk version of a fancy hotel room. Everything that wasn’t metal was colored in whites and blues, and the only salmon color I had seen was on the door. Then I looked in the corner near the window and saw a big salmon colored lump of something. On closer inspection, it was either a broken down old re-upholstered chair, or a very strange foot rest or ottoman. It stood like a toadstool up out of the floor, five feet across, except that it wasn’t round and symmetrical like a toadstool. It had a five lobed top like the underside of a big strawberry, with the center elevated, and with a little depression in the very top. It didn’t look like it would support your feet very well, as it was a little too high for that, and there was no chair nearby anyway. There were little areas scooped out of the wood base around the perimeter and lined with something smooth that looked like black leather that you could put something the size of a big grapefruit in snugly. It was apparently stuffed with horsehair padding, and covered in strange salmon colored leather that looked very smooth, but thick and very strong. There was also a row of old looking snap fasteners and brand new hook and ring strips around the very bottom of its circumference.
I was still staring at it uncomprehendingly when I heard footfalls and laughter outside on the stairway, and noted that other people were heading down to breakfast, presumably from other suites on my floor or those above. I stuck my head out and saw two couples in their thirties, well dressed, each holding hands, and descending the staircase. I fell into step in between the two couples.
“I wonder who we will have to endure today?” the woman closest to me hissed at her companion. “You’d think he would impose all this only on his direct employees, not other museum donors! Does he want to humiliate us because we don’t give the museum as much as he does?”
“Nobody gives as much has he does. What’s humiliating about meeting other donors, and playing tennis with them, plus free lodging, food and drink for the weekend?
“I just don’t like it. I think there is stuff going on here that we don’t get invited to!”
“I don’t. If you know something, then please tell me.”
“I heard something in the bathroom of the tennis building last time we were here. One woman said to another “If I wanted to go dogging, this would be the place to try it!”
“I thought some of the guests that did not play tennis went out ‘birding’ in the woods. We have been invited to do that, we just never went. What’s dogging?”
“I do not!”
A loud pop of a Suzie signal emerged from the woman, not for her companion, or anyone in particular, just a generic ‘woman signaling for man’ desire signal. It quickly grew stronger, with a wild overtone. “It’s when a woman goes out into the woods and….” She paused just as they turned a corner toward the dining room, and then noticed me and the other couple just behind me. Her face became a mask of alarm, and she instantly grew silent. Her Suzie signal wavered and died out.
By that time they had reached the dining room, which looked like it could seat at least 200 people. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw the twins waving enthusiastically at me. Next to them were my old ESU football game buddy Abelard Peters, and a tall and beautiful platinum haired woman that seemed to be about 45 years old to Abelard’s almost 80. Both girls reached for an arm when I approached the group.
“Mommie, this is Robbie. He is on both our lists already!”
The woman looked incredulous, but Abelard laughed loudly, taking her upper arm. “Oh how you will serve me tonight, wench! I’ll teach you to bet against me! “
She reached over and patted his butt. ‘I already do anything you want, you old goat!” She smiled, pulled the arm away from him and held out her hand to me. “I am Belinda Hatch-Peters, Abelard’s second and final wife.”
I’m not sure why the inspiration struck me, but I took her hand, held it up to my lips and gave the back of it a lingering kiss. The twins bounced up and down as they watched, then both put their hands out to me. I passed on their implied offer and spoke to their mother, still holding her gaze. “The pleasure is mine. My opinion of Abelard, already high, has now soared after meeting you and your lovely daughters. “
She laughed heartily. “What a shameless hound dog you are young man. We’ll get along famously!”
Abelard spoke up. “I usually introduce her as ‘my current wife’ and she was just trying to forestall my little joke. I am glad you could join us, Robbie.”
We sat at a big table with about eight other people and breakfast was served family style in big bowls. I counted eight tables of about a dozen people each, and there would have been room for lots more. My stomach, growling all during the car trip, was delighted by the contents of the bowls: eggs, sausages, kippers, scones, strawberries, oranges, melon balls, and French toast dusted with powdered sugar. Yee Haw! The conversation included the entire table and ranged from the latest additions to the museum’s various collections, to tennis, to Formula One racing, to geopolitics. I enjoyed listening, but I was too busy filling my hollow leg to participate. Perhaps getting my blood sugar back up to normal increased my Suzie sensitivity, as I began to hear subtle and not so subtle Suzie signals from all over the room. The twins provided their constant background noise of little jumping puppy Suzie signals popping all around, almost randomly signaling for a wide assortment of targets. Occasional signals from adjacent tables would override the twins, with stronger and more developed desire signals for specific people.
As breakfast wound down, Belinda changed the subject from Obama’s treatment of Britain to tennis, “Robbie, I have seeded you for this morning’s tournament based solely on Abelard’s assessment of your tennis ability. For my sake I hope he was not too optimistic. But I understand my girls are hoping that you are hopelessly inept and will fall victim to their skills later in your visit.” With that she stood up and walked over to a large board on a stand at the front of the room, which was covered with a blue plastic tarp. All conversations instantly stopped at the other tables, and several frantic Suzies sprang forth, all tinged with raucous overtones of various kinds of wildness.
The woman to my left leaned over and whispered to the man next to her, but loudly enough for me to hear, “If they get eliminated early, I am going to throw my match so I am free to be with them! Promise me you will, too!” I instantly heard a strange spike of some mixed male signaling for female and some male signaling for male Suzies, but could not hear his verbal reply. Belinda Hatch-Peters reached the stand and pulled off the blue tarp, revealing a fairly standard looking ladder of seeds for a tennis tournament. Most of the names I did not recognize, but I saw my own name, paired with Belinda’s, seeded as second highest mixed doubles pair.
Abelard leaned closer to me. “Belinda’s tournaments are unusual. It looks like a regular mixed doubles setup, but there is an overall handicapping formula and then a separate ongoing ranking ladder for males and females. The main purpose is to stimulate giving for the museum, but some of our guests have ‘side bets’ that stimulate other things, you might say. You have probably noticed that Belinda is a very vital and striking woman, and I must tell you that we have a very open and understanding relationship; you could say, especially with regard to our libidos. Her needs are ten times mine, and while she can satisfy me completely, I also enjoy watching her satisfying herself and other people, with my complete approval.”
I had nothing to say to that, and desperately hoped he would fill the silence. He finally did. “We expect you will only be interested in our lovely Miss Duchenne on this trip, and that is as it should be. But keep your mind open to other, future possibilities. I suspect Belinda is considering you as one of the girls ‘pre-approved’ partners for the future.”
I must have turned red, and he laughed. “I know this is hardly the conventional talk that a father, or even a step-father, gives to a young man, and I don’t expect that you will be part of the girl’s lives in the long term, but in the short term I think you could be a good influence on them. Just observe and see what you can glean about them and our other guests as the day unfolds.” What else could I do?
The entire group trooped over to the tennis building, buzzing with excitement, conversations, and various catcalls and challenges bouncing back and forth. There were four well lit courts inside, with a few rows of seats around each. Two big plasma screens loomed high on one wall: one had a video version of the tournament ladder that had been on the board inside, and the other had a map like representation of the courts, with the names of the teams for the next match displayed on each court. Belinda and I, as high seeds, were not playing in the earliest matches. People began filling up the courtside seating, and I noticed that Belinda and Abelard were already settled in courtside with no vacancies in the rows around them. I moved toward the least crowded seating at the furthest court away, and sat down to enjoy a match.
Lara busied herself getting ready for the open house. She had bundled up and doggedly done her three mile run right after breakfast, still surprised at how cold it was. Her ‘work day’ then started with the flower delivery, and she began to distribute and arrange them about the house to bring a little floral spring beauty (mostly imported from Central and South America) to this cold Colorado day. The caterers came next, setting up their tables and getting them and other stuff ready for when they returned later with the fresh food and drink. She had already set up two decorative Christmas trees in addition to the big one in the family room, and phoned to check on the musicians and the guy who would bring the ‘rent a reindeer’ for the front yard. Finally she completed her walk through and pronounced everything ready for action. The RSVP’s had been vigorous this year, as apparently theirs was one of the most desirable events in the Beaver Creek area this evening. Maybe there would be some interesting new people to meet. She wished Robbie was coming. Actually, she wished she was coming, with Robbie, maybe with a little Suzanne on the side!
Suzanne had enjoyed the performance of the Messiah at the Kennedy center, and even some of the conversations at the dinner party afterward. She was pleasantly surprised to see Heidi and her husband the newly elected Senator at the dinner party, and introduced them to her parents. Heidi’s hubby and the Ambassador were very politically compatible, but Suzanne found herself wondering if she and Heidi were also personally compatible, and if she could tempt Heidi to run off for a little secret rendezvous. Probably not, given all the press attention they were receiving, and it would only get worse after her husband was sworn in.
Now fully equipped with the proper clothing, Suzanne had made a date to visit the judge at his condo, which was the only place she would agree to meet him. He pledged his total devotion. She had pledged to cleanse him, more thoroughly than he could ever imagine. She wondered if her new super thin body suit would have the same effect on him that it had on Cindy. She almost got all sweet on Cindy when the woman took one look at Suzanne in that filmy getup and instantly stripped and fell to her knees, chin quivering and eyes full of tears, already dripping wet and filling the room with her surprisingly aggressive pussy smell. But Suzanne knew that being sweet would not get Cindy off, and that she would have to be very rough on her, and so she was. Cindy was even more excited when she left, and so was Suzanne. No release for either of them yet, but it sure gave her some ideas for the Professor’s coming humiliation. Actually she was not planning to let him come, except perhaps via self abuse, and from a long way away from his supremely dominant Mistress.
The preliminary tennis matches actually featured better play than I expected. Everyone was in decent shape and relatively mobile, but they often had poor technique; reaching for the ball and hitting it without being set and balanced. I could probably do very well here as an instructor, at least with these lower seeds. As the early matches neared completion, several Suzies popped up, as if there were something sexual about who won the match. As they finished, the video screens updated, and I saw I was to sit out the next match, too. I decided to stay put and just watch. The play in the next round was better, but still well below what I perceived as my high school form. I realized I hadn’t played really competitive tennis at all since my match with Lara. I remembered the wonderful prize I had won then, and realized that I missed Lara terribly already. Belinda Hatch-Peters then eased into the seat next to mine, so silently that I might not have noticed except for her perfume.
“I hope you are diligently scouting the opposition, Robbie. We will begin play in the next round, and I expect to win. I also expect your stellar play to carry me!”
“I suppose the pressure is on me to perform, then. The twins told me that I really don’t want to cross you!”
She snorted. “Well, I might give you a little more leeway than I usually give them. But tennis is not one of my special skills, and since the girls are already staking a claim to you, you may never get to experience my special skills. “
I snorted. “My loss I am sure. Abelard mentioned your ‘open’ relationship, but the girls also mentioned ‘the rules’.”
“I love Abelard, and he is so good to me, and I am very good to him. You seem to be pretty quick on the uptake. May I ask you a personal question or two?”
“Yes, so long as reciprocity applies.”
“How old were you when you began having sex?”
I smiled, wondering what I should reveal and what I should keep to myself. “Coincidentally, it was not until after I turned eighteen.”
“I don’t think it was coincidental at all. I suspect it was parental influence, like with my girls. I do worry about them. They are exposed to way too much at much too young an age these days. I am trying to get them at least near adulthood undamaged, and most of their friend’s bubble-headed mothers are throwing booze and pot parties, ‘I kissed a girl and I liked it’ musical reviews, and ‘E rainbow blow job orgies’. I’m hardly a prude, but there is such a thing as too much too soon, even for an old libertine like me!”
I was sure her next question would involve more details on my sexual initiation, but she changed directions on me completely. “Where were your people from before they went to the New World, Robbie?”
I answered without thinking. “My father’s people are from Scotland mostly, Aberdeen to be specific. My mother’s ancestors are mostly from France and England, although there are all sorts of interesting twigs in her family tree, including Karankawa and Chiricahua Apache.”
She looked interested. “Cannibals and scalp takers: a savage beast in your DNA, perhaps? How evocative.”
My turn, Belinda baby. “Does platinum hair run in your family?”
“Yes, but females only. My grandfather used to say we were descended from Druids, but I think he was joking.”
The second round match ended, and we moved to one of the other courts for our first match, as directed by the map on the overhead video screen. I did my stretching and warm-ups, as did Belinda. She looked very flexible and seemed to have good balance and excellent core strength, causing me to speculate briefly on the other ‘talents’ she made reference to earlier. Maybe I would have to ‘carry her’ to win the match, but I suspected she could carry me easily when horizontal. What a lovely image. She introduced me to our opponents, a thirtyish barrister who was quite successful and already a major museum donor, and his hot girlfriend, a trendy fashion photographer. Everyone hit a few practice serves, and then Belinda suggested they serve to start the match. When play began, I decided on my ‘charity and social tennis’ mode: just keep the ball in play, and let the other team make unforced errors, without trying to hit any winners myself. Against most opponents, especially playing doubles, this worked out just fine, and it did with this match, too. The barrister may have been spending too much time sitting at his desk, as he did not move very well on the court, and he was a showboat, trying to hit winners with every shot, instead of just returning the ball. His girlfriend was actually the far more effective player, and she got a little frustrated with him.
Belinda was okay on the baseline, but she got nervous and was virtually useless up at the net. The showboat soon figured this out, and took delight in smashing shots right at her that made her cover up in fear. I changed my approach, making sure he got wide and deep balls he could barely return, much less deliberately smash toward Belinda, and I began rushing the net, sending Belinda back toward the baseline. After a few very effective volleys brought us a first set victory, I noticed the girlfriend grin, and Belinda grimace. Don’t piss off the big donor, Roberts! I let up, giving him returns he could hit, but not smash, and his sprits improved as they won a few points. But they made enough unforced errors for us to win in straight sets.
We shook hands at the net, and as they trudged off, Belinda swatted my butt with her racquet. “Glad you finally figured that out, Robbie, although I did enjoy his discomfort for a moment.”
The video screens announced that we were already at the quarter finals. Belinda told me that the level of play was about to improve markedly, and we were matched against a couple in their forties, who looked very much alike, and as if they spent lots of time out in the sun. I thought about my grandfather’s aphorism that people who live together for a long time began to look like each other, and like their dogs, and could not avoid the image of two nervous Basenjis with sunburns as these two warmed up. But Belinda then introduced them as brother and sister, mentioning sotto voce as we walked onto the court that they were fabulously wealthy and moderately royal, with the suntans coming from their major passion, yacht racing. The sister served, a damn good first one in the corner, and the match was on. Now I really was covering for Belinda, although I got the idea she was holding back to see how well I could manage. I avoided hitting any obvious winners, but I was near the envelope of my ‘charity’ style of play, still able to return all of their shots, but having to work at it. If the next match was any tougher, I was going to have to try to hit some winners just to survive. We won in three sets, but it was a rousing match. All four of us were winded, and they seemed genuinely happy with the effort, despite their loss. “Well played, young man. I hope you two can run young Chasemoore around just as much!” There were only the semi-finals and final left to play, so only two courts were needed from now on. Belinda motioned me over to one of the four indoor courts, where the nets had been struck, plastic flooring laid down, and tables set up with food and drink. I was in need, and soon found what I needed.
The Gatorade rally hit the spot: invented by an ESU grad, of course. That cinnamon bear claw pastry thing was just the sugar hit my brain needed, too. Suzies popped into my receiver: some were even signaling for me. But there was a very discordant and unusual signal emanating from a short and pleasant looking woman in her early thirties who was talking animatedly to Belinda. The signal was not for me, and not really ‘for’ the male that was eliciting it, either. It had a very hurtful and grating quality, the Suzie signal equivalent of nails on a blackboard, and was somehow even more disturbing than Melanie’s meltdown signals. My hunch told me it was about rape, force, unwilling sex, and it made me feel awful. She was looking across the court at a tall and gangly young man in his mid twenties, who was staring unblinkingly at her with a smug grin on his face. I took an instant and deep disliking to him. Belinda walked over to me and nodded toward the gangly grinner.
“That is one of our most likely opponents in the final match, and betrothed to the woman I was just talking to. His name is Chasemoore Gardner-Betts.”
“I don’t think she is looking forward to the wedding, Belinda.”
“She isn’t, but her family is. They arranged it. The last few foolish generations have mortgaged the old feudal lands to the point of attachment and foreclosure, and the lad’s family is going to pay off the debt after the wedding – sort of an ‘inverse dowry’ if you will, but very hush-hush. The two family lands adjoin each other. Chasemoore considers himself God’s gift to women, although most women don’t seem to want to open the package, if you get my drift.”
I did, with confirmation from my Suzie receiver. I wondered who his mixed doubles partner was. Chasemoore soon favored us with his presence. From close up, he looked even worse: oversized Adam’s apple, big ears, close set eyes, and a huge and asymmetrical nose that really cried out for plastic surgery. ‘Horse face’ would be an upgrade.
“Greetings, Belinda. I see you have recruited a new doubles partner, not that it will do you any good.” He stuck out his hand, magnanimously, he thought. “Chasemoore Gardner-Betts!” he announced.
“Catch any?” I could not resist, even though I was sure he had heard it before.
“How droll! You must be the American fresher that Newcombe was prattling on about. Are you here to service the twins?”
I thought it was just in bad taste, but Belinda’s reaction was much stronger. It must have been her equivalent of a Susie signal blast, something I was surprised she could produce. Chasemoore only blinked, but for me it was physically painful, like some of the car stereo decibel contests I had been to with Bigun Jackson back in Dallas. Whatever Belinda’s other proclivities might be, she was fiercely loyal to her daughters, and Chasemoore was truly pushing his luck. Chasemoore moved over to the designated court for his semifinal match, and we headed for ours. We won and so did he, playing with a very athletic and attractive young lady that seemed to barely tolerate him, and sent no Suzie for him.
Belinda said “He plays with his school chum’s sister, who I think is pressured to team with him for her brother’s sake. The two young men have been roommates and joined at the hip since first form at Charterhouse. Both are the latest and least able males that their famous families have ever produced.” We then joined them on the court for the final match.
The school mate was even more awkward looking than Chasemoore, if that was possible. Chasemoore introduced the chum as ‘his wingman’ which made me chuckle. He thought I was amused by his command of American idiom, but I was actually struck by the inappropriateness of the term: these two were about the furthest thing from fighter pilots I could possibly imagine. I dropped my charity tennis mode and tried to get fired up to do my competitive best. I resolved to get in the best position I could and hit the best shot I could, every time. Chasemoore was one of those guys who ran his mouth continually as he played, alternating between declarations of his own soaring superiority and inevitable triumph, and functioning as his own play by play man and color commentator, loudly describing his incredible exploits for an imagined audience. I made two promises to myself: I would beat this asshole, and previous to that I would run him around so badly that he had no wind left to talk with.
My partner’s play suddenly improved markedly, too. Belinda had a look of grim determination on her face, and was now a ball hawk at the net with no trace of timidity, and continued to play the baseline very well. Chasemoore’s partner was an even match for Belinda, though, so it was up to me to best the Bozo. I was fully warmed up from all the previous matches and feeling fine, having tanked up on water and some nuts and granola mix just before the match. Chasemoore’s spinning serve kicked wide almost every time, which previously would have given me trouble, but I found my new marathon trained legs and Suzanne and Lara molded gluts propelled me easily into position to have time to set my stance fully, get down low, and hit it back deep and true. I was at least a step and half faster to the ball than I had ever been in high school! His partner’s serve had good velocity, but I found her very predictable, and began taking the opportunity to drive my returns deep and in such a way that Chasemoore had to really dig for them.
They had obviously played doubles together before, and had good communication and almost no positioning errors, but Belinda was playing almost error free, too, and if Chasemoore failed to get back in position just right I could send one where he was not and win 3 rallies out of 4. When Chasemoore served to Belinda he held serve, and when she served to him he hit some very strong returns, but otherwise we had the best of it. I took delight in noting that Chasemoore’s announcing was becoming less frequent and his breathing more labored. When he began to complain loudly when his partner couldn’t return one of our deep balls, I knew we had them. I must admit I took some pleasure in his discomfort. Belinda was grinning ear to ear. I was really enjoying my new legs and command of the situation.
I began to hear applause from the gallery, and thoroughly enjoyed that too. I looked up before my next serve and saw that Abelard was seated center court, and I suddenly noticed Peggy sitting next to him, her hair up in pigtails in a school girl outfit, smiling brightly, her lips highlighted by dark red lipstick. She looked incredible, and soon I noticed how tight these tennis whites were. When Belinda hit a winner right down the line, I heard two soaring cheers from the twins. In fact, almost everyone from the breakfast was in the stands watching and cheering. I suspected that more of them would be happy to see Chasemoore defeated than wanted to see me win, but it sounded good anyway. I would rather be playing with Lara, but other than that, this was the best I had every felt on a tennis court, and every hit was a bit of a high. I suppose the better you are at something the better it feels, and that explains why truly great players are so devastated when they can no longer compete – they are losing the chance to enter an altered state that they have enjoyed many times before and know they cannot achieve again.
Chasemoore was not talking at all now, just hustling for the ball and breathing hard between shots. I began to toy with him, extending how long it took to tend the match and prolonging my enjoyment. Belinda jogged my thinking “Finish him off before he gets a second wind, Robbie.” Three more quick winners, and then the final shot tied Chasemoore in a knot while he tried to decide whether to run back to the baseline or try to stand and volley – and thus he missed it totally. His partner, Sidwell Selene Happer, known to most people simply as Sid, came directly to the net to shake hands and congratulate us, Chasemoore refused to. That made it even better. I tried kissing her hand, but the initial contact with her Suzie told me she was sending for Belinda and not me, and I watched her shake Belinda’s hand very warmly indeed. Chasemoore’s chum, Evan Rembrandt Happer, commiserated with him in the backcourt, pretty much ignoring his sister. I stood at the net, hand extended across it and looking right at Chasemoore, demonstrating I hoped my good sportsmanship and highlighting his lack thereof. He never even looked at me.
A late lunch was served in the main hall of the huge house, buffet style. Lots of salads, cold cuts, and dark bread, along with a selection of strong English cheeses, backed up with several kinds of fruit pies, and lots of wine, which I passed on, but there was also a big bowl of iced bottles of mineral water. Everything hit the spot. I sat with Peggy and some of the younger Museum employee crowd, failing to retain most of the names but enjoying the conversation and feeling convivial and victorious. After everyone had eaten their fill, Peggy looked up at me, eyes wide and twisting one of her pigtails with a big grin on her face. In her Betty Boop voice, she whispered conspiratorially “I think I am going to go upstairs, and I think you should wait about five minutes and then come up to see me. I do. I really do think you should. Oh yes I do! Don’t you?”
I did. I spent a few minutes talking to some of Peggy’s co-workers and getting evil looks from Chasemoore and Evan from across the room. Then I ascended the stairs to the third floor and pushed the heavy door with the salmon colored cloth on it open, and latched it behind me. It was a very grey and overcast winter day, and the only light came in through the window. But it was enough to see an amazing sight, one that literally took my breath away. Peggy’s schoolgirl outfit was on the floor just under the window, and she was displayed completely naked across the big ottoman, or whatever it was, face down with her legs in the two of the spaces between the ‘lobes’ of the top of it, and her arms together in another one, her waist just settled in the little depression at the top. It was the most vulnerable, open and available pose I had even imagined a woman could be placed in. Her lovely ass was up in the air at just about the level of my knees, with her head and feet about 18 inches lower. Her pussy and ass and mouth were all on perfect display, and easily accessible. There was now a linen cover over the thing, like a fitted bottom sheet for a bed, that snapped into the fasteners around the edge of it, and there were linen ties, like the belts of the robes I had used to restrain her in the hotel room, that were attached to the hook and ring strips around the base.
“That mean man will tie my arms and legs down, I just know he will! Then he can do anything to me, anything at all, and I will just have to let him. There will be nothing this poor little girl can do to stop him!”
I reached forward and grabbed the linen straps, which were perfectly placed, and soon had her trussed up like a calf at a rodeo. I walked around and looked at her. As I envisioned fucking Peggy, and in every orifice and position that I could picture, I saw that those little areas that had seemed earlier to be to be grapefruit size leather lined pockets would be the perfect places to put my knees or feet or hands while shoving myself into her. This thing was a very well-engineered piece of sexual furniture. There was just no other way to describe it. The ‘poor little girl’ was also wet, warm, fragrant, and quivering.
I stood just looking for a minute. She was arranged artfully across the thing, and it was affecting me like a really fine painting or sculpture sometimes grabbed me at the Kimbell museum in Fort Worth, which my mom had taken me to diligently beginning when was I was about four years old. Peggy reminded me of the Madonna and child painting by Titian that I had seen there when I was just going through puberty, and it had resonated within me tremendously. Peggy had no dress on, and her color was even more vivid than Titian’s paint and the added information of smell and actually feeling the infrared radiating from her in the cool room almost overwhelmed me. Then I heard her buzzing Suzie signal and realized I could appreciate this art from another perspective, and like no painting had ever been enjoyed.
I tuned into her Suzie, trying to hear in it her every quiver. Art like this should be appreciated fully, and I was determined to do Peggy just as fully and completely as possible. I began by touching her gently, tenderly; conducting a tactile survey of what inflamed her, and what did not. I was surprised to learn that my assumptions on the subject had been pretty much wrong. The traditional ‘erogenous zones’ produced much less of a response. It was the top of her shoulders, the crook of her elbows, and the back of her ankles that produced the greatest responses. One did not need a Suzie receiver to know that she was excited, as her lovely smell filled the room. I have to admit, spanking her was just plain my idea, but she responded to it beautifully. Her ass got redder, and I could slow roll her no more, as my little monkey brain had gone round the bend.
I put my knees in two of the little ‘grapefruit holders’ and my left arm in another and bent to my task: kissing the back of her thighs, using my tongue to leave little wet marks when I switched from one to the other. I was now the painter and she was my canvas. The heat of her astounded me; she was like a convection element in a cool room. I worked up to the top of her thighs and then put my elbows behind her knees and used my thumbs to open up her buttocks, exposing her lovely little puckered pink buttonhole. I rotated my hands forward and away from me, like turning two knobs, bringing the top of her sizzling pussy into view, my gaze settling on that magical little area where inner and outer lips curve and fold together. She shivered, I smirked. I began licking very gently about halfway between her anus and the backside of her pussy, gradually pushing more strongly against her and extending my circles down closer to her outer lips. I moved my thumbs down and spread her pussy open, mesmerized by its glistening wetness in the low winter sunlight coming in through the window.
I decided to become goal oriented: I wanted her to crave and beg for orgasm, and then give it to her. Her Suzie was my guide, and the path was clear. I started on the outer aspect of her outer lips, working my way all around about 300 degrees of her snatch and then back to twelve o’clock. Then the wonderful valley between inner and outer lips the same way, and her Suzie screamed encouragement. I then opened that pungent pink taco and began to devour it. Her Suzie provided a perfect feedback loop, begging, and I began giving, and was soon rewarded with a wonderful grunt from her mouth and a pulse of her clear female taco sauce between her nether lips, as if someone had squeezed a taco from both sides and some sexual salsa escaped. Her Suzie suggested a slight pause, and then I went for the meat of the matter, so to speak. The second orgasm was much stronger than the first, and I think I actually felt her do a little flip flop inside, perhaps clamping down on a cock that wasn’t there, but I could assure her that mine was close by and very ready.
I gave her two more quick spanks and then I put my knees just outside of her thighs and lined up for phase two. We both sighed contentedly as I slipped into her pussy: she was wet and I was very ready. I lowered myself down onto her and discovered that the design of the ottoman or fuck chair or whatever it was called somehow focused my weight and motion right onto her center. The front side of my legs naturally fell into long and close contact with the back of hers, and my hands slipped under her shoulders and up around her neck , like the full Nelson hold our wrestling obsessed substitute coached tried to teach us so often. He should have set it up as a coeducational exercise like this, as no one would have objected. I could feel her spread her legs and arms out even further, allowing me more penetration, which I craved. I tuned for Suzie again and found her natural rhythm, matched my motions to it, and enjoyed rocking her boat immensely. This time when she came she did clamp down on me, and hard.
I was ready to come, and I jumped off the chair, grabbed her pigtails, and finished off in her mouth. It might be more correct to say her mouth finished me off, she was sucking it out of me for all she was worth, and her Suzie was signaling her frantic desire to do so. She improvised her own little technique to keep me hard, and my thoughts turned to her little puckered ass. I crawled up above her again and put my knees of either side of her thighs. She knew what was next: she groaned and spread her legs even wider, and stuck her butt up a little more. What a woman.
The human mind is forever a puzzle, and as I slowly eased my cock into Peggy’s puckered pink posterior play hole a quarter of an inch at a time, I suddenly found myself mentally back in 7th grade Natural Science class, with Miss Karatko, second period. She was a 60 year old spinster with way too much makeup and an almost demonic tobacco habit. This made her the school’s number one user of ‘educational films’ in the classroom. She would appoint a student ‘audio visual helper’ to run the projector for the old films or the video player for the new ones, and then she would head for the teacher’s outside lounge. From the way she smelled when she returned, she must have smoked three unfiltered Camels, lighting one off the other, until just before the film ended. She did have some dedication to her craft though, for she absolutely refused to show the same film twice, keeping meticulous records to ensure a ‘unique educational experience’ in every class period, and she always appeared back in the classroom about 30 seconds before the film ended, having noted its run time in her records. All this had the interesting side effect of making her search for a wide variety of science related films, and resulted in her ordering and showing films that most other teachers left untouched in the school supply rental warehouse.
We never had to listen to Miss Karatko lecture us in class, but we watched predators big and small running down and killing all manner of prey, lemmings jumping off cliffs, dozens of animal mating rituals and complete life cycles by the score. My current penetration of Peggy recalled two such films, merged together somehow in my mind’s eye. The first showed a big black wasp laying her eggs in a live insect of some kind, having previously stung it into paralysis so that its rotting carcass would serve as food source and incubator for her brood. She positioned herself above the hapless victim, and then extended a very phallic looking ‘ovipositor’ (my vocabulary word for the week back then) deep into the insect’s abdomen. The second film was a sequence of a starfish attaching itself to some sort of clam, flowing over it and sticking itself to the surface of the shell and then using its suction cup festooned arms to pull it the claim open and devour the flesh inside. I hovered over Peggy planning to leave my own deposit, and my arms flowed over her, owing to the natural shape of the ottoman sex chair, and pressed seamlessly to her all over, and then somehow my mind focused on only the ancient ritual of penetration and deposition.
I devolved from monkey brain back towards lizard brain, just rocking it on that rock in sun. I did notice that Peggy had come again from my relentless anal stimulation of her, one of her most endearing talents, and that her Suzie had taken on a new and unusual overtone. It almost seemed to move left and right and back again like one of those fakey four channel stereo demonstration recordings, an effect I did not recall ever having noticed before. My interest in this new phenomenon was temporarily stalled as my second orgasm built up and a loud buzzing noise moved from my loins to my ears and took over my consciousness. I did my best wasp and starfish imitation and plastered myself to Peggy, maximizing penetration and making a very hot and deep deposit. I think I lost consciousness for a moment, and then awoke to hear an even more exaggerated spatial modulation on her Suzie signal. She was tied to the ottoman and was definitely not jumping around, so why was her Suzie moving?
Then it hit me. There were three signals: Peggy’s and two others sounding almost the same as hers, but emanating from slightly different locations. Holy Toledo! It was the twins, watching us like Lizzie Faye Reagan had in the laundry room back at the dorm. They were mentally putting themselves in Peggy’s place and radiating what they thought the experience would be like. And they were so empathic that their Suzie signals almost perfectly mimicked Peggy’s! Where the hell were they? I had previously only experienced Suzie signals as being weak or strong, and thus inferred intensity or distance, but now I found I could do a little three dimensional echolocation and be more precise. They seemed to be just on the other side of the wall behind the headboard of the bed. I thought fast and moved slow. These old castles must have lots of secret passages and peep holes, and having one placed near the bed in a guest bedroom would not be completely unexpected for the purposes of medieval intrigue. The twins must have explored this place and found them all, and given their ‘natural proclivities’ I suppose it was not surprising that they would engage in a little voyeurism. But what should I do about it?
I finally decided that I should just concentrate on Peggy, and ignore the twins, at least outwardly. I released all the tie downs and restraints, and gathered her up in my arms, and carried her toward the bed, coincidently right under the twin’s gaze. I got into the bed, with her next to me on my right, and pulled up the covers over us both. The room was getting very cool as the winter afternoon sun was beginning to set. She quickly snuggled into the crook of my neck, with her face right next to my right nipple, and her fingers toying with my left one. Natural talent!
I then heard two loud signals from the twins which I took as the Suzie signal equivalent of women saying “Awww” when they see a cute kitten, and then both signals rapidly dopplered down away and disappeared as they departed through what must have the secret passage and went somewhere else.
Peggy wanted to talk, and so she did. As long her warm breath blew across one of my nipples, while her ring finger toyed gently with my other one, I was going to stay still and listen. “We are going to miss afternoon tea, you know, thanks to you. I plan to thank you more, later tonight!”
“What is the deal with that ottoman, or chair, or whatever it is?”
She giggled. “Belinda found that on an antiquing trip to Sofia, from an infamous dealer named Plam, who specializes in erotica and antique furniture. I found some vague references to it in the literature. The translation is something like ‘Thunder Chair’ and that seems apt to me.”
“Me too. Belinda called herself ‘an old libertine’. Just how libertine is she?”
“Very much so. She and Abelard have what they call an ‘open relationship’ which basically means that Abelard fucks her when he wants to, and she fucks anybody else she wants to.”
“She said you and I might go birding later. Is that traditional birding, or……?”
“There is some traditional birding here, but it’s mostly used as an excused absence for some dalliance conducted away from the group. I haven’t yet introduced them to ‘strip birding’ but next spring it may come up, so to speak. That’s not the only non-traditional thing Belinda has tried to introduce me too, either.” Her normally dulcet toned and clear Suzie got funky for a moment.
I played dumb, even though Belinda’s Suzie had told me that she liked girls too, and given that, how could she fail to notice sweet Peggy? “Like what?”
“Like…….. Belinda is bi-sexual and she made a pass at me! Very upfront and honest, and she didn’t freak out when I told her no and that I was a very traditional girl. She was surprised, but so open and nice about it that it sort of cemented our friendship. Now we check out guys together, and she whispers to me which girls she thinks are hot.”
“Why did you call her twins evil?”
“Well, I guess they aren’t truly evil, but they are very exasperating. They are like little kids that ask 20 questions per minute, and at least since I have known them, all of their questions have been about sex. And they don’t ask just generic questions either, but rather some very specific ones.”
I’ll bet they did. “What’s the story on the twin’s father?”
“It is very much mysterious and unclear. He was from some family that Belinda’s had supposedly feuded with for a long time, and the two of them were never supposed to even meet, much less get pregnant. Montague and Capulet meet Hatfield and McCoy: a very long standing blood feud. Apparently twins run in the father’s family.
My stomach began to growl, so loudly that neither of us could even pretend to ignore it. She laughed. “Just like Old Faithful, Robbie. Good thing I took some precautions.” She went over to the big dresser and grabbed a large wooden tray that was covered with a big white napkin, set it down on the bed, and whipped the napkin off rapidly like a stage magician. And magical it was: Russian style black bread, sharp cheddar cheese, great big strawberries, green grapes, some unusual chocolate and orange cookies, and a bucket of iced Perrier bottled waters. She laughed again. “Your eyes just got as big as saucers!” I was hungry.
“I prevailed upon Jeeves to help you out, since I figured you would make us miss afternoon tea, and they don’t serve supper her until after nine: a long drawn out affair that takes hours. He was so pleased with your victory over that shithead Chasemoore that he would have gotten you anything!”
“Jeeves seemed like a pretty forgiving fellow to me.” I said with my mouth full.
“He is, but our Chasemoore is one of those stuffed shirts that ‘tends to mistreat staff’ as Belinda puts it. If he didn’t respect the lad’s grandfather so much, Jeeves would probably just tie the ugly miscreant in a knot and throw him down the well.”
“So Jeeves is not just a butler?”
“No. He is Abelard’s chief of staff. Belinda said he was selected for the 22nd, which didn’t mean anything to me, but from the way she said it, it must be like Rangers or SEALS or something. One of the maids told me that a year or so ago three of the local lads decided to rob this house, after scouting it and figuring Jeeves alone was easy prey with all the other staff off for the weekend. They all three spent several weeks in hospital, and he thanked them kindly for the brief little workout.”
I fed Peggy grapes, not feeling the need to peel them for her. She closed her eyes and sucked my fingers very promisingly, though. We (mostly me) polished off all the food very quickly. I tuned to her Suzie and discovered that she really wanted a particular kind of attention, one that I was more than willing to give her. But, I felt a duty to give her a similar chance to do something good for me, too. I kissed her tenderly for a while, and held her on her back with her head over the edge of the bed, and then stood up and put my cock to her lips. Ever giving, she took me into her mouth and smiled up at me. Her smile turned to surprise when I grabbed her waist and lifted her upside down and vertical, throwing her strong legs over my shoulders and applying my mouth strongly to her pussy. Her Suzie soared, and I tuned in earnest, listening for every subtle note that pleased her best. The standing 69 soon became my favorite Olympic event, and I was going for a top score from the female American judge. Her weight was mostly borne by her thighs resting on my shoulders, and it took very little effort to move her up and down on my cock. It also made it easy to move her pelvis into just the right position to chow down on her pussy. No Suzie receiver was needed to confirm her pleasure, as she began to drip enough to wet the sides of my neck and the tops of my shoulders. You go, girl.
She was craving having my tongue just as far in and out and left and right as possible, and this position was made for that. I finally grabbed her where leg transitions to buttock; spread things open a bit, and dove for the goal line. Total concentration made me forget about my cock, and my focus soon produced a wonderful little orgasm from her that filled my mouth with extra wetness. The second one resulted in her grabbing my head with her thighs so strongly that she could have been supported by that grip alone. I would gladly suffer cauliflower ears for more of this. But all thoughts of my ears were driven from my mind as I exploded into Peggy’s willing mouth, and it was fortuitous that I was standing near the bed, because we fell across it as my legs buckled and my head buzzed. Peggy muscled the still groggy me over so there was a spot for her on the bed, and then cuddled up in my favorite configuration. We both worked to catch our breath.
After a few moments she said “Well, I guess you really are a stand up kind of guy, Robbie!” she giggled. “We have used our time well, too. It’s only about and hour and half until dinner, but I need to tell you about the bathrooms in this old castle. The plumbing is a recent addition, comparatively speaking, and there are some pressure and volume issues. So you have to take showers like we used to on my dad’s little sail boat: get wet, turn off the water, soap up and wash, then turn the water back on and rinse off. So as much as I have enjoyed our prolonged mutual ass washings in the past, it’s not in the cards here. In fact, I will go first, so we can let the water heater recover a bit before your ‘showerette’. Abelard is planning a plumbing and electrical refit soon, but it is a major job and the excavation can only be done properly in warm weather.”
While she occupied herself in the bathroom, I considered my clothing options for the evening. I supposed that my navy blazer high tea outfit would be wrinkled but serviceable, but when I opened the closet door, I discover that Belinda and/or Jeeves were truly on their game. My stuff had been cleaned and pressed while I played tennis, and my shoes shined. But that wasn’t all. Hanging next to that outfit was a very spiffy dark burgundy colored cotton shirt, a light grey wool blazer with a detachable quilted lining for those really cold English nights, and a pair of very dark charcoal grey wool pants. A quick try on proved that they all fit just like the altered Nordstrom’s stuff that I brought with me. Damn he was good. I zipped out the lining and left it on the hangar.
Peggy soon emerged from the bathroom and sat down at the little vanity mirror to do her makeup. I waited and watched her for a few minutes to let the water heater heat, and then took something halfway between a shower and a Sitz bath, but I certainly felt and smelled better. It didn’t take long to feel cold and dry, so I was dressed well before Peggy was ready to go, which was not a surprise. She did notice the new outfit, and shot me a nice smile. “I guess I can be seen with you at dinner!” We pushed open the big door, with the salmon colored fabric having a much greater significance for me now, and started down the stairs to the dining hall. “Belinda gets creative with her dinner parties, Robbie, and you never really know what to expect, so stay flexible.”
Creative proved an understatement. When we arrived at the dining hall, we saw that it was set up for at least twice as many people as were here this morning for the pre-tennis breakfast. We went through a reception line, manned by Jeeves on one side and a very attractive red-headed woman in her early thirties on the other: she suddenly made me think of what my first college girlfriend Janet Arroz might look like a few years hence. She too was sending some nice Suzie, not for me, but for Jeeves. Peggy whispered that she was Abelard and Belinda’s new social secretary, having just joined the staff from Ireland. They gave us name badges on lanyards, quite large and with easily readable lettering, with bright colored borders and lots of symbols along the bottom edge. I discovered that Peggy and I would not sit together; in fact we would all change seats for every course, and dance between courses. The colored borders were keyed to the tablecloths and thus told us which tables to go to, mine was green and Peggy’s was yellow. Like the tennis tournament, we were all to be ‘seeded’ to various tables to facilitate introduction and conversation. I gave Peggy a kiss and headed to the first green table I could find, watching her join a yellow table nearby.
Introductions and conversations flowed easily as a salad course began to be carried to the tables. It was a cheese dusted salad very similar to what I had been served each time we had dined with Strelsa and Günter. My first thought was maybe Strelsa was really up on culinary trends; my second thought was that my pants were suddenly quite tight. I soon discovered what the symbols were on the name badges. It was a variation on a trick my father used for sales meetings – each symbol depicted a shared factor, interest, or hobby, and the people at each table decoded them and thus were further introduced and made familiar with each other. I quickly hooked up with two other tennis buffs, one had been here for the morning matches, and one had not. I also made contact with several other folks at the table. As plates were cleared, a small band took to a stage and began to play dance music, and we were encourage to ask someone not at our most recent table to dance.
The food was good and the company was too, and the evening passed quickly despite all the machinations between courses. I met a lot of folks that were interesting, and some from within Abelard’s company that I might need to work with later. Just before dessert, I spotted Jeeves nearby. “Thanks for the fashion upgrade, Jeeves, and the laundry service.”
“You are more than welcome. I could watch young Chasemoore lose every week and never get tired of it! The clothes were Belinda’s idea; I just carried out her plan.” I bet he was very good at executing plans, and perhaps people, too.
I changed the subject. “I’m not sure what the policy implications are on personal relationships within the household, but you should definitely ask that new social secretary to dance, if you get my drift?”
He actually looked scared. “Glareete Bayliss? She’s much too young and pretty for the likes of me!”
“You are making a very bad assumption there, my friend. You don’t find her desirable?” I could tell he did.
“God yes, man, she’s a dream come true, but if I approach her she will shoot me down in an instant.”
I smiled and stared at him until he looked me in the eye. “Don’t they say that he who dares wins?”
He looked embarrassed, but then got a firm set to his jaw. “Alright, I’ll give her a go!” He turned and scanned the room, and made a beeline for the table she was just getting up from. It almost looked like he was reporting at attention, but at least he didn’t salute her. I could only see his back and her face. She smiled, and he put out his arm, very formal, and she took it with an even bigger smile, and a spiking and already content sounding Suzie signal sang out from her. They weren’t exactly Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but they were both smiling brightly as they moved across the floor. I watched for a moment, and then found my dessert table, and sat down.
A woman almost instantly sat down right next to me. “Hello, Master Roberts, it’s nice to see you again so soon!” It was Tessa Formby, feature writer and gossip columnist for the infamous Tattler, who I had last seen dancing naked at the ‘Addicted to Austin’ party. My shock must have shown in my face.
“Don’t worry, Robbie, I am not here to pump you for information like I did on the running trail, although social occasions like this are my natural hunting grounds. I can see you are suspicious, but I hope I can allay your fears. You see we have a mutual acquaintance – well, actually I have only talked to him on the telephone, but he was very direct and made quite an impression on me.”
I must have looked puzzled, and she continued to explain. “I had a call from Ambassador Pliskin right after the party in Austin. He was quite clear that he would discourage me most strongly from writing anything about his daughter, or any of her ‘close friends’ shall we say. He also encouraged me to help you out and keep you all from harm if I could. I am sure you will believe me when I say that The Ambassador is not someone I want to disappoint, and doing something positive for him is like money in the bank in the gossip trade.”
I would certainly not want to disappoint him. I tried to banter back. “I really did enjoy your dancing!”
She laughed. “I certainly enjoyed the party, and especially your friend Rodney Driver and his cousin Little Hollywood, and his amazing girlfriend. They were unforgettable. I hope to see you at the party next November, too. But I want to talk to you now about another mutual acquaintance: Elizabeth Ashcroft Knowles.”
She certainly had my full attention now. How the heck were they connected?
“She and I have just met, but we have some long standing mutual acquaintances that introduced us. She is going to ask you to help her with something, something that may be difficult for you, but is very important. I can’t tell you details, because I don’t know them, but she will. Her requests may sound strange, but I can assure you it is very well considered and planned. I can also tell you that The Ambassador would want you to help her, and you may call him to check on that if you need to. Will you keep an open mind until she talks to you?”
“I always try to keep an open mind, Tessa. But let’s have a truth test so I can gauge your credibility now. When you flirted with me in Austin, were you really interested in me or just pumping me for gossip.”
“Why gossip, of course! 90% of my male sources respond positively to flirting. You seem like a nice boy, but I like my men much older and/or blacker.”
“Okay. Now tell me about the ‘dogging’ that goes on here.”
“Certainly you have seen the porn sites on the subject? It seems to be a primary British fetish but it draws viewers from all over the world. “
I had seen several, in some of my roommate Kevin’s ‘you just gotta see this’ moments as he surfed the web. “I thought that stuff was all actors and actresses staged for porn sites, not real.”
“Some of it is real, especially in Britain. It is definitely real here at the estate. I sometimes observe, but not participate. I may occasionally have a discussion with a woman who would rather share some gossip with me than to have me share some gossip with the world, if you catch my meaning.”
She smiled. “I’ve never actually had to expose anyone. It’s almost as if they really want to share the gossip. Some women have an extremely strong drive for this sort of thing, hidden in their animal nature so to speak, and this is a much safer venue for them than a car park somewhere. They would never think of cheating on their husbands at home, but an anonymous group of men can excite and satisfy them incredibly. Sometimes the husbands know all about it and like to watch.” That was a little too much information for me, although I now understood the overtones in the Suzie signal I had heard from the woman on the stairs on the way to breakfast. Tessa gave me what seemed like a genuinely affectionate hug and scurried off before I could think of anything else to say.
Other people began so sit down and the waiters brought dessert, causing my stomach to growl so loudly I thought it must have been miked and fed to loudspeakers. My plate contained some supremely dense cheesecake with strawberry sauce, and some angel food cake with chocolate sauce, simple and delicious, and it silenced my stomach perfectly. I caught site of Peggy, two tables away, talking with Tessa and Jeeves. Soon dessert was over and Peggy walked over and took me possessively by the arm. “We need to talk!” As we walked up the stairs my apprehension grew.
The suite was frankly cold by now, but a big fire was started in the fireplace near the bed, and that promised to keep things manageable during the night. Peggy and I had a remarkably domestic little moment where we both tried to brush our teeth at the same time, bumping hips and laughing while contesting positions at the mirror and sink. She turned out the table lamp and jumped in the bed, delightfully naked, the room now being lit only by the fireplace and some occasional moonlight on the window showing through the clouds. I joined her and applied myself to her left side as best I could. She snuggled against me. “You do have a high metabolism, Robbie. You put out lots of heat on a cold night.” She kissed my shoulder. “I suppose that’s why you eat so much and still stay skinny. Have you ever had your thyroid checked?”
Dr. Asa’s advice to avoid discussions of my metabolism kicked in, and I tried to change the subject. “What was it that you and Tessa Formby and Jeeves were talking about?”
She laughed gently. “Birding, actually. You and I are going out early in the morning. Jeeves is going to drive us. I have set my alarm and I’ll wake you up in plenty of time. Dress warmly. Tessa is not going, but she did tell me some interesting things. Some very interesting things, and that’s what we need to talk about. Not now, but in the morning.” She snuggled up into my arm pit and promptly went to sleep.
The judge had insisted that the earliest time he could safely receive his Mistress at his condo was at six, after the doorman went off duty. It was already dark, and Suzanne’s parents readily accepted that she was ‘going to a party and might be out late’ and happily did not ask for any details. She had also purchased a ‘Batwoman’ mask that would hide her identity from someone who did not recognize her, and wrapped herself up in a big trench coat with a big scarf and high collar, and with the super high heeled black boots, she looked much taller than normal. As she emerged from the third taxi, the second two being unlicensed liveries as her father had taught her, she took a long and winding walk to the condo, while reviewing her plans for the judge, and smiled.
She took her cues from her own initial experiences with Robbie and Lara, getting goose bumps along with the memories. The scene was just as she had specified – he buzzed her in to the building at five minutes after six, and when she pushed the unlocked door to his condo open at ten minutes after six, the judge was naked, bound, blindfolded and kneeling on his entry hall tile floor, although she noticed that the blindfold was tied such that it would allow him a few peeks. So much the better for her plan. She locked the door behind her, and walked noisily toward him on the tile floor. He had all the things out she had specified, including a very nicely balanced little riding crop that fit in her hand perfectly. She checked his restraints, tightened them a bit, and then slowly removed her overcoat, circling the judge with a strutting cadence so he could hear her, smell her and get some glimpses of her around that loose blindfold. The recessed incandescent lighting of the judge’s entry hall shone through the fabric of her thin costume like spotlights though gauze, highlighting the muscular perfection of her body. But her little mask hid her identify completely.
The judge gasped in surprise, and soon became very visibly excited. He was a pale and skinny man; just greying at the temples, bowlegged and knobby kneed, but now sported a surprisingly large and very red erection. That would be his first since his appointment to the court, if his tale was true. She laughed in her lowest and most derisive tone. “Well, well, Wally. It seems that confession is good for the soul, or at least for your pitiful little Willie.
He literally shook, but if anything his erection got even larger. She had done her homework, reading all about Wally’s childhood and career, and she had long ago learned from her father the technique that was probably used to ensnare him. It was more subtle than a honey trap, and was actually a variation of an old investment scam that was surprisingly effective against basically honest and politically inexperienced people like Wally. She also knew that Wally really thought he did deserve to be humiliated and punished, and she surely would do that. But then she would redeem him.
“Wally you have been a very bad boy. A very stupid boy! You know that don’t you?” She punctuated each subject-object-verb with pops of the riding crop. His ass and legs were soon red all over, but his erection remained. “You are very correct to be ashamed. Let’s go through some things.”
“When they approached you, you didn’t even know you were being considered for the court, did you?” Pop, pop, pop.
“They told you that you were a very long shot candidate for the job.” Pop, pop, pop.
“That you didn’t graduate very high in your law school class.” Pop, pop, pop.
“That you hadn’t decided enough high profile cases.” Pop, pop, pop.
“That your technical background wasn’t the best.” Pop, pop, pop.
“Your only chance for the appointment was their political influence. They might be able to get you onto the final list, if you would be able to do a few things for them, later.” Pop, pop, pop. Sob, sob, sob.
“That your only chance was to promise to provide them information on certain cases in the future.” Pop, pop, pop.
“They gave you some time to think. Then they contacted you the night before the list of final candidates came out, and they said you had to decide or be left out.” Pop. Sob. Pop. Sob.
“You said yes, and the next morning, you were on the announced list!” Pop. Sob.
“They called you again. They said they had worked hard to get you on that list, but you were still a long shot. They would work even harder for you, but you had to do something for them. You might have to agree to favor certain of their clients if a case involving them ever came before you. Otherwise, you had no chance.” Pop. Sob.
The judge was now racked with sobs and crying uncontrollably.
“They gave you some time to think, and then called you back. You said you needed more time. They said they would take one of the better candidates out of the running, to show you what they could do.” Pop, sob.
“They next day, the news broke that a much respected jurist had asked that his name be withdrawn.” Pop, sob.
“They called you back, and said we knocked him out with some unsavory stuff from his personal life, and it’s now or never, we have to push you or lose the chance forever. You said yes.” Pop, pop, pop. Scream.
“You were on pins and needles. Then you were called to the White House for an interview, and then another. They called you back and said it was looking good. You thanked them. They said you can thank us later.” Sob.
“Then you got the appointment to the court. You were overjoyed, but you knew you didn’t really deserve it!” Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.
“Oh God I am so ashamed!” Wally screamed then sobbed so badly he could barely breathe.
“They gave you a few days, and then called to congratulate you. But with the next breath, they told you they owned you. One misstep and all this would come out and you would be forever disgraced.” He melted down, rolled up in the fetal position on the floor, and wept like a baby.
“Wally, you have done a terrible thing. I am going to whip you now within an inch of your life. You will deserve every stroke. And then you will tell me what you are willing to do to make things right.” It was the toughest thing she ever had to do, but she had learned from Millie’s amazing weekly descriptions of how they helped Erminia (she and Millie and Lara really did talk about everything) that she had to make absolutely sure that Wally felt punished enough, and that even he began to feel she was going too far. Her right arm got tired and she had to switch to the left, but she kept on. Wally had gone to a Jesuit school, just like she had, and flagellation would suit him. She had to make sure it was almost biblical. Finally she took his disappearing erection as a sign, and stopped. He sobbed shook in the restraints, and she went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. It was at least 15 minutes before he could hold his head up to drink any.
When his breathing finally stabilized, she began the next phase. ‘What are you willing to do to make things right?”
He began to sob anew. “Resign, confess to the world, and expose those that bribed me. Go to prison.”
“If you did that chances are you would do prison time and your so-called benefactors would not. What would be the just thing to happen to them?”
“Have their plans thwarted, have all my decisions go against them!” he snarled.
She popped him again. “Did you really graduate from law school? What would be the truly just thing to happen to them? To their clients?”
He drew a deep breath. “They should be punished for bribery, along with any of their clients that authorized their actions too, but the cases before the court should always be decided on their merits alone.”
“Good answer, Wally!” She caressed him briefly on the neck. His erection returned, as strong as ever.
“But we may not be able to achieve all of that, but perhaps most of it. But let me tell you a story.”
An involuntary “huh?” escaped his lips, but then he just listened, rocking slightly on his now surely very sore knees, despite his years in the catholic church.
“Suppose you want to sell an investment newsletter. You get a list of 1,000 wealthy potential subscribers, and you make up 1,000 very impressive bound research reports. In 500 of them you say stock ABC is going way up, and in the other 500 you say it is going way down. Then you mail them out, keeping track of which prospect got which report. In a few months, you check on what ABC actually did, and no matter if it went up or down, you send a letter to the 500 prospects that got the correct advice, saying we sent you a free research report a few months ago and we were absolutely correct about ABC, and now we are telling you about XYZ. In 250 of those letters you say XYZ will do great, in 250 you say XYZ will tank. A few months later, you take note of the final 250 potential suckers that got the right forecast both times and say our newsletter was right as rain twice in a row, for big profits, subscribe to our research now! And some of the suckers do.”
He said nothing.
“Now let’s suppose you get a list of potential court appointees…..”
“Holy Fuck!” The judge was pretty quick on the uptake. “They did this to everyone on the list….”
“Not everyone. Some they knew wouldn’t go for it and some told them to go to hell when first approached, but if even one buys into it, they are ahead, especially if that one gets the appointment.”
The judge sobbed anew, and then cried. “I must be the dumbest fuck on the list!”
“But you are also the one that got the job, likely without your ‘friends’ having any influence at all.”
He was completely silent for two minutes. “So what do I do now?”
“You decide the cases just as you would have if you never heard of these guys. If they contact you again, tell them to jump in the lake. There are two sets of voices on the recordings they have, right?”
He snorted. “Actually I have my own recordings, too.”
Suzanne thought fast. “Do you know who those guys are?”
“Just one of them: a guy I went to law school with.”
“Is he the only voice on the recordings?”
“No. There are two others and I do not know who they are.”
“What form is the recording in?”
“Mp3 files on a USB drive”
“Make me a copy. Send it to the email address from the ad. Maybe I can help out.”
“What about punishment for them?”
“They are going to be billing those clients a big retainer for years before a case comes up that raises expectations. When those hopes are dashed by a just and un-influenced decision from the court, the clients will punish them for us. So you are purged. Hold your head up high and work hard to reach the correct conclusions in the future.”
She caressed his neck again, rubbing her breast against his shoulder. “Tell me Wally, are you left handed?” She knew he was.
“Yes.” He stuttered.
She reached down and untied his left hand. “Okay, Wally. Show me that your little Willie works again!”
He tentatively touched himself and seemed to enjoy it a lot, surprised at first and then rapidly lost all inhibition and wanked himself enthusiastically. He shuddered and his breath came in fits and starts. Suzanne realized she had never actually watched a guy beat off to completion before, and she discovered she was fascinated by it. He was rocking back and forth and his cock seemed to wax and wane slightly in diameter as he did so. Suddenly his hand was moving very fast and then grunted and shot a huge stream of off-white come several feet. The pressure must have been building up for some time.
Wally lay sobbing on the floor, trying to catch his breath with a wild mix of emotions coursing through him. Suzanne slid out of her sheer body suit, giving Wally a spectacular rear view, if he could see through all those tears, and slipped on her panties, a white silk blouse, and a dark grey business suit that had been folded in the shopping bag she bad brought in with her. She put the body suit in the bag, and then bent over and kissed him lightly on the ear and whispered. “Goodbye forever, Wally. I loved you.” She grabbed her coat and long leather gloves and hurried out the door.
Peggy’s alarm went off very early, but happily she had added in a few extra minutes to ‘thank me’ as she had promised last night. She reached over and briefly verified my usual morning woody, and then climbed over and straddled me, already wet. I never thought I would enjoy being used so much. Another pair of quick water sparing Sitz baths and then we dressed and were soon waiting at the back door of the manse, glad that I had zipped the lining back into the new wool blazer. My stomach growled; Peggy laughed and handed me two Cliff bars just as Jeeves pulled up the Range Rover. It was a very cold and foggy morning. I scarfed down the make do breakfast and my stomach quieted a little. We sat in the back as Jeeves drove north a few miles and then turned off road into a very cold and foggy meadow surrounded by tall trees, and soon we saw another Range Rover, a black one, with its parking lights on, about a quarter of a mile away.
Jeeves got out and said “stay here, she will come to you” just as the driver and passenger of the other Rover got out of it. Jeeves and the other driver took up positions opposite each other in a wide circle, and began walking slowly around it. Jeeves would occasionally raise some kind of high tech binoculars to his eyes, and the other guy was wearing some big earmuff headphones with some sort of pointer in his hand, pointing it outward. As the passenger grew near to our car, I realized it was none other than Elizabeth Ashcroft Knowles, who I had last seen on my flight over. She looked much buttoned up in a long dark leather double breasted trench coat and a brightly patterned wool scarf, with her hair up in a tight bun. Her eyes were flashing at me like little neon signs, and her face was already flushed from the cold. She looked fantastic, and I could no longer be objective about her ‘plain’ face, I just saw the total picture, perhaps dominated by those wonderful bright eyes.
Peggy bristled at her approach, much the same way that she had reacted to Vaya Perez at our cabrito dinner in East Austin, although I noticed Elizabeth was sending no Suzie for Peggy, nor for me, darn it. Just as Elizabeth got into the front passenger seat and turned toward us Peggy spoke, with hostility dripping from her voice. “Aha! I think I see a Burberry-Coated British Bitch, but then I don’t think that is a new species for you, is it Robbie?”
Elizabeth reacted before I could. “This must be Miss Teats and Ass, the Art History Major!” This meeting was certainly starting off very well. She sounded almost like Suzanne. Wait a minute. That was exactly the phrase Suzanne had used with me, on the phone, and in Texas! Did that mean Elizabeth had talked to Suzanne? What was going on here?
Elizabeth jumped in, again before I could. “I apologize, Miss Duchenne. I was out of line. I am under considerable stress and operating far outside of my comfort zone at present. Could you be gracious enough to forgive me?”
Peggy was stone faced, and Elizabeth continued, “We haven’t been properly introduced. I am Elizabeth Ashcroft Knowles.” She produced one of her cards very smoothly, like a magician pops out a playing card during a trick, and handed it to Peggy. “You see I am about to ask both of you to do something extraordinary, not for me, but for Abelard’s company and for Britain and the United States, and it would be a terrible thing if my lack of manners got in the way of that.” She sounded very sincere. Peggy’s expression softened a bit.
Peggy looked at the card and asked “How does Abelard need help? What is the ‘Department of Environment, Food, and Rural Affairs’ and what does it have to do with us?”
“DEFRA used to be called the Ministry of Agriculture, and I work there, but what I do is more like what in America you call homeland security.”
I instantly thought of Dwight and the no such agency that I had promised not to talk about. Wasn’t there some sort of British spook shop like that, started up in WW2 spying on the Germans, and listening to everything and everyone ever since?
Elizabeth continued “I try to look out for the interests of British companies doing business abroad. In this case, I am trying to prevent Abelard’s expansion of his construction services into the Middle East from being used against us by potential terrorists.”
That certainly made Peggy pause. “How would that happen?”
“They are one of the largest construction firms in the country, with a big inventory of industrial explosives for demolition and excavation, and a number of people trained to use them. Someone might target their employees to try to get them to supply explosives for terrorist use, via bribery, extortion or kidnap, or just theft.”
Peggy looked worried now. “What is it you want us to do?”
“Just after Christmas and before his school term begins again, Robbie will travel to several countries in the Middle East, along with several other people from the US and some of Abelard’s people, to try to build relationships and win some contracts. All very fine business if that’s all it is. We need to gather some information to make sure that’s all it is. I need your help to do it.”
Peggy looked thoughtful. I hoped I did too. “Go on.” she said.
“In addition to the ‘normal’ meetings and relationship building, there are some cultural things there that are different from what we in the west normally understand. If things go well, and we think they will, Robbie may be invited to spend a day or two on a yacht, and to interact with an ‘inner circle’ very close to the ultimate power in many of the kingdoms and emirates. That is a tremendous opportunity for us to learn more about them, and what their real goals are. But in order for Robbie to ‘fit in’ he will need the two of us to travel with him on that yacht.”
Peggy drew in a quick breath, as if she was about to object, but Elizabeth continued quickly “We will really be just stage props to portray the image of Robbie they want to see, need to see, in order to accept him as a ‘player’ as they say in America. These are some of the richest and most powerful people in the world, but they live in their own bubble and they have some very unique cultural rituals. They need to see and understand Robbie in the context of their own experience.”
“Just how do they see me?” I couldn’t hold my tongue.
Elizabeth smiled at me, almost dismissively. I did not like it. “They see you in an arranged marriage with one of Abelard’s step daughters, being groomed as the ‘crown prince’ to take over his empire. We have taken certain steps to encourage this view; via sources that they think report only to them. They see you as a cute and socially well connected boy who may end up as the public figurehead of the company, while real professionals actually run it day to day. This is not unusual in their experience. Many of the their government ministries and major industries have a political leader who is related to or otherwise connected to the ruling family, and perhaps to several ruling families in other countries too, and some non-royal executives who actually have the expertise to run things. That’s just the way it is. In the west it is called intermarriage among ruling business and political families, or ‘interlocking directorships’ or some other such euphemism.
Peggy wore a strange expression. “Am I to assume that we girls are to be involved in the ‘unique cultural ritual’ part of all this?”
“Right you are, Miss Duchenne, and very perceptive! The old boy’s club gathers on the yachts to have meetings and discussions about business, but also to show off to each other. Perhaps a new speed boat to race around the yacht in will impress the guys or a new helicopter, or a spectacular new mistress or hopefully two, to sunbathe nude on the deck. Are you getting the picture?”
A slowly rising and growling Suzie signal emerged from Peggy, with the same overtones I had heard recently when teasing her about exhibiting herself to those tourists back at Horse Guards, or being photographed naked for a brochure. Her nascent exhibitionistic streak was triggered, and it made her hot. Very hot. She may have been a pretty conventional girl, but she had gone from paralyzing self consciousness about her figure to truly liking and needing to be admired, and with her spectacular form, it would certainly happen if she were sunbathing, wherever it might be.
Elizabeth continued. “We already have one ‘player’ on your trip, in the person of Alexis T. Quandry. He is a very highly paid mathematical whiz, but he has some personal quirks to say the least. He does fit in with the yacht crowd very well, though, and will be bringing two spectacular London fashion models along with him on the boat. You will supply the added ‘spectacular’ for our team, Miss Duchenne, portraying yourself as a very rich, spoiled, and bitchy young woman who only dabbles in art and who Robbie is dallying with until his future arranged marriage, and perhaps afterward, too. My assumed role will be as your personal assistant, doing everything from packing your clothes and carrying your suitcase to doing your makeup and giving you a massage at night. We will also hint that I am sexually submissive and make myself available to both of you, sometimes at the same time. This will play into their prejudices, fantasies, and tendencies very well, and build up Robbie’s ‘player’ status tremendously.”
I was not following at least one aspect of all this. “How do you know we are even going to get invited to this yacht?”
“You and your whole group have a dinner meeting tonight with Fayez Adnan. He has been retained as a ‘security consultant’ to Abelard’s company. We feel pretty confident he will invite you.”
I had heard of this guy, and even seen a report on him on TV several years ago. He must be roughly Abelard’s age. He had at least six other names like Bin-something this and Al-something that, but everyone just called him Adnan. He was one of the largest arms dealers in the world, if not the largest, selling weapons all over the Middle East and Africa, collecting millions in sales commissions every week. He used to be one of the richest men in the world and own the biggest yacht in the world. His fortunes had faded considerably, but he was still a multi-billionaire, and the new up and coming group of Russian oligarchs had built a whole new generation of bigger and better yachts. He was still very well connected, though, and functioned as a ‘facilitator’ for deals all over the world, and his yacht was still pretty darned impressive. He also had a long string of much younger wives and mistresses, and seemed to enjoy throwing big parties and being photographed with them.
Elizabeth gave us some more detailed information. “He does have some very capable mercenaries working for him, mostly testing and evaluating weapons, but they can also look at the plans for a project and come up with a pretty good estimate of how it might be attacked and defended and what the potential losses and expenses might be. For this he gets paid a very much inflated fee, for built into his fee is the budget for ‘baksheesh’ that he expertly negotiates and disburses as required to make the project work, leaving the American or British client firms blissfully ignorant of such practices, as their laws require.”
Peggy laughed. “Sounds like exactly the way some art and antiquities dealers operate!”
Elizabeth looked at Peggy thoughtfully. “Perhaps we could discuss the potential in that later, after we tend to this matter?”
Peggy suddenly gave Elizabeth an amazing look. My eyes got big. It said ‘super smug mega bitch looks down her nose at a servant’ to me. “Well, Elizabeth, let’s see if you work out as a personal assistant, first.”
I thought Elizabeth would sputter, but she laughed softly. “That’s the perfect look and tone to adopt with me! You’re a natural.”
Luckily, Peggy took that as a complement.
Elizabeth continued. “I need to make you aware of one other thing, Robbie, something for you to pass on to Barry Fermy and to incorporate in your own proposals. In investigating potential methods for getting explosives on the sly, we identified one that was being used at another insurance company, until we stopped it. Are you familiar with the comprehensive project management software used on big construction sites, and how reports from the system are sent to the insurers to update them on risk factors and progress?”
‘Well sometimes with approaching deadlines and time pressure, and sometimes just due to laziness or carelessness, instead of sending the properly defined reports or file extract, the construction firm will send the entire project file in its raw form, leaving someone like your Senex Pedo to build his own report to get the data he needs. This leads to a major security vulnerability, in that the raw file often contains very detailed information, like what vendor explosives are ordered from, what is ordered, when they are scheduled to arrive and where they are to be stored, and even the carrier that they are being shipped with, making it relatively easy for the shipment to be hijacked or the explosives to be stolen shortly after they arrive. This is the kind of vulnerability that we must be very aware of.”
Point taken. I could see major problems just releasing such data to a competitor, much less a terrorist group. She turned to Peggy. “Can I count on you?”
Another wave of Suzie popped out of Peggy, along with a determined expression. “I will do my best for God and country, yes.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I will be in touch with you, Miss Duchenne, just as soon as we know the exact dates and times. I expect you and I will be flying to join Robbie in a private jet, which can spoil you for commercial air travel. By the way, I only met Robbie on the American Airlines flight over here from Dallas, and he was a perfect gentleman with me.”
Peggy laughed, and got that smug and superior look again, in spades. I could feel the temperature drop inside the car. “I can certainly understand that, my dear. Happily, he treats me much better than that!”
Elizabeth’s eyes darkened for a minute, and then sparkled again. “Touché!” With that she opened the door and started back toward the black Range Rover. Jeeves and the other driver instantly started back to their respective vehicles, and we drove back to the estate in silence, except that my stomach soon began to growl again. Luckily we arrived back at the estate just in time for brunch and more delightful conversation. Newcombe B. Conners was off to afternoon tennis workout with the girls, and therefore Jeeves drove us back to London, dropping Peggy in Pimlico with a sufficient interval for me to walk her up and say a proper goodnight, and then drop me at Horse Guards.
After I got out and closed my door, he caught my attention again. “Two things, Roberts: one, thanks for the heads up on Glareete Bayliss.”
“How is that going?”
He shrugged. “Good news and bad news. I think she likes me, but I have already hopelessly fallen for her.”
“She finds you very desirable, Jeeves. It is up to you to convince her to want more than just that.”
He looked very serious. “Two, you can trust Elizabeth Ashcroft Knowles with your life!” With that he sped away.
I went up to the room, carefully hung up all the stuff from my suitcase, including my spiffy new outfit, and then took a long hot shower, luxuriating in the virtually endless supply of hot water. I would not get picked up for dinner until 8, so I put in a wake-up call for 7:30 PM and was dead to the world for a while.
Suzanne had been so efficient in taking care of the judge that she had lots of time on her hands, for if she got back to her parent’s house too early it would raise questions. Just in case, and in keeping with her anonymous ‘legend’, she walked from the judge’s condo, which was close to the court he served on, to the Federal Triangle metro station. She took the Blue Line to L’Enfant, and then the Green Line all the way out to College Park. She walked around a bit and doubled back to burn any tails, which she would have already spotted unless they were using lots of very experienced people, which was not likely, and then waited a while for the Yellow Line, which took her on a short ride to Fort Totten, where she caught the Red Line to Farragut North, from which she walked to the Blue Spot. The night was still young, but it had already been a very colorful evening. She descended the stairs, and was reminded of the neutral odor and good ventilation, and then discovered she instantly felt right at home there.
Kimee Blue and Steve the bartender spotted her almost simultaneously, and waved excitedly. A few moments later, Steve brought over his latest and most improved version of the Instant Stripper drink she had taught him to make. She sipped it: smooth, very tasty, and yet had quite a kick to it. “It’s fantastic!” she said. He just looked at her. She got the hint, and stood up and languidly took off her trench coat, did a little Gypsy Rose Lee number with her gloves, and even took off the top of her dark business suit, revealing a sheer white silk blouse. Steve stared a moment more, and then rushed back to the bar and began making another Instant Stripper for her.
Kimee walked over. “Steve has been watching the door ever since he came on shift. I am so glad you showed up. Is the drink better?”
Suzanne smiled. “It’s practically perfect, and I needed one!”
“Interesting times since you were last here?”
“You would not believe me if I told you.”
“Would I enjoy hearing it, though?”
Suzanne smiled, and leaned in close to whisper in Kimee’s ear, “I am certain of it.”
Kimee giggled and then went off to make her rounds of the other tables. Suzanne perused the chalkboard menu, discovering she was famished. It was just plain Night Night, with no special theme, but the food items were all new to her and sounded great. She ordered a braised pork shoulder and white bean empanada, and a smoked salmon soft taco with mustard dill sauce, and she also planned to splurge on the peanut butter sorbet with homemade graham crackers. The DJ was playing some pretty good tunes, and a few couples were dancing.
Kimee soon arrived with her two ‘entrees’ although they were all of two bites each and with another tall Instant Stripper. Everything was tremendous, like before, and she savored every morsel. She ordered the sorbet and then settled in to people watch, almost hoping someone would ask her to dance. Maybe the Blue Spot should have an amateur night like the strip bars in Dallas. Nora had not been able to shut up about how hot it made her, and how hot it had made Robbie, and Suzanne was a little jealous, mostly of Robbie getting to see Nora naked when she didn’t, but also of the thrill Nora had described when she finally stood naked before the screaming room full of men. She realized that Steve’s version of the Instant Stripper seemed to be working on her tonight, much more so than the ZZZ version ever had.
The wakeup call shook me out of a deep and seemingly dreamless sleep, at least none that I remembered. I decided to go with my new outfit again and walked around the hotel lobby for few minutes before stepping outside a few minutes before 8 to look for Reggie. He was very punctual, but I could tell he was disappointed that Peggy was not with me. I just assumed we would go somewhere near Canary Wharf, but instead Reggie turned west rather than east and got onto the A4, which I had noticed before and briefly studied on the map in the room. I recognized St. James square on the right as we zoomed by, and then we passed a very stately looking hotel and pulled up at what looked like an angular and unusual set of four apartment buildings.
We pulled into a drive near the center of the buildings, and then did a quick left and right, through a gate that was manned by three guards, and then turned right as we descended into a parking garage. We stopped at an elevator manned by two more guards, and Reggie stopped abruptly, barking “Welcome to the other side, mate, and good luck, their drivers will take you back to Horse Guards.” There was a note of disapproval in his voice far beyond what I would associate with Peggy’s absence. I got out of the car, and recognized Alexis T. Quandry, the uber-nerd and mathematical whiz, who Elizabeth had described as the ‘other player’. Did I want to be included in this ‘player’ category?
“Hello Robbie. I want you to meet someone before we join the dinner group. Follow me.” He was wearing the most expensive looking suit and tie I had ever seen, and even in my vaunted new outfit I began to feel like a sixth grader at the senior prom. We entered the elevator and I noticed its unusual interior: there were no buttons, no display of the floor we were on, no mirror, nor anything else save a little swipe card reader with three LED’s above it, and a flat black plate next to that. Alexis swiped a red plastic card through the reader, and then touched his thumb to the black plate on the wall. The green LED blinked, and the elevator began to move, very smoothly. I could not tell how fast it was going, or even if it was going up or down. When it stopped, I realized it must have gone up, as we walked out into an entry hall three stories tall, with windows on one side all the way up, showing a spectacular view of the city lights. Greeting us was a dark Arabic looking man in his late forties I guessed, dressed in a suit at least as nice as Quandry’s. He had a close cropped beard with hints of grey, and a very intelligent expression.
He smiled tightly and offered his hand. “Hello, Mister Roberts. My name is Mohamed, but you may simply call me ‘Med’. He handed me a business card and I somehow managed to give him one of mine. He had another one of the those long names full of ‘Bin’s and ‘Al’s, and on my first read it looked like a Zayani and a Fayez in there, and I assume he was related somehow to Fayez Adnan, our host.
“The pleasure is mine, Med, and call me Robbie.” I managed. He motioned to a luxurious looking couch and a set of chairs and we three sat down.
Alexis spoke up. “Med is one of the most influential money managers in the world, advising the sovereign funds of many nations, including those that are the primary investors in many of the projects we are bidding on. He has a keen interest in making sure we are covered against all contingencies, not so much to ensure our profits, but to make sure our clients can take the projects forward to completion even in the face of adverse events.”
I mentioned a famous legal case from Engineering 101, where the contract was for specific performance and the court’s decision had directed the insurer to make extraordinary expenditures to minimize the delays after an earthquake. Med looked up in surprise.
“Precisely on point! Alexis tells me you are a freshman at ESU. What’s your major?”
I suddenly felt like I was on familiar ground at a UDP mixer. “Electrical Engineering. I just had to declare it at the end of the semester.”
He laughed. “I absolutely hated electrical engineers when I was there. I was a Petroleum Engineering major, and I had to take EE 331, the electrical engineering course for non-electrical engineers. It nearly killed me. Kirchoff’s current law, Kirchoff’s voltage law, three phase motors and generators, a zillion problem sets, and a Korean TA that barely spoke English. I still have nightmares sometimes, even though I graduated 25 years ago. Which engineering professors have you had?”
He laughed. “He was brand new when I was there, and he taught Engineering Mechanics, the course designed to weed people out of engineering, and he took delight in doing it. What a bastard!”
I decided not to tell the story about Lillehammer and my project management assignment, at least not now. “I have to take it this coming spring semester, but not from him.”
“Good luck!” Then Med threw me a quick question. “How did you meet Abelard Peters?”
“We met at an ESU home football game. He was in Austin for the F1 race and missed his arranged tour group of the stadium so I showed him around individually. He was fascinated by Bevo, and I think my girlfriend, too.”
“He does have a discerning eye. His wife is an arresting woman, and very attractive, too.” I didn’t even notice him shifting mental gears, and then he said “Why do you think I should be in favor of Abelard using a new and unproven American insurance company on projects that I invest in?”
I cribbed shamelessly from the report that Brujo Lagoria, Sapiento Gallo’s money man, had prepared and given me a copy of. I figured one money man’s take would resonate with another. “Tier Group is going to grow tremendously over the next few years, regardless of who insures them. The absolute amount of risk is more than their current insurers should take on. So the question is not if, but who Abelard adds as a new insurer. Many of the new projects are going to be energy and/or shipping related, and we have as much or more expertise in that field than the present vendors, and a strong balance sheet. But most importantly, we identified the issues first, we want the business, and we are proposing the best solutions.”
His expression was completely unreadable. “What if, in order to get the business, you needed to make some ‘disbursements’ in addition to those made through Adnan?”
That sent a jolt through me. Was he angling for a little additional ‘mordida’ of his own, or was he testing our loyalty to Adnan? Should I say yes and close the business, or would saying yes queer the whole deal? My father’s dinner table advice about bribery suddenly occurred to me, and it was the same as that about sucking up to someone: if it works with them, they are probably not going to stay the real decision maker for long. Plus I didn’t think I could just punt and leave the issue open. Think fast, Robbie. “We might re-evaluate our position if it turns out we are not successful with these initial proposals, but we have decided to rely on Adnan for his expertise in this area.”
His expression was even more unreadable, leaving me in an ongoing state of worry. He stood up. “Let’s join the other guests for dinner.” He walked on ahead of us.
Alexis Quandry held my elbow to slow me down a few steps and then said “See, Robbie, even an anti-social, autistic math freak like me can sometimes see the value of networking.”
We trooped up a very ornate staircase into a large dining room, set up for about 30 people, as other folks filed in along with us. I saw Adnan, with his obviously dyed black hair and mustache, talking with Barry Fermy, and he motioned to us as we approached. Med took Adnan by the elbow and then shook his hand, and then introduced me to him.
A waiter came by and offered us drinks, and when I declined, Adnan spoke “You are not a drinker, Mr. Roberts?”
“No. I don’t drink or smoke or use any drugs. None of them affect me like they do most people: they just make me sleepy. I don’t get high.”
“What does get you high?”
“Women!” The whole group chuckled when I said it, “running, and sometimes playing competitive tennis.” A bell rang and everyone started toward their seats, complete with nametags at each place.
I noticed that there were no women in attendance – Barry Fermy was here, but not Penelope Profico. Ben Wahni was here, looking as nervous and ferret-like as ever, but Senex Pedo, the project management guru, was not. None of our party was seated together, but rather dispersed across all the tables, encouraging intermixing, I supposed. I met lots of guys, most of whom had those long names that are hard for me to remember, but I began to associate some of the titles and faces. The few Brits and Americans that weren’t part of our traveling group were relatively easy to remember. The food was absolutely fantastic, and every course was something new and amazing. One of the other guests commented on Adnan’s new chef, which apparently he had lured away from some other, more minor billionaire.
As the evening wore down, people began to trickle out, and Adnan and Med installed themselves near the door in sort of an informal reverse reception line, speaking with each person as they went out via the elevator foyer. Barry Fermy motioned to Alexis to stay behind with me, and then he took Ben Wahni by the arm, and led him out ahead of us. When we passed by, Adnan asked if we would join him on his yacht when we returned after the first of the year and were visiting some of the sites in the Middle East.
Alexis accepted for both of us, and Adnan asked ‘Will you be bringing the fashion models you mentioned?”
Alexis looked embarrassed. “Yes.”
“Mr. Roberts, would you like to invite a female guest, too?”
“Yes, but she will want to bring her personal assistant with her. She is a dedicated to my girlfriend, and someone we both get along with very, very well.” Alexis looked at me funny. Med and Adnan smiled broadly. Personal assistants were not uncommon in their world, and I thought they got my drift with regard to how personal this assistant might be.
Med spoke up. “Do you think we will enjoy seeing this assistant on the yacht?”
I smiled archly. “Yes, she is very unusual, and at any rate my very beautiful but very spoiled girlfriend needs her assistant there to put on her suntan lotion.”
Adnan said. “I see no problem with that. Where will they be coming from?”
“Pimlico, here in London.” I said.
“Wonderful. If you send her contact information to the email address on my card, my personal assistant will contact her and set everything up for us.”
“Thank you so much. I am going back to Dallas in the morning. I look forward to seeing you in the New Year.”
Alexis T. Quandry was beaming as he swiped the card to take us back down in the elevator. “Am I a consummate networking genius, or what?”
Adnan’s driver took us back in a beautiful mint old Rolls Royce. I texted Peggy and she agreed to take a taxi to Horse Guards to spend the night together there. When we pulled up, the Rolls looked right at home on Whitehall Place, and Peggy got out of the cab just as I arrived. Our perfect timing continued throughout the evening, and we made long and tender love, and managed to come together as I looked her right in the eye, with all my weight pressing into her. We then cuddled up and she began to talk.
“So Robbie, did they invite you on the yacht?” A warbling Suzie escaped her, signaling her excitement.
“Yes, but they insisted that I bring my girlfriend and her very personal assistant, and that I promise she would shamelessly exhibit herself on deck in front of all those rich old men, and their mistresses, while another woman put on her suntan lotion.”
Her Suzie signal grew like an air raid siren. She leaned down and sucked my cock until it was hard, and then grabbed my neck and straddled me. I suppose it was my duty, for God and country. We said a tearful goodbye in the morning, and I before we got out of bed I suggested she send me a Christmas card with a topless photo of herself, taken from her little outside balcony. I could feel her nipples pulse next to mine.
I took a taxi out to LHR and boarded my 10:45 AM flight for DFW. It was a brand new looking 747-400, perhaps the same one I came over on. I settled into seat 3A and expected to spend a lot of time looking out the window. This flight had no Elizabeth, and no Peggy, but at least I was on the way back towards Suzanne and Lara, although I wouldn’t see them until just before classes started again. The cabin attendant handed me a little card announcing a new service, in flight Wi-Fi, no extra charge here in first class, and provided a network name and password for me to try. I had left my phone off all last night, and when I turned it on and brought up the setup dialog and joined the network, lots of messages popped in. By the time we were on takeoff roll, I had something to do.
One of the first I saw was from the Dean of Engineering, congratulating me on making the Dean’s honor roll, and inviting me to a reception at the Faculty club. This actually arrived before my official grade report, 4 A’s and one B. There followed an email from Lillehammer, congratulating me for finally picking a major, even if it was EE, which he considered greatly inferior to ME. He must not have seen the dual major deal, as I was trying to pick up a second undergraduate degree in Computer Science. Perhaps being around Nora was having a positive effect on me. I was sure that having Nora around me (tightly) would be even better. The CS degree required a language, and I would likely choose Italian, which I considered a better choice than that made by my cousin Mikee from New Jersey, who had taken two semesters of Klingon at a flakey junior college before dropping out. That sure looks good on your resume.
Next was an invitation from Jay Kincaid to spend a day in Waxahachie with him and his family (and Millie) on his granddad’s spread and I decided that would be the right time to have a serious talk with each of them, separately, about the other. Bigun Jackson sent an email about how wonderful Alley was, and inviting me to go with him to a car show in Fort Worth the day after Christmas. There were more than a dozen emails about Spring Rush. Part of me wanted to just pledge UDP and be done with it, but my curiously told me this would be my best chance to get some direct information on some of the other frats and frat rats. Finally there was one from Günter, asking that we have a one on one face to face talk before our next ‘dinner’ at their apartment. I thought we had all that worked out, in sort of a ‘sexual point shaving scheme’ but maybe not. I needed to have the same talk with Ralph, too, and ask him if Big Liz and Marilyn had heard Suzanne’ s offer, and how they responded.
Having sorted out my inbox, I then did my business networking duty and chatted up everyone in first class, including a nice looking blonde singer in her late forties that I did not recognize with an unusual sort of British or something accent who lived in London and was pouting about having to travel commercial and not being able to get a direct flight to Vegas, where apparently she had booked a series of concerts at a hotel over the holidays. She had not performed in some time, and was a little nervous about the new show. The older couple on the other side of the aircraft recognized her and made a big fuss about her and asked for her autograph, which seemed to cheer her up, and I even took the man’s smart phone to take picture of them with the singer. I gave her one of my cards, and she gave me one of hers. I ate the pretty nice first class lunch, topped off with two warm chocolate chip cookies, and then slept the rest of the way.
My dad picked me up in his airport car, with Eldee in the back, and by the time I got my bag it was 2:00 PM local, it having been very early in the morning here when I left London. Eldee gave one quick look for Nora, or Lara, and then curled up silently in the back seat. My dad commented very positively on my grade report. Mom and grandma got big hugs, and served up a fantastic assortment of their special Christmas tamales and pinto beans, and some amazing divinity fudge, which totally satisfied my sugar cravings. I went to bed early Texas time, but well after midnight London time, planning a long run in the morning.
I did 15 miles around the perimeter of our little ‘stock tank’, feeling great and getting a major runner’s high. I made a note to myself to run more often, even if Suzanne wasn’t around. We went to an open house at Alley’s house, and one at one of mom’s friend’s house in University Park, and then back home for Christmas Eve. My older sister and her husband arrived and announced she was pregnant, setting my mom off in a frenzy of grandmotherly thinking. Christmas morning gift giving was kind anti-climactic at least until the very end. I got several more shirts and a Nordie’s gift certificate with the suggestion to use it to buy more clothes. How practical. About the time we finished up, the doorbell rang. It was Bigun, with Alley, and a huge smile on his face. I looked around and noticed my father with the same conspiratorial grin, as he reached in his pocket and tossed me something. Before I could catch it, he said, “I almost forget: there is one last present for you.”
It was a black plastic triangle looking thing with some red and blue buttons on it, and a key ring on one end. Before I could figure it out, Bigun said “You’ll have to go outside to see it, Robbie!”
It was a car: a relatively small white two door coupe that I did not recognized, and I didn’t see any name or model chrome tags or anything on it. In fact, there wasn’t much chrome at all except near the headlights and taillights. I must have looked surprised, because everyone laughed.
Bigun Jackson began to describe it. “This car began life as a Chrysler Crossfire SRT6, which was one of several used but very hot cars purchased used by a Maverick’s rookie three seasons ago. He wanted to star in his own episode of “Pimp My Ride” but he never managed to finish the work on any of the cars. He also never finished many of his shots, as NBA defenses seemed to confound him, and soon he was out of the league. After a couple of years of legal wrangling, the bank he was sorely indebted too had hired Alley’s dad as a receiver and special master to dispose of all the guy’s possessions. This car was literally in pieces, and no one even made an offer on it, so your dad got it cheap, and we have been working on it since you left for school, finally getting it finished last week.”
He walked around the car like an announcer in a commercial. “This car was collaboration between Chrysler and Mercedes after their short lived merger, and not very many of them were made. Some people call it a ‘middle class Mercedes’ or a ‘stealth AMG’ just like some people say ‘Kompressor’ means ‘I couldn’t afford a real Mercedes’ but in reality it has a very high horsepower to weight ratio and is a great performer.”
The commercial continued. “It started life as a convertible, so we stiffened the frame and the side rails with an added roll bar and made the convertible top electrically retractable, plus added a custom removable hardtop. Alley hooked me up with your buddy Oiler in Austin to help. That guy is almost as good with suspension tuning, engine tuning, EFI, and electronics as I am with machining, welding, and body work. Between the two of us, we are pretty fucking awesome gear heads!” He looked sheepishly at my Mom. “Sorry Mrs. R. I get carried away.”
She looked only slightly reproachful. “Your enthusiasm is understandable, Michael, just try upgrading your vocabulary as well as you have the car.”
“Yes, Ma’am. So this sucker is now an SRT 400/400, meaning it can put out 400 horsepower and 400 foot pounds of torque, and the electronically controlled five speed tranny is upgraded too. It has better ABS braking performance than the factory ever imagined, and Oiler retuned the suspension for the new engine output and the new wheels and tires: 18 inchers in the front and 19 inches in the rear. All of the electronics have triple shielding, almost completely EMP resistant, with a fiber optic onboard network and a complete anti-hacking software suite, so nobody else can try to control it or wreck it remotely. It has multiply redundant Linux onboard computers and a better and smarter alarm and comm system than anything on the market. I think Oiler should license the design to one of the big alarm companies.”
He opened the driver’s side door. “We replaced the old seats with some super supportive Recaro’s, recovered in dark brown leather, and got rid of the infinitely bad OEM stereo and navigation systems and upgraded to a top of the line Garmin/Kenwood setup with some massive power amps. I did custom speaker and subwoofer enclosures all over the car, including tweeters firing off the windshield and back window, plus a Heads-Up Display on that comes up on the windshield so you don’t have to look down while driving. There are multiple flush-mounted laser and radar detectors that drive the HUD, in addition to built in proximity, sound, and infrared alarm sensors and long range Wi-fi repeaters and a 360 degree Blue Tooth to link to your smart phone and remote stereo control. The windows are all electro-chromic, so they can be electrically tuned to different degrees of shading from complete transparency to being totally opaque or anything in between. There is even enough PV in the roofline to keep the battery fully charged and the alarm system working even if it has to be parked at the airport for a while. Because it will spend a lot of time in the Texas sun, it is painted a very reflective pearl white that is the coolest possible paint for hot weather. The variable speed air conditioner has also been upgraded along with the engine. “
He did his own imitation of Vanna White, running his fingers along the car’s sides as he talked. “We de-badged it completely, smoothing off all insignia including even the very desirable SRT6 emblem, and adding thermoplastic protective strips all around. Bubba can open his pickup doors against it all night and it won’t even show, but the video of it will be time stamped and recorded on the hard disk and backed up to the cloud. The low information car person will think this is just a plain old Chrysler Crossfire, if they even recognize that, but the cognoscenti will realize that this as a one of a kind tour de force. How’s that for some new vocabulary words, Mrs. R?”
“Not bad, Michael. Did you find them via a daily perusal of the OED as I suggested?”
“No ma’am, Car and Driver. At any rate, this is a super high performance car that just looks like a plain Jane, and only a true car guy will recognize and appreciate what it really is.”
I was barely taking all this in: the main thing was that it was a car and it was now mine. A well used un-air-conditioned VW bug with holes in the floor would have been a Godsend from my point of view! This thing is amazing. I spent most of my waking time until my flight back to London either running long enough distances to get a high, driving that car all over the northern half of Texas, or dreaming about Suzanne, Lara, Nora, and Elizabeth. I even took a test drive to Waxahachie near Jay’s place so I could scout the route, and drove the Jacksboro highway even though I didn’t buy any booze. My only worry was where to park it if I took it back to Austin. We placed second in our class in the car show in Fort Worth, with Bigun saying the damn judges were too stupid to realize how cool this damn thing was.
The day after New Year’s, I ended up on the same afternoon flight direct from DFW to LHR, on what looked like the same American 747-400. Since we were all arriving at different times of the morning, we all met a conference room at the Admiral’s club. When everyone had been collected, Barry Fermy went over our new itinerary and goals for each stop. The Tel Aviv stop had been eliminated, obviating the need for the Canadian passport, and freeing up a couple of days for the visit to the yacht. Was there some other reason for getting that passport? Also Morocco and Jordan were off the list, too. The State Department was now warning us away from Sana’a due to ‘the high security threat level to U.S. citizens in Yemen due to terrorist activities and civil unrest’, but we were still going there. What fun.
We then rode as a group in a big van to an airport called Biggin Hill, a converted RAF base that now served mostly private jets. We had a whirlwind tour of the Middle East planned, beginning with Saudi Arabia, with the next to last stop being in Yemen and the final stop in Dubai. Nobody mentioned how we got back from Dubai, and I had no response yet from Nora about when she would be back in Britain. We went through a very cursory customs inspection and then walked to a very fancy looking twin engine private jet with swept wings, tall winglets, and a very high tail that had “G650″ painted on it. The rest of the paint scheme was just a good as anything I saw at the car show in Fort Worth. The wind was cold and blustery from the north northeast.
There were two pilots in uniform and a guy in khaki slacks and a blazer standing outside the air stair. One pilot was about 55 years old and I presumed he was the senior captain, one about 40 who I presumed was the co-pilot, and the young guy turned out the be our ‘cabin concierge’, who stowed our stuff while the co-pilot did a final walk around inspection and the captain disappeared into the cockpit. We walked into an interior that was almost all leather and very nicely done, with group seating for four around a table toward the rear on one side, two rows of three seats facing the center, and four more seats two and two around two small tables. There was a galley in the front and a head in the rear. It looked like it was optimized for working in groups en route. Barry and Ben sat across from each other in one of the two seat pairs, presumably to work on our presentations, and the Tier Group CEO and three of his people setup at the four place table. I took one of the six middle facing seats and got out my laptop, Ben Wahni and Senex Pedo took seats across from me.
In very short order everything was buttoned up and we were rolling out onto the runway. I soon saw an “03″ painted on the pavement flash by as we turned upwind, and then we took off like a rocket, traveling along the runway heading for just a minute, then made a more than 90 degree steeply banked right turn and continued to climb much more rapidly than I was expecting. Water went by underneath us, then more land which I presumed was France or Belgium, and soon we began to level off.
Our concierge began offering drinks and snacks, and I snagged a Power Bar and Perrier water. He then went back and did something at the rear of the plane. A map came up on the video screen at the front of the cabin, along with a legend along the bottom with the Wi-Fi logon information. Cool. I logged on and checked my inbox, and began to feel like a real jet set exec. Only for a moment, though.
The senior captain came through to greet everyone and schmooze. He was for the most part a very professional looking fellow with a crisp uniform and a close cropped haircut with the proper amount of grey at the temples. But he also had maroon colored leather boots, a maroon leather belt, and a big Twelfth Man silver and gold belt buckle, and a oversize Texas A&M class ring.
I couldn’t resist a jab. “Twelfth man, huh? You must be a big Seattle Seahawks fan!” Of course I knew he was an Aggie, and that they had used the term since 1920′s, but they didn’t get around to trade marking it until the 1990′s and had been in some lawsuits with the Seahawks about it. I didn’t remember how they turned out.
He made a face. “You must be the tea sip kid from TU!” Aggies, that is alumni of Texas Agricultural and Mechanical University, often insisted on misidentifying Enormous State University as ‘TU’ for ‘Texas University” and somehow this amuses them no end. They also called our graduates ‘tea sippers’, an obscure reference to the ‘Hook’em Horns’ hand gesture and some people’s habit of raising their little fingers when finishing a cup of tea: another simple pleasure for them. He stuck out his hand “Zick Haggerty, class of ’79!” That’s another Aggie quirk; they always tell you what class they graduated in right off the bat. My dad told me that was because so few of them actually graduate that the ones that did were inordinately proud of it, and so they always sounded excited about it. I shook his hand.
“Welcome aboard, kid. Hope you like takeoffs and landings, because we are making lots of them on this little jaunt.”
Barry Fermy came over and filled me in on Zick, who he had flown with many times before. Zick was an Air Force ROTC cadet at A&M, then flew big military transports all over the world for a while, then put in twenty years with an airline, and then began flying Gulfstream’s for FracJets, the fractional ownership jet pool used by people all over the world. He was the right choice for this trip because he was familiar with all the airports, had flown some of the people we would be meeting to their home airports, and even had significant experience flying in and out of not so safe situations. Zick regaled us with a few stories of celebs he had piloted for, without mentioning any names, from wildly popular rock stars where they had a problem with groupies tried to sneak onto the plane, to some ‘populist’ politicians who were afraid someone would see them jetting off from a city with major hunger and poverty problems to a $10K per day resort every weekend.
Zick went back forward and I polished off my inbox. More Spring Rush invitations, that I could not confirm attendance to because I did not know exactly when we would get back, plus I would be delaying my return to Texas a few days to try to be sure to see Nora Upman before I went back. Our first stop was Saudi Arabia, then Bahrain, and it really was not very different than the trip up to Watford and out to the North Sea: lots of construction sites and presentations in conference rooms. There were some differences: less tweed and more headdresses, more air conditioning and less deodorant, less shaving and more mustaches. England was colder with less sand and more trees, and the food was very different, but other than that it all sort of blended together.
I expected more of the same heat, palm trees and sand in Yemen, which I had no prior knowledge of, with perhaps a greater chance of being shot at. It was nothing like that. My first clue was watching the video display as Zick announced we were beginning our descent. I looked at the altimeter display and figured we had a long way to go to get to sea level, where I presumed the airport would be located. Then I looked out the window and saw mountains like Phoenix, Arizona and was shocked to see that when we touched down the altimeter display still said over 2 km, a higher elevation than Denver. The outside temperature was 7° C in the mid-morning, and I realized my expectations had been all wrong. This place was a lot closer to Afghanistan than it was to Saudi Arabia. There were lots of old and elaborate five or six story buildings that looked nothing like Phoenix: some of them looked like nothing I had ever seen before.
There was a big construction project going on at the airport, and several wicked looking military fighter planes parked on the tarmac (Zick Haggerty later told me they seldom actually flew), along with lots of what looked to me like the mobile surface to air missile launchers I had seen depicted in some of the air combat videogames that I used to play in high school. We went to a conference room at the airport with a bunch of mustachioed and mysterious looking fellows in the audience, and the guys from Tier Group pitched their bid on a gigantic underground mining project that would play out over a 7 year period. The CEO told me he didn’t think it was really for mining, but he wasn’t sure that they wanted to say what it was yet. Alexis Quandry’s face turned grey: at best it was a very high risk and high return project, with a hellish set of numbers for him to crunch and make a recommendation on. If it wasn’t for mining, and we didn’t know what it was really for, we couldn’t evaluate the risk, and couldn’t ensure it. Two of the projects we had bid on in Saudi and one in Bahrain were for munitions factories to provide local jobs and bring in export cash.
Once the meeting was over Zick rushed us back to the airport for the planned early departure, and he climbed out of Yemen much faster even than from Biggin Hill, with some unusual 270° banked turns thrown in. “Just a precaution” he said. Next stop: Dubai.
I had seen the pictures of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, along with an article that said it was supposed to do for Dubai what the Empire State building did for New York: cement its image as a world financial center. The article also detailed all the wealth that was already in the country, and all the people they hoped to attract to move there. I hadn’t heard the follow up story on how the plan was going, but the building was certainly spectacular. I knew that it housed lots of residences, some corporate headquarters, and a high end hotel, and that our presentation was to be given there. We saw the huge island developments that had been created out in the bay, and landed amid hundreds of other corporate jets. Two white Mercedes stretch limos picked up our group and took us toward the building, an unmistakable landmark among lots of other tall buildings, and we saw dozens of cruise ships out in the harbor. We took a huge and very fast elevator up to the Armani hotel: everyone there did seem to be wearing nice suits.
The plan, I now learned, was for us to crash tonight and then get an early start in the morning, splitting into two parties – one to take a tour of the proposed construction sites and the other, including me, to board the yacht for two day cruise to nowhere. Barry modified that to include a quick dinner in one of the hotel restaurants right now so that everyone could touch base and coordinate what needed to be done tomorrow. I quickly learned that I was starving, and that there was a lot of data to be gathered at the construction site, but all I had to do was ‘bond’ with the big shots on the yacht. The restaurant’s food was good, and plentiful, and the room was very nice. I enjoyed it for about ten minutes before I fell asleep. Zick and his crew had simply refueled and went right back to Biggin Hill to pick up Peggy, Elizabeth, and the two fashion models and bring them back, a ten thousand kilometer round trip, but Zick was in fine spirits: “Thanks for hours, Baby!”
The wakeup call came early. Alexis Quandry and I were the only ones on the ‘big shot’ mission, everyone else went to the construction site. One of the hotel vans took us to the marina, and I realized that all those ‘cruise ships’ were actually yachts. We pulled up in front of one that was at least as long as a football gridiron and several stories high. There was a full size swimming pool and a huge hot tub sunk into the next to the top deck, and the obligatory helipad and speedboat launch area. It was so opulent it was almost cartoonish.
One of the white stretch limos returned one carrying Alexis’ two fashion models, and Elizabeth and Peggy. Zick Haggerty stepped out of the front passenger seat, gave me a wave and a ‘horns down’ sign and the kind of shit eating grin that only an Aggie can really manage, made a couple of other unrecognizable but vaguely obscene hand signals, and got back in the limo. I wonder what that flight had been like. The two models were one blond and one redhead, both tall, skinny, but with big breasts: drop dead gorgeous, and dressed to the nines. Elizabeth and Peggy were more casually dressed, and had dramatically contrasting bodies. Peggy was big, tall, curvy and spectacular; Elizabeth appeared average in almost every way, except that she moved with an arresting grace, and what went on between her ears was anything but average. I was becoming more and more curious about what might go on between her legs.
A guy who looked like one of those Norwegian cruise ship captains from the movies greeted us and welcomed us aboard, and gave us a brief tour, the primary purpose being to familiarize us with the lifeboats and evacuation drill. There were 10 guest suites on the second deck along with the pool and spa, 2 owner VIP suites on the third deck, and a bridge, communications shack, and some ‘other functions’ on the top deck, along with the helipad. On the first deck was an entertaining area complete with bandstand and dance floor, bar, a media room, galley, office, storage compartments and the captain’s quarters. Below decks were crew quarters, the engine room, mechanical room, fuel tanks, stabilizer rigging, and everything else. The captain was actually from Finland, and spent 25 years in the navy there before taking this gig.
He hurried us all into our suites, which all had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a dressing room, and a living room area, and a covered deck facing the water. We were soon underway. The captain had explained we would cruise to a private area where other craft would stay away, so we could be out on the deck and still be confident of our privacy. Peggy popped a Suzie spike as soon as he said it. Med came on deck and suggested that we get settled in our cabins and then come up to the second deck about 10:30 AM to join everyone for brunch and sunbathing, and Peggy began sending Suzie again.
There was considerable tension between Peggy and Elizabeth. As Elizabeth dutifully unpacked and stowed everything Peggy second guessed her and nagged and complained about everything she did. They had been staying in the lady and hand servant roles all the way from London for appearances with the models, and Peggy had been lording it over her incessantly. The kind of flashing eyes, gritted teeth and excited voices they were both displaying might have been very attractive if they were for another reason. When everything was put away, the process of choosing their clothing began which seemed kind of weird since they knew they would end up sunbathing naked just a few minutes after they arrived on deck. Elizabeth had actually done some planning and devised a set of guidelines for how the two girls should act toward each other on deck and what would portray the most powerful messages to the ‘good old boys’ who were watching them, and what they might infer that our that behavior was behind closed doors. Apparently what kind of bathing suit you removed and how was a factor, and there were all sorts of messages in who disrobed first and who put suntan lotion on whom. I was happy with one of the simple terrycloth robes from the hook on the back of the door of the suit, but Peggy donned an elaborately sewn cover up that was color coordinated with her bathing suit, which had been architected to highlight her amazing breasts and buttocks. It certainly did the job.
When we emerged out on deck into a mild sea breeze, mild temperatures and full sun, it was obvious that someone else had been doing a little planning and staging too. All of the other ‘players’ and their mistresses were already out on deck, arranged in such a way that there was only one place left for us to go: right in the middle of everything and up on a little elevated portion of the deck that made us easily visible to all. Elizabeth boldly led the way, motioning for me to take the middle of the three reclining deck chairs, and Peggy to take the one closest and most visible to Adnan and his two bathing beauties. Elizabeth put down a big beach bag looking thing that had suntan lotion, water bottles, towels, a makeup kit, and who knows what else inside, and stood up, boldly facing Adnan and his party. She then very matter-of-factly took off her robe and folded it, stunning me as I realized she was completely naked underneath it. She actually stretched her shoulders a bit and got up on her tiptoes for a moment in a brazen display, shaking her hair as if savoring the wind and sun on her body, smiling at Adnan all the while.
She reached up with both hands to braid her hair, throwing her shoulders back and her breasts forward and out and then they moved hypnotically as she knotted and tied the braid. Although she had appeared to have a merely average body when it was covered with her normally nondescript clothing, it was now glaringly apparent that her body was anything but average. I took it all in, one crazy impression at a time, unable to breathe. First, she was at least as muscular as Suzanne, and perhaps even better proportioned, if that was possible. Suzanne was a tri-athlete: all strength and endurance and determination wrapped in that strangely dark yet somehow light and delicate olive tinted skin. Elizabeth was Taekwondo: all balance, symmetry, and proportion and precise motion wrapped in the finest light parchment. Her supple breathing motions changed the sun’s highlights on her skin magically, and her tan was jarring: better than the incredible water skiing Candy, better than any I had ever seen. Just looking at it brought that magic teenage boy memory linked smell of hot cocoa buttered teenage girl to my nose, and a desperate rush of blood elsewhere. The skin of her breasts and pubic area was bright pink contrasting against the shade of very light pecan praline everywhere else, and the magical, perfect brown of her pubic hair. Her nipples were spectacular. I realized she must be incredibly excited, but even if she had not been, her nipples were big and long bullets almost the exact same color of her tan, shining against that pink and previously protected skin and I wanted them, desperately.
Her calmness and cool demeanor somehow made her that much hotter to look at. I realized I had to breathe soon or I would pass out. Elizabeth bent over, reaching into the bag for something, and I realized that her ass was just as wonderful as her nipples, the tan lines highlighting its shape perfectly. She had retrieved a bottle of suntan lotion from the bag, and she calmly twisted off the cap and began to apply it to herself, concentrating on those perfect pink areas first, never taking her gaze from Adnan’s. It was like one of those female masturbation videos that my roommate Kevin was so fond of watching on the internet, but this was live and only three feet away complete with smell and with a woman so real and vibrant that she literally took my breath away. When she put another dollop of lotion on her hands, and began to apply it to her thighs, three things happened. I finally took a ragged breath, Peggy did to, and then a very loud and clear Suzie signal popped up from Peggy. She was rabidly exited, but it had her same crystal clear tone. Perhaps it was not attraction to Elizabeth, but excitement because she was putting herself in Elizabeth’s place, imagining what it would be like to have every eye on the deck laser focused on her own thighs?
Elizabeth calmly put the lotion back in her bag, turned to Peggy and me, and said clearly “May I make you two plates from the brunch buffet?”
Peggy didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, thank you dear. After you put lotion on both of us, you may make up a little plate for yourself if you wish.” One of the models groaned at the slight, and so did I.
Elizabeth paid it no mind. She walked, an amazing ensemble of supple and perfect muscles in smooth and hypnotic motion emphasized even more by the fact that she was still wearing her high heels, over to the little buffet line set up under the overhang and made up a brunch plate for me, perfectly chosen with eggs, toast, melon and a Danish pastry, and walked it back over to me, leaning so far over to serve it that I felt I could almost take her nipples in my mouth. She walked back and made one for Peggy, and then took it over to her, giving the onlookers another amazing show as she dipped to serve it. Then I heard a wave of male desire signals, and two female signals from the two fashion models, signaling frantic Suzie desire for Elizabeth, but nothing emanated from the other mistresses.
Peggy handed her plate back haughtily. “A few more strawberries, dear.” Another groan, then another wonderful electric Elizabeth walking show as she sashayed over to the buffet line and back.
Elizabeth then beckoned me to stand and take off my robe, which I did as if hypnotized. She bent over again and got the lotion, and then put it all over me, in the most sensual and wonderful way I could imagine. She pushed me gently and I sat back down, on a wonderful cloud of pheromones.
Then a surprising Suzie signal emerged from her: funky and warbled and at the same time clear and clean, multiple notes like a symphony with every instrument singing out. She stood next to Peggy, and Peggy stood up slowly from her chair. Elizabeth took off Peggy’s robe and folded it, and the audience got a load of the amazing green and blue cantilevered breast display system with accessory bathing suit for the first time. Elizabeth kneeled submissively and began applying lotion to Peggy’s ankles, working her way up, covering every inch that was not shielded by the suit.
Peggy, holding the gaze of the nearest set of onlookers, slowly slipped off her top. Elizabeth put some lotion on her hands, and some on mine, and I applied it to one spectacular breast while she did the other. I saw several men involuntarily move their fingers, mimicking our motions. Then Peggy took off the bottom of her suit. I did one leg and butt while Elizabeth did the other. No one else moved. Then Peggy bent over, displaying her incredible backside for everyone, calmly adjusting the angle of the back of the chair to one side of me, and then sitting in it, spreading her legs slightly, putting her hands behind her head primly and leaning back, the very picture of lust and beauty, perfectly combined. Elizabeth calmly stood and went back to the buffet, made up a little plate, and sat back down on her chair on the other side of me, and began munching some carrots, her oiled nipples glistening in the sun. This yachting thing could catch on.
When we all three had finished our plates, Elizabeth rose again and cleared them, almost primly. She walked back to Peggy, took out the lotion, and said “let’s double check things, I don’t want you to get burned!” and proceeded to apply more lotion to Peggy’s nipples in a very tender and attentive way. Both girls sent generic, very excited Suzie, then both put on their sunglasses, leaned back, and relaxed completely. If this was their plan to get our audience excited, it had sure worked!
Conversations began to return to normal around us. Alexis Quandry motioned me over, and when I could walk, I went over and met his two girlfriends, and then he came over and I introduced him to Peggy and Elizabeth. It began to look like the cultural norm here was for men in bathing suits to walk around and ogle the naked women who stayed put on the deck chairs. I walked around and met all the women. After all, who am I to ignore important cultural norms and customs? And every mannerly gentleman dutifully came by to be introduced to Peggy and Elizabeth. I did notice again that none of the mistresses sent any Suzie at all, just my two girls and Alexis’s two models. Were the others that cold and professional?
Elizabeth seemed to be turning her head and adjusting her sunglasses a lot. Peggy was just lying there sending hot Suzie. They put their heads together and spoke for a few seconds, and then Peggy looked up and crooked a finger for me to come over to them. When I arrived, she said “We need to talk.” Uh oh! Now we all three had our heads together.
Elizabeth spoke. “We need to talk and this windy and exposed open air deck is the place we are least likely to be overheard or recorded. First the good news: our intelligence gathering has gone well. I have already gleaned more information than expected: observing many things of value, and I have overheard even more. So our little effort here has been a success already. I have also overheard several conversations about Robbie and the two of us, and the general consensus being ‘if he is doing those two, then he is our kind of guy’. But now the bad news: our suite is full of cameras and microphones, and they may be watching and listening to everything that we do there. So we have a decision to make. We can just quit where we stand now. I have already gathered some very valuable intelligence.”
Peggy whispered. “Does that help Abelard get more business?”
“Probably not, nor does it do Robbie’s insurance buddies any good, either.”
Peggy sent a massive burst of Suzie, as did Elizabeth. Peggy said “What should we do now?”
I knew it was up to me to step up to the plate for God and country. “Both of you go back to our suite. Peggy, show Elizabeth how to put her hair up in two pigtails the way I like it, then both of you kneel naked at the foot of the big bed. I will be there in a few minutes. From now on you will both do exactly what I say, without question or hesitation. Do you understand me?” Peggy had that wonderful look she got when I tied her across the Thunder chair, and Elizabeth’s eyes were dancing like I had never seen them before. A tight smiled crossed her lips as they rose and went back to our suite.
I put my robe on and walked over to Adnan, thanked him for this wonderful morning and afternoon hospitability, and told him we were going to rest in our suite for a while before dinner. He smiled graciously and bid me adieu, and then waved to Med. I headed down to our suite. I suppose I had my work cut out for me. When I got to there, both girls were on their knees at the foot of the bed, holding hands.
Suzanne had been building up to her session with Professor Haubenfelter for some time. Her success with the judge had been heartening, but F.I. was another matter entirely. He had a housekeeper that had to be scheduled around, so they had planned this session for her day off. Suzanne had required the professor to order several things from some very specialized catalogs, so that he would have them available at his apartment for her use when she arrived. It also allowed some time for the impact of the things he had ordered and how they might be used to percolate through his brain and heighten his expectations. She had to give him some credit for courage, in that he didn’t run for the hills when he saw the list of implements she had demanded. Robbie would have.
She had done a lot of planning, both for sexual tension purposes and for ways to open the professor’s eyes to the scientific errors he had made. This session would require a very different wardrobe than what she had used for Cindy and for the Judge, and as much as she liked the diaphanous body suit, she would have to save that for Lara, and maybe Nora, and perhaps even Robbie, if she felt like it. She found a perfect mask online that would hide her identity completely, plus give her a few nice memories, and a leather and Velcro suit that allowed her to strip very selectively to motivate the professor to reach the right stages in his planned progression, and a couple of accessory strap-ons and hand helds that could have only one possible purpose. She also had specified some very sturdy and extreme metal restraints, which would not only render the professor totally helpless, but place him in the ideal position required for his humiliation and hopefully ultimate rehabilitation. Viewing the complete list she had given him to order, there was no way he could fail to deduce what was in store for him, yet he had explicitly confirmed to her that he had ordered everything on the list and that it was ready and waiting for her to arrive.
She made the same initial arrangements as she had with the Judge, except she made no attempt to blindfold the professor. In fact, his visual senses would be a major pathway to allow him to reach some much altered states. She entered his apartment to find him naked and initially restrained as ordered. She was fully covered up, yet posed a striking figure in the tall black leather boots, black leather skin tight body suit, and electric blue leather hood, with her hair up in a big single ponytail, fingering a big black Cat o’ nine tails. Although he must have anticipated such an entrance, the professor was clearly taken aback, making a noisy intake of breath, then emitting a low groan, and suddenly displaying an erection.
Her first impression was that he was in much better physical condition than she would have expected, the second was how pale and blond he was, and the third was how small his cock was, despite it being so obviously erect. She had always heard that the vast majority of cocks varied in length somewhere between 4 and 6 inches when erect, and that in terms of the mechanical aspects of intercourse were concerned, they could all satisfy a woman pretty well. Robbie seemed to be within that range, although she thought his was thicker than average, and he could certainly satisfy her like she never dreamed possible, damn him. The professor was certainly on the short side of the bell curve, and thick was not the word that occurred to her.
She personally was fascinated with the visual aspect of much larger than average cocks, having never experienced one, and was convinced that she would be greatly stimulated by such a sight at very close range, and mechanically quite stimulated too. She realized that Robbie was made very uncomfortable when she mentioned such a thing, even though her thinking was strictly for novelty value, not a method for choosing a long term or even short term partner: it was more of a one or two times for a thrill kind of thing. Her cheeks still burned with heat when she recalled the memory of watching that giant cock attached to Robbie’s friend Ralph, wrapped in two layers of condoms, poised to penetrate Millie in Lara’s apartment. She found Ralph’s personality very trying, and would never even want to have dinner with him, much less a relationship, and Millie had said afterwards that it was bigger, but not better. Marilyn had also told her that despite his massive size, he needed a lot of feedback and encouragement to be able to satisfy her, although Big Liz had been overjoyed with him from the start. Suzanne realized she just wanted to try Ralph once, and even if it proved incredibly satisfying, she would probably never want to have him again, although she might still be tempted look for a nicer guy who also had a big dick, as statistically unlikely as that was. She found herself very curious about Günter, who seemed like a much nicer guy, and whom Strelsa had described as ‘very large down there’ and whom she might have a chance to see and experience in the near future.
She forced herself to turn her attention back to the Professor. She walked around, giving him a chance to see her strut, and then popped him hard on the buttocks. “You are only allowed to say certain things to me. You may say ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No Mistress’, or in response to a direct question you may supply a brief answer, followed by ‘Mistress’. Any other response will be severely punished. You will answer me immediately and with no hesitation, instantly saying the first thing that comes into your mind. Lies or misrepresentation will be punished, truth will be rewarded. Do you understand?”
“How old are you?”
“Forty seven years old, Mistress!”
“How old where you when you got your PhD?”
How old were you when you got tenure?”
“How long is your cock when erect?”
“15 centimeters, Mistress.”
She gave him 15 lashes, and then waited.
“12 centimeters, Mistress.”
She gave him 24 lashes, and waited.
He sobbed. “10 centimeters, Mistress!”
“Very good! She took off her black leggings, revealing her amazing thighs to him. He gasped.
“What would you call the work that you became famous for? Your ‘signature economic theory’ as they call it?”
“Someone has been doing their homework on me, I see!”
Fifty lashes later, she continued, matter-of-factly: “That was an unauthorized verbal response, Auguste.”
He keened and sobbed and shook in his restraints, then said “I am sorry Mistress.”
She let that go, although it was technically incorrect.
He remained silent, save for some tears, but when she raised the Cat, he quickly continued. “I called it the ‘perfect sum theory’ for the perfect grand sum of market demand in an ideal situation, Mistress.”
“The demand for basic living expenses, plus all the things the people really want and need, Mistress.”
“How do they express that?”
“At one level, by what they actually buy, Mistress.”
“So that’s a conventional market model. And at any other level?”
“That requires interpretation and inference by enlightened central economists, Mistress.”
“Such as yourself?”
He smiled. “Yes Mistress.”
“What other economists are qualified to make these interpretations?”
“No one is really qualified except me, Mistress.”
“How convenient. How did you come up with this theory? Were you struck by a lightning bolt of inspiration in the shower, visualize two snakes chasing each other’s tails, or did an apple fall on your head?”
They were quite a picture, kneeling together, and they both smelled of cocoa butter, perfume, and a hint of perspiration. I stood in front of them, dropped off my robe and began removing my bathing suit. I lovingly touched Peggy’s face, and then held her chin in my hands and bent down to kiss her, slowly and tenderly as Elizabeth looked on. That got me rock hard, and I took Peggy’s pigtails, one in each hand, and pushed my cock into her mouth. Her Suzie bloomed as always when I did that, and perhaps even more than usual with Elizabeth watching, and perhaps many others via video. Then I pulled back a little and she leaned towards me, tonguing me sweetly and looking me right in the eyes. Elizabeth was watching intently, and licking her lips.
I pulled my cock out of Peggy’s mouth and reached down for Elizabeth’s chin, pulling her face up and kissing her the way I had desperately wanted to since I saw her flashing eyes on the airplane. Then I stood back up and offered her my cock, taking her pigtails in my hands. She riveted me with those eyes, and tongued me like I had pictured it. Just because I could, I switched back and forth, both of them tonguing me gently. Then lust took over, and I began to fuck Elizabeth’s mouth, listening carefully for her Suzie response. Peggy’s signal then flared: jealously, envy and excitement. Elizabeth’s followed: contentment, smugness, exhilaration. I realized I could do anything with these two. What did I want to do first? My own answer surprised me: above all else, I wanted to go down on Elizabeth!
But it had to be showy. I thought for a second, and then spoke: “Elizabeth, get the ties from the robes in the bathroom and bring them to me. Peggy, on the bed and on your back, and prepare to be owned!” I suddenly realized how much I liked my idea. I grabbed two big pillows and laid Peggy across them with her waist slightly elevated. We tied her arms together to the headboard, and her legs wide apart to each bedpost, and I pulled the knots tight. I knelt next to the bed and put my lips to Peggy’s right ear, directing Elizabeth to take the same position on her left.
I whispered so softly that perhaps the microphones could not hear me, but I knew Elizabeth could. “Peggy, you belong to us now. We can do anything to you, anything. And we will. Elizabeth, you will just do everything on her left that I do on her right.” Elizabeth’s eyes were now just a big as Peggy’s.
I began to gently kiss Peggy’s cheek, listening to her Suzie response. Perhaps it was the thought of her remote audience, or being helpless with Elizabeth there, or the prospect of her first girl on girl experience with no choice at all in the matter, but she was at a full rolling boil: so many different signals and overtones that even with my much more experienced and improved Suzie receiver I could not decipher them all. I kissed her lips for a moment, and then moved back and watched while Elizabeth kissed her the same way. I kissed her neck and under her chin, then watched Elizabeth do the same. Peggy’s Suzie signal continued to ramp up and howl. Peggy’s arms were up, making it difficult to kiss her shoulders, so instead I slathered a wet, licking kiss on her armpit. It sent her Suzie round the bend with even more excitement, and that was further multiplied as Elizabeth did the same on the other side.
I began to cup her breasts, running a finger around them but not touching the nipples, and Elizabeth followed. “Doesn’t she have the most amazing nipples, Elizabeth? They are like big pink strawberries and when she gets excited they get goose bumps all over them, and then you just have to kiss them, but not yet!” We both continued to tease and tantalize her, until those big strawberries looked like they were about to burst. I began to blow gently across her breasts, and Elizabeth did the same on the other side, and Peggy began to groan.
“Tongue only, Elizabeth, and don’t touch her nipples yet.” We began to circle her breasts with our tongues, studiously avoiding the nipples, but exhaling strongly on them. Peggy pushed against her restraints, trying to push her nipples up into our mouths. That was my signal to stop and move on.
I moved down to Peggy’s feet, and Elizabeth did the same on the other side. “I’m not into feet, Elizabeth, but these are very nice.” I kissed the top of those pretty feet, but soon moved on to calves and thighs, which I was definitely into. Elizabeth did the same in mirror image, until we were bumping our heads together as we kissed the inside of Peggy’s thighs, stopping just short of her pussy, which was now noticeably fragrant. “I’m going to kiss her pretty pussy until she comes, Elizabeth. You kiss her nipples, and let me know if they get hard when she comes.” Peggy groaned way down low, like I imagined a lioness might. I bent to my task as Elizabeth did to hers. Peggy’s Suzie signal was my guide, and I teased her much longer than needed to bring her off. When Peggy did come, she drew in a huge breath and then grunted hard, and I was rewarded with a gentle gush of wonderful fluid.
I moved up to above Peggy’s waist, raising myself up so that I could be sure Peggy could see my face, wet with her thick fluids. “Elizabeth. Let’s share a kiss.” She looked at me, saw my wet face glistening in the light from the lamp on the nightstand, and I saw her pulse pounding under the skin of her neck. A really unusual Suzie signal emerged from her, but an even louder one suddenly came from Peggy. Was seeing another woman kiss a man with her juices all over his face exciting the exhibitionist in her? Something sure was. Elizabeth’s eyes loomed large as she leaned in and kissed me, and she was not shy about it at all. Highly enthusiastic would be a more apt description.
“OK, Bright Eyes, it’s your turn on pussy duty, and don’t quit until you make her come at least twice!” Her jaw literally dropped and she drew a jagged breath, but then smirked, and looked Peggy in the eyes.
I had one more idea. “Peggy, you must tell Elizabeth exactly what you want. Tell her how to eat your pussy just the way you like it. I want to you hear you talk about it!”
Elizabeth moved her head down toward Peggy’s waist, eyes still glued to hers. Peggy got that smoking hot and highly superior look in her eyes, despite being restrained, and I could feel the tension grow in the room. “You may serve me now, Elizabeth! Listen carefully for your instructions.” Holy Toledo! Elizabeth moved to the foot of the bed, putting her waist on the edge and leaning forward, began to kiss the inside of Peggy’s thighs. Thus exposed and highlighted, her ass beckoned to me in the low light.
A cacophony of signals emerged from both girls, but I shut them out. I was just going to make Elizabeth’s pussy and ass my world for a while. I saw no need to tell Peggy about it. I settled in behind Elizabeth and watched her from about ten inches away. The muscles in her legs bunched and corded as she leaned in and out and left and right, kissing Peggy’s inner thighs, changing the shadows on that amazing and perfectly tanned magical ass. I finally could resist no longer, and kissed her gently and wetly on her left butt cheek. She shuddered and said in that tight British accent “Oh my God!”
Peggy laughed smugly, unaware of what I had done, then said to Elizabeth “You are welcome to it my dear, but let’s have less talk and more pussy eating.” Elizabeth’s legs tensed like she doing isometrics at the gym. Then she moved forward slightly, into Peggy, and began kissing her more fervently. At the same time, she drew her knees up and spread them a little farther apart; giving me increased access to her lovely backside. I took full advantage.
Apparently Elizabeth was going a good job on Peggy, because most of what I could hear from her were encouragements like ‘right there’, ‘yes’ and ‘don’t stop’ and Peggy’s Suzie got so loud I could not ignore it anymore. But I tried to, because I was concentrating on Elizabeth: playing my own little favorite games like ‘trace the tan line’, ‘suck on the buttock’, and ‘spread the ass cheeks and look how wonderful’. Elizabeth, for her part, shifted back and out, placing her lovely butt a little further up into the air, which I took as a very encouraging sign. I gazed upon her perfect pucker longingly, and decided to save it for last, like dessert. I zeroed in on her outer lips and found them just as tasty as they looked. She seemed to like what I was doing, but perhaps not as much as I did.
Peggy’s breath came faster and faster, and louder, and soon she said “Yes, yes!” and then shuddered, her bleating Suzie signaling a very nice orgasm. So much for Peggy remaining as my very conventional girl.
I circled Elizabeth’s inner and outer lips, increasing my force and focus with each rotation, tugging on them gently with my teeth and moving her clit by proxy. Elizabeth spoke through gritted teeth: “Oh fuck yes!”
Peggy chuckled, still unawares. “That was pretty good dear, but I think you can do better!” Elizabeth leaned forward at least four more inches and must have thrust her tongue that much further into Peggy, who said “Oh, yeah! That’s better. You may continue.”
That Elizabeth was a real trooper, and judging from her burgeoning Suzie, a very excited one. I decided I should give her my full support. I tuned her Suzie and went for broke, tongue-wise, sensing what excited her most and bringing her off rapidly to a wonderful pulsing orgasm. She shook her ass like a hip hop featured dancer, and her Suzie sang out for penetration. It was my duty. She continued her now very vigorous eating of Peggy, who continued to be blissfully aware of anything else except her pussy and Elizabeth’s face.
I was so hard it hurt, and knew I was in the stone zone, ready to keep after Elizabeth for a long time. I pushed her a little further onto the bed, and thus into Peggy, and got my knees up on the edge of the bed, and slowly entered her incredibly wet and hot little pussy. She was unbelievable. She moaned; an almost continuous sound that mimicked my slow penetrating movement into her. It was perfect. I slowly pulled back out, she pushed back for more, I obliged. We soon had the perfect rhythm established, or at least it was perfect for me. Her Suzie reached out and grabbed me and I concentrated on pleasing her. I did: I heard the most wonderful sound of my Bright Eyes coming, hard. I was a rock, she was my island, and I was devoted to my work. Soon Elizabeth came again. Happy, happy Robbie.
She was still working frantically on Peggy, who was already on her third orgasm, when inspiration struck me. I pulled out of Elizabeth with a resounding pop, and knelt again, ready to worship her ass. It was well worthy of such worship, and soon it was highly lubricated with my saliva. I put two fingers into her pussy and tuned her in again. Just as she was about to come, I stuck my tongue in her ass, triggering another beautiful orgasm. I was frantic to penetrate it: I hoped she was ready. I used my thumbs to separate her cheeks and pushed my pecker against her tight little pucker. Elizabeth whimpered, and I entered her slowly, just as her tongue brought Peggy off again. Elizabeth grunted again as I got all the way in: “Oh fuck yes!”
Peggy laughed again. “Eat all you want, you British bitch!”
Elizabeth’s ass was my world now, and I wanted to rock it. I tuned her Suzie in a phase locked loop and achieved perfect synchronization. Slow and tender was working for her, but I needed deeper and deeper. Before long, she needed deeper and deeper too. When I had reached my physical limit on deeper, I tuned in for faster and harder, and soon she needed that to. We were a perfect match, or at least it was perfect for me. Then her Suzie told me she was just about ready to come, me too, and I couldn’t think of a better time or place than now and in her perfectly tanned butt. Just as her Suzie blared, I pushed into her as deep and hard as I could, and did my best to fill her up. It was one of the most memorable orgasms I ever had, made all the better when Elizabeth said “God that was a great finish!” and looked back at me over her shoulder, grinning ear to ear. That was a picture I would never forget, and I lovingly hung it in my girlfriend hall of fame gallery.
Peggy tensely said “But you haven’t finished me off yet, bitch!” Elizabeth’s grin took on an evil aspect, and she blew me a kiss and then turned, got up, and walked to the side of the bed, even her diminutive height towering over the horizontally restrained Peggy, hands on hips. I replaced Elizabeth between Peggy’s legs, and decided to do my best to ‘finish her off’.
Then Elizabeth bent down and whispered low and hopefully unmonitored in Peggy’s ear: “Peggy, my beautiful Peggy! You have one of the most spectacular bodies I have even seen, and easily the most amazing pussy I have ever eaten, since it is the only one I have ever eaten. I wasn’t sure I would like it, but I sure did. Just as you are going to love your first taste of British Bitch pussy!”
I in turn began tasting the lovely Peggy, and her pussy was truly wet and wild. Elizabeth stepped up over Peggy’s waist, put one leg on either side of her head, then squatted down and sat on her face, placing her pussy right on Peggy’s mouth, with Elizabeth’s pretty butt toward me. Peggy struggled a bit, and then started making cooing noises. I rewarded her with some very focused Suzie directed tonguing, and looked up to see Elizabeth’s beautiful tan lines framing a triangle around her perfect ass, with only the point of Peggy’s chin showing beneath it.
Soon Elizabeth was making some cooing noises of her own. “That’s nice. Eat my pussy you big beautiful slut! A little faster please. Gentle. Oh yes right there, right there…. Ahhhh Ohhhh!”
Elizabeth giggled. “That was wonderful, Peggy. You have a gift. Aren’t you glad when you try new things and you like them? I have a little surprise for you too: another new thing to try and like.” With that, she moved up a little and switched directions, so that she was facing the foot of the bed, and then lowered herself back down on Peggy, with her very recently filled little pucker lining up perfectly with Peggy’s mouth!
I figured the more I distracted Peggy, the better things would go for Elizabeth, and I was hard as hell again, so I jumped up and entered Peggy’s pussy and tuned for maximize Suzie. Duty, you know. Since she was now facing me, when I held my neck at just the right angle, I could take one of Elizabeth’s nipples into my mouth while I fucked Peggy. Her Suzie soon told me that Peggy liked what she was getting, too, and thanks to Peggy’s tongue, Elizabeth came one more time, hissing “Eat my ass you big beautiful bitch!”
We were going to need a shower before dinner, though, and I perversely wondered what the hot water system was like on this little boat. It turned out to be quite capable, and there were six fancy gold showerheads and lots of room, so we all piled in together. With all the noise of the spraying water, Elizabeth felt it was okay to talk as long as we whispered to each other. I was happy to just shut up and wash these two beauties.
Peggy spoke first, in a low and husky whisker. “I have to say Robbie that being with you is never boring: very nasty perhaps, but sexy and never boring!”
Elizabeth snorted. “You loved every second of it, you big slut, and so did I.”
“Why, I was just selflessly trying to help Abelard and Robbie out, of course.”
I couldn’t resist. “Not to mention satisfying your wild exhibitionist urges!”
Elizabeth said “Don’t worry Peggy dear. If I had your body I would go around naked and proud all the time.”
Peggy said “Your body is spectacular Elizabeth. It’s very different from mine, but it’s smoking hot. How many people do you think were watching us?” An amazing Suzie spiked up from her purring contentment signal, her excitement already rekindled.
“Maybe nobody.” Peggy’s Suzie suddenly went flat. “I said they MAY be watching us. The cameras were there, but no way to tell if they were activated or not. We may never know for sure.”
Peggy’s face froze, and then her Suzie carrier made itself very obvious, modulated by vibrant images of the three of us, going at each other on deck on one of the chairs, while all the other guests and the crew gathered around and watched from only a few feet away.
An hour later we were all scrubbed clean and dressed nicely, and headed to the first deck entertainment area for dinner. This was an occasion for everyone, male and female, which meant it was purely social, with no business discussion. Peggy’s question, though, was answered right away: both of Adnan’s mistresses and both of Med’s had their hair up in pigtails! I suppose we knew what their plans were for after dinner entertainment, and where they got the idea. The food was wonderful, and I was ravenously hungry, from both the physical and the Suzie receiver workouts, but happy as I could be. I began plotting to get both girls in the big bed with me after supper to play with my nipples.
I was successful, very much so, and also managed to accomplish one of my other goals: coming in Elizabeth’s mouth while staring into those flashing eyes. It was even better than I had imagined, if that was even possible, and I think Peggy was thrilled by the prospect of someone in another cabin watching her tongue my balls and/or kiss Elizabeth at the same time. I certainly considered it a win-win.
The next day’s sunbathing was fun, especially when Alexis’s fashion model girlfriends asked Peggy if they could ‘borrow’ Elizabeth so she could apply their suntan lotion for them. Everyone enjoyed watching this little spectacle, especially Peggy, and Elizabeth told me later it gave her some additional observation points which proved valuable, and might allow her to recruit these two later if indicated, plus the redhead sort of turned her on. We did, however, turn down the invitation to spend the night in Alexis’s cabin for a ‘six-some’ but we did tell them we would be thinking about them. They said they would be thinking about us too.
Med and Adnan invited me to the ‘males only’ dinner that final night, which Elizabeth said was a good sign, even though she was more than a little miffed about being left out. We males talked at length about the future energy projects in the Middle East, the huge LNG gas transportation systems that were arising from the US natural gas boom, and the security threats to these systems from some of the existing energy players that did not want the added competition. I used the information from the report Brujo gave me to maximum advantage, and they seemed to think I actually knew what I was talking about. When I mentioned one company they were not familiar with, and I was able to tell them it was a newly formed subsidiary of Sapiento’s shipping line, they were obviously taken aback. As dinner wound down, Adnan gave me a wrapped gift box and said he and Med were leaving even earlier in the morning than I was, and bid me farewell. Did that mean good news or bad news for the insurance business? At that point, I did not know.
The captain docked back at the Marina during the night, and the limos were there early to take us to the airport. I had checked in with Nora via email, and she was back in London, and I was invited to dinner tonight at their home at Eaton Square. But she had to leave the very next morning on a flight to Chicago, where she would stay two nights with family friends before going on to Austin. Given that, I could actually move up my flight back to DFW. The concierge saw me searching the website, and offered to set everything up for me. That was real service. Zick Haggerty had a full planeload, with all the original party plus the four new girls on board. He did spend a lot of time in the cabin making sure the girls were all comfortable. He barely noticed anyone else, except I did occasionally catch him looking at me with disbelief. Gig ‘em, Aggie. When we landed at Biggin Hill, about ten hours of flight time later, it was only six hours later on the local clock, so it was early afternoon in London.
The concierge stopped near my seat. “I finally got you on an earlier flight, but there was something squirrely about your reservation. There should have been four or five alternative flights open to you with that ticket, but the system would only let me book one particular British Airways flight that is code shared with American. It’s the same direct route to DFW, just a little later in the day, and with a Brit crew instead of Americans. I am not sure why I could only swap your ticket for that one, but that’s what happened.” He gave me a printout with the flight data, and I thanked him for his help. Reggie was waiting to drive us, and we offered Elizabeth a ride.
“Sorry but I can’t Robbie. I have to go directly to Cheltenham for a meeting. We may never see each other again, but I certainly enjoyed the trip!” She presented her cheek for a kiss, but instead she got a big wet one on the lips. Were those tears in her eyes?
I hugged her hard and put my lips to her ear. ‘Anytime you want me, Bright Eyes, you can have me. Just crook your finger and I am yours.” I turned and walked back to the limo, where Peggy and Reggie were watching me with funny looks on their faces. When I turned to look back, I saw a black Range Rover speeding away.
We dropped Peggy at the museum, where she could just make a regularly scheduled weekly all hands meeting. I walked her in and we had a tearful goodbye, with me promising to come back when I could, and she planning a trip to Texas for a conference sometime soon. When I got back to the car, Reggie put it in gear and zoomed away toward Horse Guards.
“Reggie, I missed lunch, and I think it’s my turn to buy the Chinese food!” He insisted on leaving me in the car while he brought the food, but he did find a parking place nearby and we had quite a conversation while we both enjoyed a fantastic lunch. When he dropped me back at Horse Guards, it was almost time for tea, but in my jet lagged state I could only manage to dial in a wakeup call in time for dinner at Nora’s and fall asleep.
Elizabeth grew increasingly impatient on her very well supervised ride to Cheltenham. They called it a debriefing, but she knew it was going to be closer to a hostile interrogation. They assumed the worse: you had been turned by the opposition and were there to systematically deceive them about what happened in the field; therefore they made every attempt to confuse, stress, and fatigue you. The interrogators were graded on how well they battered you and tripped you up, not whether or not they got the truth – the people behind the glass that you never saw decided what was true, and they never informed the interrogators of those decisions. Compartmentalization, don’t you know.
She had nothing to hide, really. She would tell them everything about what she learned on the trip, except perhaps for how much she had liked the young American lad. They would value the information, and would also now feel her qualified for a honey trap assignment in future if required. She realized she needed to get that side of her ticket punched to move up the ranks. She could get in trouble for the little unauthorized operation she was planning, but if they kept her in the box too long, that plan would become moot.
When the wakeup call came, I felt a lot better, but my stomach began growling loudly in the shower. I checked my stuff and discovered a peanut butter PowerBar that I had stashed away from the plane, and ate it quickly, then brushed my teeth again. I put on my already well used but still new British outfit, and set out; Google having told me it was about a thirty minute walk to the Upman’s house. I was glad for the zip in lining in the coat, as it was very cool and damp January evening. I soon was near St. James Park, and then passed through some commercial buildings, and then entered what appeared to be another park, but was actually Nora’s neighborhood. I suddenly remembered her stripper name: Elizabeth Eaton Square. Wow.
It looked like my densely treed old Highland Park neighborhood in Dallas, but with much older houses dropped in. Better gardeners, too: the landscaping was immaculate. I found the right address under the watchful eyes of a roving security guard, and rang the bell. A butler answered. He looked much older and much less physically fit than Jeeves. “Hello, I’m Robbie Roberts.”
“You are expected. Please come in”
Nora’s father greeted me first. He looked remarkably like the president of ESU, but spoke with an entirely different accent. We sat alone in a formal parlor just to the right of the entryway, presumably so he could take my measure.
“So you met my daughter at a fresher dormitory?” he asked with a note of incredulity in his voice.
“Yes, sir. We had a similar early schedule for the fall semester, so that we saw each other at early breakfast almost every day, and after a while, we just introduced ourselves. But it turns out we have a mutual friend, who soon introduced us formally.” That sounded quite proper, I thought.
“The Pliskin girl?”
“Remarkable family, that. What are you studying?” There was that unwelcome but now familiar emphasis on the word ‘you’ again.
“Electrical Engineering is my primary major.”
“You are from Texas originally?”
“Yes, and before emigrating to America, my family was mostly from Scotland, England, and France.”
“Our family is primarily English all the way back to the dark ages, which at times I am afraid our country is rapidly reverting to.” I could think of no safe response to that, but I was saved by the belle.
“Daddy, you are not allowed to keep Robbie all to yourself any longer!” Nora appeared at the doorway to the rest of the house, an absolute vision. Her face was freshly tanned from her Christmas in sunny Bermuda, and perhaps her platinum hair was lighter and even more vibrant. Her eyes flashed intelligence and her scent reached out and grabbed me, giving me flashbacks to her standing nude in those stage lights in Dallas. I had almost forgotten how transcendentally wonderful she was. My cock had not. Then she reached out and physically grabbed me by the arm and steered me out into the hallway to present me to her mother. I made my standard disclaimer as I declined the offer of some very nice wine before dinner, and from then on it was a relatively pleasant and low pressure dinner experience, except for the dessert, which was another absolutely putrescent brandied rice pudding. I learned several things about the family and their neighbors, the two closest being that old mustachioed guy that starred in the early James Bond movies who was now a semi recluse that Mrs. Upman often took food to, and another guy that owned most of the cable TV systems out in the English countryside. Our conversation also repeatedly underscored Mr. Upman’s unhappiness with the current government, and the hope that the parliamentary processes would soon bring a new one into being.
Finally they mercifully suggested that we leave the dinner table and move to the drawing room card table to play ‘social contract bridge’ while we all talked. My grandmother had forced me to learn this game, much in the same way my father had forced me to learn to play golf: as a social tool. I was fine on the basics of the rules and playing the hands, but was not very advanced in terms of bidding. I tended to gather the basics of distribution and point count and then wing it on a hunch, rather than try to do extended statistical inference about which hand the eights and nines resided in order to make a deep finesse, which frustrated my grandmother no end. She said it was no use to make your contract if you didn’t understand precisely how you were supposed to have arrived at it. She had a plethora of rules of thumb and layered and nested exceptions to those rules, recited in no particular systematic manner, and that I had refused to memorize without some organizing principle to rely on.
It didn’t take me long to deduce that Nora and her father were ultra-competitive bridge masters who played for blood and gave no quarter, even worse than my grandmother, while Mrs. Upman, like me, just wanted to have a nice conversation, and the game was secondary at best. It was the equivalent of mixed doubles tennis, except this time I was to be the one who was going to be making all the unforced errors. With my brain thus dazed and confused during the bridge game, they began to question me. I suppose they thought that if they could not achieve ‘in vino veritas’, they could get ‘in turbatio veritas’, and perhaps they did.
I soon revealed to them my only talent, which surfaced only after a relatively late puberty, and then developed rapidly, as it had in my grandfather and father. They told me the males in their family had no such talent, but the females had the ability to suppress and in some cases modify and direct their signals. They had learned to protect the females in their line from ‘talented’ males because such matings often resulted in wild variations of talents in the subsequent generations. They related one unfortunate instance where the resulting female offspring had very wild libidos, and zero ability to suppress the resulting super strong signals. I wondered about the twins. Finally, they repeated the legend of the Druid ancestors that were thought to be the origin of the talents, and the belief that talent males were often inherently evil. It was all very civilized and upper crust, with the idea that I might someday impregnate their darling girl with monstrous children being only tangentially implied.
I wanted to get to the meat of the matter: tell your daughter that it is okay to fuck me. I thought about telling them that Nora and I could certainly practice successful birth control, but rejected that idea. I thought about telling them that since we would often be taking Suzanne to bed with us too that Nora would be more protected from evil, but decided against it.
I was running out of potential approaches when Nora took the reins: “Robbie is a nice young man with a good heart, a good mind, and a fine soul. I have ample evidence of that from many sources, including my own direct observations of him. He is already my good friend, and it will be my decision, and his, whether or not he will be my lover, or the father of my children! I am not asking for permission or even your blessing, I just wanted you to meet him for yourselves.”
After that it was mostly “tut tut” and “harrumph harrumph” and glibly pretending that there had been no real confrontation. Nora and I then sat alone in that front parlor for some time, talking and making out like teenagers, which I was but she wasn’t. It was fantastic. She had an early flight tomorrow morning for her stopover in Chicago, and I had that afternoon British Airways flight back to DFW. She advised not walking back since it was after midnight, and she called me a cab. By the time I got back to Horse Guards, my stomach was growling again, from skipping that awful dessert. I scrounged my last stashed Clif bar and ate it, then brushed my teeth, turned in a late morning wakeup call that would let me make my early afternoon flight, and was then out like a light. I had a very bad dream. Three guys were doing Suzanne at the same time, and she loved it, and Nora was watching with great interest.
The checkout process at Horse Guards was painless, especially since all the charges had been posted to Barry Fermy’s account, including the car to take me to the airport. I was please to find Reggie outside, and we got to LHR in record time. Since my seat was in ‘club world’, I sped through the priority check in lines and was among the first to board the aircraft. My seat was 14A, not as far forward and secluded as first class in the American aircraft, but it had lots of leg room and space and a nice view out the window. I settled in and went through both the High Life and SkyMall magazines before we rolled for takeoff.
By the time we reached cruising altitude I had just about resigned myself to spending the eight hour trip in lonely depression and/or slumber when a very attractive cabin attendant, not the one assigned to my area, approached me. “Mr. Roberts?” I nodded. “We are pleased to have you with us as another member of a very good long term customer family, and the captain would like to offer you a tour of the flight deck and some of the other spaces of our aircraft. Bring your carryon bag with you, as we may want to offer you another seat for the remainder of the flight. Will you follow me?”
She walked, very attractively, back toward the rear of the aircraft and up a stairway I had not noticed before, with me following close behind. We went up a level, to a space that had much less headroom, and much more Spartan wall coverings, and passed by what looked like four bunk beds like they had on the trains in the old movies, complete with curtains on them. Centered ahead of us was a very secure looking door that obviously led to the flight deck. On the opposite side of the corridor from the bunks was a similar sized area that was sealed off, behind another sturdy and secure looking door that was completely unmarked. She paused and then smiled very widely and said “I have to get back to my area. Someone will come to collect you in just a moment.” She headed back down the stairway and disappeared.
I stood in the narrow corridor, growing impatient, when the door to that mysterious unmarked area opened, and an arm and hand snaked out, making a come-hither gesture towards me and focusing a pair of very bright and sparkling eyes at me. It was Elizabeth! She grabbed me by the lapels of my coat and pulled me through the door, shutting it behind us, and delivering an electrifying kiss.
“What are you doing here, and what is this place?”
“First grab your carry on. You left it in the corridor. It would be quite a cock-up it someone was to trip over it and be hurt!”
I grabbed it and ducked back in, pressing my crotch against her butt. “Funny that you should mention ‘cock-up’!”
She smiled and shook her ass a bit. “I think it means something entirely different to you Americans, but I feel very comfortable with your interpretation.”
She stood near a little jump seat in front of some video monitors. There was one bunk, and no curtains.
“This is the air marshal’s berth. These screens are used to monitor the various spaces in the aircraft for suspicious activity.”
“Where are the air marshals and how many are there on board?”
“Usually none, one, or two. When there are two onboard, one usually is in the cabin with the passengers and one monitors things from up here. Today both are working in the cabin, so this space was available for me, and I used some connections to get myself on this trip. I hope I didn’t manage to get myself a trip to Glass House, to boot.”
I saw that there was another monitor above the main one, and it was switching around to various views inside the aircraft. There was a seat map on the bottom screen, and as the video switched, the area shown on the video was highlighted on the seat map, I watched the videos for a moment, then pointed to the screen.
“Is that guy with the crew cut and the suit and tie an air marshal?”
She giggled. “No, although in the early days it might have been that obvious. Today half of them are women, and the guys are more likely to have long hair with an earring and to wear a vintage tee shirt and ratty jeans.”
“How do they pick where to go in the aircraft?”
She pointed to the seat map, and I saw that some seat numbers were highlighted with an orange box. “Some passengers that meet certain criteria are chosen for extended observation. We have several on this flight, thus the two marshals. She pointed to a seat in the very back of the plane. “For example, this guy has a first cousin that has been a guest at Guantanamo for three years.” Wow, I thought, maybe he has met Pavel, that Russkie piece of shit.
She pointed to another highlight box. “This guy is a senior chemical engineering major at the University of Texas at Arlington. He has been spending lots of time on Jihadist websites recently, including some that provide bomb design information, and his family attends a very radical mosque in London.”
She then pointed up toward the front of the plane to another seat. “But this guy is the reason I got on this flight. He is a freshman electrical engineering major at ESU, who suddenly travels to Saudi, Bahrain, Dubai, and YEMEN, spends two days on a yacht with an arms dealer, and then flies back to the states!” I realized that it was my seat was highlighted.
All the while I had been running my hands all over her buttocks, and savoring the memories thus evoked. I knew I was an ass kind of guy, and her ass was extra special in every way.
“His roommate also spends lots of time on illicit file sharing websites, where he may just be downloading porn and pirated movies, but those sites are also havens for image files laden with steganographically encoded communications. And this freshman also stands out because he doesn’t surf porn the way his roommate and most young uni gits do, except for some surprisingly in depth research he conducted on sadomasochism early in the term.”
“That was research for an assigned class project and I got an ‘A’ on it, Bright Eyes! And, when a young fellow can get his hands on a primo ass like this (as I gave hers an extra squeeze) in the real world, porn seems to pale by comparison.” Suddenly a light bulb went on in my head. “Did you enjoy listening to my phone calls? How far back did you search?”
Her gluts stiffened for a minute, then relaxed. “I am afraid that’s classified.” The monitor made the same little noise that my laptop does when an email comes in and a little preview window flashed up for just a moment. All I caught was the subject line, which was ‘immediate action required’. This didn’t stop my hands from moving on her wonderful ass.
“You certainly seem to have a predilection for the female posterior, don’t you?”
“I certainly appreciate yours, Bright Eyes. It is well formed, well toned, well tanned, and delightfully responsive to certain stimuli!” I used my thumbs to make the motion that would open up her ass cheeks, if she didn’t have these slacks on, and she involuntarily spread her legs and moved back towards me a little. Wonderful! “For example, as I recall, if I put my tongue……”
The monitor made a loud ‘beep beep boop!’ like something was wrong, and then four new seats on the map began to blink red. Two were in the exit rows right over the wings, and the other two were seats in world club near the galley, closest to the stairs that I had used to come up to the flight deck. Another ‘beep beep boop!’ sounded and the two seats other than mine that had been highlighted in orange now turned blinking red, too!
Author’s note: As I drafted this story I realised that the character of Jacqui Thorne is in fact the same person as the unnamed mother in my Incest/Taboo story “Edward and Mrs Milf”, and that the action here takes place a short while after that of the older story. I therefore reworked the present story a little so as to make the connection more explicit. However, the two stories are otherwise independent of each other.
It is a Friday evening in summer, and a group of former classmates is in the garden of a pub in a quiet, prosperous village in the London commuter belt. Former classmates, but not by much. These young people finished school about a month ago and are in that odd summer limbo that precedes the onset of the rest of their lives, in the form of work or University (or, indeed, unemployment). One of the group, a handsome but rather diffident boy called Ben, is explaining his plans for the rest of the summer.
“So I’ve had these flyers printed, right, and what I’m going to do, I’m actually going to knock on doors and talk to people rather than just push the flyers through letterboxes, try to make some personal contact. Hopefully get a couple of jobs straight away, then a bit of word of mouth gets round. Dad’s still got all his gear and the van, said I can use it, so there’s no outlay for me. All I want to do first of all is make enough for Lucy and me’s holiday at the end of the summer, then that’ll prove to Dad that I can make a go of it longer term.”
He passes round a few of the flyers, to general approbation. “Ben Hicks. A Name You Can Trust. All Types of Gardening Work Undertaken.” they proclaim.
Tim, the banker’s son, cuts in with his overbearing drawl: “Well, Ben, mate, this is all well and good but it looks like a lot of effort to me. Can’t you get your old man to sub you and Luce for the holiday? I know that’s what I’d do …”
Lucy, Ben’s girlfriend, defends her lover like a mother tiger would its young: “Tim, could you maybe do yourself and all of us a favour by taking a day off – just a day, to start with – from being a twat, yeah?”
Lucy’s tough inner-London upbringing and Jamaican ancestry combine with a sharp intelligence and sharper tongue to give her a maverick status within the group: a speaker of truth to the middle-class, provincial complacency of her peers. She is now clearly winding up for one of her set-piece rants.
“Thing is, right, Tim, we all know your Dad’s fucking rolling in money. We know because you remind us all on a daily basis, yeah, and it’s how you end up going skiing in the Maldives or scuba diving in the Alps or whatever it is he pays for you to do whenever you get a little bit bored. Now I’m saying nothing about how your Dad makes his cash. Nothing at all. Nothing about the City and banks and stocks and hedge funds and all that dodgy shit that brought the fucking world to its knees, right? I mean, that was all your Dad’s doing, yeah? He was personally responsible for all of it, and if he wasn’t, then he wasn’t doing his job properly, cos that’s his job, right? Fucking over normal people and getting rich on it. And you know as well as I do that Ben’s Dad had a real job, right, using his hands and his skill, and the strain that put on his body means he can’t work now. And I tell you, Tim, and I’m serious now, I am so, so fucking proud of Ben for trying to make a go of this and keep his Dad’s skills alive, and do something real, like real, proper work, and then enjoy the fruits of it. Cos I’m telling you, boy, you could be in the Maldives or the Alps or on the fucking moon while Ben and me are in Spain, but every drink by the pool, every long, lazy afternoon, is gonna be a thousand times sweeter than you can imagine, cos Ben and I will have worked for it. So, Tim. Stop being a twat. You twat.”
Tim, to his credit, raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fair play, Luce, guilty as charged. Sorry, Ben, mate, no offence to you or your old man, yeah? Who wants another drink?”
Tim goes to the bar. Ben gazes adoringly at Lucy, for whom he harbours the very special devotion that a young man reserves for the girl who has recently relieved him of his virginity. He resolves to express his gratitude later that evening with some particularly attentive cunnilingus – a practice for which he has discovered a natural aptitude. For a moment he is lost in a daydream, in which he is lowering his face to the moist, musky warmth between Lucy’s slim thighs. At the sound of little Alison’s quiet, sensible voice he snaps back to the present and shifts in his seat to conceal his suddenly surging erection.
“So, Ben, where are you going to start?”
“Er, well, I thought I’d work my way down the estate, I know all the people there well so that should be a good start, then try the big houses on Corinth Drive. Big gardens and hopefully a bit of cash to spend.”
Tim has returned with the drinks. “Corinth Drive, eh? Mrs Milf’s house? Watch out, Lucy!”
Lucy again: “Jesus, Tim, are you on dickhead overtime today? I just don’t get this ‘Mrs Milf’ thing with Jacqui Thorne. Since I’ve been working in the shop I’ve chatted to her a lot – she’s a really nice, normal woman. Just cos she’s younger and prettier than most of our mums, everybody makes out she’s like this predatory cougar or something. Seriously, has anyone seen anything to suggest that she’s anything other than happily married and faithful to Lawrence?”
No answer from the group.
“See? And anyway,” with a sly grin, “Jacqui Thorne may be young and pretty but she’d have her work cut out taking my Ben from me.”
Ben smiles shyly, and shifts in his seat again.
The next day Ben embarks on his project, trying to sell his gardening services to the good people of the village. A few expressions of interest, a couple conditional on “seeing what my husband/wife thinks.” One quick and easy lawn mowing job on the estate. A start, at least. Then to Corinth Drive. Big, detached houses, set back from the road. Should be a goldmine. Number twelve. The Thornes’ place. He is oddly apprehensive. He rings the bell. Mrs Thorne answers. She looks younger than the 38 years which are generally attributed to her. She is smiling, wearing a sundress over a bikini, with outsized sunglasses pushed back onto her head. Tanned, petite, shapely, busty, really very pretty, with blue eyes, high cheekbones, and long chestnut hair tied back into a ponytail. She embarks on a typical outpouring of cheerful niceness.
“Oh hello Ben, long time! How are you these days? Are you looking for Eddie? I’m afraid he’s out for the day. Gone to the coast with Becky. I told him they’d be sitting in traffic all day, in this heat, they’d be better off in our garden, but he was determined to whisk her away. Young love, eh? I hear you and Lucy are an item? I see her quite a lot at the shop, you know. Lovely, lovely girl. So clever and funny. Brings a bit of life to this place. Lovely looking, too, you lucky boy. So, yes, I can tell Eddie you were looking for him, if you like.”
“Actually, Mrs Thorne …”
“Jacqui, please, Ben.”
“Actually, it wasn’t Eddie I was after. I was wondering if there was any gardening work you needed doing.” He offers her a flyer.
“Oh gosh, how super!” She really does say “super”. She must be the last person alive to use that word without ironic detachment. “So you’re taking over your father’s business! Oh, Ben, I think that’s wonderful!”
“Well, for the moment I’m just trying out, seeing if I can earn enough for Lucy and me to go on holiday.”
“Oh lovely! We’re just back from France, you know. Becky came with us. We had a lovely time. Where are you and Lucy going?”
“Spain, that’s the plan … so … um … Mrs … Jacqui … do you think you can … er … make use of me?”
Why on earth did he phrase it like that?
“Well, you know, Ben, I was just sunbathing out in the garden now, and I was just thinking, after we’ve been away for a couple of weeks, it does need a really good tidy up, and Lawrence is away on business again, and I’d have a go myself but I’m really a bit clueless with all of that, and, look, how about you come through, take a look at it, see if there’s anything you can do to knock it into a bit of shape, eh?”
Mrs Thorne sunbathing in her garden. During Ben’s adolescence, that had been the holy grail of the boys on the estate. Make friends with Eddie Thorne and find an excuse to go round to his place on a sunny afternoon when his Mum was sunbathing. It was well known that she sometimes went topless, or even nude – everybody knew someone who knew someone who had once seen, like, everything. Nobody could remember exactly who, though, or when. Ben walks through the spacious house, out through the French windows at the back, into the large, rather rambling garden, and looks around. Well, there’s a few hours work, he thinks. Lawn, bushes. The flower and herb bed edges need re-doing. Weed the beds themselves. That wet spell followed by the heatwave sent everything growing like crazy.
“It’s a lovely garden, all right. Tell you what, Jacqui, how about I give this a couple of hours of general clear-up, then we see how it looks and if you want anything else done, maybe another day. I can start now, if you don’t mind the disturbance.” He names a price and she agrees.
“Oh Ben, you’re an absolute darling. Thank you so much. Now, it’s ever so hot, so how about if I leave a coolbox with some bottles of water on it here on the patio, yes? So you can just help yourself. I’ll put a couple of beers in there too, as a treat.” Furtive giggle. “You don’t mind me staying out here while you work, do you? Only it seems a shame to be indoors on such a glorious afternoon.”
“Ah, no, that’s fine, very good of you, Jacqui. It might just get a bit noisy with the mower, that’s all. But if you don’t mind that … Well, right, I’ll get my gear out of the truck and bring it round, if that’s OK?”
By the time he is lugging the petrol mower round the side of the house, Jacqui Thorne has resumed what he guesses was her previous position, lying on her back on a sun lounger on the patio. The sundress has come off and she is wearing a scarlet bikini. Halter neck, with shaped cups to support her large breasts. The bikini briefs are cut low on her hips. Her skin is evenly tanned. The sunglasses are over her eyes so Ben can’t tell whether she can tell how much he is or is not looking at her. The drinks coolbox is next to her. Ben makes a very determined effort to look straight ahead and focus on his work.
As he gets going. Jacqui watches him. He is a lean, athletic boy, strong and with a certain ease and grace to his movements, all the more apparent after he has taken off his t-shirt and the sweat is shining on his tanned skin. His baggy khaki shorts sit low on his hips, showing his fine physique to great advantage.
He is trying very hard indeed not to look at her, and not to need a drink. But it’s hot work. He mows the lawn without a break, but once he cuts the mower engine and silence descends, he knows he needs some water. He turns towards the patio. Jacqui is now lying face down on the lounger. Is she asleep? As he reaches for a bottle of water, she says in a drowsy voice, “Ben, would you be a sweetheart and put some lotion on my back, please?”
“Er … um … yes, of course … I’ll just wash my hands in the kitchen if that’s OK?”
When he emerges from the kitchen she is still face down but has unfastened her bikini top so that, from the back, there is nothing covering her above the waist. It’s not like he can see anything – her breasts are resting in the cups of the bikini top which is underneath her – but still he stops for a second to catch his breath. Eddie Thorne’s mum, sunbathing topless. Face down, but topless. His younger self would have crawled over broken glass to see this, to be here. Come on, he says to himself, grow up, you’re an adult now, you’ve got a gorgeous, sexy girlfriend and it’s absolutely certain you will have sex with her before the end of the day. So, if the very pleasant, friendly Mrs Thorne asks you to rub sun lotion onto her naked back, that’s fine, you’re just lending a hand. Be adult about this, Ben.
He picks up the lotion bottle. It’s a spray one. “Where would you like it, Mrs … er … Jacqui?” Christ, how dodgy did that sound?
“Oh, if you could just spray it on me and then rub it in as much as possible, that would be lovely.” What is this, he thinks, National Innuendo Day? But, obliging lad that he is, he sprays the lotion generously onto her slim, tanned torso. There are no tan lines on her back or shoulders, so he guesses that the bikini top never stays on for very long. He starts to massage the lotion into her shoulder blades.
“Mmm, that’s lovely, Ben. You know, for such a strong boy you’ve got ever such a gentle touch.”
Lucy says this to him as well, and he is proud of it. Maybe it’s exactly because he likes working with his hands that he knows how to moderate his own strength, and to be subtle and exact as well as powerful. He likes to think so. He is being very, very careful indeed not to let his hands stray down off the upper surface of her back, anywhere near the sides of her breasts which are squashed under her.
“Ooh, could you just do a bit lower down, Ben dear? Thank you.”
He works his way down to the small of her back, towards the waistband of her bikini briefs, to the start of the swell of her neat, round buttocks. He is utterly determined, quite against the odds, not to get an erection. To distract himself, he looks up. The house is on the outside of a curve in the road, and what with that and the high fences on both sides, the patio is not visible from the neighbours’ upstairs windows. No wonder she finds it so easy to take her clothes off out here. At the back, the tall bushes do not quite block the view from the nearest house, which is a way off anyway, but he knocked on that door earlier and there is nobody in.
“Mmm, thank you my dear, that was lovely.” She is calling a halt, thank God. And he didn’t get a hard-on. Round one to Lucy.
“I’ll, er, start on those bushes now, if that’s OK.” Hurriedly, he resumes his work.
For a while he has his back to her as he deals with the thick vegetation at the far end of the garden. He turns to pick up a pair of secateurs from his toolbox and sees that Jacqui is sitting upright on the edge of the sun lounger, slowly and lovingly massaging sun lotion into her big, full, naked breasts. He can’t look. He can’t look away. He is wearing sunglasses so can probably just get away with a glance. She’s spraying the stuff onto them, lifting them in her hands, squeezing them, rubbing them. Little finishing touches to the nipples with her fingertips. Fuck. She is looking straight at him, with her boobs in her hands, and smiling sweetly. Oh dear God. He grabs the secateurs and turns to busy himself with the plants. His heart is racing. And there is no escaping the fact that there is now the beginning of an erection in his shorts.
He finishes the plants at the furthest end of the garden. Now he has to work his way back up to the house. And he is very thirsty, with the start of a headache. He really needs some water. Water which, of course, he left in the coolbox next to Jacqui’s sun lounger. Why the fuck did he not bring it with him? Deep breath, Ben. Just do your work and keep yourself hydrated. She’s just put lotion all over her tits herself, she can’t possibly ask you to do that. Get some water or you’ll make yourself ill.
He strides purposefully to the patio and heads for the coolbox. She’s lying on her back, breasts fully exposed. Was her hand at her crotch for a split second before she saw him approaching? Surely not. He stands next to her lounger to pick up the water. Should he say something? He looks down at her. She has folded her arms across her torso, so that her breasts are lifted and pushed together. Her nipples are visibly hard. He looks away hurriedly. She says, very softly, “It’s OK, Ben. Don’t worry. It’s all right to look.”
“Er … no … I mean … sorry … Mrs … Jacqui …”
Again, very softly: “I’m telling you, Ben, it’s OK if you want to look at my breasts. It’s normal, natural. I know you’ve got Lucy, and she’s a gorgeous, sexy girl. I’m not suggesting otherwise. But I know I’ve got a nice body too, and I know a young man like you can’t help but want to look at me. So, take your time, drink your water, and look at my breasts if you want to.”
It would seem rude to carry on looking away. So he doesn’t stop himself from looking down at her. She carries on talking, in any case, so he can tell himself he’s looking at her face and not at the glorious bare bosom a few inches below it. And that she is looking at his face, and not at his flat, toned stomach and the fine line of dark hair that leads from his navel down into the waistband of his shorts, where a bulge is clearly forming.
“Maybe it’s a nice contrast for you, Ben. I mean, I’ve noticed Lucy has got those lovely pert, pointy little boobs, hardly needs to wear a bra. In fact sometimes she doesn’t, I’ve noticed that too. And they’re ever so nice, but maybe it’s nice for you to see some big ones like mine, too. What do you think?” It sounds such an innocent question, as if she’s asking his opinion on a plant in the garden. Ben’s head is spinning not only from his proximity to Jacqui Thorne’s naked breasts but also from the notion that Jacqui has been checking out Lucy’s tits in the village shop. What the fuck can he say?
“Oh … er … yes … well, thank you … yes … very nice … I’d, er better do that herb bed …” He returns to his equipment, slowed slightly by the erection that he hopes to God she has not noticed.
Should he just make an excuse, pack up and go? Risk losing money, the word-of-mouth recommendations, the start of his business, his ability to keep his promises to Lucy and Dad? The holiday in Spain? She’s just bored and winding you up, he tells himself. It’s all harmless. He begins to apply himself, with great concentration, to the task of recutting the edge of the herb bed. That’s better.
Fucking hell, he’s left the water bottle up there again. How long can he carry on in this heat without a drink? A long time, actually, almost but not quite long enough to finish what he had set out to do. Until a stray blade of grass from the cuttings pile he created earlier, that he is going to put in the compost bin at the end, is picked up by the gentle summer breeze and floats into his mouth, catching at the back of his throat. He coughs and splutters violently. Resistance is useless. He has to have some water.
Oh Jesus Christ. She’s face down again now but she’s … is she? … yes she is. Naked. At some point she has removed her bikini briefs. The skin on her bottom is only very slightly paler than the rest of her, suggesting that it gets a fair bit of exposure. She is lying on her front with her legs together. Ben is very careful to walk round the side of her to remove any risk of looking at her directly from behind. He prays that she is asleep. He stoops for the water bottle.
Again the drowsy voice: “Ben, my dear, I’m sorry to be a pain, but would you be ever so kind and put a bit more lotion on me?”
His heart pounds. “Jacqui … are you sure?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind, that is. On my bottom where the bikini was, and a bit on the backs of my thighs, if that’s OK?”
Is that OK? Really, is it OK? Massaging sun lotion into Jacqui Thorne’s naked buttocks and thighs? Is that OK by you, Lucy? Of course it fucking isn’t. But there’s a limit to how much the presence in a young man’s life of a beautiful, charismatic and sexually enthusiastic girlfriend can do, to hold him back from following his deeper instincts when opportunities present themselves. And he is very very close to that limit now. He washes his hands in the kitchen again, returns to the patio. He tries to position himself so he is looking down Jacqui’s body towards her feet, not up towards the cleft between her legs. He kneels next to the lounger, sprays the lotion onto her bum cheeks and begins to rub it in. Deep breath.
Summer was hitting everyone particularly hard this year. Several times had the thermometer topped 110 which was uncharacteristically high for the particularly region. Clothing had become more and more optional all throughout the city and not always for the better. No one said anything though too busy fighting the heat themselves to worry about others. Stephanie was driving home from running her errands, just finishing her last stop at the dry cleaners. How they could handle to work in that near sweat shop was beyond her, but she was glad they were doing it and not her. She turned the corner and preceded down Brown Street, her friend Anna lived there, A beautiful Italian woman with just the most luscious breasts ever. Stephanie and her husband had taken many trips over the years with Anna and Mitch but nothing ever resulted of it. Sure there had been tons of innocent flirting and the occasional glance but it never went further than that.
Almost as an afterthought, a last minute decision she decided to pull into the driveway and pay Anna a visit, see how she was doing. With Sam on a business trip Stephanie was feeling a little lonely and felt that visiting a dear friend would help perk her up. She rang and no one came to answer the door. Someone was home as the car was in the driveway and both Anna and Mitch were notorious for not going anywhere unless they were driving. It had been a long standing joke that Mitch was known for taking the car to the end of the driveway to check the mail. She rang once more and waited a few minutes before heading into the yard hoping to see them in back having a burger or something.
The yard was large, spacious, almost secluded from the other yards with the high fence and wooded area just beyond the back part of it. Only two neighbors flanked them, one was an old lady who was a shut in, the other was never home, he had a job for the government and somehow managed to work seventy three hours a day. Mitch was in back lying down upon a lawn chair, towel over his lower half, upper half completely naked, sunbathing.
“Mitch. Is Anna home?”
Mitch looked up from his relaxing pose and noticed Stephanie standing a few feet away. She looked good as ever. He noticed her feet, only sandles, god he loved her feet and so many times had wished that Anna had feet that looked that good. But Anna had other strengths and he was more than a happy man.
“Sorry, no, she’s on a cruise with her old alma matter, Go Tri-sluts”
In college Anna had been part of Pie Pie Pie, how the school approved such a name no one knew, but just the name was enough to get so many people’s imaginations running on what the sorority was really all about; and the girls didn’t work hard to change perspectives either. Stephanie herself had declined the invitation to join saying that it would only serve as a distraction and she needed to focus. Two degrees later and a job at one of the most elite law firms in the city had definitely rewarded her decision.
“Dan’s out of town again I heard leaving just the two of us to hold down the forts. Why don’t you join me?”
“Sorry, no suit”
“I won’t look”
Stephanie thought about it for a while, they had all been to Europe together where it was customary to swim topless to Mitch had seen breasts before but it was still inappropriate, especially considering the situation with both of their spouses out of town for the foreseeable future. She began to walk away then decided against it.
He turned his head away and she removed her clothing, keeping just her panties on but even those were practically see through choosing to wear her sheerest pair just to help a little against the heat. She lay down on her stomach choosing one of the other lawn chairs and rested her head upon the cushion tilting it to face Mitch so they could chat. The conversation was pleasant enough, mostly idle chat about how Anna and Sam were doing. What their plans were. Ideas for the next group vacation, probably South America this time, both Stephanie and Anna had been hinting rather strongly about wanting to see the Mayan temples. An hour passed before either of them even knew it and the timer Mitch had set rang loudly.
“Time’s up. Can’t stay out too long.”
He tossed her a towel and headed inside. She followed and went upstairs straight to the guest bathroom and decided to take a shower to clean off all the sweat. She knew Sam wouldn’t mind so she didn’t ask. Getting out she went to grab her clothes and cursed beneath her breath that she had forgotten them outside on the small table. She wrapped the towel around her body as well as she could and headed down the stairs to retrieve her clothing. When she got down she noticed Sam lying down on the couch with his towel still watching television.
“Going to get my clothed, want something to eat on my way back” She asked.
“Your clothes are in the wash, sorry, seems they got dirty outside. But ya sure, I’d love a sandwich; Provolone, turkey and mayo, bottom shelf.”
She leaned over and took the food off the bottom shelf, Sam couldn’t resist a peek as bent over the towel his nothing and he could clearly see her pussy and her ass. He stared down at her feet as well, freshly cleaned, washed, and beautiful. Eventually she made her way to the couch and had him scoot over a little as she handed him his sandwich. She put her feet up on the couch and placed them on top of Sam’s lap.
“Hope you don’t mind” She said and then laughed to herself.
As the two of them sat on the couch eating their sandwiches and watching some documentary on the possibilities of a third world war and what would happen globally should there be one they spoke little. More than once Stephanie’s towel had opened up when she bent over to get her glass and sip some wine or when she just yawned and stretched. Each time she had to excuse herself, slightly embarrassed at having flashed Mitch, and quickly refasten the towel.
Sam placed his hands on Stephanie’s feet and began to massage them. Feeling each and every toe with his fingertips, touching the soles of her newly cleaned feet and admiring just how cute each individual toe was. More than once his mind raced with ideas of massaging them, licking them, even fucking them. Stephanie reclined herself slightly and let him massage her, allowing the calm relaxing feeling take over her body. The towel loosened once more but she didn’t care, rather she didn’t even think about it, focusing entirely on letting all tension go. Sam kept rubbing her feet, noticing the ever widening gap of the towel as more and more of Stephanie’s flesh was exposed. Her welcoming 36D breasts, the near flat of her stomach with just a few curves to accentuate her figure, her slightly wet slit still not completely dry from the shower. He could feel his erection grow but instead focused on massaging her feet and feeling
Neither was sure how it started, what had led to this point though the near full bottle of wine they had consumed certainly a contributor.
“You like my feet don’t you?”
The question took Mitch off guard momentarily but there was no sense lying about it.
“Yes I do. I have a thing for feet and well I’ve always found your to be exquisite. I know it’s weird.”
Stephanie giggled the kind of giggle that you can’t help but be attracted to. “No I don’t find it weird at all. I knew you liked my feet, Anna had mentioned it before. I just never knew how much.” As she said the last words she ran her left foot over the towel and the noticeable erecting cock beneath it. She slid her right hand under the towel casually and let the bare sole of her foot touch the flesh of his manhood, running her toes along it and teasing his balls.
His body reacted reflexively as a droplet of precum flowed out and touched her foot. She noticed it as she grinned at him. She lifted her left foot again signalling for him to continue massaging it. He obeyed. Rather he welcomed the chance to keep rubbing her left foot as her right foot rubbed him. His lips kissed the bi toe, taking it in just a little suckling it. She moved her hand down and spread the towel out completely. He admired her form so much, taking in full view of everything. Her long brown hair that dropped to just below her mid back, her full chest, her near shaven slit with just a small patch to show womanhood. His cock swelled to full length as she masterfully rubbed it with her foot, she had done this before, many times before he could tell.
“Grower not a shower huh.”
He blushed slightly understanding the full meaning of her words. Normally he was quite small and had often been mistaken to be below average length. In reality however, when truly aroused he grew to just over 9″ in length and thick, something that had always pleased the ladies and certainly Anna time and again. Stephanie kicked her right foot and tossed the towel covering Mitch to the ground getting a full view of his massive cock, rivaling Sam’s, standing at full attention being coaxed by her foot. Mitch’s hands and lips kept touching her left foot, caressing it, suckling it. God that felt good.
“Stop a sec”
He looked at her puzzled but listened to her request. She placed both of her feet on his shaft, one on each side, simulating two hands taking a firm hold of his cock. She then brought both of her hands down to her sex, two fingers rubbing her slit and slowly making their way in, the other hand palm and fingers grinding against her clit and an inch above.
“Let’s see if I can make us both cum at the same time.”
Mitch’s head began spinning at how turned on he was. Certainly Anna and he had played around before with foot fucking and massaging but never had they tried this. Not through fear just never thought of it before. He looked at her and watched her begin to touch herself. To rub her slit, her pussy. He saw the juices flow from her and begin to coat her fingers calling out primitively for her to explore more. Her feet curled themselves around his shaft and began to rise up and down pumping his cock. It felt good. Both of them writhed in pleasure she Stephanie focused on their arousal. A third finger slid into her cunt as her feet pumped his hard cock ever more. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore as He arched his back completely his hot semen shooting forth, pouring out over the flesh of his cock and coating her feet. She screamed in response to his reaction and climaxed herself as wave after wave of pure bliss overtook her. She screamer louder as another wave, more powerful than the first came over her. She didn’t slow down or stop but instead kept pressing her fingers into her slit. “Watch me” she pleased to Mitch still stroking his cock with her feet; her now cum covered feet, adding extra lubrication to the mix. He couldn’t stand it anymore and tossed her feet aside. He grabbed her by the hands and forced her hands above her head holding them there as he plunged his still rock hard cock into her cunt hole. She screamed as the he thrust into her. Hurriedly he rubbed his cum off of her toes and began to suckle on them. He still tasted himself a little but the arousal overcame any preconceived notions he had. He kissed her feet, sucked on the toes, licking between the little digits. He worshipped them for having made him cum so hard. He thanked them for giving him so much pleasure. He kissed each toe in turn with every thrust he made into her hole.
“God yes, please fuck me.”
He quickened his pace as he rammed into her harder with every thrust. His balls slammed against the opening to her ass. He felt it open and close needy. He knew she wanted him to drill her there too; or rather her body was open to the idea. He didn’t slow. He went faster and faster with his hips as the couched made noises from the hard rocking. He kissed her feet even more and began to suck on her big toe specifically, fixating on it, almost giving it a blowjob somehow wanting it to explode. He swirled his tongue around it as he kept suckling on it. His fingers rubbed her other toes, the soles of her foot, the arch and her ankles. No longer could he resist, could he hold himself back. He climaxed once more, harder than the first time, this time straight into her womanhood filling her. He pulled out and watched the cum ooze out of her sex.
Her hunger wasn’t satiated as she pushed him onto his back and began to ride him. She arched herself back, her head at his feet lying near flat so her feet were at his head in turn. She straddled him more shoving her feet into his face, her toes into his mouth. She fucked his mouth with her feet as she fucked him with her cunt. She came again and again, unable to keep count as she rode him hard. Finally, after countless times she collapsed onto her back, breathing heavy as he continued to just kiss her feet and caress them gently.
“Wow” She said, softly, lying down.
“Spring has sprung so late this year.”
I heard the words from the other side of the fence, recognizing the voice as belonging to my nubile female neighbour. I barely knew her, except to say hello to if we were checking the mail or getting into our cars at the same time. I figured she was roughly twenty years younger than my mid-fifties.
“Barely worth planting a garden,” I replied, though I thought ‘still lots of time for sunbathing.’
When I had bought my house a few years before, she had been half of an ambitious young couple – two high end cars in the driveway, in ground pool AND hot tub, seemingly continual home improvements. That first summer, there were regular joyous garden parties filling their yard with pretty young people.
Being an inveterate voyeur, I had spent many a pleasant night watching from my darkened second floor bedroom. Though no orgies had ever broken out, at least not in or around the hot tub or pool, there was lots of nude hot tubbing. That was topped however, late one night – or actually, more early one morning, since a faint hint of dawn breaking could be seen on the far horizon. It happened just about this time last year, but spring had come much earlier, and the nights were warm.
The last party guest had just left, a bit after 4 a.m.
About midnight, I had watched my neighbour drop her itsy bitsy bikini top; unwrap her sarong, and slide into the hot tub wearing only a bottom that barely hid her tasty bits. Her apple sized tits, with long dusky nipples,that I could see without binoculars were fully engorged, floated teasingly just breaking the surface of the water as she allowed her hips to lift off the seat, her toes stretched toward the opposite edge.
My hand dropped below my waist, hefting my already twitching cock as I admired, not for the first time, her powerful body – not too skinny like a model, in fact but for her broad shoulders, she might be called pear shaped, with a long lean torso but an ass that you could only call a “booty”- round, full, with just a bit of jiggle, but lots of muscle.
“Spectacular” I had muttered to myself the first time I saw that ass in just a thong bikini. I learned much later that she was a former competitive swimmer.
The rest of the party was over in the pool, tossing a beach ball around. I wondered why one of the men did not just accidentally toss the ball into the hot tub, to have an excuse to join her. Or, I thought, momentarily closing my eyes to imagine it, one of the other attractive women, each wearing a different exciting swim outfit, each sexually alluring in that way each woman uniquely is – from the boyish tom-girls to the voluptuous Rubenesque plus sized women whose every jiggle screamed ‘I have lust for life/I have huge appetites/fuck me’, and had the mammaries for titty fucking and other fun games. The contrast that would exist if my neighbor buried her face between a set of those giant jugs, her thighs straining around an oversized waist, as she and a friend fingered each other to orgasm in the hot tub fueled my fantasy.
Nothing like that had happened. After a few minutes, one of the people in the pool must have called for more drinks, because my neighbour hopped smoothly from the water and, without bothering to dress, vanished into her kitchen, emerging with a bucket filled with beer and ice, which she placed by the pool.
My eyes followed every graceful motion, and, at the moment she bent low to put the bucket on the deck, her perfect ass poked upwards toward me, silently beckoning. With my breath caught in my throat, I squeezed the head of my cock with one hand as I kneaded my balls with the other. Great gobs of goo painted the inside of my window. I sank back, falling onto my bed, my deflating organ still cupped in my palm, and must have fallen asleep.
So maybe I had missed an orgy, though more likely the party had simply petered out. I woke just in time to see her escorting that last guest as far as the side gate, and then she turned, surveyed her yard strewn with paper plates and plastic glasses, and sighed, which caused her tits to rise and fall slowly, making the blood flow back into my cock, which in turn brought a grin to my face. I was re-energized, pleased to know that I was not too old to rise to even a simple occasion.
I rubbed the sleep out of my tired crusty eyes in time to watch her slide back into the hot tub after exchanging words with her hubby, who I could not see at first, but who wandered into view from inside the house. He joined her in the warm relaxing water. My old aching muscles vicariously shared the comfort they must be feeling as much as my old cock surged in empathy for hubby’s perceived excitement.
She was still topless, and as soon as hubby hit the tub, she began to untied one side of the scrap of her bikini bottom. Hubby slid across and got busy untying the other side. His lips brushed against her left nipple as he worked. I think I held my breath out of concern that he would distract her from stripping, but in a moment, the fabric floated to the surface. I could almost hear her giggle as she tossed it onto the deck.
Hubby knelt between her legs, the water just covering his shoulders. I started to slowly stroke my cock, thinking about how he must be rigid, ready to fuck her tight pussy – though I had no real way to know how she was built inside, I assumed that like the rest of her, it was in fine fighting shape.
Her legs rose above the surface, and she hooked them over his shoulders, crossing her ankles and drawing his face to her groin, which was floating just at the top of the water. He’d have to be careful not to get a nose full of water.
“But what a fun way to drown,” I heard myself chuckle in my empty bedroom, with just my erection for company.
His hands cupped her ass, steadying her body in place as his mouth lowered to her thighs. He seemed to enjoy the time he took to explore her outer labia, which I pictured in my mind as swollen with anticipation. Closing my eyes for an instant, I imagined a rock hard clit upright, begging to be nibbled, to have a practiced tongue flick across it; to be drawn deep between lips. She held hubby’s head in place with one hand while with the other, she exercised her own nipples, at first just rubbing them; then rolling them between her fingers; and, as hubby worked his magic on her clit; she tugged on them, at first gently, but with increased enthusiasm as hubby’s tongue seemed to dance more vigorously and she fought to keep up.
I continued stroking my throbbing cock as I watched, not wanting to come too soon, trying to last for the whole show. As I thought the word ‘show’ I wondered whether her eyes were open, and if so, whether she would notice me spying on them. If so, she certainly did not seem to mind.
Why would she mind, when hubby had slid a couple of fingers inside her, fucking her slit while he nibbled her clit? Her body was quivering, bobbing up and down in the warm water. She must have been fully focussed on their lust, and could not have noticed or cared about mine.
Suddenly, she tossed her head back, her body tensed, and then shook. Her face bore the evidence of the orgasmic scream I could imagine but not hear. Hubby kept up his efforts while she convulsed, her hands slapping at the water. I felt the seed rolling in my balls, ready to explode, but realized that hubby probably would want to have his release, and the biggest payoff for me would come in imaging that it was me that was experiencing that pleasure. So I slowed my stroking to a gentle pace, just maintaining my hardness, a droplet of precum dangling from my slit.
Sure enough, hubby did not wait long. He did not move her. He just rose up between her legs, shifting his grip from her buttocks to the side of her hips, leaning forward as he pulled her cunt to meet his cock. I saw her gap at the sudden violence of the penetration, leaving no doubt that he had plunged his manhood to the hilt, right into her womb. I imagined her muscles clenching tightly around his shaft, and then relaxing just enough that he could pull back until just his tip remained between her labia.
His hips moved, his ass flexing as he established a rhythm. It looked as if he was now moving slowly, perhaps easing into her gradually after that initial almost brutal invasion. I pictured his cock sinking an inch more into her vault with each stroke. I watched how his arm shifted slightly, and wondered whether, under the water, his fingers were opening up her ass, shifting towards her dainty rosebud, and entering her most forbidden passage.
I watched her face as she moved against him. Whatever he was doing seemed to please her. Her eyes were locked on his face. Her lust was plain in the way her grin gave way to a slackening of the jaw that had to be accompanied by deep moaning. Soon, that was replaced by yelling.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck me harder, you know that I love it rough. I love your big hard meat in my hungry cunt,” I imagined hearing, just as much as I wished that it was my hard lonely meat that she craved, the head of my cock that she was grinding her pelvic bone against.
Suddenly, neither of them seemed to be able to hold back any longer. I saw her body shake with tremors as her climax exploded through her body, her head tossed back and her eyes shut tight, her mouth screaming, no doubt his name. I gave less notice to him, but was aware that he stiffened, pausing, his own explosion pumping buckets of baby makers into her womb.
What exactly happened next I could not swear to, because I shut my eyes for a moment as my own seed spilled into my palm. Eventually, the tremors stopped, and I opened my eyes, envy flooding my heart and sinking hard as a rock into my stomach as they cuddled contentedly on the bench, the hot water bubbling around them.
She eased back onto the seat, as if she wanted to snuggle, but hubby spoke briskly, never realizing, and hopped out of the tub, starting to clean up the mess. After a moment he paused, turned and barked at her. Slowly, she rose naked out of the water, and in spite of the sad marital theatre playing out, I enjoyed my first clear view of her totally nude.
For a brief instant, she stood with water streaming off her, her nipples hard, this time from the cool spring air. Her tits stood firm and proud, just the tiniest hint of jiggling as she moved. Her belly had just the slightest hint of pouch, not enough to distract from her shaved pussy, nestled between strong thighs. As she climbed out of the tub, and mechanically started gathering trash, I was treated to several angles from which to admire her plush ass, exquisite flesh flexing over strong muscles. If I had not come just a few minutes before, I would have climaxed again as she bent over by the pool to pick up plastic cups, feet a shoulder width apart, her buttocks spread, her pudendum tiled as if winking up at me. I certainly had plenty of orgasms on other evenings replaying that vision in my mind, hand around my cock.
Afterward, I would recall the scene on many slow summer evenings. One of the advantages of living alone was the opportunity to relieve my hormones pretty much whenever the urge struck. Sometimes I would vary the memory, morphing it into a fantasy where instead of wondering if she was fertile, as I had that night, I would picture her already pregnant, her swollen belly proclaiming her lust, forcing him to fuck her from behind, using her swollen tits as handles, her still shapely arse bucking hard against his athletic thighs, her grunts almost audible through my window.
I heard them playing in that hot tub a few more times that summer, and each time, I crept to my window and watched, trying to time my orgasm with theirs, storing fresh memories to add to my solo sessions. They seemed to have mastered the art of simultaneous climax, which amazed me slightly, because they varied their play so much. Sometimes he ate her tender shaved cunt to climax first, as if saving his own orgasm as an offering, a gift to share when she had a second, always larger and louder consummation.
On other nights, she would take his cock in her mouth to begin. I saw her do this both when he was already erect, or starting from a more relaxed condition that I always thought of as a ‘chubbie’ – somewhat swollen with anticipation, acknowledging his desire for her sensuous beauty, but not yet even semi-erect. She was an able, inventive and enthusiastic fellatrix, the art of using not just lips and tongue but also teeth, fingers, cheeks exhibiting her mastery of her subject. Her blow-jobs never seemed rushed. She would explore every inch of his cock, often starting with butterfly kisses inside his thighs. She never neglected his scrotum, licking, suckling, and teasing that weight with her fingers while she licked his shaft like a popsicle, or bobbed up and down like a little girl with a lollipop.
I took to anticipating her tricks, speaking aloud in the privacy of my bedroom, muttering “Oh, you are such a hungry little cocksucker. Now take just his helmet in your mouth, roll your tongue around, pay extra attention to the ridge. Then take him out of your mouth and tease his glans with your teeth.”
It did not matter whether I predicted her actions correctly. I never failed to climax, often before they did, though I tried to restrain myself.
One thing I never did see was a 69 in the hot tub. Also, in spite of that early spring party, I never again saw public nudity or topless bathing, and certainly nothing that made me anticipate that an orgy would break out, not even a threesome. Nonetheless, I fantasized often about joining in.
She still went topless, just not when she had guests, and I liked to think she sometimes did it when she knew I was watching, positioning herself to give me the best possible view. On occasion, when hubby was not there to satisfy her, she would take matters into her own hands, practiced fingers touching her sensitive bits. Each time, her routine varied slightly, so really I guess she had no routine at all.
My favourite variation was when she was sunbathing. Sometimes she wore a skimpy thong, but most days, either thinking she was alone, or wanting to give me a better show, she was totally naked. Because I work at home, doing technical writing when I could get contracts not outsourced overseas, I was a regular beneficiary of the experience.
“For my viewing pleasure,” I muttered when she appeared that way, walking out with just her towel in one hand, lotion in the other.
I loved how she lay there, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, the warm sun soaking into her flesh. Just lying there with her eyes closed, no doubt thinking about fucking, or maybe imagining hubby sneaking home early, creeping up on her and silently planting his lips on her pussy. Those mental images would always start a steady increase in my excitement that would require me to fondle my cock.
She would always take care to apply lots of lotion, squirting a dab on her exposed chest, working it all across her tits, rubbing it with extra care onto each nipple. It must have been extra special touching those sensitive places, because her nipples would extend, growing until they were fully erect and hard. By then she would be grinning, using just the tip of the baby finger of each hand to gently massage the lotion onto her nubbins, smiling as she flicked her nail across the very tip. I could see her sigh from the wave of pleasure.
Once she was fully lathered up, one hand might return to her breast, to lightly brush her nipples. Her other hand could just caress her soft flesh, maybe that dewy zone between her navel and mound. Who better than her to know the exact spots which were especially sensitive. Lightly caressing there with her fingertips as I watched, my cock throbbing in my fist.
I learned to be careful not to come too soon, because she liked to take her time pleasuring herself once she fully committed to masturbating there in the fresh air and sunshine. Her feet would move far apart, knees raised slightly off the lounge chair to give her fingers better access to her cunt.
She would squirt some lotion onto the first two fingers of her dominant right hand. I could almost hear her cooing as the cool lotion hit the warmth of her outer labia as she worked just the tips of her fingers along her cleft, from bottom to top, and then pausing to tease her own clit before fingering down the other side of her labia, repeating this until her petals were open like a midday flower and her little man was standing upright in the boat. I could see the moment of regret flit across her face when she had to remove her left hand from her nipples and use those fingers to pull her twat wide open, starting to thrust first two, and then either three or four fingers deep into her slit.
Sometimes she just kept fucking herself like that. Other times, she would focus attention with the fingers of her other hand on her throbbing button, two fingers flicking it back and forth, up and down, then in a circular motion. Or she might start stroking along the inner edge of her labia, no doubt the notorious “G-spot”.
Her nipples would grow so swollen that they seemed to be reaching up, begging me to suck them. Her clit had to be getting just as swollen, rising completely out of its hood, so much so that I imagined that I could feel it throbbing, also crying out hungrily for my lips and teeth. The tingle building inside her had to be so intense that it begged for release. Even before she came, I’d reach the point of no return. Knowing I could not go back, though not quite there yet, seed suspended rising from my balls into my shaft, perhaps a drop forming, dangling from the slit, tingling with delayed orgasm. The shudders flowing visibly through her body, starting with rolling shoulders; flowing through her rotating hips down to her curled toes, told me she felt much the same.
I came to know that she was compelled to continue until she climaxed, and that realization added to my excitement as I watched, barely able to breathe, panting and holding my breath as I tried to time my orgasm with hers. She liked to delay her climax, teasing herself by stroking her clit with varying intensity as if trying to see how close she could get to an orgasm without losing control. It was wonderful to watch, and no doubt even better for her, but it always almost drove me crazy trying to stay at the brink.
Finally, she would orgasm. I could neither see nor feel it, but knew that her muscular vaginal walls must be involuntarily clenching and relaxing in rhythmic contractions around her fingers, no doubt wishing that she had a hard cock to squeeze instead. Her orgasms lasted a long time when she created them for herself, way longer than when it was hubby fucking or licking her. Ten, nay, one hundred times longer than my explosion. Even if I timed it to begin simultaneously, and included my last gasping spurt of gism, I came with nothing like her intensity. We might both know how to get ourselves off, but she had special secrets to prolong her pleasure.
She would press her fingers wrist deep into her soggy cunt, stretching her opening wider, while at the same time tweaking her clit faster and harder. Her mouth would be moving, her lips squealing, not just moaning or groaning, as if her brain was on fire. I liked to imagine that she accompanied this mental visions of my cock bursting in orgasm inside her, gushing great gobs of goo.
Finally, satisfied, she would usually fall asleep, napping in the sun. Only then would I tear myself away from my window, wondering if that was the day I would notice that she slept so long she started to burn, and force myself to go and wake her up, confessing my voyeurism, but being forgiven for my kindness, and rewarded with the mind-blowing sex I so desired.
One of my ex-boyfriends gave me the basis of this story, hence why it’s told from a male view point……
My neighbour, Mrs. Smith, became something of an obsession over the hot weeks during the summer of ’98. You see, she was in the habit of sunbathing in her garden believing her shrubs, hedges and rather substantial fence protected her from prying eyes. Which they did, unless those eyes were looking from our attic window.
Ironically, it was because of the heat that I needed to open the window. I’d been packing some boxes up there and it was sweltering. The window, having been shut for years, was jammed and so I had climbed onto a chair to give it a good shove. It shot open and of course I looked out of it. That’s when I spied the rather delicious Mrs. Smith in the most revealing of bikinis. She might have been a middle-aged lady of size fourteen proportions, but my eighteen-year-old cock certainly appreciated the view.
Well that’s how it happened the first day. I ogled her body for a few minutes and then moved away, admonishing myself for being a peeping tom. The next day however, I convinced myself it was harmless fun and dug out my old binoculars. I couldn’t resist giving Mrs Smith a more thorough examination. The x50 magnification virtually put her in touching distance.
I could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the bulge of her vulva as the bikini bottoms disappeared between her succulent looking thighs. Such a small thin strip of material protected her modesty.
She reached for her sun oil and poured some onto her chest. I gazed on in amazement as she moved the material to one side and rubbed oil onto her tits. I watched as her nipples became hard, her globes gleamed in the sunlight and I swear her breathing increased. She tweaked one nipple almost lazily. My dick twitched.
Still balanced on the chair and holding the binoculars to my eyes, I lowered my zipper and extracted my cock. Not an easy task while balancing on a chair, I can tell you.
Mrs. Smith meantime, had moved onto her belly. Her fingers swirled in oil and then disappeared under the material of her bikini bottoms. I stroked myself at a steady pace, hardly daring to hope she would lower them. Her hand stayed inside her panties and her hips started to buck, her mouth opened slightly, my own fingers keeping rhythm with her movements. I fucked Mrs. Smith inside my head. My hand pumping my hard dick as I imagined my cock sliding in and out of her hot body. We both reached a crashing orgasm five minutes later.
The same pattern followed for day two, three and four. Mrs. Smith obviously required regular relief and I enjoyed the free show. However, on the fifth day things took a new direction. I took up my vantage point later in the day than normal, which meant the sun was further up the garden and Mrs. Smith had moved her lounger. To my shock, it now faced towards my attic window. I quickly climbed back down off the chair, panicking that she was looking straight at me through those sunglasses. I then castigated myself for being such a coward.
There was no way she would be scanning rooftops. I watched her for a while, the binoculars proving to be worth their weight in cum. She checked her watch, put on a wrap and disappeared back towards her house. Moments later, she reappeared with Mr. Smith in tow. She sat on the edge of the lounger while he stood in front of her. I could hardly believe my eyes as she reached up, unzipped him and released a respectably large cock. Her tongue swirled around his bell end and then the entire length disappeared into her mouth. Her lips bobbed back and forth along it with enthusiastic vigour. Mr. Smith gripped her by the hair, virtually fucking her face. From there things moved on at quite a pace.
Much to my delight, Mr. Smith went from mauling her oily globes to tugging the nipples and stretching her flesh. He then pushed her back and yanked her panties to one side, allowing me a brief uninterrupted view of her hot open cunt hole, before sinking his meat into his prone and wanton wife.
She welcomed him fully, locking her legs high over his back. With the powerful binoculars, I was able to witness the folds of her cunt cling to his cock on each withdrawal. I could clearly see his dick covered in her juice. I knew as his hairy balls bounced off her tight arsehole he wouldn’t be able to keep up such a pace for long. Sure enough, he slumped forward, his body twitching as he emptied those large bollocks into her.
As he rolled clear Mrs Smith stayed legs akimbo, I watched the fresh sperm leak from her hole, I watched her trail a finger through it, collecting the white fluid from her gaping cunt. She then lifted it to her lips and drank it down. I shot my load.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
My mother’s words made me jump to such an extent I fell off the chair. Landing with trousers still round ankles, binoculars still round neck and spunk residue on my belly.
She looked down at me, then went and peeked out the window before heading back down stairs.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
I listened to the phone call in a state of huge embarrassment, as my mother explained to Mrs. Smith I had been spying on her and that I owed her an apology at the very least. Thankfully my mother didn’t go into full details and so it was the next day I handed the flowers to Mrs. Smith as I stammered and mumbled my apology.
Mrs Smith looked me up and down saying, “sometimes sorry isn’t good enough Adam, I feel I need more, now strip.”
“You heard the lady Adam.” It was Mr. Smith who appeared from no-where. “If you go peeking into other people’s lives it’s only fair if they peek into yours, now strip.”
He moved to cover my escape and I realised I had better just accept my punishment. If Mrs. Smith phoned my Mum and said I hadn’t apologised, I’d be grounded forever. Within a minute, I was naked, my hands covering my manhood, my clothes in an untidy pile.
“Put your hands at your side Adam.”
Mrs. Smith was looking right at my cock as she said it. She smacked it gently as she looked down and it jerked.
“I think you like this game Adam.” I watched her breasts heave under the thin wrap she wore. “I think peeping Toms are perverts. Are you a pervert, Adam?”
I found myself quickly saying “yes!”
She grasped me by my cock and led me through into the lounge. Sitting on the sofa, she pulled me forwards, my cock now directly in front of her mouth. Her tongue flicks had me fully erect and then her lips engulfed me.
Although I could hear Mr. Smith undressing behind me, I didn’t care because Mrs Smith had opened her wrap and was showing me her welcoming cunt. The one I had been wanking over for the last five days. I reached down, my fingers brushing her hot sticky entrance. My knees seemed to give way, I was so eager to taste her. My own naked rear vulnerable as my tongue entered her. She held my head and I felt rough hands upon my butt cheeks. Rubbing, squeezing, then warm liquid, and then a hand pumping my rock hard cock. A finger trailed back up past my scrotum and onto my arse. More liquid and then pressure. A stubby finger entered my rear. The sensation was unbelievable. Mrs. Smith soothed me, told me to relax and it wouldn’t hurt. She held my head firm between her thighs.
Mr. Smith was now comfortably pumping two fingers in and out of my virgin butt hole and I had to admit I was enjoying it. The pain had subsided and pleasure had taken its place. In fact, when he withdrew them completely, I felt empty. I reached back with my own hand, fingering my hole.
Mrs. Smith climbed under me and lay on the floor saying, “I want to watch.” Then she put my cock into her mouth and I resumed licking between her open legs. I knew I was going to be mounted and in my lust, I wanted it!
Mr. Smith slapped my butt cheeks. I felt like a bitch, I felt hot, I felt like I needed fucking. His fingers worked my hole a little more and then I felt the head of his cock enter me. Mrs. Smith came in my mouth instantly at the sight of her husband sliding his cock into the neighbour’s son’s virgin butt hole.
He screwed me hard and I licked his wife’s dripping hole harder. His cock pummelled my rear and he called me a slut. He pulled on my hair and told me to take it. Mrs. Smith was doing her best to fuck my mouth with her cunt, her heels pushed down on the floor, her hips bucking upwards. My tongue never left her hole, even as I agreed at Mr. Smith’s insistence that “yes, I was a dirty little pervert and yes, I did love his big cock in my arse.”
He shot a huge load into me moments later and I shot mine into Mrs Smith’s waiting, hot, eager mouth. Mrs. Smith then had me bend over the arm of the settee and spread my butt cheeks. She examined my gaping hole before tonguing her husband’s cum from it. I’d never felt so exposed, so used, so vulnerable.
When I eventually stood back up, Mr. Smith was nowhere to be seen. I dressed somewhat sheepishly and Mrs. Smith, still naked, showed me to the door saying, “perhaps I would learn to behave in the future.”
She then added with a rather naughty twinkle in her eye, “Adam, Mr. Smith won’t be here tomorrow. If you come round about midday, perhaps you could help me in the garden?”
The summer of ’98 was a great summer, rain or shine, and my mother never realised she had opened Pandora’s box.
Trish lived a little over an hour away from the mountains, some of the most beautiful in the world, in many people’s opinion, but she practically never got out to them. She was busy with school, work and a full fitness regime.
Yet she yearned to go out and climb in them. A very athletic woman Trish loved the idea of pitting herself against the natural splendor of those mountains and climbing them.
When at last she found the time to get away and spend some time in the wilderness she packed up and went to a trail hike that she had never been to. One of her great joys in life was physical and mental challenge and she anticipated both on this trip.
When ready, Trish drove out to the mountains with her gear. Parking at the trailhead she saw other people gathering their things to start hiking. There were two groups already there, a young couple in their mid twenties who were just disappearing into the trees, and a group of men. The men ranged in age by a fair amount, the oldest looking mid thirties, the youngest who looking to be her age, 19 or twenty.
Trish waited until the couple was out of sight then she climbed out of her car. She wore tan hiking boots that went up to her ankle, and grey wooly socks rolled down to the top of the boot. Her tan legs were bare up to her shorts, which were loose, light jogging shorts that cut high on the thigh, and looked so loose that a hand would easily slip right up inside them. On top she wore a light, loose, collared, blue plaid shirt, open at the front to reveal a light-blue bikini top that was small triangles of cloth on tiny strings. The string was tied tight and her breasts were pushed together giving her cleavage. The plaid shirt was tied over her belly allowing her toned stomach to show.
On her head Trish wore a blue bandana holding back her loose bangs, while the rest was tied into two ponytails, one on each side. Going around the back of her car Trish was acutely aware of the attention she had garnered, and she quite enjoyed being looked at. Trish knew she was an exhibitionist at heart and the male attention was making her warm and squishy inside.
The parking lot grew silent as boisterous conversations dropped off. Trish showed off her long, lean legs. The strong muscles of her calves and thighs moved beneath her sleek skin as she walked. Popping the hatch Trish pulled out a large backpack. She had brought a four-person tent, a lightweight sleeping bag and a yoga mat to soften the ground a tad. She had packed lightweight high protein food, water purifier tablets and cooking gear for one. The pack was almost forty pounds, but she was suddenly hopeful she wouldn’t have to hike too far with it all. Not with all that male company to spend time with.
Turing her back to the car, angled so that the group of now quiet men got the best view, she hauled the pack over her shoulders, her breasts thrusting out as she worked her shoulders in. Much jiggling and bouncing got the pack in just the right spot. Then various straps around her hips, shoulders and breasts were adjusted thoroughly. All in all Trish managed to show off her body excellently. Things were off to a good start as Trish moved off into the woods, her car locked and her spirits high. This might just prove to be an excellent vacation.
Walking up the trail she soon began to perspire with the muggy heat, and under the strain of the pack. The bag weighed almost a third of her body weight, and even in her fantastic condition this was a workout. Slowing down Trish listened for company on the trail, and soon enough she heard it. The gang of men were closing in and talking loudly among themselves. The first of the group to approach was talking back over his shoulder to the man behind him. They were discussing a movie Trish had not seen and they were relishing a performance.
“I don’t think Richard E. Grant has topped himself since. He has done great work, but Withnail is his best performance.”
“I’m not arguing that, I’m saying that he hasn’t been given the opportunity to top it. I think he could, given the right role.”
“You could probably say that about any actor.”
“Naw, some actors just give up, and lose their edge. Like Gary Oldman. Since he sobered up, he lost his edge. I’m glad he’s happier in life and all that, but his work isn’t as good. He isn’t a lean mean acting machine anymore.”
“No, I’m sure he has got a lot of great stuff left in him. He just got sidetracked by the paycheck. Not that the Batman movies aren’t amazing, but they weren’t going to give him any room to do a performance like Heath Ledger. Imagine Gary Oldman as the Joker?”
“There was talk of it once.”
“Hi there.” The leader called up to Trish.
Turning she said “Hi” back. The man was about three feet behind her and not in a hurry to pass it would seem.
“Gorgeous day isn’t it?”
“Yeah, we chose the right day to hike.” She replied.
“You going it alone?”
“You not worried? I take it from that pack you aren’t just going in for a few hours.”
Grinning she said, “I figured there would be lots of folks on the trail if I got lonely.”
The man pushed up beside her and smiled at her. He was around thirty, with good strong features, handsome, not cute, clean-shaven with a strong jaw and dark eyes. His hair was short and brown with golden highlights. This was a guy Trish could look at for years to come.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this alone. Is this some sort of spiritual journey, or quest or something?”
“No. I just wanted to get out into nature, to feel the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair and all that.”
“It sure is great out here. We come up all the time, this group of us. We all, at one time or another, worked for the same company, though not all at the same time.”
Trish felt the second man walking close behind, the voices behind him became quieter, perhaps wondering what these two were talking about.
“My name’s is Pia.” Trish said impulsively and held out her hand to the man next to her. It suddenly occurred to her that she was going to have a very wild weekend, and she decided to protect her identity.
“I’m Cale.” He took her hand in his strong grip. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. Who this?” Turning Trish held out her hand to the man close behind.
“I’m Roger.” He too had a strong grip; his hands were more callused, but still not a working man’s hands.
The three of them chatted as they walked. The path was clear and easy, and the trees far enough back from the path to allow for a view of the fabulous mountains around them. Periodically others of the group of men would come up and try and get in on the conversation, but it proved to be too awkward on the trail, and Trish had no real sense of them. Cale and Roger she got to know well, and they in turn learned a great deal about a girl named Pia who was an art student specializing in performance art. Trish created the whole character out of thin air, just allowing herself to spout off the first thing that popped into her head whenever either of them asked a question. Pia, as performed by Trish wasn’t all that bright, not dumb, but naive, and it was a joy to feel the men trying to manipulate her into spending more time with them.
The day grew warmer and everyone grew moist and flushed. Cale called for a water break and everyone gathered around in a big circle in an open space to the side of the track.
Easing the pack off, Trish let it fall to the ground with a big sigh of relief, only slightly exaggerated. She took off the damp plaid shirt and exposed her bikini which barely contained her squished together breasts. She squatted beside her pack with her legs open wide, but not obviously so, while she took her water bottle out and re-packed her shirt. Closing her eyes she tilted back her head and drank some water enjoying the cool drink as much as the eyes she could feel on her body.
Roger introduced her to all the guys. “Gentlemen this is Pia, she’s an artist. Pia this is Stephen, Rob, Shawn, Jess and Scott.”
“Hi guys! Wow, I hope you don’t mind if I ask your names again later, I probably won’t remember them all at once like this.” The men grinned and said it was fine. She could tell they liked that she was going to be around later, and that she was likely going to talk to them all.
Soon the men began putting packs on again. Trish had been grilled by the group as to her packing habits, her job, her schooling and why she was traveling alone. No one seemed courageous enough to ask if she were seeing anyone or not. Trish acted flirty and funny. Bantering with the guys in a refreshing manner, one she was not used to and it felt pretty good. She was being a lighter, friendlier version of herself, only much more gullible.
There was a little dance of hesitation and confusion as they tried to start out once more. All the guys were trying to figure out where she was going to walk, to be close to her. Finally Jess set off and was joined by Shawn. Trish ambled over to the path, and Scott and Rob moved just ahead of her, Stephen and Cale came directly behind her and Roger took up position on her right.
The pack rubbed a bit on her bare back, but the feeling wasn’t so bad that she thought she would get blisters so Trish left her shirt off, loving the sun on her bare skin. She laughed out loud and said to Roger how strange her tan lines were going to look across her chest. She pointed to her breasts that were bisected horizontally by the chest strap of her pack. The black strap made her breasts bulge over and under it, and it squeezed them flat almost exactly along her nipple line.
“Well if memory serves this trail kinda wanders in and out of the trees so it shouldn’t get too bad.” Rather than look ahead to the trail to come Roger stared at her breasts, perhaps memorizing them for later recall.
The conversation hovered around her school and potential career as a performance artist. Naturally they asked what sort of performance art she did and Trish enjoyed embellishing a life in the arts.
“Well this one piece I did that my teacher loved was called What are we selling? In it I sat in a fake photographer’s studio with lights and cameras set up and I was in front of this huge wall of ads from all these different “Reputable” magazines. In each picture there was this young, probably teenage girl in some provocative outfit, or half, and even sometimes completely nude. Almost all the nude ones are selling clothes, you know? Anyway I was on a chair completely naked with waaaay too much make up on and a little lollipop in my mouth and pigtails, all curled up with a teddy bear in my lap.”
“Yeah. I wanted to point out that we use the sexualization of little girls to sell everything. Everything. Watches with a nude wearing only a watch, or a girl with no shirt on selling perfume. It is everywhere. And those girls are way too young to be viewed like that.”
“Yeah, your right. It makes me feel dirty when I look at them.”
From behind Stephen said, “You feel dirty when you wank off to them too.”
“That I do my friend, that I do.” He grinned foolishly at Trish, “No offense I hope?”
“Oh no. I have a healthy sexual appetite, and I like sexy pictures as much as the next guy. I just wish that little girls got to be little girls for a little bit longer than they do now-a-days.”
“Yeah, it must be tough to be a pretty young girl out there. I’m not being facetious, I know that the popular idea is that beautiful women get everything handed to them, and they may get a lot out of their beauty, but still there is a price to be paid for it too. The leering, the cat calls the objectification…”
“I’m sorry I objectify you Rog.” Scott shot back over his shoulder from right in front of Trish.
She jumped in with her own quip. “I think Roger might be flirting with me. He implied that I was pretty.” Instantly Roger began to blush bright red.
“He’s also sucking up pretending to be a women’s libber.” Cale said from behind.
“Well, you are a hottie and I would imagine you know it.” Rob said turning back to look at her over his shoulder.
“I do appreciate the attention when it comes.” She acknowledged and smiled.
Scott said, “Women know, and they manipulate us all the time with it. Women know that men will do anything for sex, and they use our weakness against us.”
“Don’t underestimate a woman’s sex drive.” Trish countered. “I hate how men act like they are the only ones who can get sexually frustrated. That woman are sex misers holding it back, like penny pinching hags. Women just want to get laid too. We masturbate, and get inappropriately horny in weird places too. I don’t think the difference is that big.”
Trish loved how the conversation was going. The guys were getting brave, and she was having fun walking the line of teasing them. She knew they weren’t sure what to think. Was she looking to hook up with one of them? Who was she favoring? Could one of them be so lucky? Trish was starting to think they were all going to get lucky. She had never been with more than two men, but that had been a wonderful experience. Besides she hadn’t been laid in a long time.
At lunchtime when Trish pulled out her protein bar and dried fruit the men looked on dubiously. They made fun of her, teasing her about her pixie food, and a warm glow washed over her. Never before in her life had Trish been a part of anything like this camaraderie. It was something she always felt was made up in movies. She had seen shadows of it in school or at work, but nothing like this quick-witted joking and playful teasing.
She almost hated to ruin it with sex.
Then in the heat of the afternoon everyone withdrew into themselves a bit more as the path grew steeper and the day hotter. Trish ran with sweat as she hauled her heavy pack up the hundreds of feet of elevations.
The men gave ground and most of them had the chance to talk with her between panting breaths. All of them were fit, and their own shirts had come off to show hard firm bodies. Jess was the most conspicuously covered, as he was a bit heavier than the rest.
Trish admired the smorgasbord of man flesh laid out to her appraising eye. Jess was the only overweight man, but even he was cute and not at all gooey, just pudgy in an appealing way. Shawn was rail thin and wiry. Scott was strong and fit in an all round way, it didn’t look like he lifted weights or sculpted himself, just kept active. Rob was really good looking, and knew it. He was more sculpted than most of the others, but was far from having a body builder look, just a man who looked after himself and wanted to look like it. Roger was small and firm. A natural build with just the beginning of a belly, but his arms and legs were very toned, so maybe he had just lost the high metabolism he had when younger. Stephen was boyish and cute, with a tight young man’s body. Not any specific tonality, just all over youthful health.
And Cale. Cale was Trish’s favorite. He looked like a male model. He was packed with muscle like an action movie star. He had fantastic sculpted abs, shoulders and chest. His arms were perfect, and his legs hadn’t been left out in the name of vanity. He was a perfect picture of male virility. And that clean handsome face was dreamy.
Each of them tried a differing approach to garner her favor. Jess’ had been with playful self deprecating humour, which was very charming. Shawn had been the serious “I’m listening” type. Scott was all bravado and showing off, which had its charms too, in that it was flattering to see the effort going in. Rob was smart, and funny, and he used his insights into the others to play off of. He and Scott had known each other for years and years and they pretty much tried to use each other to make themselves look good in her eyes. Stephen tried to show off physically. He ran and jumped, wrestled, climbed things, anything to make her look at him and see his prowess. It made her laugh out loud many times.
And Cale was a watcher. He observed what approach the others used, and which had more apparent success, and he would do that better. He looked at her with dark eyes, gauging her reactions and often a little smile of self satisfaction would play over his lips. He made her wet with his presence, and self-command.
If she were actually going to just choose one, it would be Cale, and he seemed to know it.
Trish decided that she wouldn’t make her move tonight. This game was far too fun, and the antics of the boys too enjoyable to throw away so soon.
When they made camp in the late afternoon, Trish was weak with fatigue. All her various fitness activities were of little use in the face of this climb with all that weight on her back. One of the guys told them all that they had climbed over a thousand feet in elevation that day. The air was thinner, and the terrain different.
When Trish pulled out her tent and began to assemble it Jess and Shawn came over to help. They commented on her carrying such a huge tent all the way up there just for herself.
“Well it is the only tent I own. And you never know if you are going to meet anyone on the trail that needs someplace to sleep.”
The boys tried not to look excited by that, but failed.
When everyone had their tents set up it was obvious Trish had the largest, and the men often looked from it to their various small two person tents.
Everyone sat around the fire that Cale built in the regulation park approved fire pit. The men had traded sopping wet t-shirts for dry clothes, and Trish had changed her boots and socks for flip flops, her dainty feet drawing more looks. She was almost naked in her tiny blue top and her small shorts, but still new flesh was new flesh to ogle.
Beers were passed around and Trish accepted. Drinking was not her thing, she didn’t like to numb herself to sensation, and she had no need to lower her inhibitions, but tonight she felt she had earned it. Plus she didn’t want to sleep with them tonight anyway so why not.
As the men ate their smokies and chips, Trish ate a recipe she had gotten off of a hikers guide online. It was couscous, minced sundried tomatoes, dried mushrooms, a chicken bouillon cube, onion flakes, parsley flakes, black pepper, and it tasted delicious.
Cale asked if he could taste some and she could feel the envy palpable in the air as he sat beside her on a log and ate off of her spoon. Their thighs were brushing together, and as the air cooled as the sun went down it was a very pleasurable experience.
On her other side Scott drank beer and made loud jokes that no-one found as funny as he did. As time passed he leaned in closer and closer, trying to press as much of himself against her as he could.
Cale yielded his spot after a time when he got up to tend the fire. Stephen bolted for it so obviously that Rob had to call him on it.
“Jesus Steve, could you at least try and pretend you’ve seen a pretty girl before?”
“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Pia.”
The entire group groaned, including Trish.
“Oh man, 1939 called and they want their cheesy come on back!” Roger called.
“Is that a chapstick in your pocket or are you just glad to see her.” Rob quipped.
The energy shifted as the men sensed weakness and they went in for the kill.
“Hey Stephen, your dicks so small bacteria laugh at it!” Scott jeered.
“Fuck you Scott.” The crowd ooohhhed!
“Your dicks so small you’ll never be half the man your mother was!” Roger joked, but it had way less heat than Scott’s. It felt more like a challenge to come up with the best joke, which the guys all jumped at.
“Your dicks so ugly it cries itself to sleep at night.” Jess said to no-one specific.
“Your dicks so small, your girlfriend took it to court and they threw it out for lack of evidence.” Shawn joined in. That got a good laugh from everyone, with the odd “nice, nice.” Thrown in. There was a pause while everyone tried to remember other ones.
Then from the darkness Cale said, “My dick is so big, it was overthrown by a military coup. It’s now known as the Democratic Republic of My Dick.” Everyone howled, Trish as loud as the rest. The vibe went back to the friendly banter of before.
At last Trish got too cold to stay almost naked. Going into her tent she rummaged around and found a candle. She lit it and set it on the far side of herself from where the fire was. Glancing to her left she looked at her shadow on the tent wall. Her silhouette clear and as she moved, her outline was perfectly cast to show off her body. Then she pulled out some clothes and put them aside.
She pulled her shorts down over her legs, and silence descended over the men. Then she wiggled her way into her tights, smoothing them over her ass. She then undid the ties on her bikini and let it fall off her arms. Next she pulled out her damp plaid shirt and pulled it on leaving the last few buttons undone exposing her clavicles and upper chest. Then she pulled on her boots again with fresh socks.
Stepping out she blew out the candle and left it by the door with a lighter.
The mood around the campfire was subdued, and the boys were barely talking now.
“Anyone know any good ghost stories?” She asked. No one had taken her spot on the log, so she sat back down between Stephen and Scott.
“I know one.” Rob offered. When no one objected he began. “It was on a night just like this when a little girl went missing in these woods.” He spoke in a low ominous tone, perfect for campfire ghost stories. Everyone settled in ready for the show. “The rangers say her name was Cassie, and she had gone camping with her Girl Scout Troop. That first night, when everyone was gathered around the campfire, the little girl ignored what she had been taught about sticking with her camp buddy. She heard a rustle in the nearby brush and thought she just might catch a bunny to keep as a pet. She snuck off after the sound.”
Rob paused, as if listening and sure enough there were some rustling sounds in the woods.
“Probably just the wind.” Roger suggested.
“Right.” Stephen affirmed, but he seemed nervous.
“It wasn’t very long until her camp buddy noticed that Cassie was missing,” Rob continued, slightly quieter, “and she told the scout leader about it. The rest of the girls were ushered back to their tents, and the scout leader and a few of the moms gathered their flashlights, and set out to look for the girl. A short time later, a terrible thunderstorm blew in, making it impossible to keep looking for the missing camper. The moms decided it was best to turn back and continue the search after the storm had passed; after all, the little girl wasn’t one of their daughters. However, the scout leader refused to give up. With her hair plastered to her face by the rain, and the lightening flashing all around, she bravely walked into the woods, calling the little girl’s name. The sound of her calling could be heard, over and over, until it faded away.”
Again Rob paused and the wind was blowing a bit, and the trees were swaying and soughing in the breeze, but the rustle from before didn’t repeat itself.
“When the moms arrived back at the tents, they discovered that the little girl had found her way back on her own, and, except for a few scratches, was none the worse for wear. The violent storm continued through the night, but all was still again by morning. However, there wasn’t sight or sound of the scout leader. The moms alerted the park rangers, and a search party was formed, but not a trace was ever found of the missing leader.”
Barely above a whisper Rob said, “That was ten years ago, but some people say you can still hear her ghost calling out the little girl’s name, ‘Cassie, Caaassieee…’ Listen, you can almost hear it now…” He grew silent, waiting. Everyone listened to the soft blowing of the wind, and the sound of the fire.
Then Scott screamed “Cassieeee!” in a high shriek making everyone of them jump and cry out in fear. Stephen buried his face in Trish’s shoulder and she hugged him tight, then she burst out laughing, as did everyone else.
Jess pointed at Stephen and laughed, “I think Stevo wet himself.”
“Look at him; he’s using Pia as protection!” Roger called.
“Well fuck, Scott scared the shit outta me!” They all laughed again.
Cale asked, “You guys learn that in camp together or something?”
Scott replied, “Totally. Our councilors told it and freaked us right the fuck out.”
“We were ten and I barely slept the rest of the time we were there. Another two weeks I think.” Rob said.
“Thanks guys. That was exactly what I wanted.” Trish said.
Conversations meandered from person to person, and broke off into tiny pockets for the next little while. When Trish noticed Scott’s attention focused on her from the right, she intuited that he was about to make a pass and she got up and said, “Well boys I’m beat. I’m off to bed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
They chorused a heartfelt “Aw.” And she grinned.
“I’m thinking I might stay here tomorrow, do some exploring, maybe do some tanning, just relax. I don’t have an agenda at all. So if you leave early wake me up and say goodbye, okay?”
“Will do.” Cale promised.
And with that Trish moved to her tent, lit her candle and went inside zipping the door closed behind her. Placing her candle in the same spot as before Trish once more did a silhouette striptease. Removing her top one button at a time she took it off slowly letting herself cool down in the chill air. Looking sideways she angled herself so that her erect nipples shows on the tent wall. Then she pulled her hair from its bandana and she undid her ponytails. She shook out her hair, running her fingers through it to work out the tangles. Next she took off her boots and socks, and pulled her tights off. Turning to face away from the candle she pulled the material over her ass and down her thighs. Stepping her first leg out of the tights she placed it wide away from her other, giving a clear shot between her legs.
The light source was close to her parted thighs and the outline of her legs and the cleft between them was sharp and well defined. Her head was the least defined so she could watch her shadow and move in such a way so as to be sure that the guys didn’t know she could see exactly what she was doing.
Pulling her other leg out of the tights she put it back down leaving her legs parted, but not a lot. She folded the clothes she had been wearing neatly and then sat down on her mat and sleeping bag. She pulled out a brush and began to comb her hair thoroughly. The shadow of her breasts wobbled and rippled from her movements, but still the nipples were clearly defined sticking out from her mounds.
When she felt she had put on enough of a show, while not making it too obvious she was putting on a show, she blew out the candle and crawled into her sleeping bag.
Sleep overtook her far faster than usual, and she hardly had time to begin her fantasies about tomorrow night when sleep overtook her.
If anyone tried to get into her tent and make a move Trish didn’t hear it, she slept the whole night uninterrupted. Perhaps because she went to bed earlier, or because she was more fit Trish woke up before anyone else. Crawling out of her tent in her tights and a small t-shirt Trish brought her flip flops and her yoga mat. Walking out a bit into the flat open ground past the fire pit she set up her mat and began to do some yoga and pilates to stretch out her sore muscles. The hike had worked her harder than she had though possible.
As she worked her body, stretching her limbs through various poses and working out the stiffness she noted that some of the guys were getting up and moving around.
The sun was up, just not over the surrounding mountains, the air crisp and chill, and if not for her working out Trish would have been too cold for her skimpy t-shirt.
At last she felt her body was loose and back to normal, except for a knot in her shoulders from her pack which she couldn’t get loose. Looking around she saw Roger and Jess at the fire making coffee, and Cale was gathering more wood. All the men smiled and greeted her quietly as she approached the fire. That they had been watching her stretch was obvious in the way they avoided looking at her directly, but tried surreptitiously to look at her nipples poking through her thin top.
Soon with the fire going and the sun climbing over the top of the nearest mountain the air grew warm and Trish felt her body relax even more.
One by one the men emerged from their tents looking disheveled and groggy. Everyone gathered around and talked about their various sleeps, complained about who snored, and how cold it had been, and what not. Trish said she had been chilly, but she liked the feeling of being snuggled into her sleeping bag more than she relished being too hot in bed.
“Heh heh, she said ‘Hot in bed’!” Stephen cracked. That received a chuckle from the group, probably more for the audacity of it, than its actual humour.
After a simple breakfast of an apple Trish moved back into her tent to change for the warmer day. She emerged in a few moments in her bikini top and proper hiking shorts, boots and socks.
“I’m going to climb up to the top of that peak and have a look around.” she said. “Anyone wanna come?”
“Heh heh, she said ‘Cum’.” Stephen tried again.
Ignoring him Cale said, “Sure. We decided as a group that we weren’t in any hurry either, and that we were happy to camp here again tonight. If you don’t mind the company.”
“Are you kidding? I love you guys. I think it would be awesome for us all to spend the night together again.” Trish grinned.
“Hehe heh she said-”
“Okay it’s settled then. ” Cale interrupted.
Jess and Roger, who were the first to rise, were also the first to be ready for a day hike. The others said to start without them and that they would meet at the top.
So the foursome of Trish, Jess, Roger and Cale began the ascent.
The peak was a small one as far as mountains go, and it looked to be no more than three hundred feet higher. With her pockets crammed with necessities, and a small fanny pack that turned into a windbreaker just in case, Trish was far more comfortable hiking than yesterday.
The climb wet by quickly and they were panting and sweating by the time they reached the peak. The wind as they looked over into the next valley was cool and dried the trickles of sweat giving them all goosebumps, but it was a refreshing after the hot climb.
The small group looked at the views, Trish took some pictures with her digital camera, which she hadn’t used in over a year. Jess was a shutter bug with a really good camera and he took lots of shots, many of which included Trish and the other two. Each time they could the others put arms around her and held her close, brushing themselves against her exposed flesh, or pressing into her breasts and buttocks. It was a thrill, all this attention. Each time she let them get away with something, they grew more bold, but never overt.
Trish lay her windbreaker down on a smooth ledge out of the wind but still in the sun. Pulling off her shorts she revealed the thong bikini bottoms she wore under her shorts. Laying her clothes down on a ledge she stretched out and began to tan. Peeking out from behind her sunglasses she saw the men gaping at her. The sparse covering of materiel stretching over her obviously bald pussy left little to the imagination. The swell of her mons was a treat just barely out of view, and it was captivating the guys.
Cale was the first to recover. He moved to his day pack and pulled out his lunch. Stripping off his shirt he sat down near Trish and nonchalantly ate, stealing glances at her whenever possible.
Jess moved off behind Trish so she couldn’t watch him, while Roger sat beside Cale and also began to eat.
The whirring, and clicking of Jess’s camera behind her made Trish horny. She imagined him doing close ups of her body, and she twitched, moving herself into slightly different positions, as if posing for him.
“You okay?” Cal asked.
“Well, this rock isn’t as good a surface for laying on as I thought it might be.”
“Here.” Cale offered his own jacket, a fleece that was way too hot for the hike, but was perfect for the wind up here. Taking it Trish smiled and put it under her back. Taking her time moving onto all fours Trish adjusted the fleece to be smooth, and comfy under her back.
The men continued to drink in the sight of her body hidden by just the smallest scraps of cloth.
Finally she deemed it perfect and she lay down on her back, wiggling her torso around to find the best spot, letting her breasts thrust up in the air. Then she settled in and let her mind wander away, relaxing as she so rarely did.
The way other woman might fantasize about fucking these men, Trish fantasized about dating one. She imagined what it might be like to live a normal life. In her minds eye she saw Cale, or one of the others coming over to her sparse apartment to pick her up for a date. Them going out, having dinner, going to a concert, holding hands, being normal. And naturally as she drifted farther away from her physical surroundings, she imagined them in bed. Nothing strange, just people making love. It started out like she saw in the movies, with low lights, and soft caresses, but soon she had other men there, and she was being taking roughly by many men, her body used by them as she tried to please them all.
A small tremor shook her body as she began to get aroused by this picture. Trish’s deepest fantasy had always been to be in a gang bang with her as the star performer.
She must have actually fallen asleep because suddenly the other men were here gathered in a circle ten feet away talking quietly.
She sat up and looked down the slope at them.
“Hey guys. What’s up?”
“Sorry did we wake you up? “Roger asked.
“Nope, I didn’t hear a thing. What are you guys doing?” She noticed Jess still had his camera out.
“We were talking about going over to that peak, using this bridge here. It is narrow, and looks a bit dangerous. Not everyone wants to.”
“Well I’m going to stay here. I’ll watch people stuff if you like.”
Trish began to apply sunscreen to her limbs, distracting the guys once more. She actually heard one of them say something that sounded like. “What? You gonna stay here and drool?” Massaging the cream into her skin Trish covered every part of herself, working the cream in under the minimal covering of her swimsuit. None of them men had left yet. Her fingers slid under her top and rubbed the pillow of first one breast, then the other. Then she worked the cream into the skin of her belly, massaging down and down. The cream spurted loudly out of the container with each application to her hand.
Soon she was down to her groin and she worked the cream into the juncture between her legs all around her bottoms. Letting her fingers slip under the fabric she smeared the viscous mixture all around her pubic area, trying to keep from flashing her slit, but not very hard. Then lifting one leg high she held it straight up and applied cream to the back of her thigh all the way up to her ass, working her long, strong leg like a huge hard cock. Stoking and massaging it, she was less careful about pretending not to be aware of the guys. She gave them little glances, and furrowed her brows as she noticed they were watching. Many of them pretended to be looking elsewhere, and picked up on suspended conversations.
Switching legs she said, “Are you guys watching me?”
Some said “no” and some said “yes”, and at least one said “what?”
“What a bunch of pervs.” She pretended to be offended, but smiled to take the edge of it.
“Come on!” Scott shouted. “You know you are putting on a show over there. You’re trying to get us all hot and bothered.”
“Like you’ve never seen a girl suntan before? What are you thirteen?” Trish called back. They all laughed
“Come on guys, let’s go if we’re going.” He walked away and most everyone followed. Jess and Shawn stayed behind.
Trish finished her leg and laid back down to get some more sun.
Shawn moved in closer, but not too close and pulled out a book and sat to read. Jess wandered off with his camera.
“We were totally checking you out.” Shawn admitted.
“Good.” Trish said simply.
They sat in silence for a few moments then Trish sat up reached behind and undid the top of her suit. Holding the front she lay back down and then pulled the stings around and piled them onto the top of her tits. Then carefully she pulled the material in close to her nipples, keeping them covered, but almost nothing else. The utter silence beside her told her she had Shawn’s attention fully engaged on her body, exactly where she wanted it.
The bottoms also tied, two knots on each hip. Reaching down, but not opening her eyes she undid first one then the other, and with out looking she draped the strings over her pubis, and pushed the already miniscule covering in closer to her groove to show even more of herself. Spreading her legs slightly she allowed the hot sun to bath her nearly exposed crotch.
Then once more she let her mind wander. She tried to imagine what Shawn was seeing. Her skin lightly tanned, with no visible lines, glowing pink, shiny from the cream, and her perspiration. Her toned stomach rising periodically with her breath, the temptation of her breasts so visible, but not the part he now most wanted to see.
And worst/best of all, her succulent juncture, so close to him, the skin so smooth, not a hair visible, perhaps one of her puffy outer lips peeking out from underneath the blue sheath of her bottoms. A fine sheen of glimmering sweat trickling over the glorious swell of her mons.
What a torture. How cruel of her. Well tonight she would make it up to him. She might do a lap dance for him to start things off.
As she slipped off into her fantasy world again, one in which Shawn reached out and began to play with her pussy Trish slipped off into a nap, dimly aware that if she moved too much she would dislodge the precariously piled material covering her naughty bits. Asleep her face was soft, but still smiling.
When she came back to herself Trish had the impression that not much time had passed. Her body was in essentially the same position, and she wasn’t uncomfortable. She checked to see if she was still covered and she tied the bottoms back on. Then she spread out the top to cover more and allowed herself a delicious stretch. Her arms and legs taut and quivering she lifted her arms over her head, curled her toes up and elongated herself across the rocks, thrusting her butt back, lifting her belly, and pushing her chest out arching her back. Then she released, flopping back down onto the rock, splayed out limply.
Turning her head she looked for Shawn, who was watching her.
“I fell asleep again. Was I snoring?”
“Only tiny little snores, like an inhalation without any snort.”
“Oh that’s a relief!” she laughed.
“Better than Scott. I could hear him from two tents away.”
“Oh that was him? I thought it was a chainsaw off in the woods.”
Trish rolled over on her stomach and undid the straps on her bottoms again. She reached around awkwardly holding he top on with one hand and using the other to put the strings down between the globes of her buttocks. The back cover of her bottoms was so small that she really didn’t need to move it much to expose all of her cheeks. The suit wasn’t a thong, but it was very close, the widest part of the rear was only two inches wide.
Laying back down she wiggled once more to find a comfy spot and rested her head on her crossed arms turning to look up at Shawn.
“Whatcha reading?” she inquired.
“Oh it is this excellent book called Freakonomics, by Steven Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. It is a book that uses economics to explain social behaviors of humans. Sort of.”
“How do you mean? How does it do that?”
“Well they do weird things like compare Sumo wrestlers cheating in matches, to teachers cheating on students test scores to show how humans will always do things to make themselves look better.”
“Yeah, they love to use numbers, and economic models to make controversial statements, like how abortion lowered crime rates in New York, or how little effect so-called “good parenting” has on a child’s education. Stuff like that. It is mind blowing really.”
“That’s excellent. I wish I had more time to read. I so rarely do it.”
“Well I recommend this one. This is my second time reading it, and I’ve read the sequel Superfreakonomics too.”
“That’s great. Hey would you mind putting some lotion on my back. I’m too lazy right now.”
“Sure, no problem.” He picked up the tube and splurted some out on his hand. He rubbed his hands together, and began smearing the lotion first between both palms, and then onto her bare back. Working from her shoulders down he applied a liberal coat of the lotion to her body. His hands massaged her muscles making her moan with pleasure.
“Oh my god that feels amazing.”
Continuing he worked the skin with globs of the cream then caressed her body urging her to relax all the way. His firm grip kneaded her muscles and she felt the efforts of yesterday, and the strain of her lifestyle melting away.
“Jeezus, you are good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“Well, yeah, sometimes.”
Slowly, inexorably he moved lower and lower rubbing the tension from her back. After a good long massage Shawn’s hands reached her butt, and teasingly, as if unsure of what her response would be, he starting to massage the top of her buttocks. When she made no complaint he moved lower, and truly began to massage the deep muscles of her glutes.
Trish moaned again as the years of martial arts, and dance were kneaded from her overworked ass. Working on one cheek at a time he massaged her globes and Trish opened her legs wider to allow him better access to the whole of each cheek.
Assuming he could see something of her hidden charms Trish just lay still, and relaxed as he continued to loosen up her long tightened musculature.
When at last he finished her butt Shawn moved down to her thighs and he worked right up close to the juncture of her legs, brushing her now soaking pussy. Beginning to focus on her left leg he worked down her thigh away from her aching cleft, and down to her knee.
Then he moved to her calf and once more Trish was treated to a fantastic indulgence she had never encountered before. Those hands brought joy to long abused limbs. The large muscles of her calf were knotted and tight, but Shawn persevered and managed to bring true relaxation to them.
Next he did her left foot, and after years of dance Trish had tight hard feet. With liberal amounts of lotion Shawn was able to relax the tense arch, and the ball of her foot. He then switched feet and began the reverse of what he had done. All the way up her grateful right leg his magical hands massaged. When he was once more at her upper thigh Trish felt a gush of juice flow inside her. She thought if he so much as touched her pussy she would cum.
With one hand on each of her butt cheeks spreading them apart he massaged along the deep crevice working distractingly close to her anus, and then lower skirting the edge of her perineum. His fingers were inside of her bottoms now, the cloth fallen away probably exposing her asshole at the very least. She wasn’t about to move to break this spell he had put her under. Strong thumbs pressing into her yielding flesh Shawn continued to manipulate her tissue just barely brushing the outer meat of her labia. With sweat and lubricant moistening the area his thumbs were able to slid around the slippery region of her pussy, but still he did not touch.
Then suddenly he sat back and asked her if she wanted him to do the front.
Trish groggily moaned yes, and rolled over just barely remembering to keep her breasts and slit covered in a false display of modesty.
Starting once more at her feet Shawn massaged them some more, and then worked up her shins and then to her thighs. He lingered over the strong muscles of her quads and kneaded them completely. The loving manner in which he fondled her thighs told her he was a leg man, and that hers pleased him. He worked her thighs thoroughly, being sure to leave them supple and loose when he was done.
Now he reached her hips and massaged along the hip bone and the strong hip flexor muscle. This was uncomfortable, as it was a strong tight muscle from years of kicks in both dance and martial arts. His thumbs worked the long line of tendons down into the region between her legs where the ligament attached someplace deep, and very close to her sopping cunt.
Once more his fingers slid under her minimal covering and the tips of his magic fingers pressed tantalizingly along the very edge of her yearning lips first on one side, then slowly moving down from her hip to the other side.
Trish was panting now, barely able to hold back from opening her legs wide and telling him to use those fingers on more appreciative flesh, but she held herself back, and kept a stranglehold on her lust. Forcing herself to relax, she continued to stay supine and vulnerable, accepting the gift she was being given.
Now he worked his way up her abdomen, massaging the deep muscles of her stomach. This was the most self conscious she became. Even though she was fantastically fit, still a man pressing her belly, making it move and feel gooey left her feeling vulnerable.
“Relax, here okay, try not to hold tension in your diaphragm.”
Breathing out heavily Trish gave herself over to the massage, ignoring her insecurity. After a bit his hands jumped up to her shoulders and moved along relaxing them, and then moved along her clavicle, along the lines of muscles surrounding her throat. Another shiver of lust lashed her ragged nerves as his hands wrapped around her throat and began to massage the bands of muscle there. Trish enjoyed choking games on occasion, and as horny as she was now this got her more so.
It was all Trish could do to not reach down and begin to finger her desperate hole now. Letting out her breath in a big sigh she made herself relax letting her jaw fall open as she released into his hands.
Opening her eyes she could look into his face, and saw how aroused he was too. From behind her glasses she made eye contact with him, and she smiled.
“I want to have your babies.” She sighed, thinking that was the appropriate amusing thing to say here.
“That might be fun.” He tried back.
There she lay, with three teensy flaps of cloth between him and all her most intimate areas, Each piece unfettered, only resting lightly on her tingling skin, begging to be lifted away, and he wasn’t doing it. Trish didn’t know what to make of this young man. Was it nerves? Surely he could see the arousal in her body, smell it leaking from her pores, feel it beneath the fingers of his hand as he pressed the flesh near her openings. Yet he did nothing obvious to indicate he wanted to take her.
Trish imagined his cock aching inside his shorts, screaming at him to let it out, that it knew what she wanted.
For the first time during the massage she was looking at his face and she saw his eyes dart away every so often to the slope above her.
When he looked away down her body and moved his hands from her neck to her upper chest Trish did her best to look where he had been looking, without being obvious.
There laying on the rock, twenty feet or so away Jess had his camera pointed at the two of them. How long had he been there? The wind covered the sound of his shutter, so Trish had been unaware of his presence, but now she knew what was holding Shawn back.
As Shawn began to massage her chest closer to her breasts she arched up to meet his hands.
“No,” He said, “relax and let me do the work.”
She moaned her frustration, sending him more signals. Now his fingers were at the first swellings of her mounds, and his talented fingers began to massage the pliant orbs, one hand per breast. Trish began to squeeze her thighs together and make miniscule tilts of her pelvis, in a futile attempt to get more stimulation on her throbbing clit.
Shawn moved both hands over to her right breast, the one farthest from where he was kneeling, one hand massaged the upper muscle of her tit, and the other massaged the swell of tissue on the underside. This was pure breast tissue, not muscle, and it was a bolder sexual arena now.
Trish lifted her left hand languidly and let it rest on Shawn’s hip. As he stroked and fondled her boob, she trailed her fingers along the line of his belt letting her hand wander around the front. With his right hand inside her top, and the left cupping the bottom of her breast the only part of her tit that he wasn’t touching was her nipple; which was aching to be touched. Every movement of the material was rubbing her nipple and making her squirm.
Moving himself back slightly Shawn gave himself more room with which to work on her left tit, and perhaps intentionally it gave her greater access to his front, and thus his boner. He may well have been trying to get her to be the one to make the first overt move.
Still being languorous Trish did let her hand fall along the top of his thigh as he moved out, now she distractedly stroked up and down his leg, sometimes on the cloth of his shorts, sometimes on the skin of his leg.
Meanwhile he fondled her left breast, still massaging it but now more of an overt grope, but still not touching her nipple.
It seemed they were at a pleasurable stalemate, neither willing to be the first to take it to the next level. So they remained for a few moments more, he caressing her breast, she gently stroking his thigh when in the distance they heard laughter of the returning group. They were still a ways off, but when Trish opened her eyes Shawn looked like he might cry.
Reaching up Trish cupped the heft of Shawn’s balls regaining his undivided attention.
“I’ll make this up to you tonight. I promise.” She said while holding his full balls in her hand.
He slipped his fingers around to her nipple at last and pinched gently. “I’m looking forward to it.” She moaned arching up to meet his hand, and smiled up at him.
Moving away Shawn picked up his book again, and Trish reached down and did up the stings on her bottoms. She left her top undone and rolled back over onto her back once more.
It took a long time for the guys to reach them, the sound up here carrying further than they thought. When at last the sound of their talking became consistent, Jess appeared.
“Hey”, he called to them.
“Hey.” Shawn called back, his voice calm.
“Hi.” Trish lifted herself up on her arms and her top fell off. Her breast were not fully visible, but the effect was still profound, Jess stared openly. “Oops.” She said ignoring his ogling, and she lay back down, and tied the straps around her neck and back. By the time she was done the whole gang was back.
Sitting up she adjusted her breasts back into the centre of the triangles and it felt great to hold them for the briefest of moments. The guys all tried to make the three of them jealous listing all the awesome things they had seen and done, but no-one was buying it, including the story tellers. They could sense something had happened and they all dreaded it might mean they had lost out on a chance with her.
Trish stood up and while they all chatted she put her shorts back on and gave Cale his fleece.
“I’m hot and could use a swim in that lake we saw.” Trish said.
“That would be awesome.” Stephen enthused.
So one and all they hiked back down the mountain to their camp and the boys grabbed swimsuits, then they all made out for the small lake they had passed just before they reached camp yesterday.
It was late afternoon, with a few hours left of sunlight when they hit the water, the guys all went off into the woods to don their suits and Trish jumped right in and began to swim out into the deeper water. It felt good to cool down after the hike back. Looking at the water she saw oily shimmers of the sunscreen washing off in her wake.
Soon the guys all came leaping and splashing into the water, whooping and hollering like apes.
The group of them had races, and breath holding contests, the latter of which Trish won. They began to wrestle, Stephen and Scott being the most interested in that particular exercise.
All of a sudden the two of them rushed her and they hauled her up over their heads and threw her a short distance through the air.
“That sucks, c’mon guys lets make her fly!” Scott shouted.
All of them except Cale chased her down as she tried to get back to shore, and they held her, pulling on her arms and legs holding her spread between them like a wishbone. Then as they all counted to three they threw her through the air. She flew so high she had time to worry that it was too high, then she hit the water all tangled and splayed awkwardly.
When she came up they were all still high fiving each other and cheering.
“Holy shit you flew! That was awesome.” Stephen enthused.
“Guys! Do it again, I want to get it on film!” Jess shouted, and made his way back to shore. Trish took off trying to get away, but not really wanting to. She was having the time of her life.
She managed to elude them for a time, but soon enough they caught her and brought her back closer to shore, where they could swing her at waist height. When Jess called out that they he was ready they began once more to swing her. Holding herself rigid this time to really help them gain speed she flew much more elegantly, and in control when they released.
She completed a high arc and then began to descend, when she tucked into a cannon ball. The water hit her like a slap and she sunk like a stone bumping the bottom with her bum. Getting her legs under her she pushed off breaking the surface with a big splash and waving her arms over her head.
They threw her once more, with her full cooperation. Then they turned on Roger the next smallest. When she saw how high they threw him Trish was amazed, Roger weighed at least thirty pounds more than she did, so she figured she must have gone much higher.
Now the men were exhausted. It was time for supper, before they lost the daylight.
While waiting for their food to get ready everyone changed and dried off. Trish put on her t-shirt and tights again and left her hair loose, padding out of her tent in her flip flops Trish brought her brush out to the fire and ran it through her hair until it was long and straight, and almost dry.
Jess came over and showed her some of the pictures of her in the water. He was a very good photographer and she looked clear and sharply focused. In one of the shots when she was leaping back up out of the water her bikini top had come off over her breasts exposing both nipples.
“Whoops!” she said, “I showed a bit mush here!”
“I’ll delete that if you want.”
“No that’s cool. I’ve done nude modeling before. Oh hey, let me see the ones you took of me and Shawn.”
“What?” He looked comically guilty.
“The ones when he was giving me the massage. I saw you taking pictures; I just want to see them.”
“I’m sorry… I-”
“No it’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m a total exhibitionist, as if you couldn’t tell. I just want to see what they look like.” She looked up at him and smiled to show her lack of anger.
So Jess began to scroll through his photos of the day. The ones she could see were really beautiful, and she said so.
When he got to the ones she was looking for he got all nervous and handed her the camera, then went to check on his food.
Trish looked at the images and was thrilled at the close ups of Shawn’s hands on her breasts, and a wonderful picture of her face, her mouth open, cheeks flushed, her eyes just visible around her sunglasses closed tight in a passionate grimace. The rest of the shot showed Shawn’s arms and his hands on her tit, her nipple in between his fingers, her hand cupping his balls. It was gorgeous. Flipping through the rest she got wet remembering it all, his hands all over her body.
Trish went to her tent and came back with a pen and some paper. Handing him the camera back she told Jess to send her the pictures when he got back, and she gave him an e-mail address.
Others wanted to see too so Jess filed through them until they were back at the water fun and passed the camera around. Shawn kept it longer than anyone else and Trish gave him a secret smile when he looked up at her, all flushed. He had been looking at their photos, she was sure.
Trish ate a chicken dish with more sliced up dried vegetables, and added just a bit of water to make a light broth. The guys mostly ate more smokies.
After dinner a hush fell over the group as they digested. Jess sat on one side of Trish on her log, and Roger sat on the other.
Trish broke the silence.
“I think each one of us should tell a story. A personal story. Something intimate.”
“Like what. Our most embarrassing moment?” Asked Stephen.
“That would be too many for you to choose from.” Scott said.
“No, how about the story of our first love?” Jess asked.
More than half the group groaned so that idea died.
“Our scariest moment?” Rob asked.
“No. Our greatest sexcapade!” Cale said.
“Yeah!” The crowd agreed.
“You go first.” Stephen said to Cale.
“Fuck that!” Roger groaned, “He’ll put us all to shame. I want to have a chance at not sounding lame so I’ll go first. When I was a kid, twelve or so, I was taught to kiss by twin sisters. They took turns French kissing me until my balls ached.”
“Did you fuck them?” Stephen asked.
“No dip-shit I was twelve! But no other event has been as overwhelmingly erotic. I’ve had some great sex, but they were hardly sexcapades, you know.”
“Good one man.” Rob said.
“Well I think it would have to be when I fucked a girl on a plane.”
“No way! That rocks! Bullshit!” Echoed out over the forest.
“True story. I was flying to Vancouver and I was with my girlfriend at the time Kaitlyn, she was a horny thing, who was pretty wild in bed. So anyway she starts playing with my dick under my coat getting me hard as a rock. I couldn’t take it anymore so I asked her to stop. Instead she told me to meet her in the bathroom. It was the middle of the day, but I thought ‘When is this ever going to happen to me again?’ so I waited a few minutes and went after her. I am sure most of the people around us knew, but who gives a shit, right? Anyway I go knock on the door and she lets me in. She has her jeans and her panties off and she unzips me and sucks me hard again and we do it with me on the toilet and her straddling me.”
“That is fucking awesome!” Stephen crowed. “Beats anything I’ve got.”
“So what is your best?” Rob asked.
“Aw I fucked a girl at work once.”
“Our work?” Cale asked.
“Yeah. On my desk.”
“No shit, anyone we know.” Shawn asked.
“Yeah, remember when I was dating Debbie in accounting? Well I was working late, trying to get my imaging done and she came in and brought me supper. One thing lead to another and we fucked right on my desk. It was really hot. That one gets pulled out of the spank bank a lot.”
“Just so you know Pia,” Jess informed her, “he doesn’t have an office, he is a junior. His desk is right in the middle of the room.”
“What if the cleaners came by?” Shawn asked.
“We would have been able to hear the elevator.”
“It isn’t like he would have lasted very long!” Scott razzed.
“Alright tough guy lets hear yours.” Stephen demanded.
“Alright then. Check this out. I had a nurse blow me when I broke my leg.”
Cries of derision split the night. They didn’t believe him, but Trish did, having done similar things herself.
“No, no, no it’s true. I was all doped up on pain killers and this really cute young nurse, comes in to take me to my x-rays. She is all flirty so I started to rub her leg through those pajama things they wear. She tried to stop me, but I’m so high I don’t care. So when we are outside the x-ray room, I’d just had mine done and I’m still waiting for a cast, I keep groping her, feeling her boobs and her pussy and I don’t really know why, she must have felt sorry for me, or just wanted to stop me, but she wheels me into a single-room bathroom and goes down on her knees, lifts my gown thing and whips it out. Before I know it she is sucking me like a pro. I mean she was really good. And since I’m high and don’t care I don’t hold back and shoot in her mouth right away. She doesn’t pull away or spit or anything, she keeps sucking, and pulling on my dick. Then when there is nothing left and I can’t take it anymore she pulls back and I swear to god smacks her lips all satisfied. She checks her face in the mirror, licks her lips to clean them up and puts my robe back. Then she wheeled me out, and I got my cast. It was amazing.”
“No shit it was. I’m not sure if I believe you or not.” Roger said.
“I understand your feelings and accept your doubt.” While he said that he held up his middle finger and aimed it at Roger.
There was a pause while they tried not to look at Trish, she could sense that the unspoken agreement now was that she would go last.
Jess cleared his throat and relieved faces turned toward him.
“Well it isn’t all that amazing or anything, but I think it was great. I once made love to my ex in a boat on a lake in the middle of the night. We were out for a little cruise and wanted to get away from our friends at the cabin we were staying at. And once out on the lake it was so romantic that we made love.”
“That is sweet.” Trish said.
“Yeah man nice one.” Rob said.
“Yeah, good story. Does that come in Men’s?” Scott quipped. Everyone laughed in spite of how rude it was.
“You’re such a dick Scott.” Rob laughed.
“Yeah, its true I am.”
“Shawn?” Jess asked.
“This oughta be good.” Scott scoffed.
“I think you’ll be pleased Scott. I submit for your listening pleasure this little anecdote. When I was on vacation with a girl friend of many years we went south to a little all inclusive in Mexico. We were having a blast tanning drinking and of course having sex. One night after a little too much drink and a little bit of pot, we were hanging out with this other couple and we went back to their room. They got us even higher and then told us they were swingers and that they would like to fuck us.”
“Oh damn!” Stephen exclaimed.
“Oh damn indeed. We agreed after a brief consultation and the four of us retired to the bedroom where we swapped partners. We all were on the bed and soon enough the girls were making out while we fucked them, and when we both had cum the men sat back and watched them clean themselves up.”
“I fucking love it!” Scott shouted.
“The rest of the night is sort of fuzzy, but both women got double teamed and the girls made out a lot.”
“You fucked the guy didn’t you?” Rob said. “That why it is fuzzy! The rest of that shit would be burned onto my mind like etchings in metal.” The gang all laughed.
“No we didn’t touch each other, but we were pretty drunk and high so after two orgasms I was a little groggy. We fucked opposite partners again in the morning then my girlfriend and I fucked again in our room. It was so hot!”
“No shit it was!” Stephen said.
“Bullshit!” Scott said.
“Totally happened.” Shawn returned.
Everyone paused to consider, Trish was getting really wet thinking about what was going to happen soon. She knew exactly what she was going to say on her turn.
The men however seemed apprehensive. Should they let Cale go last because he was likely to have the best story, or her, because that would be the best way to end it off?
Trish helped them out.
“Okay Cale, I’m squirming in anticipation. What have you got?”
“Well I aim to please, so I’ll tell you about this one. When I was in college I made it a habit to spend more time with women than with men. I wanted to learn what it was they wanted. I flirted and played it cool, but I was always listening and learning. So one night I find out these three chicks are all going to be home studying for a test they have next week. They set up a cram session if you will.”
“I bet it was a cram session.” Stephen said, and was shushed the others.
“Anyway I show up around nine thinking it would be fun to break things up for them, and maybe, just maybe one of them wants to make out, y’know. So I go over and they let me in and we joke around and talk and shit. They are all in their p.j.s, little shorts with big t-shirts and one in tights and a t-shirt, nothing overtly sexy, but totally hot if you know what I’m talking about.” Murmurs from the men puzzled Trish. Seeing her look Cale explained.
“Woman have no idea that those little comfy-knocking-about-the-house outfits are some of the sexiest they can wear. The loose, worn out shit looks so good. So effortless. Or a man’s shirt and nothing else. Way hot. Anyway they are dressed like that. So naturally as with all young people, and ourselves tonight, the subject of sex comes up. We all start comparing things we’ve done, and trying to one up each other. Then they start daring each other to do things with me. I’m stunned, and I just grin looking confident, but inside I’m freaking out. So one of them dares another to make out with me in front of them. So she leans in and we start kissing and it is great. Then she leans back and dares another to show me her boobs. So she lifts up this old t-shirt of hers and flashes me her gorgeous tits. Then that one tells the next one to show me her pussy. She hesitates, and I look as cool as I can, just acting like its no big deal, I see pussies all the time. Well something works for her, because she stands up and drops her little shorts, and just stands there letting me see her totally groomed, and sculpted pussy. This is before everyone is shaving everything, and a well trimmed muff is the height of slutty.
Slowly she pulls her shorts back up, almost like she wishes she didn’t have to. So she turns to the first girl and tells her to jack me off a bit. But not to let me cum, and she looks at me like it is a challenge to keep me from cumming, or daring me to hold off for more later or something. At any rate she is challenging me not her friend. So this girl takes me by the hand and takes me to a bedroom and pulls my dick out of my jeans and starts to pump it. She is looking up at me to see how I’m doing, but mostly she is looking at my dick, and I’m wondering how many, if any she has seen. Just when I’m getting into the ‘I could maybe cum’ phase of things she stops. And gently tries to put me back, but now there is no gentle way to do it, so I take over and put myself away.
We go back into the other room and it is really tense out there now.
The handjob girl turns to her friend and says, “Now you have to suck his cock, but no orgasm buddy”. She looks at me, but then back at her friend to see if she’ll do it. Well this one takes my hand and takes me back to that bedroom and I get out my cock for her and she looks at it for a while and then she takes it in her hand and aims it at her mouth. She is nervous. She doesn’t really know me that well. Soon though she licks it, and then starts to suck it, taking it into her mouth a little way, but mostly licking up and down the side, sort of like a corn on the cob.”
The entire circle was mesmerized by they way he was telling the story, and Trish was getting more and more horny.
“So after a really short time, maybe a minute she stops and looks up at me, she smiles sort of embarrassed and gets up and walks out. I’m left alone with my dick out and just as I start putting it away in comes the tough leader chick and then the others following. The leader pulls off her clothes and tells me to take off mine, which I do, not even trying to be cool now. We get on the bed and she sits down on my dick and fucks me riding on top. While she is doing that she dares the hand job girl to sit on my face. And she leans in to me and says “Don’t you dare cum, but you better make us cum.” So I fuck the girl on my dick and lick the girl on my face as best I can, like a man possessed and I make those chicks cum. When they climb off the girl that sat on my face now tells the last girl to suck the leader’s juices off my dick. This is the same girl that blew me before, but now she leaps on it and sucks me like crazy. It is a totally different blowjob. All the girls take off their clothes and while I’m getting this incredible blow job the others start licking each other. It is a free for all. I get up and start to fuck the blowjob girl and doing her doggie style so I can keep an eye on things. One of the other girls climbs under the other girl I’m nailing and gets her to start licking her pussy. I’m loving this. Just out of my mind happy, when I feel something behind me.
The leader girl is back there and she reaches around and starts to squeeze my balls while I’m fucking her friend. She whispers in my ear not to cum, which is really hard now. Then she puts a finger to my ass, and it is all slippery, she rubs it around and I’m worried because it is making me hot and I don’t want to cum when she told me not to.
Then I feel something big and cool back there and before I can say anything she slides this big strap on into my ass!’
All the guys shout “Whoa!” in almost identical expressions of disbelief.
“I swear to god. She start fucking me with this thing while I’m fucking the other chick and it feels intense, and pretty awesome actually.”
“Holy shit!” Stephen exclaims.
“Yeah man. It was bizarre. I can’t believe she had that thing. I tell her I’m going to cum, and she hisses in my ear not until she tells me to. So I’m trying not to move very much inside that one girl but the other fucking my ass means I’m moving anyway. So I beg her to let me cum. She yells at the other two to stop what they are doing and to turn around and suck me. They look pretty surprised when they see that dildo in my ass but they start sucking me off one on my balls and one on my head, and switching it up. It is way too hard to hold back now and I’m making these weird whimpering noises and finally she tells me to cum and she moves the dildo around someplace and presses it against something in my ass and it feels amazing and I start to shoot the biggest load of cum I have ever shot. It is so incredible this orgasm. It seems to go on and on forever, and the girls below are doing their very best to take all that cum I’m spilling out, but it is getting everywhere. All over their faces, in their hair down their fronts on their tits. Everywhere. And when the boss back there pulls out of my ass, even more cum spurts out. I almost fainted. I couldn’t even get hard again when the three of them started licking my jizz off of each other that’s how spent I was.
Best night ever.”
Silence reigned over the group.
The fire crackled and Cale got up to put some more wood on it. Then when he settled back down everyone turned, slowly one at a time to face Trish. She smiled a soft upward turn of her perfect lips. This was going to be easy; these guys were so riled up.
Taking a deep breath she began.
“Wow. That was some story Cale. Got me a little short of breath, but… I’m pretty sure I can top it.” Glances between various men showed excitement as well as disbelief, but no one said anything.
“My story starts when I was camping once. I was alone and there was this group of guys. I didn’t know them, but they seemed pretty great. If I had been looking for anything, like a relationship or whatever, there were candidates for sure, but as it was I was just looking for a good time. My version of a good time, which isn’t quite the same as most girls. So there we were sitting around the campfire swapping stories about ourselves when I just got so horny that I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up,” She stood up, “I walked over to one of the guys who had given me one hell of a massage earlier that day.” Trish moved slowly, seductively over to Shawn. The guys were all looking back and forth to each other trying to get a handle on what was happening. Shawn looked like a kid who thinks he knows what his birthday present is, but is terrified he might be wrong.
“Now this guy had really gotten me hot with his hands all over my body. His fingers had been teasing me, almost touching my pussy, my asshole and just as he finished he tweaked my nipple. I could still feel it now hours later. So to reward him, I decided to give him a lap dance, right in front of all his friends.” As Trish planted herself squarely in front of Shawn, behind her she could hear the others whispering their excitement.
Reaching her hand down to the bottom edge of her t-shirt Trish began to sway her hips and pull up the thin material. She stopped and turned her head over her shoulder. “Jess, you might wanna get that camera ready.”
Beginning a seductive dance, with no need for music Trish began to undulate her body in front of Shawn. Her gyrations brought her closer until she was straddling his thighs, her breasts almost touching his face as she thrust them in and out. The guys around the circle began to cheer and whoop as they watched her butt contract and release with her provocative movements.
Lifting her right leg up Trish placed her knee on the log beside Shawn, and she thrust her hips toward him, humping the air above his crotch, while she did this she massaged her tits in front of his face, working the shirt up over her undulating belly.
Then she brought her other knee up onto the log and gently squeezed him between her legs, and holding herself in place like that she rocked her body up and down over his groin, as if she were riding him. One hand reached out to hold herself steady on his shoulder, while the other rubbed down over her thrusting pussy, and to great cheers she stroked herself in time to her thrusts above him.
Putting one foot back down on the ground, Trish let her body press against Shawn, he needed both hands on the log to hold them both up as she slid down him keeping as much contact as she could, her one leg still on the log, leaving her legs wide apart, her hand still pressed to her pussy.
Lifting her hand from herself she placed it on his lap, just to the side of where she assumed his cock was and she pressed down lifting herself off him and then easing back down bumping her mound against his thigh. Over and over she humped his thigh, grinding her crotch against his thigh.
Next she stood all the way up and did a belly dance twirl around on the spot, her hips pulsing back and forth, and in and out, her whole body swaying sinuously. As she twirled Trish smiled out at all the other guys who were shouting encouragement to Shawn.
With her back to Shawn Trish stepped back and with her arms she reached for his shoulders to balance herself. Then Trish placed her ass right in his lap and ground her globes into his hard dick. Squeezing and pressing into it Trish stimulated his cock through his pants, driving him and all the guys wild. Shawn opened his legs wide to allow her full access to his raging boner.
Letting herself slide down him she released her grip and ran her back down along his body, nearly pushing him backwards off the log. She then lifted herself up again and placed her ass on his pole, then with sensual movements she rubbed herself on him. Gradually increasing pace she swirled her hips in a bigger arc, covering more and more of his groin, her bum touching every part of his crotch.
Standing again Trish reached down between her legs and slid a finger up along the crack of her cunt and upward along her ass giving him a view of her dampening tights.
Then swirling around on the spot again she lifted her shirt up over her undulating belly, showing him her muscles, rippling with her movements. Inch by inch, with each thrust her belly made toward Shawn, Trish eased the shirt higher over her stomach, until the bottom of her breasts were peeking out from the cloth.
Stepping forward once more with her legs straddling his right thigh she pressed herself down, pushing her twat down onto his trembling thigh. Then with her tits a foot from his face Trish revealed her orbs to his gaze. Playing peek-a-boo she flashed her shirt up and down exposing herself to him for a second, then covering herself again. Then with one long pull she wrenched her shirt up over her head and all the way off. An eruption of male voices pummeled her bare back as she dropped her shirt on the ground at their feet. Still prodding his thigh with her cunt Trish kneaded her breasts before his eyes. Pulling on her nipples and twisting them she manipulated her mounds for his approval.
Feeling it was only fair to share her assets Trish stood up again and covering her breast with her hands faced the fire.
Again she plopped her ass onto Shaw’s cock and she leaned back making him support her. Then she began to massage her breasts giving the boys out front a peep show between her fingers, and she rippled her body from head to toe in a wave of pleasure and began to pull on her nipples again. Then rubbing her stomach she exposed her entire chest in brief flashes.
Finally with a sigh she let her body go limp, her hands fell to her sides and Trish left her torso completely uncovered for their hungry scrutiny. Limply she slid down Shawn again. When she was squatting wide legged on the ground, with her head on his prick Trish rubbed the back of her head on his protruding member, still leaving her chest displayed.
Standing up yet again, Trish slowly turned back to Shawn her hands rubbing up and down her body and when she turned back to him she once more massaged her titties. Putting her hands out and leaning on his shoulders she tilted herself forward, thrusting her ass out to the other guys and easing herself down Trish caressed his flushing cheek with her left nipple, pressing her breast meat into his face.
While she began to stroke his burning face with her boobs Trish slid her right leg up into his lap and ran the length of her shin up and down his hard-on stimulating him to the maximum.
Now leaning back she lifted her leg higher and placed her foot on the log and with one hand on his shoulder and the other free Trish began to pull the edge of her tights down her belly, exposing her lower abdomen. Still bucking her hips at him she eased down the black material inch by inch until it was as low as it could go without showing her slit. In the back her ass crack was now visible above the contorting globes of her flexing ass.
Standing and turning her back to him Trish bent over and pulled the tights down over her ass showing Shawn her naked bum, then with a quick turn she stood all the way up and bent over for the other boys, showing them her ass.
Standing once more Trish brought her legs all the way together and maneuvered the tights down off of her hips, pushing the pliant material down with both hands between her legs covering her still hidden charms. The tights slid easily down her thighs, and Trish Turned once more to the fire, and bent way over giving just Shawn the view as she pushed the tights down, down, down her thighs, over her knees and down her calves, her ass was less that a foot from his face, her pussy hidden in the shadows.
Rising ups and pivoting on the spot Trish held one hand over her juncture, kicked off her flip flop and lifted her right leg, balancing on her left and carefully lifted her right leg up, pulling the foot out of the leg hole, and lifting it up and up over her hips. Then with her free hand she took her ankle and lifted her leg all the way up until it was straight in the air, toe to the sky, her left hand cupped around her sex. She stood perched on one strong leg while the men cheered their approval.
She stood essentially naked before them, her ass glowing in the firelight, her front mysterious and seductively visible in the shadows for Shawn. Lowering the leg, Trish used her free foot to step on the tights pooled at her feet and she stepped out of the left leg placing her foot on the log beside Shawn.
Then Trish took her left hand and slid it along her raised thigh unveiling her smooth, waxed slit, glistening in the uncertain light. Shawn gaped at her, his eyes riveted on her opening.
Once again Trish began to gyrate her hips, thrusting her uncovered sex toward him in an erotic fashion. Taking his head in her hands Trish brought Shawn’s face to her undulating pelvis, and holding him in a fixed position she used his rigidity to allow herself to make even broader humping motions, her hips twisting and turning, her pussy passing within an inch of his bulging eyes.
It was time to show the goods to the others, and give poor old Shawn a bit of a break, so Trish brought her foot down, and once more pivoted on the spot, gyrating her hips letting her lead hip bring her around. Then when she was facing front, to even louder cheers, she sat back on Shawn’s lap and lifted her legs up and out in the splits displaying her dripping cooze to all assembled. The men sitting to the sides leapt up and moved to get a better view.
Balanced precariously on Shawn’s lap Trish took her left hand and began to stroke her thigh moving closer and closer to her glistening gash, then after a few hesitant strokes, she pulled open the folds with her thumb and middle finger and began to tease her clit with her index finger. The feeling of finally having her button pressed was such a relief that Trish moaned aloud.
Lowering her legs and removing her hand from her cunt Trish placed both feet on the ground and leaned forward hands on her knees, looking around the circle.
The cheering died down, and Trish took in a breath to speak.
“So I did the lap dance for the Magical Masseur, but I had gotten him so horny, and I was so hot too, after feeling that big cock of his pressed into my ass so many times, that I just had to taste it. I was out of my head with lust. So I blew him.”
Trish rose to her feet, and pulled Shawn up off the log. Silence descended over the group and Trish stood up on her tip toes and kissed Shawn on the lips, then kissed around his cheek to his ear where she whispered, “Don’t hold back baby, this is going to be a long night, and I need to taste your cum right away.” Dropping to her knees Trish undid Shawn’s belt and pulled open his shorts. Poking out of the top of his underwear was the head of his cock. Trish leaned in and kissed the tip.
Lowering his shorts down over his thighs, she continued to kiss the tip of his prick and when she pulled his underwear down she engulfed his pole in her mouth.
Kneeling on the sharp gravel around the fire pit Trish sucked his tool, slurping along his length.
Taking her right hand she began to pump him and bring her mouth down to meet her hand as it tugged upward from the base. None of the men were making any noise now, except the endless clicking of Jess’ camera as he captured each pornographic moment.
With her other hand Trish began to massage Shawn’s scrotum, urging him to spill his seed, and sure enough he soon began to buck his hips, humping himself into her mouth.
He began to grunt in the back of his throat and Trish quickened her pace, pumping hard and bobbing her head up and down rapidly, slurping the saliva leaking from out of the seal of her lips on his shaft.
Then at last his jism surged out of his quivering cock and spattered across the length of her tongue. Shawn grabbed her head and held them both still as he ejaculated into her. As her hand pumped his length milking him for every drop of his cum, Trish’s tongue bathed the head of his cock teasing more convulsions from him until with a moan he pulled away, too over stimulated to remain in her grasp.
Falling back onto the log Shawn gasped “Holy fuck!” and Trish smiled wiping the extra fluid from her mouth on the back of a hand.
“When he has spent himself in my mouth I knew that I wasn’t done. The taste of spunk only heightened my arousal. My pussy needed to be filled, and my lucky massage therapist was too overwhelmed to provide. So I turned next to one of the others.” In the forty some hours she had been with these men not once had they been as utterly still, or quiet as they were at that moment.
Looking at each of them in the eye Trish gauged her options.
“Each of them had been amusing, and endearing in their own way throughout the last two days, but one in particular made me itch deep inside. Only he could be the first man to fill my aching need right now.” Trish turned to Cale. “He had been coolly observing everything I’d been doing that night, appraising, and his eyes as they met mine were equal to the task of taming this wild pussy.” Trish walked over, the sharp stones on her bare feet, the pain mixing with her lust driving her wild with passion. Kneeling before her chosen Trish reached for his belt and undid it, and unzipped his shorts, once more pulling out an ardent member. Cale was big, thick and smooth, and Trish swallowed this excellent manhood as deep as she could in one plunge. She began to push his shirt up over his torso as she deep throated his tool.
As she continued to suck him into her mouth Cale removed his clothes, never once moving out of her mouth. Trish held him by the buttocks, grasping his cock with her ravenous mouth.
“Stephen, go get me a sleeping bag.” Cale ordered, and Trish heard scuffing feet as someone left the circle.
All the last two days Trish had wanted to be exactly where she was now, the centre of attention, on her knees with Cale’s schlong buried in her face. She was beside herself with pleasure. Slurping away on his shaft Trish gripped his tight buttocks. He was really one of the most beautiful men she had ever had. His dong was perfect, and he trimmed his pubic hair close so her nose wasn’t tickled as she swallowed nearly his entire length deep into her throat.
More scuffing sounds heralded the return of Cale’s assistant and Cale’s strong hands pried her from his meat and pushed her backward onto the cool soft material of a sleeping bag laid out behind her.
Trish moved farther onto the bedding and opened herself wide to him, offering her deepest most vulnerable self. She hungered for him like no-one she had in her life and as he fell over her, his arms supporting his weigh, she got him.
Aiming his boner at her slot he eased himself into her without using his hands. Trish cried out as his cockhead breached her tight opening. As he shoved himself into her the first orgasm of the night detonated in her centre. Even before he could pull out for the second stroke Trish was screaming her pleasure into the night sky.
This continued for the first series of thrusts, each time he drove himself into her, she was overcome by a cascade of sensations and her body quivered in rapture. Trish was lost in a sea of sensation, all centred on the wang nudging her deepest places.
Cale stopped lunging and leaned over and began to lick her nipples, sucking them into his mouth one by one, allowing her to calm down, but pleasing her still.
When at last Trish was able to take command of herself once more she reached down and grasped his butt again, urging him to move in and out once more. Looking at her with a grin, Cale started to drive himself into her, with more vigor than before, and Trish bit her lip to keep herself from flying off the edge of an orgasmic abyss again.
When she was sure she was going to be able to control herself Trish started to push herself up to meet his thrusts and engage actively in this romp.
Rocks and roots pressed into her back as Cale drove down into her, and Trish enjoyed the sensation as it helped ground her, keeping her from losing herself to the pleasure Cale was giving her. She was the one here to do the pleasing, which was her function. Not to be pleased.
Gripping him with her strong inner muscles Trish tilted her pelvis up and down meeting his motion, encouraging him to lose himself to their coupling.
“Fill me up big boy. Give me all that hot cum, I need it.”
“Oh you’ll get it baby. I’m gonna drown you in it. Just as soon as you cum for me again.”
“I want you to cum, baby. I’ve had mine now you have yours.”
“Nope. Show me that face of yours all blissed out again. It was beautiful. C’mon Pia, give me a show. Make me happy.”
Now Cale began to push deeper, and at the bottom of each plunge he ground his pubic bone hard against her clit, making her gasp. Looking up into his eyes Trish saw his desire to be the best, the man who made her cum whenever he wanted, and Trish felt her heart melt a little for him, recognizing in his need something of her own longing to bring pleasure to others. So as a gift she relaxed her iron control and accepted the wave of lust that threatened her self-denial, and tipped over the brink of her climax.
A moan escaped her mouth as she let the electric pulse of need engulf her. Her legs lifted up over his pounding hips, her arms clasped her to him as he rammed into her. Tilting back her head Trish cried out her ecstasy, her mind ravished by delight. A squirt of juice soaked his pole as it thrilled her spasming cunt. Trish lifted herself completely off the ground in her need to pull him deeper inside. Animalistic grunts issued from her throat, as if from some distant other, but she knew it was her.
When she could take it no more, her body slumped to the bedding spent, her arms too weak to hold him any longer, her legs splayed out wide, her chest heaving with extremity. “Thank you.” He said and unleashed a geyser of fluid into her. As the warmth of his seed spread through her quivering core, Trish felt another orgasm rip through her body; this one left her acutely aware of herself. There was no separation; she could feel each throb of her pussy, and each spurt of his spunk hitting her vaginal wall. The weight of him as he fell over onto her chest, the heat of his skin, the trembling of his legs, and the sweet secret triumph as his sperm oozed around inside her slot mixed around by the last of his convulsions.
This was paradise.
Wincing a bit as Cale withdrew from her embrace; Trish roused herself from her glowing, sleepy state and looked around the circle.
“After I fucked that one I was satisfied, but it just wouldn’t have been fair to the others who were all sexy men, with needs like any other. I randomly choose the two closest to me. Roger and Stephen get over here.” Stephen practically jumped up from where he was sitting and frantically began pulling down his pants. Roger moved closer, as if in some kind of daze.
“You don’t have to do this he whispered.”
“I want to Roger. It is why I came out here. This and only this. To be fucked stupid by a gang of men.” Reaching out she took his hand and kissed his palm, while moving herself onto all fours. She reached up and pulled Roger to her while arching her back and spreading herself for Stephen.
Roger began to undo his pants and Trish relaxed, her eyes looking up at him from way down below. Behind her Stephen positioned himself between her legs and began to work himself into her oozing cunt.
Sighing she accepted his manhood inside and he began to rail her eagerly, wedging himself in, and out shallowly, much more into speed than technique. Trish suspected Stephen watched too much porn.
Now Roger was ready to place himself in her mouth, and Trish opened up and stuck out her tongue. Placing the head of his cock on her tongue Roger held himself in his hand and moved it side to side on the offered appendage.
Allowing herself to me moved by the violent hammering happened to her bottom half Trish slid forward onto the penis aimed at her face, inhaling it lovingly.
Stephen was panting and gasping over her rump, and she felt drips of sweat, falling onto her back.
In her mouth Roger was slowly moving in and out, just the first few inches gliding across the tip of her tongue and through the loose grip of her lips.
As both men set their own pace Trish allowed herself to move automatically, her tongue lashed Roger’s head whenever she felt it nudge her there, and her quaking pussy clenched each time Stephen’s body bumped into her wide spread ass.
It was a wonderful feeling being filled by two men, who were both so eager to supply her with much needed cock. Stephen clutched her ass cheeks in both hands as if trying to tighten her vagina from without, so she clamped down on him hard, making him groan.
Roger in the opposite fashion was stroking her face with his hands in such a loving fashion it made her weepy.
Leaning farther over, Roger let his hand reach under her and begin to play with her breast, rubbing the swaying orb.
“Stephen, rub her clit, don’t just use her like a ham you’re wanking into. Make her feel good.” Roger hissed over her arched back.
Trish couldn’t tell him she liked being used, that it was often the key to her pleasure, because her mouth was so wondrously full of him. And before she could think about disengaging to allay Stephen’s guilt his fingers found her button and began to fumble between her legs probing around her bud.
Rather than argue, when a lucky digit grazed her enflamed clitoris and sent a thrill through her body, Trish just lifted a hand and guided the groping fingers to her magic button and pulled back her hood to give him full access to her most sensitive spot.
Juddering convulsions shook her as another orgasm ripped along her nerves.
Impaled on two poles Trish writhed about as she was skewered. Her arms and legs shook and her torso trembled from top to bottom. Both men had to lift their hands away from where they were playing with her sensitive bits and hold her close, trying to control the shudders threatening to shake her loose from where they impaled her.
Stephen cried out and let loose a torrent of jism into her. Holding her twitching buttocks he drove himself as deeply into her as he could and sprayed his load of goo all over her insides.
This flood propelled Trish even further along the road of euphoria. Colours danced behind her clenched eyelids. A rushing kaleidoscope of bright lights flashed as neurons in her brain fired sweet pleasure throughout her addled brain.
Dimly she could feel the hard shaft drop from her silently screaming mouth. At the other end, a now still boner twitched its after shocks, stuffed inside her clenching grip.
Trish regained awareness when Stephen slumped back onto his haunches, wrenching himself from her fissure. A warm flood oozed down out of her yawning twat. Still high and trembling with after shocks Trish reached out her long neck and took Roger back into her mouth.
Holding her ass aloft on quivering legs Trish left herself exhibited, desperate to soon be filled once more. Her insides fluttered with need; her body was so close to another climax that she wanted to let it happen. The whole of her being felt on the verge of a sneeze and she was desperate for release.
Someone, she didn’t know who as her face was now buried in Rogers tuft of pubic hair, lodged themselves between her legs and gratified her longing by entering her slit and jabbing into her interior.
Slushing noises accompanied his penetrations and Trish was excited by the sloppy noises coming from her cunt. After three stabs once more her body reached fulfillment and Trish had another orgasm, squirting again in her gratification, fluid oozing out over her unknown lover, bathing his cock.
With a deep moan of satisfaction Trish gave in to the tide enveloping her in pleasure, with no control of her limbs what-so-ever she slumped popping Roger’s meat from her loose mouth and falling to her face on the sleeping bag. The man in her snatch just held her hips and continued to pummel her into oblivion.
The only awareness of having a body she had was an electric burning sensation centred in her clit, where a steady pulse sent signals from there to her scattered thoughts. Over and over this beacon jolted her numb brain with fresh impulses, and she clenched her beleaguered muscles over and over seeking more and more sperm to wash her in its life giving flow.
Then a new signal was added to the one impelling her to squeeze her core. This one coming from her chest and she concluded her breasts. More intense pleasure, more painful bliss as a new note to the chord of rapture singing along her nerves completed a triad of physical delight.
The thrumming of her nerves resolved into the continued manhandling of her pussy and a constant pulling and pinching of her nipples as her breasts were mauled by unseen hands.
Trish forced her eyes open and saw Roger’s cock a foot from her face as she knelt on the ground, behind her a man was still pummeling her twitching cunt, and Roger was laying on his side reaching under her to torment her sensitive tits.
Glowing from the glorious orgasm and all the attention Trish raised her head enough on her wobbly neck to fall onto Rogers lap and lick and nuzzle his schlong. He moved his hips giving her full access to his meat and Trish slurped him into her mouth. This time she would get him off before she lost herself again.
“Oh fuck she is so wet!” The man fucking her pussy shouted, and she recognized it as Scott’s voice. No one stated the obvious that most of the lubricant he was using was the jism deposited in her by his friends. Instead Trish just moaned around the head of Rogers’s rod and pushed back hard against Scott’s ramming tool.
Leaving her ass lifted wantonly Trish engaged her other lover, reaching out her hand and pumping his hardness into her maw.
He had yet to stop twisting her nipples and with her other hand Trish lightly stroked his arms under her chest, encouraging him to continue. Ignoring the raw pulsing in her abused nipples Trish suckled his knob, gathering her resources. And when at last she felt able she lifted herself up with the hand that had been stroking Rogers arms and held herself up so that she could jack him with one hand and gobble him with her mouth; bobbing her head up and down, her lips sucked tight her tongue glossing over his sensitive gland.
Soon Roger gave up on her nipples and lifted himself up to his knees, Trish didn’t miss a stroke, devouring his manhood like a fiend. When upright Roger began to fuck her face, his balls nudging her chin with each thrust. Opening up her throat Trish swallowed all that he had to offer, which wasn’t as substantial as the others, but still a nice piece of meat.
Pumping her fist along his length, Trish crammed his cock inside her mouth, and he in turn held her head and humped himself into her face over and over.
His breath began to deepen, and he made grunting noises, which Trish returned as whimpers and hums of pleasure.
Knotting his hands in her hair Roger at last disgorged his spunk into her throat and she guzzled his spew like a drowning woman. Holding himself still Roger shot a thick load into her, and Trish continued to pump his shaft while working her tongue all over the underside of his twitching dong.
When he at last finished dumping gobbets of cream in her throat Roger pulled back and Trish took in a gasping breath, as she had been unable to get a full breath with Roger so far down in her esophagus.
As the viscous fluid tricked down her throat Trish let her attention drift back to the pounding she was taking down below. Scott was working her pussy hard, sliding around, and ramming deep. She was breathing hard and grew lightheaded as he pulled her hips back onto him, bouncing his pelvis off of her ass.
Reaching down between her legs with both hands Trish began to tickle Scott’s nut sack. With her face pressed to the sleeping bag she sighed with pleasure as Scott exploited her assets. The arc of her back lifted up, offering the fullest depth of her being to his plunging assault.
Moisture dripped onto her hands from her cleft; the leavings of the other men, her own seemingly endless flow and the sweat now dripping off of Scott. All this slime ran in rivulets down over her fingers as they groped his testes, entreating him to unload their burden into her.
The constant flash of Jess’ camera matched the brilliant flashes of light happening when she closed her eyes. Euphoria plunged her headlong into strange mental landscapes of lust, passion and joy. The documenting of her lechery excited her to no end. In her mind’s eye there were millions of people watching her right now in her most intimate, glorious, debasement.
“Here is comes baby!” Scott gritted through clenched teeth.
“Oh shit yes! Give me all that hot cum!” She screamed to the night.
A pleasant warmth seeped into her centre as his splooge oozed out inside her. A ripple of sympathetic contentment tickled her insides and she wiggled her bum into his belly, teasing him as he jerked and groaned in his extremity. Her hands continued to squeeze his twitching balls and Scott made mewling noises in the back of his throat as he tried to endure too much stimulation.
Smiling to herself Trish eased away from him while gripping his pole in her tightness, tormenting him with still more sensation.
“Oh Jesus!” He hissed as Trish pushed back hard impaling herself onto him. With a moan Scott pulled all the way out of her and rolled onto his side next to her. Curling up next to him she kissed him on the shoulder a few times, so grateful to him for the pleasure he had given.
When she had caught her breath Trish looked for her next lover.
Rob was sitting on a log nearby looking on with an intense expression. The men she had already had were in states of undress around the perimeter, most looking stunned and soft in their post orgasmic state. Rob looked like a soldier getting ready to storm a castle.
Laying on her back her legs fanned out across the bedding, Trish began to smear the leaking goo from her cunt around her swollen lips. Each time she passed over her clit a spasm convulsed her frame.
Scott levered himself off of the sleeping bag and Rob rose to replace him. Trish grinned dazedly up at him.
“Come on handsome, I want you so badly.”
One hand on her snatch and one on her nipples Trish waited while Rob disrobed beside her, his eyes roaming her displayed body. As if he were hypnotized Rob moved slowly between her flung open legs and placed his prick over her opening. Rubbing his head over her folds he swabbed her lips with the tip of his cock coating himself in the sticky mixture there.
Holding his tool in his hand, with long strokes he teased her, sliding the length of his shaft along the groove of her lips, but not entering her. Trish lifted her pelvis up to meet him, pressing herself onto his pole, but still he avoided entering her. He just teased her, moving around the opening, and passing repeatedly over the bundle of nerves at the top of her vulva.
“Oh please, put it in me. I need it in me.” She whispered.
“You want it?”
“Yes I do, I really do.” She whimpered.
“I’m gonna give it too you. But I want to know that you really want it.”
“I do. God do I ever.”
“Rob, please, put it in me. Fuck me. Fuck me with that glorious cock of yours. Fill me up. Please. I need it so badly. Look at how much my body wants you. I’m shaking I need you so bad.” It was true. The more she told him she needed him, the more ravenous her box became. Quivering with the need to be filled, desperate for his cock, Trish wiggled and shimmied trying to get him to slip inside.
Lifting himself up higher by rising on his knees Rob made her arch up off of the ground lifting her snatch higher and higher to maintain contact with him. When he was all the way up on his knees she had to plant her feet wide on either side of his legs, her gash upraised as far as her body could achieve, her hands frantically stroking his legs reaching for his cock and stroking her tummy distraught with desire.
At last Rob pierced her opening with just the tip of his prick and Trish hissed as the tease of fulfillment left her bereft of contentment. Already straining at the highest point she could reach while leaving herself available to be speared by his pole, Trish moaned her frustration up at him.
Inch by inch Rob eased himself into her slot. Each pressing forward only made her frantic for more of him. Watching him disappear into her cleft Trish felt dizzy with desire for more penetration. When he was half way in she felt the beginnings of another orgasm, her entire body vibrating with the strain of her awkward position, and the need to have him all the way in.
Rob reached down now that he was firmly in her slot and began to stroke his fingers along her ribs, tickling her, and her hands moved to his seeking firmer grips, but he eluded her hands and teased her with feather light touches along her skin.
Gasping Trish felt herself losing control, her body shuddered with powerful contraction, her hips dropping and his penis slipping out of her weeping pussy. Thrusting her hips back up to return him to her clutch Trish swept at his hands with hers trying to get him to stop tickling her while pushing her hips toward him trying to get more of him inside.
At last, desperate, Trish threw her legs out and over his hips and pulled her body onto his hard prick using her legs. Surprised at the sudden change of weigh Rob toppled forward onto her and Trish began to grind her raving vagina onto his rod.
As she was completely filled by him Trish began to erupt with a powerful climax, her body taut and rigid as she clung to him with her legs, her hands scrabbling along his arms clawing and trying to pull him close, to hold him inside of her tormented core.
Every fibre of her being wanted to be filled by him. She wanted him in. Deeply, fully, completely crammed inside her vast, ravenous depths. Her deepest recesses yearned to be touched by his cock, and it felt to Trish as if her cunt were turning inside out in an attempt to touch every part of him.
A strange prolonged grunting emerged from the furthest depths of her throat as the strain of her orgasm contracted all the muscles of her body. Having succeeded in climbing Rob’s body with her arms Trish clung to him, her weight suspended below him, pressing her skin to his. His cooler flesh aroused her still further and another contraction knocked the wind out of her lungs, and made tears spring from her eyes.
Gasping for air Trish was paralyzed with passion. Wracked with the throws of her climax she hugged Rob tightly as he lowered her back to the ground, hovering over her in her extremity.
Then the moment she released her death grip as the tension of her orgasm left her, he pulled out and plunged himself back into her sending her off once more into the stratosphere.
Now she was too weak to hold him firmly with her fatigued pussy walls, and he was able to move in and out of her at will. Still she clung to him with her legs and arms, but now he rocked himself back and forth stimulating her frazzled nerves.
Breathing felt like the hardest thing to do as her body continued to spasm every few moments, a seemingly never-ending series of orgasms ravaged her body. Sounds she had never before uttered ground out from the depths of her throat. Her fingernails dug furrows down Robs back as she sought more of him inside. She barely moved at all, as he drove his prick into her, she was too far-gone. Her entire universe was an electric conduit of sexual energy, and it all seemed to beam out of her genitals in a coruscating fire burning away her awareness.
Trish didn’t lose consciousness, but robbed of air for too long her body finally released and she fell limply to the bedding, a sheen of perspiration glowing on her body in the uncertain light of the fire and the incandescent flashes from Jess’ ever present flash.
On the sleeping bag Trish lay supine under the heaving man above. The burning lust that had so utterly consumed her was now a gentle heat emanating from her pussy. A smile spread across her lips as Trish relished the feeling of being incapacitated. Her limbs felt like jelly, all liquid, and distant. And euphoria numbed her to the discomfort of lying on uneven ground with only a sleeping bag to protect her from the rhythmic pressure mashing her to the earth.
Before long, there was no way to tell how long as her consciousness wandered, Trish felt Rob stiffen and hold still as his own orgasm overtook him.
Reaching up Trish ran the fingers of both hands along his face, through his hair and along his neck. She traced the veins in his throat and brushed the sweat from his brow. Rob unloaded his cum deep inside her, and a thrill of pleasure accompanied his deposit. As his sperm welled in the very nexus of her body Trish stroked a finger along his lips, then across his cheek, exploring his face as they lay entwined in the mutual glow of great satisfaction.
As Rob relaxed down over her, his body a blanket covering her from the cool night air a flash of the camera reminded Trish that she had one more man to satisfy. Patting Rob on the shoulder she wiggled and he flopped over on his side exposing her once more to view.
Looking up Trish saw the camera less that a foot from her face and behind it Jess looking at her through the lens. She gave him a tired, blissed out smile, and he clicked off a couple shots.
“Okay shutterbug, time to put down the camera and give me that dick.”
“I wanna shoot while we do it, okay?”
Jess crawled onto the sleeping bag, forcing Rob to move, then Jess lay with his head toward the fire, and pulled his pants off revealing a hard cock. Not a big one, but a nice one.
“Okay, can you sit on me?” He asked shyly.
“Anything you want lover.”
Trish straddled him, her legs like jelly from all the orgasms she had had in the last half an hour. Easing herself down onto him she felt a stream of cum oozing out of her cunt. Plugging the leak with his cock Trish giggled at the loud sloshing noises she made as she sat down on Jess. The whole time Jess clicked away snapping photos of all of it.
Riding up and down on his prick Trish put on a show for the camera, She ran her hands up and down her body, squeezing her breasts offering her nipples, rubbing them and pulling on them, exciting herself and generally mugging for the camera. Lifting her arms up she played with her hair, posing for him while she fucked him.
This was perfect. Trish was an exhibitionist at heart and after all this fucking she was weary, so playing for the camera really helped her find the energy she needed to give Jess the fucking she felt he deserved.
The whole time Jess played with his camera, changing setting, sometimes using the flash, other not. She thought he was even video taping for a while. After a few minutes however Trish wanted to get down to some serious fucking, she wanted him to lose himself in her body, not his camera, so she leaned over on her hands, close to him and began to fuck him in earnest. Each time she sat all the way down on his meat she would squeeze him with her pussy, and grind her clit against him. And on the upstroke she would tease him by playfully moving quickly back and forth almost letting him fall out of her embrace. His breathing grew shallower, and his hips rose to meet her as she lifted up of him, not wanting to leave her.
“Pia, please lean back into the light more, I want to see you better.” He whispered.
Obliging Trish leaned way back, putting her hands behind her and arching her body toward him, the muscles of her abdomen rippling.
Bucking her hips up and down along the girth of his penis Trish flailed her head back and forth and gasped and moaned like a porn star. Clearly Jess wanted a visual show so she gave him one pulling out all the stops. Lifting herself back upright she began to suck on a finger looking into the lens at him.
“Oh baby, give it to me.” She cooed. “C’mon baby, fill me up!” His hips jerked up into her, and Trish knew she had it right. He was a voyeur and wanted a show.
“Which one of you swinging dicks can give me something for my mouth?” Again a twitch of his hips, showing his approval.
Stephen once more jumped in eagerly.
Trish hadn’t seen his cock before as she was preoccupied with Roger at the time, and she was happy to see it was a large cock. Reaching for him as he placed himself to one side Trish brought his pole to within an inch of her mouth, then with a coy look she stared into the camera. Still humping Jess Trish began to jack off Stephen while looking at the camera as if Jess were who she really wanted to be doing this to. Slowly Trish leaned to the left and brought her mouth closer and closer to Stephen’s rod. Then extending her tongue she licked the head of his cock. Stephen sighed.
Making a meal of it Trish licked Stephen’s prick all over while she ground her cunt down on Jess. She let her free hand play with her clit, and then a nipple. Jess caught all of it on his digital memory stick, and the thought of all these guys masturbating to these images later spurred her on further.
Swallowing Stephen all the way into her throat Trish began to suck him in earnest, no more teasing. Using both hands she milked his shaft and squeezed his full balls. Stephen was the youngest member of the group and his youthful exuberance manifested in his not being able to hold himself back. Before two minutes of her excellent ministrations had gone by he began to shoot his second load into her.
Pulling back Trish jacked him off onto her outstretched tongue, letting the camera catch every glistening drop as it spilled out onto her. One wild shot spurted past her mouth and landed on her cheek where it trickled down catching firelight and gleaming like gold.
Trish milked the last drops out onto her tongue and then made a big show of taking it in and swallowing it all. With a couple more licks to wipe Stephen off she called out, “I want two more.”
Shawn and Scott stepped forward and offered her their cocks, one on either side. Making sure that the light was not blocked Trish began to alternate blowing the two men. Jacking one in her hand while she suckled the other Trish pleasured both men, while keeping a steady pulse going with her hips. Not really fucking Jess, but keeping them both stimulated.
The camera clicked away while she took first one then the other cock into her mouth. Jess started directing them from below, his cock getting harder and hotter inside her.
“Scott rub your dick on her face while she sucks Shawn.” Trish felt his cock-head stroke her cheek smearing Stephen’s cum around.
“Perfect.” Jess said. “Now grab her tit and let her jack you off. Pia keep sucking Shawn.” Trish took Shawn as far into her throat as she could and tugged on Scott while she felt him begin mauling her breast. She loved being told what to do like this. It was exciting.
“Hey you other guys, start playing with yourselves just behind her. Show the camera how many of you there are. Then later I want you all to shoot your loads on her.”
Those words thrilled her. Trish was getting totally crazy again. Her hips moved of their own accord, milking Jess while her fists did the same to Shawn and Scott. Trish switched to Scott with her mouth and she began to slurp on him furiously, wanting his cum to spill out over her. Behind her she could feel the others closing in, their warmth surrounding her.
She let Scott fall from her mouth and she twisted around taking some one else into her mouth for a moment. She didn’t even know who it was. Now she had Jess in her pussy, Scott and Shawn in her hands, and some random member of the group in her mouth. Four cocks, and three more to go.
Once again she switched. She felt unfocused, and crazed. It was as if she were ADHD and couldn’t stop sucking or tugging on cocks. Her hands found some other poles behind her, and she wrapped her lips around Shawn again. The angle was awkward and she felt strain in her shoulders and neck, but she was open to the camera and the firelight so that was good enough for her. Men’s hands covered hers and helped her stroke them as her attention was scattered. Shawn took a hold of her head and began to hump her mouth.
When she needed a breath Trish pulled back and he released her, when her mouth opened a gush of drool spilled down over her chest and, gasping, she reached her head around for Scott. He too took a hold of her head and drove himself into her mouth, fucking her head hard and fast.
Someone behind her reached around and began to squeeze her tits. Trish moaned her approval. Strong fingers tweaked her nipples and kneaded her mounds. Someone moved her hand over to a new cock and judging from the angle it was Shawn. Shawn said he was going to cum, and Trish pulled back from Scott and turned to Shawn, mouth wide open to receive his load.
With one hand still on someone behind her Trish let her hand fall from Shawn as he began to whack off earnestly in front of her open mouth. Another man took the dropped hand and began to use it on himself.
Opening her eyes to look up at him Trish said, “C’mon Shawn cover my face with that steamy spunk.”
“Oh fuck!” He cried and jets of jism spattered across her face, coating her from forehead to chin. Some even landed in her mouth, which she swirled around with her tongue and pushed out, letting it dribbled down her chin. Trish felt Jess’ cock spasm inside her, but still he didn’t cum, he just began to strain upward, the camera capturing every moment as cum drizzled across Trish’s face.
When Shawn stepped back, another man, Roger, stepped up where he had been. It was his cock that Trish had in hand, and she gave him a squeeze, then turned her spattered face back to Scott and devoured his spear.
Twisting to the right Trish swallowed Scott while reaching past him and gripping some other cock back behind her.
It wasn’t long before Scott too began to cum.
Just like Shawn, Scott took over control and aimed his cum at her face. While she jerked off two men, and fucked a third Trish was bathed in another stream of sperm. Scott’s load was weak this time, and it dribbled out of his cock onto her outstretched tongue. No gouts sprayed across her features, but with each pulse of goo she swirled it around adding saliva and let it tricked down her chin onto her tits. When he finished and stepped back Trish had a glistening coating of sperm and spit from forehead to navel. Grinning she looked right at Jess through the lens of his camera, while he flashed away making the mess gleam in the flare.
Next she set her sights on Roger and made him cum while manhandling Cale’s wang, leaving Rob in her remaining hand.
“Guys try time it so you cum as close together as you can. ” Jess said.
“Fuck man, what are we porn stars?”
“Yes. Today you are!”
Rob said, “Fuck man she is such a mess I’m not sure I want to touch her.”
“Bullshit Rob. ” Jess said, “Look at her. She is doing this for us. She loves it, and you should too. You’ll never have a woman so completely give herself to you as Pia will. That woman is covered in our lust. All that cum is our gift to her for being so amazing to us. Fucking show some respect. Don’t think of that as a mess, and think of it as beautiful.”
He arrived an hour late, and alone. He was supposed to fix my deck, promising it would only take two hours. Now it would take four. If he wasn’t such a hunk I would have screamed at him. He stood about six feet tall and had a very toned and tanned body, from what I could see.
Once he got started on the deck, I went upstairs to take a shower, leaving the doors open for the air to brush away the steam.
As I lathered myself, I fantasized about the Adonis banging on my deck, wishing he was banging me. I normally don’t have these thoughts, I am happily married and our sex live is very fulfilling, but thoughts of being in this man’s arms were overwhelming.
When I turned off the water, I peered out the window. He was still out there, sweating away. Now he wore a t-shirt and jeans. He looked up at the window a few times, standing tall, hopping to get a glimpse. I could clearly see the bulge in his pants.
I wanted to call him up here, for some reason; I knew he wanted it, like all men. But not yet. I wanted to tease him some.
It was a warm September day; the sun was heating everything up just right. Last week, my husband had closed the pool, but left the chaise lounges outside.
I slipped into the sexiest bikini I had, the one that was almost not there, and headed to the pool.
As I walked slowly past him, he glanced up, almost not being able to look away.
Without looking at him, I continued to the chaise lounge and began rubbing the lotion on my legs at first, slowly moving from my feet to my inner thighs, my fingers sliding in under the small string bottoms I was wearing.
Through my dark sunglasses, I could see him watching me as his hands went to his pants once to straighten something out. It was like he couldn’t look away and I was loving it. I could even feel myself getting wet as I thought of that huge cock inside me.
I continued watching as he tried to get back to work, glancing at me a few times as I applied the lotion to my stomach and breast, which were still covered. Even my nipples were hard. I even licked my lips seductively once, but the man kept working.
He would still pause every once in a while to stare between the railing, and the hammering continued. Occasionally, I would hear a loud curse that echoed through the neighborhood, followed by more hammering.
It was hard to control myself as I lay there on my back, wishing he was on top of me. My hands inches from my wet pussy were being drawn to it.
Suddenly, from the deck, I heard another curse, then footsteps. I held my breath as my eyes remained closed, hoping he was coming to me. But instead, the back door opened and closed. This time, I cursed under my breath.
Ten minutes later, he still wasn’t back, so I went to find him. The deck was scattered with his tools, along with a few drops of blood leading inside. “What the hell?” I muttered as I opened the back door.
I didn’t have to travel far to find him, my hormones were still wanting him, but I was getting pissed off now. I didn’t know if I wanted to fuck him or kill him.
Once in the house, he wasn’t hard to find. He was sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen, drinking a wine cooler and nursing a finger with a small cut on it.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked as I snuck up on him.
He moved quickly, dropping the drink on the table as he stood up. “I’m sorry, I cut myself and I needed a drink.”
“So you come in here and help yourself without asking?” I said with a raised voice.
His face got a little red then, anger maybe? I wasn’t sure. His eyes never strayed from my body as I came nearer, he took in every curve seen and covered. He still didn’t say a word as we stood close enough to each other to feel our breath.
Thoughts of him entering me quickly flashed through my head, but I wanted to smack him instead.
He grabbed my wrist when the open palm was inches from his rugged face. As the other moved, he grabbed that one too. Now he was smiling as he stared into my eyes.
I struggled a little; I really didn’t want to loose this fight. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, we were kissing. The shock of the touch relaxed me a bit — but I couldn’t give in now. The next thing I knew, he was pushing me backwards to the wall, until we couldn’t go any further.
I continued to feign a struggle as his mouth went to my neck, his teeth nibbling at my tender skin as he raised my arms above my head. Holding both my wrists with one hand, his free one released the bra, freeing my breast which he began massaging. Once I began to melt, he loosened the grip on my wrists and my hands went for his belt, franticly working to pull it off. Somehow, my bottoms disappeared and I felt one hand spread my legs wide.
Our lips met again, our tongues entwining as he lifted me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. I was so wet; he easily entered me, thrusting with all his might into my wet pussy. I felt the entire length of his shaft stroking my insides as we kissed again.
It didn’t take long for me to cum, my pussy throbbing against the hard rod, making me scream softly. He soon followed, his cock bursting inside as I felt his sperm coat me.
Our heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the empty house as he caressed my skin, causing goose pimples with each touch.
Minutes, or hours, went by before he released me and I slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
I watched as he put on he clothes and walked back outside to finish the job, not one word coming from his mouth the whole time we fucked.
A few minutes later, my knees weak and my pussy still tingling, I moved to the couch and lay down.
I don’t know how long I was out, but I woke to the touch of a finger to my breast, drawing circles around my nipple before it moved to between my legs. I didn’t want to open my eyes, if this was a dream, don’t stop it.
Large rough hands moved my legs apart as I heard a sigh, not sure if it escaped from my lips or not.
I did gasp as I felt a tongue caressing the outside of my clit, getting closer and closer as the seconds passed. Then slowly, two fingers entered me, moving independently and stroking my insides. My hips found the rhythm and pushed into the hand holding me there. The tongue went deeper until my body shook in multiple orgasms.
For ten seconds, nothing but the couch touched my skin. As I was about to open my eyes, I sensed a shadow between me and the skylight in the ceiling. Then I felt the hard rod of steel that was this mans cock inside me again, just the tip at first, moving in a little, and then going away. With each entrance he went deeper until he couldn’t go further. Slowly at first, then picking up speed, I felt him slide in and out, faster with each thrust as he moaned in unison. My nails dug into his back as I came yet again, soon followed by his load.
All movement stopped as we kissed passionately, tongues entwined. I thought I felt him get hard as he was still inside me, but before I could check, he was out of me and standing next to me getting dressed. He didn’t say anything until he was clothed and was heading out the door. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you Miss, your bill is on the kitchen counter.”
“Yes it has,” I whispered as I rose on my still wobbly knees and walked to the kitchen. The bill was right there on the counter top. It made me smile.
All the totals were there, coming to the amount of $4,000.00. The totals didn’t make me smile, what was hand written under the totals did. In big red bold letters, circled and signed, he had written “PAID IN FULL.”