My admitting that I did indeed have pictures of the kind American men sometimes look at, led to my invitation to see them in my cottage. We walked there talking about the gardens that we passed, the smell of the flowers and the sound of rushing water in the nearby river. Upon reaching the cottage, I ushered her into the living room and onto a large soft sofa. But as I excused myself to go into the bedroom to get the pictures, she came to the door to look at all the decorations I had on the walls. She sat down next to me on the bed and tested its softness. The smell of her freshness so close to me stirred another yearning in my groin. My heart was beating faster as I withdrew the package of pictures I had stored away.
“Can you explain them to me?” she asked, looking like a student seeking an answer to a math problem.
She extended her hand and took several of the pictures. As she looked at each picture, her eyes widened. Her mouth suddenly pursed and a small sound of surprise escaped from her lips, as if she hadn’t known what to expect. One picture depicted a threesome of two women and a man. She studied the picture for a long moment as if puzzled.
“What are they doing there?” she asked.
There was no use in pretending that I couldn’t explain the scene with such an eager student to prompt me.
“The women are sucking each other’s genitals while the man is penetrating one from behind.”
“Is this the way you Americans do love? I thought surely it would be enough with one man and one woman.”
I could not think of an easy answer.
She pondered her statement for a moment, and looked at a picture of a girl masturbating in front of another girl with no man in sight.
“It is better when you have someone to share the pleasure,” she said. “This is the only kind of sex I know. My friends and I all do it. It is less complicated and it releases your feelings. But we don’t stick things into ourselves like these girls do.”
My curiosity was piqued.
“Is it because you are virgins and are afraid of losing your virginity?”
“Some girls sometimes forget what virginity means, and they are the ones who suffer later and can’t get married. No man here will marry a nonvirgin.”
The talk now had become so provocative and frustrating that I knew I couldn’t keep my cool for much longer.
“How do you go about relieving yourself of the feelings you have if you are prohibited from doing so many things?”
“Nearly all of the girls in my barracks have discussed this problem at one time or another. I guess we all have agreed that we can play sex with each other. I have seen them in bed at night hugging and kissing. They like to get undressed and rub against each other. And I guess this is all right. It seems to make them happier.”
“Do you enjoy watching them doing this?” I asked, my voice suddenly strained.
She thought for a long moment, her head tilted back, and looked at me through long lashes. Her large doe-like eyes seemed to glow.
“If I were to say yes, would this change the way you think of me?”
I surely didn’t want to pontificate over morals and the so-called evils of the flesh or give the impression that I didn’t approve. It didn’t take but a second to respond. “Not at all. We’ve already established our friendship, and we’re just being honest with one another.” (What hypocrisy I had lumbered into! I was aching to strip off her clothes, lick my way over every inch of her delicious body and ask her to suck my dick.)
She smiled. Had I imagined that she had changed her position slightly to give me a small glimpse of the divine valley I so longed to smother with kisses?
“Would seeing such a sight be enjoyable to you?” she asked.
I smiled, and she had the answer.
“The next time I come to visit, I will bring a friend,” she said, and rose to leave.
My member strained in frustration against my pants. She had managed to tease me into a state of frenzy.
“And will this friend be male or female?” I asked anxiously.
“I have no male friends in that category,” she said, and walked away from me, looking over her shoulder to say good-bye as she reached the door.
“And when may I expect such a nice visit to come?” I asked, a little too eagerly.
“It will be a pleasant surprise soon.”
She smiled broadly and left. A moment more and I felt a sense of regret building in my guts for being so slow and stupid in my approach. But then I realized she would do as she pleased. In all the time I had known her, in spite of her innocent appearance, she had demonstrated a decided independence in getting what she wanted.
The next two days at work were agonizing. I spent every free moment thinking about Vailima and her girlfriend. On the second day, when I reached the cottage after work, I hoped to find a message for me. But there was none, so I just showered and ate a lonely meal. By seven in the evening, with a dull weekend to look forward to, I was reading on the sofa when I heard a slight tap on the door. Through the window in the door I could see the outline of three figures. I almost ran to the door.
“I thought you might need company this evening,” Vailima said. “If you are busy, we will understand.” She smiled with such sweetness that I had almost forgotten my mission. “It is not so, is it?”
“You are most welcome to visit me. I’m glad that you are here.” (This was the obligatory greeting of their culture.)
The two other girls that entered were about the same age as Vailima. She had chosen two of her most beautiful friends. Their figures all were perfect, with small firm breasts, slender bodies and long legs. They had dressed in their finest native clothes and wore gold bracelets and necklaces. The slight aroma of their perfumed bodies stayed in the air, setting off fantasy after fantasy in my mind.
I had to force myself into the mold of the perfect host. I offered them a place to sit and gave them crystal goblets filled with mild red wine. They sat drinking and peacefully looking at the many photo albums I had of my travels. I wondered when the important topic would come up. I turned to Vailima, and her smoldering glance told me that our secret discussion had been shared with her friends.
“Tusitala suggested that perhaps you would enjoy seeing some of our traditional dances. All three of us were taught these dances when we were very small. I think you will like them.”
Without waiting for an answer, Vailima crossed the room to the cassette deck and inserted a tape she had brought. The music started slowly with an exotic, sensual beat. Tusitala rose from her seat and began the dance, her arms and hands moving in graceful arcs above her head, sweeping with suggestive gestures to her bosom. Her face remained sweet and childlike, yet her body was moving seductively, her pelvis undulating and slowly humping in my direction. Vailima joined her and imitated the same movements. Vailima finally encircled Tusitala’s waist and drew her close for a light kiss on the lips. Then Vaea joined the dance, pressing against Vailima and cupping her upturned breasts.
By now the atmosphere both inside and out had become hot and moist. Rain had started coming down in a rhythmic chatter on the roof. We were suddenly cut off from the rest of the world. The girls were taking off their clothes one article at a time, prolonging my frustration a little more. I found myself sweating in the humid, music-filled room.
The three bodies approached the end of the dance, and each movement became increasingly more intimate until all were completely nude. Without seeming to notice me, they were touching each other’s breasts and reaching out to tongue each other’s mouths. I heard little whimpers of joy as they melded together and lowered themselves onto the soft rug. When the music came to a stop, nobody noticed. My eyes were glued to the delicious spectacle on the floor. Vaea and Tusitala had locked their legs together and, while they were humping their pubes, Vailima positioned herself so that Tusitala could lick madly at her clitoris. All three were moving against each other in a steady rhythm, building to a climax.
From the moment I saw the three naked girls lowerin
g themselves to the floor, I had remained transfixed, almost unbelieving. The throbbing in my groin alerted me to the pleasure I could have if I acted soon. My clothes came off in a hurry, but I didn’t know where or how to start. With my bone standing straight up demanding attention, one movement in their direction could end the whole show if they became apprehensive about any designs on their virginity.
At this moment, the three writhing bodies were in the throes of simultaneous orgasms. As they humped frantically against each other, my cock squirted jism halfway across the room. There, I thought, went my chances.
As it turned out, the girls were still ready for some more fun, and I was anxious to get on with it. We retired to my large oversize bed in the bedroom and drank a little more wine. It wasn’t long before Vailima started to beg me to show her friends the American porno pictures, which I did with great zeal. Not only that, Vailima suggested that we try some of the things depicted in the photos. As Vaea was the only one not a virgin, she allowed me to fuck her in any position I wanted while Vailima and Tusitala sucked her tits and licked her pussy from below.
It would be very hard to choose which of the three was the sexiest, as each was the answer to any man’s dream. Vaea, with her beautiful cunt and soft, curly pubic hair, had nether lips as pink and juicy as ripe peaches. Tusitala, the smallest of the three, had hard, pointed tits and a luscious mouth. But nothing could beat the magnificence of Vailima, who had the legs, tits, ass and beautiful face of a starlet, plus sexy, flowing hair. She was so incredibly beautiful!
Needless to say, I spent as much of my free time as possible with the girls, as they considered me a safe solution to their problem. Each of them learned to be expert cocksuckers, and they constantly vied with each other to get my acclaim for best blowjob of the week.
Although I eventually had to return to the States at the completion of my tour, I knew I couldn’t just leave the ideal situation I’d found. When I got back I completed my divorce, and not long afterward my ex-wife remarried. I’m glad she’s happy in her new life, and I know I am. I continued to write to Vailima with the prospect of marriage and she accepted. I couldn’t get another tour to her country, but she said she’d wait for me, and at last I saved enough to make the trip and marry her. We’ve been together for several years now, and I’ve never regretted my choice. Our sex life has never been dull. Though we don’t look for others to join us, we nevertheless have had a few encounters with married women and single girls who found that we answered their needs. Vailima says that even if we don’t have any more “experiments,” she’s satisfied with the man she loves. She had kept her promise and married me as a sweet, tender, ever-faithful virgin.
THE LURE
I was really pissed off as my pickup finally rolled through the Golden Gate Bridge tollbooth and Sally and I headed north on Highway 101 to redwood country. Even the sun coming up over San Francisco and silhouetting the buildings in shades of red and gold didn’t do much to calm us down. Sally hadn’t said one coherent word since we had left her flat in the Inner Mission district. All the way down Van Ness Avenue and Lombard Street she had groaned and sworn and kicked the floorboard of my truck. Just about the time we hit center span on the bridge, she turned to me and screamed at the top of her lungs, “That son of a bitch has been coming home drunk out of his skull four or five nights a week for six months and I told him, one more all-nighter and the party is over!” She glared over her shoulder at San Francisco, now bathed in the evanescent Californian morning light, spun her head around toward me again, and shaking her finger about two inches from my face, screamed, “That bastard is history!”
What had happened was I had spent a month planning this fishing trip up to the coast range with Harry. I didn’t know him very well, but the guys at the shop all said he really knew where to find the best streams and they had all caught their limit when they had gone with him. Harry and I had gone out drinking after work several times. As we talked about fishing, he had promised to show me the ropes as long as we drove my pickup truck and I brought the booze. Most important, we had to drop off his girlfriend Sally with her sister in Eureka because he didn’t trust her alone in San Francisco for three nights. I should have known there would be trouble, because twice I’d dropped him off at Sally’s flat so bombed out of his mind he could hardly walk and I’d heard them going at it as I had hurried away, down the sidewalk to my car.
When I arrived at Sally’s place at five in the morning as planned, I could hear them shouting before I even got to the door. As I reached for the bell, the door flew open and Harry stood silhouetted in the hall light like some weird space monster from a grade-B movie. He bounced from one side of the door to the other as Sally kicked and hit him from behind and shouted obscenities. Oblivious to her attack, he raised his hands and eyes to the ceiling, and summoning the little dignity he had left, he proclaimed through alcohol-numbed lips, “Fuck the world,” and slid down the wall unconscious. It was clear that he was not going to go fishing for quite a long time. We both stared down at him as the silence and morning fog gradually enveloped us.
When we looked up our eyes met, and with anger still dripping from her tongue, Sally asked, “Well, are you still heading up north?” “Yeah, I guess so,” I muttered. “I’ll try to find the good fishing spots by myself.” This time her voice was softer as she asked, “My sister is expecting me and I really want to see her. Could you still drop me off in Eureka like you had planned?” “Come on and get it in gear,” I said as I turned and headed for the pickup. “I’m hitting the road right now.” Before I had reached the sidewalk, I heard the door slam as she darted past me with her backpack and made herself comfortable in the passenger’s seat before I could start the engine.
For the next two hours as we drove north through the Marin headlands and Napa wine country, I said about ten words while Sally raved about how Harry would come home drunk and give her a fast fuck and pass out, leaving her pussy aching for more. Then she went on and on about how horny she was and how she had had only about three orgasms in the six months he had lived with her and how she could easily have three or more a night with a good man. Then she went into even more detail about how she had tried to get his prick up when he had passed out so she could sit on it and get her cunt off, but it had never worked. However, the coup de grace occurred just two nights ago. With anger still resonating in her voice, she said, “The last couple of weeks he started bringing home X-rated movies to play on the VCR. Well, the night before last he came staggering in with a tape of Deep Throat, and he wants me to go down on him while he watches it. So I suck this bastard’s cock for a solid hour, and just as the tape ends, I’m ready to jump on his rod for a real juicy fuck when he lets the whole load go in my mouth, rolls over and goes to sleep. Well I . . .”
Before she could finish the sentence I broke out laughing, the thought of it was just so funny. Her eyes blazed in anger as she stared at me laughing at her plight; but then her tight lips melted into a smile and we both laughed and laughed out loud. The mood of hostility and tension had been broken, and we began to talk more freely. After a while she said with relief in her voice, “What the hell! As the commercial says, you only go around once in life. Let’s put the bullshit behind us and go for the gusto! Why don’t you stop at the next rest station. We split so quickly, I didn’t have time to do anything. . . . I want to change my clothes, comb my hair and brush my teeth. Okay?”
We pulled into the large rest stop north of Ukiah where Route 20 turns east toward Clear Lake, and she grabbed her backpack and headed for the ladies’ john. She was wearing an oversize quilted ski jacket and baggy cord pants when she went in, but when she came out . . . incredible! Sally is tall, over five-feet-eight, and full-bodied, and as she walked across the parking lot toward me, I could do no more than gape openmouthed. She had been transformed into a goddess! She was now wearing a miniskirt that hung no more than two or three inches below her ass and accentuated her long, perfectly sculptured legs. However, my att
ention quickly shifted upward to the silk or nylon blouse that clung to her body as though it were painted on. It was unadorned except for some lace across the bottom where one button held it closed below the fully exposed cleavage between her pair of 38Ds. Her breasts were so huge and so unrestrained by the blouse or a bra that they hung down nearly to her waist and swung freely as she walked toward me, smiling broadly and enjoying my stare. Her bright-red hair was combed out and hung below her shoulders as a fiery frame for her beautifully made-up face. It was clearly visible through the skintight blouse that nearly a third of each wondrous lobe was nipple, capped by a large head that stretched the material at least another three-quarters of an inch.
I gazed openly at her two beauties as she stopped no more than a couple of inches from me and looked into my eyes, saying, “Hi. I don’t think we have been formally introduced. My name is Sally. You’re Bill, aren’t you?” I shook my head in the affirmative as I peered straight down the canyon between those nipple-capped love-mountains that she swayed back and forth and rubbed against the front of my shirt. Without waiting for me to speak she continued, “All this talk about orgasms and giving head has me so hot that my fuck juice is running down the inside of my thighs. Let’s pull the truck over to that clump of trees where it’s more isolated and you might just catch something with your rod beside some dumb fish.”
Penthouse Uncensored VI Page 42