He was so engrossed with her tits he was not aware she had unfastened his shorts until he felt her hand on his cock.
'Oho!' she cried with a chuckle. From her broad smile it was apparent she liked what she had found.
'Grande, molto grande!' she cried and slid her little fingers into his underpants to fish out his balls.
'Oh Lucia,' groaned Percy, all thoughts of note-taking completely banished. It had been many years since any woman, let alone a sloe-eyed Italian beauty, had taken the tiniest interest in his sexual equipment.
His genitals did look enormous in her small hands, the tool stretching fat and stiff up over his belly, the sack of his testicles overflowing one hand, the shiny scarlet glans rearing from between the fingers of the other. She squeezed his shaft and his whole body twitched. He was wound up so tight he might explode at any second. They both knew it.
She teased him. She fluttered her fingers up and down his straining weapon, then circled it with both hands, pulling back the foreskin till the knob stuck up like a purple lollipop. Then she dipped her shoulders and touched the black spike of each nipple in turn onto the gleaming head.
Percy's mind was in a mist as she played with him like this, wantonly, obscenely. God, it was fantastic!
She pressed his tool to her lips and, looking up at him and laughing, flicked her tongue out, the tiny tip seeking the eye of his glans.
'Good Lord!' he cried, then, 'My God!' and 'Oh Christ, Lucia!' as half his big tool disappeared between her lips, distorting her pretty face, and her jaw worked and the earrings tinkled and her fingers jacked his shaft up and down in a rattle of bracelets and then he convulsed, shooting every drop of his long-stored-up and disregarded jism down her adorable throat.
She kept his cock in her mouth as he slowly became soft. He stroked her lustrous midnight-black hair and thought that that was the best fifty thousand lira he had ever spent.
He never once thought of his wife.
Her current situation was a puzzle to Felicity. She couldn't explain it to herself. How could she, a respectable wife and mother, secretary of the Spawnshire Infants Trust, relief counsellor for Parents Under Stress and treasurer of the St Marchmont's Operatic Society, be doing this?
Because she was on holiday.
Because the kids were out of the way and her husband was conveniently laid up.
Because, at bottom, she was a shameless slut. And because - oh yes - because it felt good!
Of course the Irishman with his tongue in her vagina was also to blame. Admittedly she'd had Henry the tennis coach before allowing Brendan, her doubles partner, any liberties but that had been different. Henry had been in awe of her and she'd bestowed on him the gift of her body as if he were yet another of her Good Works. That was not the case with Brendan. With his tousle-haired charm and what-the-hell attitude he could probably have had taken his pick from the week's entire roster of female guests. And when he'd kissed her after their first-round tennis victory, his toffee-brown eyes twinkling into hers, his fingers slyly squeezing the flesh of her hip, the boot of generosity had been on the other foot.
And now she was in bed with both Brendan and Henry, their impatient hands sharing her bountiful body, their mouths gorging on her most sensitive openings, their firm young cocks pressing against her flesh. God, she was loving every minute of it.
In a way it was a relief that things had gone this far. After the first encounter with Henry she had suffered pangs of conscience. These had been counterbalanced not only by the little hussies flitting around Percy but the sudden remembrance of how important good sex was. In the hurly-burly of child-rearing and rage-earning, Felicity and Percy had allowed that side of their nerves to fade and die. In any case, it was difficult to feel romantic about a middle-aged man whose nightly presence in your bed was merely a snoring, farting impediment to a deserved night's sleep. To be frank, Felicity had come to the conclusion she could live without sex.
But the feel of Henry's beautiful cock inside her had changed all that. Suddenly it had become desperately important to her happiness that she had sex again. And, even if she could only enjoy it for the length of this holiday, she was going to pander to her long-neglected sexuality. For the rest of the fortnight she was determined to get laid - lots.
So when Brendan had given her a smacker on the lips on the tennis court, she'd slipped her tongue into his mouth in a flash. They'd rushed straight back to her room in the knowledge that Percy wouldn't be disturbing them and had spent a torrid hour testing the bed springs.
Today, prudence prevailing, Felicity had gone ahead to the room on her own, and Brendan had joined her a few minutes later under the shower. Later, in bed and on the verge of her second orgasm of the afternoon, Felicity had thought she'd heard the door open. And when she opened her eyes, her pleasure temporarily sated, she'd seen Henry standing by the bed, his tall bronzed body stark-naked, his long white penis jutting from the pale triangle of his loins.
There were many things she could have said, 'Get out' being most obvious. But for these few days Felicity Carmichael was functioning by different rules. She'd already crossed her Rubicon and now all she could see ahead of her was a unique opportunity for erotic indulgence. So what she actually said as she opened her arms to the new arrival was, 'You planned this, didn't you? You naughty boys.'
By now they'd both had her and she'd come three or four times herself so all immediate desires had been assuaged. She sprawled on her back, big breasts lolling and thighs spread, basking in the admiration of the men on either side of her.
Henry was stroking a large creamy breast, rubbing the engorged nipple with his thumb until it stood up like a brazil nut. His eyes were on Brendan who raised the knee nearest him, exposing Felicity's groin. He slipped his fingers into the damp bush of hair and gently traced the roll of her labia. Her belly quivered at his touch. The two boys had worked her up to a plateau of sensual response and she was aching to go higher. What would they want of her next? she wondered. The anticipation was thrilling.
Henry's hand joined Brendan's between her legs, pulling her legs open further then resting on the plump and silky flesh of her inner thigh, the tip of his thumb just a whisper from her yearning clit.
'Let's do something together,' she heard herself murmur and her hands closed on their cocks, both satisfyingly stiff and eager.
'What did you have in mind?' said Brendan, pushing a finger inside her. It made a rude sticky sound as he lazily moved it in and out.
'I don't know. I've never... there must be something.'
'If there's anything in particular you'd like, just tell us. Henry and I aim to please, don't we?'
'You bet,' said Henry, and his thumb pressed into her for an instant sending a current of lust flickering through her veins.
'Oh God,' she groaned. 'I can't... I don't... please, just take me. Both of you. Now, please.'
Brendan laughed, a wicked sound that fuelled Felicity's excitement, and removed his fingers from her pussy. 'Come here, my darling,' he whispered and pulled her on her side into his arms.
It was intoxicating to be embraced by him, his long muscular body holding her tight, the barrel of his cock pressing into the groove of her pubis. As they kissed she was aware that Henry had left the bed and she heard his bare feet on the tiled floor.
Brendan put his hand on her leg, pulling her thigh over his hip, nudging the end of his tool into her impatient crack.
'Well now, look at that,' he said and she did so, gazing past the foot of the bed at the dressing-table. Felicity could see now what Henry had been up to. He had adjusted the mirror so it reflected the activities on the bed.
Felicity gasped at the sight. Viewed from this angle she could see every detail of her exposed crotch - the curves of her legs and thighs, the tangled bush of belly hair, the wide-open cleft of her pussy and the jut of her swollen buttocks.
'My God, I look vast!' she cried.
'And beautiful,' murmured Brendan. 'You're a Venus of perfect
proportions - isn't she, Henry?'
'Oh yes,' he agreed, cuddling up behind her.
'There's certainly enough of me to go round,' she said and giggled. The sight in the mirror was compelling, obscene but incredibly arousing. She watched herself trace a finger the length of Brendan's fat pink sausage of a cock. It too looked huge from this angle. She wondered what it would look like sliding into her pussy and shivered with excitement, for she was about to find out.
Brendan spread juice from her quim onto the head of his tool and lodged it in her slit. He deliberately held it there for a moment, so they could all savour the sight of the purple glans nuzzling between her long pink labia. Then he pushed and the end disappeared inside her.
'Ooh,' moaned Felicity, thrilled by the sight and sensation of being filled. Her vagina was like a mouth, stretching wide to swallow the thick invader. By reflex she bore down and saw her cunt, like some exotic sea anemone, swallow his organ to the root.
'My God,' muttered Henry, his voice thick.
Brendan chuckled and pulled Felicity closer to him, stretching her buttocks wide so the furrow between gaped open, from the brown whorl of her anus to the distended lips of her sex. As the thick shaft of his cock shunted gently in and out of her in small, titillating movements, Brendan's hands roved the satiny expanse of her splayed buttocks.
'Did you ever see such an inviting target?' he said to Henry. The blond boy simply grunted and unscrewed a bottle of body lotion he must have taken from the dressing-table.
Even watching in the mirror as Brendan palmed her arse cheeks and Henry coated his tool with white cream, it did not dawn on Felicity what they were planning to do to her. Only when Brendan touched the dimple of her bumhole with a blob of ointment did the realisation hit her. She was not only to be fucked but buggered at the same time.
Buggery. It was a word that thrilled and revolted in the same breath. Felicity had done it in her youth to please a particular boyfriend. He'd got her to like it and when they'd split up she'd rather missed it. No one had done it to her since then and her husband had never even suggested it. Her partiality was a forbidden secret that lay long buried. And now Henry was going to do it to her in these outrageous circumstances. She was on the brink of orgasm at the thought.
Henry misunderstood the shiver that vibrated through her agitated flesh.
'I'll stop if it hurts,' he said as he pressed the head of his penis to the opening that Brendan was massaging so skilfully. 'I don't want to cause you any pain.'
But the pain of his entry was not something that worried Felicity. She had a high tolerance to physical discomfort and the wimpish behaviour of others was top of her list of irritations. More to the point, she had endured childbirth three times without pain relief of any sort. Besides that, the intrusion of Henry's long thin penis into her rectum was not significant.
And when it was in - lodged deep within her bowels, pulsating in her guts with Brendan's cock buried in her from the front, their young strong bodies enfolding her in a carnal embrace that made her dizzy - oh how glorious that was! Their hands were all over her, stroking and tweaking and hefting and squeezing until her senses were overloaded. She came almost immediately as Brendan touched her clit and then again and again, every inch of her flesh seeming a separate erogenous zone, in a string of climaxes like fireworks shooting off into the night.
But it wasn't night-time, it was a blazing Italian afternoon with a sea breeze ruffling the thin white curtain in front of the balcony shutters. The three of them stopped for a rest, glued together by sweat and the juices of sex, and she watched that thin curtain blow back and forth. Outside there were voices of distant merriment by the hotel pool and, closer, the rumble of male conversation a few balconies along. What would these people think if that curtain should fall and they could see her now? Felicity looked in the mirror at their lewdly sandwiched bodies and realised that she couldn't care less.
Her lovers saw the direction of her gaze and lifted her upper leg high in the air to display the three-way conjunction more fully. The two cocks were buried in her, fore and aft, like smoking guns. She longed for them to shoot inside her.
'Don't stop now,' she said, her voice urgent with desire, 'fuck me some more.'
So they did. Back and forth in a rhythm, their organs like pistons, driving to the hilt in turn, shunting her quivering, spasming flesh between them until they lost all control. The three of them tumbled over the edge together, locked in one rushing climax that reverberated between their bodies until long after their limbs had ceased to twitch.
They lay as if dead.
At length she said, 'You sods, you've done this before, haven't you?'
Brendan kissed her. 'Believe me, my darling, I've never done anything quite like that.'
Henry just sighed with contentment and pressed his wilting penis into the sticky pool of spunk between her big round buttocks.
Though it was on the mend, Percy's ankle still looked ghastly, blue and mottled and fat, like an aubergine with toes. But it didn't hurt like before. The lancing pain up his leg had faded and he could walk without support if he had to. The point was that he didn't have to. Both Philippa and Lucia were practised at manoeuvring his long frame about the terrace and up and down stairs. When they weren't around he hobbled ostentatiously, stick in hand. Only Brendan knew of the improvement in Percy's condition and he was sworn to secrecy. Things were fine just the way they were.
In fact this morning, a week after Percy's doomed heroics on the volleyball court, things were finer than ever. The children had gone rushing off to their activities with squeaks of joy and Felicity had shown him, albeit briefly, the kind of doting consideration she reserved for charitable causes.
'Percy, my darling, just look at your poor foot! You must still be in agony.'
'It's not as bad as it was, Flick. I'm only sorry I'm not able to keep you company. Give you a knock-up on the tennis court and all that.'
'Oh don't worry. There's plenty here who'll give me a knock-up if I ask them. I'm not shy you know!'
Felicity had always had a fine figure, he reflected as he watched her walk down to the beach, her big bottom swinging beneath a flowered cotton wrap tied sarong-style about her hips. He was looking forward to the scenes in To The Hilt when Max would get to grips with an arse like that.
In this glow of conjugal satisfaction, Percy had savoured the sight of Philippa's sun-cream routine. It took fully fifteen minutes this morning, the extra time being attributable to the doffing of her top and subsequent oiling of her awe-inspiring mammaries. Percy made no attempt to hide his interest in proceedings. He eyed every daub of cream and quiver of flesh with undisguised admiration. Philippa had been working up to this moment of revelation and to deny her his appreciation would have been churlish - not to say an act of complete hypocrisy.
When she had finished and her oiled breasts were pointing at him in a manner that defied gravity, she said, 'Well, if you're going to write about them, you might as well get the details right.'
'I'm deeply grateful,' he said. 'You're not only beautiful, Philippa, but generous with your beauty.'
'Creep,' she muttered and lowered her eyes to her book. All the same, she couldn't hide a blush.
Percy reflected that a blush would hardly cover her confusion were she to know that this was not the first time he had scrutinised her tits in their entirety, not to mention the rest of her.
'Can you walk yet, Perce?' Brendan had said to him the previous day, just after lunch. 'If you can manage it there's something you should see. Be great for the book.'
So Percy had followed Brendan into the stunted growth of trees at the back of the beach, making the happy discovery that his ankle was fast regaining its strength. They had followed a sandy path for a few hundred yards and then scrambled up a dune topped with scrub and gorse. Ahead of them was the sea and below them a clearing, hidden from the beach. Brendan had pointed downwards with a finger and winked. Percy understood he was to keep quiet. In any
case the sight before them required no commentary.
Two girls lay on a rug, both nude. One was Philippa, the other a dark-haired child-minder who occasionally looked after Percy's kids. Her name was Gina.
Their bodies baked in the heat of the sun but sunbathing was not the name of their game. They were kissing fiercely, their arms wrapped around each other as they lay on their sides, their loins mashing and bumping together.
Percy was rigid with shock and desire. He had never seen women making love before - he'd never seen anybody making love before. It was incredible.
Philippa pushed the other girl onto her back and slid a hand up her bronzed thigh into the black thatch of her crotch.
'Ooh yes!' hissed Gina as Philippa opened her up like an oyster and slipped a finger inside.
'Good grief!' thought Percy and adjusted the erection in his shorts.
'Don't get any ideas about lending a hand,' muttered Brendan in his ear. 'Lay a finger on either and they'll blow a fuse.'
It looked to Percy like they might be blowing fuses without help from him or any other lustful male. They had tongues in each other's mouths and fingers in each other's pussies and Gina was already whimpering and squealing out loud.
'All the guys sounded them out at the beginning of the season and got the big frost,' continued Brendan. 'Then the next thing we know is they're dancing the slow ones together on Romeo and Juliet Night.'
'Which one's Romeo?' whispered Percy but he'd already made up his mind. Philippa was definitely in charge. She'd brought Gina off with her hand and now knelt between the girl's thighs, her big breasts hanging down. She bent Gina's legs back over her body, pushing the girl's knees into her chest and spreading wide her arse and pussy crack.
Percy gulped as he feasted his eyes on Gina's exposed crotch. Her nest of hair had parted to reveal a pretty coral-pink mouth which seemed to plead for attention. Philippa teased her. She blew a hot whisper of lust over those pouting lips and then, to Percy's amazement, dipped her shoulders and nuzzled the open crack with the end of one dangling breast. She did it again with the other. Then back and forth in a swaying, rippling blur of flesh until, with a moan, she crushed her bountiful chest between the girl's wide-spread legs.
Eroticon Heat Page 2