She placed a hand on his shoulder and raised her leg to slip the knickers off her feet. As she did so the hairless pink cleft stretched and pouted before him as if begging for a kiss. Then her skirt was back in place and she was marching to the bar where Ginger and John were leaping and high-fiving with glee.
Percy now no longer had eyes for the erotic exhibition taking place around him. A half-naked conga line had formed, snaking round the tables and then out onto the beach.
Only those too drunk or too engrossed were left as Carol-Anne returned. She carried a tray which bore a jug of her preferred green cocktail, a bottle of cognac and two glasses.
'At least they reckoned my tush was worth something,' she said. 'Come on, Percy, let's get out of here,' and she marched straight past him towards the stairs leading up to the hotel.
Percy followed her without a backward glance as she crossed the hotel reception and strode up the main staircase to a room on the first floor. He held the tray while she unlocked the door.
She led him straight out onto the balcony and breathed a sigh. 'Thank God we're out of that. Some nights things just get out of hand, don't you think?'
The view from the balcony was sensational. The velvet sky above the bay lit by the pinpoints of tiny stars; the half-glimpsed shadow of the mountains inland; the lights of small bobbing boats out at sea. And the beach laid out just below them - a group of shadowy figures splashing in the lapping surf and the floodlit volleyball court alive with leaping, wobbling nude men and women.
'Good God,' muttered Percy.
'I know,' said Carol-Anne, adding as if it were the ultimate sacrilege, 'there were even people fucking on the boules pitch.'
'No!' said Percy, trying hard to stifle a giggle.
'Yeah, I know. What people don't realise is that I've got to organise a competition on that pitch next week. I don't need it all messed up. Now, wait here. I'll be right back.'
'Er, um, yes,' said Percy, dumbfounded by the turn of events. She returned a moment later holding a pair of binoculars, a pencil and a clipboard. She had also removed her skirt and stood before him in just a pink halter top and a pair of trainers. She made no reference to her state of semi-nudity.
'Right, you guys,' she muttered as she leant on the balcony rail and trained her binoculars on the beach, 'I'm going to make a report.'
Percy marvelled at her glorious body, so different from the ripe maturity of Felicity, the bounty of Philippa, the olive-skinned beauty of Lucia. How wonderful women were in their variety!
'OK, that's Kiwi Jim with a girl in the canoe. That's major misuse of equipment. And they're not wearing buoyancy aids on the water so that's a breach of safety regulations—'
Carol-Anne had the lean, toned figure of a fitness follower. Her thighs were long and strong and there were muscles in her slender arms. And those buttocks, jutting back at Percy as she pressed forward against the balcony railing, were firm and gently curving without an ounce of surplus flesh. Why, he'd wager they wouldn't wobble an inch if he slapped her cheeky crescents—
'—oho, Ginger! Gotcha! What are you doing with her? You're on duty behind the bar till two. You'll get your pay docked for this!'
—but what he really wanted to do, what he was going to do was to explore that little pocket of pink flesh peeping at him beneath the rounds of buttocks at the junction of her thighs. Mmm, yes, that delectable vaginal opening so memorably glimpsed already. Suppose he slid to his knees behind her and pressed his lips to her pussy just like this—
'—God, look at that, those two guys doing it to her on the volleyball court. That's disgusting! She's shaking her butt faster then she ever did in my aerobics class—'
Percy had his tongue deep inside her now, kissing her pouting recess with all the pent-up frustration of the past few hours. And her cunt kissed him back, it seemed, the lips swelling and fluttering, the juice of her excitement bubbling from within her. And all the time her other mouth maintained its stream of recorded misdemeanours. Percy smiled to himself as he pulled his prick from his trousers. Let's see if she can talk through this, he thought.
'Jesus, that's terrible! They're doing it in a chain right on the court! I'm going to fax London tomorrow about this - OH!'
Silence followed and it was blissful. A silence which was broken only by the sounds of their bodies pressing wetly against each other. His hands were on her breasts, his mouth on her neck, his penis buried deep within her. His loins buffeted her small pliant arse as he gave her what she really craved and she never said another word until after she came.
'Mmm,' she whispered later as they lay on the sun-bed beneath the stars, 'when I first saw you I never thought you'd be so sexy.'
Most of their clothing had disappeared and the balmy night was gentle on their bare skin. Percy stroked her full soft breasts and said, 'To be honest, I thought I'd said goodbye to sex for ever.'
'That just shows how wrong you can be,' she replied and, with a wriggle of her hips, she sheathed his distended penis in the hairless mouth of her vagina.
'Yes,' he muttered, pumping into her honeyed sweetness. 'Doesn't it just.'
An Afternoon Call
Here follows a breathless account of teatime practices in the days of Edward VII. When the cups and saucers are cleared away in the salon of Mrs Harcourt, other implements are brought forth. Another sacred ritual of upper-crust English life is about to take place - the whipping. A devotee of the cane and the birch, Muriel Harcourt intends to initiate her new admirer, Cecil Prendergast. At first it is something he is prepared to endure for the subsequent pleasure of more conventional embraces. But Mrs Harcourt's devotion to the cause - and the assistance furnished by her impish companion, Juliette - soon has a mighty influence on the impressionable Cecil. Particularly when he sees the many possibilities it opens up for his own enjoyment. When it's his turn to wield the whip, he has every intention of extracting maximum recompense for his own painful, humiliating but, ultimately, inspiring ordeal...
On arrival in town I lost no time in calling on Mrs Harcourt at her little house in South Molton Street. When I rang at the door, it was opened by a very neat though not particularly pretty maid, as I thought. She had, however, quite an alluring little figure and a perky naughtiness in her face which is perhaps more fascinating even than mere beauty.
'Is Mrs Harcourt at home?'
'I will see, sir, will you come this way? What name shall I say?' She showed me into a delightful little morning-room, very tastefully furnished, and disappeared. She did not keep me waiting long, but returned and said. 'Will you come this way, sir? Madame is in her boudoir. Shall I take your hat and stick?'
She took them from me and turned to hang the hat on the stand. The pegs were rather high and, in reaching up, she showed the delightful line of her breast and hips and just a glimpse of a white petticoat underneath the skirt.
'Is it too high for you? Let me help,' I said.
'Thank you, sir,' she said, smiling up at me.
I took the hat over her shoulder and hung it up. She was between me and the hat stand and could not move until I did. I lowered my arm and drew her towards me. She looked up at me with a provoking smile. I bent down and kissed her lips, while my hand fondled the delightfully plump breast.
'You mustn't,' she murmured. 'What would mistress say if she knew?'
'But she won't know,' I answered as my hand went further down to her bottom which, in her tight skirt, was very apparent.
'She will if I tell her,' she smiled. 'You naughty boy,' and she playfully patted my trouser leg as she passed me.
'Which, of course, you won't,' I said lightly as I followed her. She laughed rather maliciously I thought, though I didn't pay much attention at the time. I had reason later, though, to remember it.
We went upstairs and I was shown into a lovely room where a log fire was burning, although it was no colder than most June days in this country. There was a splendid deep low couch, or rather divan, for it had no back, facing the fire, c
overed with cushions, which took my eye at once, and I mentally promised myself what should happen on it. My expectations fell far short of the reality, as will be seen.
Mrs Harcourt was sitting on a low chair near the couch. She was in a delightfully fitting tea-gown, cut fairly low at the neck, with very loose sleeves. It clung to her figure as she rose to greet me, and being made of chiffon with a foundation of pink silk, it gave one the idea at first that she was practically naked.
'Bring up tea please, Juliette,' she said to the maid, who disappeared.
'So you have found your way here,' she said, coming towards me with outstretched hand.
The room was heavily scented with perfume, which I learnt came from burning pastilles, and she herself always used a mixture of sandalwood and attar of roses. As she approached me her perfume intoxicated me, and without saying a word I clasped her in my arms and pressed long hot kisses on her lips. To my intense delight I found she had no corsets on, and her supple body bent close to mine, so that I could feel every line of it. My hands slipped down and grasped the cheeks of her bottom as I pressed her stomach close against my trousers.
'You rough impetuous bear,' she smiled at me. 'Wait till the tea comes up.' And she disengaged herself from me, playfully slapping, as she did so, John Thomas, who was naturally quite ready by this time for anything. 'Oh, already,' she said as she felt his condition. 'I told this naughty fellow at Oxford that he would have to be patient, and he must learn to obey.'
Tea appeared most daintily served, and on the tray I noticed a delicate Bohemian-glass liqueur carafe and two liqueur glasses.
'Do you know crème de cacao?' said Mrs Harcourt. 'It's rather nice.'
She poured out tea and then filled each liqueur glass half full of the dark liqueur and poured cream on top.
'À votre santé,' she said, touching my glass with hers. Our fingers met and a thrill ran right through me. I drank the liqueur off at a gulp and leant towards her.
'You greedy thing,' she laughed. 'That's not the way to drink it. No, no, wait till we've had tea.'
As I tried to get her in my arms, she scolded: 'Naughty boys must not be impatient,' slapping John Thomas again, somewhat harder this time.
I sat back on the couch and drank tea rather gloomily, Mrs Harcourt watching me teasingly. At last she put her cup down and, reaching for her cigarette box, took one herself and offered me one, then leant back in her chair looking at me with a smile.
'It's a shame to tantalise him so, isn't it?' she said at last.
I did not answer, but jumped up and threw my arms round her, kneeling in front of her and covering her face and neck with kisses. She tossed her cigarette into the grate and undid the silk tie of her gown. It fell back and showed all she had on was a dainty chemise of the finest lawn and a petticoat. My right hand immediately sought her left breast and, pulling it out, I kissed and sucked the dainty nipple, which responded at once to my caress, stiffening most delightfully. My left hand then reached down to the hem of her petticoat and began to raise it.
I felt her arm round my waist and her other hand began to unbutton my fly from the top. Before she had time to undo the last button John Thomas leapt forth ready and eager, but she slapped him and pushed him in again, undid the last button and fumbled for my balls, gently drawing them out. I drew back a little from her and lifted her petticoat right up, disclosing the daintiest of black silk openwork stockings with pale-green satin garters. Above them were filmy lawn drawers with beautiful lace and insertion, through which the fair satin skin of her thighs gleamed most provokingly. At the top there appeared, just between the opening of the drawers, the most fascinating brown curls imaginable.
I feasted my eyes on this lovely sight, undoing my braces and dipping my trousers down. Her hand immediately left my balls and began to fondle my bottom, stroking and pinching the cheeks while she murmured, 'You darling boy, oh, what a lovely bottom.'
I was eager to be in her, but the brown curls fascinated me so much that I could not resist the temptation to stoop down and kiss them. I was rather shy of doing this, as I had never done it before, and though I knew it was usual with tarts, I was not sure if it would be welcome here. Judge of my surprise, then, when I felt Mrs Harcourt's hand on my head gently pressing it down and heard her saying, 'How did you guess I wanted that?'
She opened her legs wider, disclosing the most adorable pussy, with pouting lips just slightly opening and showing the bright coral inner lips, which seemed to ask for my kisses. I buried my head in the soft curls, and with eager tongue explored every part of her mossy grot. She squirmed and wriggled with pleasure, opening her legs quite wide and twisting them round me. I followed all her movements, backing away on my knees as she slipped off the chair, until at last, when she drenched my lips with love, she lay partly on the hearth rug. Then, as I could scarcely reach her with my tongue in that position, and didn't wish to lose a drop of the maddening juice, I disengaged her legs and knelt down to one side so that my head could dive right between her legs. This naturally presented my naked bottom and thighs to her gaze.
'You rude naughty boy,' she said, smacking me gently, 'to show me this bare bottom. I'm shocked at you.'
Her hands again fondled my balls and bottom, and I had all I could do to prevent John Thomas from showing conclusively what he had in store for her.
I had no intention of wasting good material, however, and was just about to change my position so that I could arrive at the desired summit of joy when I felt her trying to pull my right leg towards her. I let myself go and she eventually succeeded in lifting it right over, so that I was straddling right across her, and we were in the position I knew quite well from photographs, known as sixty-nine.
My heart beat high. Was it possible I was to experience this supreme pleasure of which I had heard so much? I buried my head between her thighs, my tongue redoubled its efforts, searching out every corner and nook it could find, and just as it was rewarded by another flow of warm life I felt round my own weapon, not the fondling of her hand, but something softer, more clinging, and then unmistakably the tip of a velvet tongue from the top right down to the balls and back again, and then I felt the lips close round it and the gentle nip of teeth. This was too much, John Thomas could restrain himself no longer, and as I seized her bottom with both hands and sucked the whole of her pussy into my mouth, he spurted forth with convulsive jerks his hidden treasure. When the spasm was over I collapsed limply on her, my lips still draining her life.
I was aroused quite soon by her pushing me off her chest. 'Get up,' she said, 'you are crushing me.' We both got up and stood for a moment looking at each other. Then she felt for her handkerchief and wiped her lips. I tried to take her in my arms.
To my surprise she pushed me away. 'Go away,' she said, 'I don't like you.'
'Why, what's the matter?' I asked.
'Matter!' she replied, and she seemed to be working herself up into a temper. 'Matter! You horrid beastly boy, how dare you come in my mouth?'
'I'm sorry,' I said, 'it happened so quickly and I - I - I thought you wanted it.'
'Wanted it! How dare you?'
I tried again to put my arms round her, but she wouldn't allow it.
'No, get away, pull your trousers up and go.' And she turned to ring the bell.
I sprang to her. 'Don't send me away,' I said. 'I'm sorry and I won't do it again. Forgive me. Let me stay a little and forgive me.'
'Let you stay?' she laughed. 'What's the use of your staying? Look at yourself.'
And she pointed to poor John Thomas, very limp and drained dry and looking very ashamed of himself.
'Oh, he'll be all right again in a little time,' I said. 'Come, darling, let me stay and show you how much I love you,' and I managed to get one arm round her and draw her to me. She let me kiss her but kept her lips quite shut, so that I couldn't get my tongue into her mouth. Her body was stiff, instead of yielding as before. I grew bolder and caressed her breast and began to pull up her petti
coat again.
She seemed to take no notice for a minute or so, and then, just as I had uncovered her thighs and was feeling for the soft curls of her mount, she quietly pushed my hand away, detached herself from my arms, and said quite calmly, 'Well, if I let you stay, you must be punished for your rudeness. Will you do exactly as I tell you and submit to any punishment I may inflict?'
At that time I was ignorant of flagellation. I had heard of old men needing the birch to excite them, but beyond that I knew nothing. So I said, 'Punish me in any way you like, only let me stay and prove to you how sorry I am and how I love you.'
'Very well,' she said, 'get behind that screen,' pointing to a large Chinese screen that stood in the corner. I obeyed and she rang the bell.
Juliette appeared. 'Take the tea things away and bring me my leather case.'
I thought I heard a chuckle from Juliette but was not sure.
After a little while I heard her come in again and whisper something to her mistress. 'Yes, very,' replied the latter. Then came more whisperings and I heard Mrs Harcourt say, 'Oh, did he? Well, we shall see.'
She then told me to come out, and I obeyed. I must have made rather a ridiculous figure, as my trousers were still down. Mrs Harcourt, however, did not seem to show any disposition to laugh. In fact, she looked very angry indeed. I went towards her, but she stopped me with a gesture and said, 'You promise to do everything I tell you.'
'Anything,' I said.
'Very well. Turn your back to me and put your hands behind you.'
I obeyed.
She opened the case and took something out, I could not see what, and then she came to me. I felt something cold touch my wrists and heard a snap. I tried to move my arms and to my surprise I found I could not. She had, in a moment, very deftly handcuffed me. I was too surprised to speak. 'Now kneel down,' she said.
Eroticon Heat Page 4