The Last To Know - What I did while we were Engaged

by Bridy McAvoy

  “Stop!” Both instructors bellowed together and I froze on the spot. Chrissie came up to me and gently guided me back to my starting position.

  “Range safety, Samantha. Don’t forget range safety. You only walk forward when you’re certain nobody else is going to shoot.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think.” I felt about three inches tall and I could see Simone was laughing at my embarrassment. Callum glared at her and, sobering up quickly, she retook her stance. Her shot went sailing at least five feet over the target, just clipping the top of the straw bales. I shivered, thinking about what it might have meant to my wedding, and my dreams, if I’d been in the path of an errant shot.

  “Don’t sweat it. Our job is to teach you, but also to keep you safe.”

  “Okay.”

  We both shot off several more arrows in the next twenty minutes, both getting better. Neither of us hit the bull’s eye but we were hitting the target quite a lot of the time.

  “Time for a break.”

  Chrissie led us over to the covered area at the back of the range and handed out some chilled water bottles from the cooler. Callum policed the range, gathering up all the arrows, and removing the others from the targets. He stacked them to one side and grabbed his own bottle of water. To this day I’m not sure if it was deliberate or not, but somehow the top came off his water bottle and he managed to pour half of the bottle down his white T-shirt.

  “Shit!” Without pausing, he put the bottle down and whipped off his shirt, exposing his well-muscled chest while Chrissie and I laughed. Simone, though, had a more speculative look on her face, a hungry look even. The more I think about it, the more I think it was deliberate. I wondered if, when they had two male guests, it was Chrissie who did the water trick.

  Simone leaned over to him and whispered—well, stage-whispered so it was loud enough for all of us to hear. “It’s not fair for you to be the only one topless. Shall I…?”

  He shook his head. “Definitely not.” She pouted but he remained adamant. “You would not like to find out what a bow string travelling at close to eighty miles an hour would do if you hit your nipple with it. Quite honestly, you would lose the nipple.”

  I cringed at that thought, and I could see Simone was similarly affected.

  He continued. “Although, thank you for the sentiment.”

  She leaned in to him and whispered something. He grinned down at her and I could see by the way he flexed his chest and shoulder muscles that whatever she’d said had interested him.

  We returned to the range and shot off a lot more arrows, getting faster and learning the movements. Chrissie described it to me as muscle memory. You muscles remember the movements so they become used to it. I actually hit a bull with one shot, but had to content myself with mostly hitting the target. Then the lesson was over. I’d been watching Callum working with Simone. They seemed to be shooting less frequently and their interaction involved far more touching.

  At the end of the lesson Simone made a beeline for me. “Sweetie?”

  “What?”

  “Would you mind skipping the sauna?”

  “Why, you taking your hunk there?”

  She nodded, her eyes sparkling with barely suppressed lust. “Well, you did say you weren’t interested in a threesome. I’ve never done it in a sauna before.”

  “I’m not interested in the threesome. Go ahead, have fun. I’ll see you back at the cabin.”

  Chrissie had obviously overheard because as Simone walked away she came over to me. “Seeing as you’re cut loose for an hour, would you like me to organize you another massage?”

  “Um…” My brain was trying to think through the implications.

  She giggled, obviously picking up on the reasons for my indecision. “It won’t be me, I’m afraid I’m booked for something else. We’re all multi-skilled. I can get someone else for you.”

  “Okay. Actually that would be nice.” I tried to cover my earlier hesitation. “It would have been just as nice if it had been you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m rostered to serve dinner, so I’ll see you later anyway.”

  She moved away and made a quick call on her phone. In the meantime, Callum had picked up his wet T-shirt and, with his arm around Simone, had disappeared from the range.

  “All arranged for ten minutes’ time at your cabin. Okay?”

  “Brilliant, thank you.”

  She winked. “There’s some disposable panties on a shelf in the bathroom if you want. Modesty, I understand.”

  Walking alone, I headed back to the cabin, my brain full of thoughts of the very nicely muscled Callum slowly peeling Simone out of her clothes before entering the sauna. She wouldn’t need disposable panties—of that I was sure.

  A few minutes later I’d reached the cabin and changed into the robe. I’d found the paper garments in the bathroom and, after a moment’s indecision, had put a pair on instead of my own. I was thirsty, so made a beeline for the kettle and started making coffee. Although everything was top end, I was surprised to find the coffee-making facilities meant instant and not a proper machine. I like my coffee, proper coffee, so I was a little miffed.

  I jumped when someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened and a sculpted Adonis walked in. “I’m Mike…for your massage.”

  “Oh.”

  “Problem?”

  “No. I just expected a woman.”

  He shrugged. “As far as I’m aware that wasn’t specified. I can see if there’s someone available.”

  Taking a deep breath, I smiled. “No, it’s okay. Just surprised me, that’s all. I was just making coffee. You want one?”

  He shook his head and walked past me. I mentally kicked myself. What I’d said had sounded so banal and stupid. I could see the way his muscles flexed under his tight T-shirt as he quickly set up the massage table. Simone would be so jealous to have missed this guy. There again, she had made her pick.

  He had everything laid out ready as I sipped my coffee. Taking a deep breath, I put the mug down, moved past him, keeping my back to him as I slipped the robe off, then carefully climbed onto the table and lay down. I could feel his eyes burning into my virtually naked back, and I wondered what he thought about me wearing the silly tissue paper underwear. They were staying on, though, of that I was sure.

  A second later I felt his hands on the back of my left calf.

  The massage from Mike was completely different from the one I’d had from Chelsea earlier. Where she’d caressed, he pressed. Where she’d pushed, he kneaded. Within a minute I was trying to sink down into the table. And he’d only worked on my left leg. He stopped, moved around, and started on my right leg. Then he worked on my right arm and then my left one. I was in heaven and he hadn’t touched my body yet, just my limbs. He walked around and, standing in front of the table, leaned over to start on my shoulders.

  As he did so, I lifted my head and gasped. His shorts were only a couple of inches in front of my face, and they were thin. I could see the outline of his cock through them—right in front of my face. He worked in silence, but to me his body was doing the talking. By the time he’d moved back around to the side to work on my lower back, I knew that when it was time for me to turn over, I wouldn’t want the panties on.

  “I need to lower these a little.”

  “No problem.” My reply was half words, half gasp, and I shivered as his fingers hooked into the waistband of the thin temporary garment and pulled them down.

  A couple of minutes later he spoke again. “Time for you to turn over. I can offer you a towel if you like.”

  I don’t know if he was just trying to protect my modesty, but I was beyond caring at that point. I rolled over onto my back, my breasts pointing at the ceiling, topped by my erect and very hard nipples.

  Once more he returned to the bottom of the table and worked on my legs, one at a time, then, moving to the side, did my left arm, changed sides and did my right. When he moved
to the head of the table and started to work on my collar bones I was putty in his hands. Tilting my head back, I could see he was once more close to me, his cock, considerably larger than it had been, only a couple of inches away from my face. Obviously, working on my body was getting Mike as turned on as it was getting me. I let out a little moan as his hands slid lower, cupping my breasts, his palms running over my nipples, pushing and pulling them as his hands moved. My back arched, pushing my chest up into his hands.

  He chuckled. “You know something?”

  “What?” My voice was low, freighted with obvious overtones of desire—I could hear it myself.

  “Those paper panties.”

  “Hmm…?”

  “They only provide cover for your modesty when they’re dry. Since you got turned on, they’re wet—about as concealing as cling-film.”

  I groaned and his hands slipped down my body. He leaned further, smoothing his oiled hands over my skin until they reached the waistband of the disposables. I knew he was right—I was wet, and I knew what happened to tissue when it got wet. I knew what happened to tissue when a pair of strong hands grabbed it and ripped it.

  He pulled sharply to the sides and the panties just ripped into shreds. I jerked under his touch and twisted my head back. His cock was pressing against my forehead, throbbing. My legs slipped apart, moving to the sides, offering myself to him.

  Instead, he pushed himself upright and a moment later his T-shirt fluttered down to the ground in front of the glass. I watched, a strangely inverted view, as he pushed his shorts down to release his cock. It had looked big before—now it seemed about average size, although a bit thicker than normal. His hands moved with practiced ease under my head and I felt something give and my head hung lower. He’d ratcheted the headrest down and I realized my head was now at a perfect angle.

  He returned his hands to my chest, but now with my head hanging lower, he lined up his naked cock with my lips before he pressed closer to me. Of course, I opened my mouth and, as he pushed in, my hands moved from beside me, stretching over my head and clasping his thighs. He pushed another inch closer, pushing the head past my teeth even as his fingers closed on my nipples. I groaned around his cock and my hands grasped the back of his thighs. He wasn’t expecting me to pull him closer, but I did, slamming him in toward me and taking him into the top of my throat.

  He groaned along with me as I throated him and his fingers curled around my nipples. My back arched and I sucked hard. He pulled part way out and I pulled at the back of his thighs, dragging him all the way back in again. Within seconds he’d found a rhythm, fucking my mouth as he leaned over, his hands sliding once more down my body, but this time finding my pussy.

  Mike had staying power as he fucked my mouth and as his flexible, well-trained fingers played with my pussy, I started to cum. I came again a couple of minutes later. I was well on the way toward my third climax when I heard the door to the cabin open and then a moment later close again. I guessed Simone had walked in on us, but I didn’t care, not at that moment. She walked up to the side of the table and, reaching out, gently stroked my leg. I couldn’t see her of course, but Mike could. The fact she was there, and neither of us was objecting, sent him over the edge. I felt his first spurt head straight down my throat, and then he pulled out a little. I hung on to him as his fingers worked on my pussy. I felt a set of slimmer fingers touch me and, as he emptied himself in my mouth, Simone plunged three fingers into me and I went off like a bottle rocket. It was all they could do to stop me from thrashing myself around so much that I’d have fallen off the massage table.

  Five minutes later, Simone helped me out of the cabin onto the deck and from there into the hot tub. I lay in the bubbling water letting my body relax after the incredible high, my mind blocking myself from even thinking about anything. I guess she made sure Mike cleared up everything, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye, let alone a thank you. My neck was stiff, but I didn’t worry about it too much.

  Simone reappeared and climbed, naked, into the tub with me. As I opened my eyes she waved a wine glass in front of my face and then filled it from a bottle from the minibar.

  We sipped wine and relaxed. I tried not to think about cumming on her hand like that. Above all, I tried not to think about the act of infidelity I’d just committed, too. After fifteen minutes soaking, we finished our wine—it was only a half-bottle—and headed inside. Since my hair was longer, she let me shower first so I’d have more time to blow dry and style it, and then we got ready for the formal dinner. By conscious decision, neither of us mentioned the scene she’d walked in on. She did, however, tell me about the long fuck session she’d enjoyed with Callum. Apparently, they never did get to use the sauna.

  I’d taken that maroon dress with me, not really expecting to wear it, but as they’d said we were to dress somewhat formal, that evening was the perfect excuse to wear it. Simone’s eyes almost bugged out as she saw me get it from my bag and, when I pulled it on, she gave a broken sob. I could see she was kidding, but she was also kidding on the square—she was jealous of me in that dress. That alone did wonders for my confidence. Her dress was good, but it didn’t measure up to mine. She did, however, borrow a pair of stockings from me—as she said, just in case. I, of course, was wearing a pair of black ones—I’d never been able to find another pair of maroon ones to go with it. I wore stockings with that dress because that’s what I did—I still hadn’t bought any pantyhose.

  * * * *

  There turned out to be eight of us for dinner, the rest of the guests opting to remain in their cabins. Of the eight, one was a couple celebrating their first anniversary, and the other four were all men, giving us a five-to-three imbalance.

  That didn’t matter as we chatted before dinner, and we were seated at one large table for dinner. Dinner was fabulous but the conversation wasn’t that good. Of course, Simone let slip it was my last weekend of freedom before getting married, so everyone had to drink a toast to me. I guess I had rather a lot to drink because, toward the end of the meal, I was getting a bit woozy.

  Chrissie was serving, and I guess she noticed my state because, just before she served coffee, she helped me to the restroom and, without ceremony, pretty well forced me to drink two glasses of water. I, of course, was promptly sick, but she very efficiently made sure I was okay, cleaned me up, and even retouched my makeup. By the time we’d had our coffees the action had sobered me up a bit and I felt a lot better.

  When we finished coffee, Chelsea reappeared, and asked us if we were ready to choose an entertainment for the evening. There were four choices—a dance competition, a female staff review, a male staff review, or a stage hypnotism act.

  The dance competition was rejected out of hand by everybody. Of course, one of the guys asked what the staff review meant, and Chelsea boldly announced the female staff review would involve a wet T-shirt contest, while the male review was a wet boxers contest. With a preponderance of male guests, the vote was obvious, but Chelsea suggested we might prefer the stage hypnotist instead—after all, the girls would get something out of it.

  After a bit of arguing about it and a couple of not particularly subtle steering hints from both Chelsea and Chrissie, everybody agreed to the stage act instead.

  We were shown back to the reception area and offered another coffee or drink while they cleared the room and set up. I think Simone would have gone with either review show, but we both just smiled and went along with the flow.

  About ten minutes later we were all advised to use the restrooms as the show would start in about five minutes. Both Simone and I touched up our makeup and returned to the dining room.

  There were two rows of chairs facing each other—one for six people to form an audience, and another row of four chairs on a slightly raised stage. Standing at the front edge of the stage was a guy in a formal suit with Chelsea standing next to him. Two of the chairs on the stage were already occupied, one by Chrissie, and one by Amy, the wife from the cou
ple. With a sinking feeling I watched as Chelsea whispered something in his ear.

  “Ah, here’s our blushing bride now. Please, Samantha, come up here on stage.”

  The others had taken their seats to watch, leaving just one seat for Simone, and everyone clapped. I had no option but to step up onto the stage. Given how short that maroon dress was, and the fact I was wearing stockings, I gave them a real show.

  The man took my hand, guiding me to the seat next to Chrissie, while Chelsea sat down on the other side of me, leaving Amy on the far right.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. My name is Graham Masters and I am, by profession, a tennis coach.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “In fact, four of you had lessons with me earlier today, and hopefully will do so again. But by night I also dabble in hypnotism, and I have been told I am pretty good at it. Now, before I start, do we have anyone here under the age of eighteen? No? Good, that means I don’t have to worry about corrupting minors.”

  I’d worked out his act now. He wasn’t any kind of hypnotist—he had two willing stooges in the form of Chrissie and Chelsea available. Amy and I would prove to be impossible to hypnotize, and then he’d get the other two to pretend to be hypnotized. Since he mentioned the corrupting thing, I knew the show was going to involve those two getting either naked, or topless, and being in some way humiliated. This could be funny. I looked along the row of people making up the audience and it was clear everyone else seemed to be making the same connection.

  “Now I’m just going to play a little music, while I take each of our volunteers behind this curtain and make sure they can be hypnotized. Remember, you can’t be made to do anything against your will, and I will make sure everyone is safe and secure. So, Amy, if you will come this way, please.”