“Holy fuck balls, that’s amazing!” I feel as if every qualm I have is being rubbed away like an eraser to pencil.
“That’s not the only amazing thing I can do you know,”
I lift my left eyebrow suspiciously; inquisitively and relax backwards to enjoy my massage. I look over at Luke. He’s fumbling. It’s almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with Lexi. This surprises me somewhat considering, I’ve only ever really thought of guys, any guy, as being the leading man in the bedroom. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely naive, I’m fully aware that there are the few shyer men out there – younger and older – who aren’t all about turning you upside down into a handstand to fuck you from above and yonder. There are actually men out there who, either through lack of experience, self-consciousness, unsurety of who they are or what they like best; even those who have a complete lack of desire of wanting to go beyond the missionary position. I guess they’re not all who most women envisage and even hope they’re like.
I’m so wasted on cocktails and wine, I don’t think anymore. I just do. So I stand up and face Walt as I slowly begin to slip out of my dress, snail-paced, I teasingly move one thin strap away from my shoulder, leisurely and sensuously I commence with the other as I try to hold my balance. I want him to endure a heightened desperation for me. With a little more difficulty than planned, I manage to lift my left arm through its strap exposing one of my attention-begging breasts. Walt looks flustered, as I move across to the other arm absolving it from its ensnaring loop. Taking both hands, I sedately ease my dress down to my hips and let it drop freely to the floor leaving me only in my lace-trimmed thigh highs, fuck-me-till-I-pass-out heels and red knickers. Swaying slightly, I quickly close and open my eyes to refocus, to recompose myself. Fuck, I shouldn’t have had so many cocktails. Then again, if I hadn’t, I’d probably not be initiating all of this right now. I’m enjoying the control. Power tastes good. I want more.
“Put your leg on top of my knee,” Walt commands as his emerald green lust-filled eyes feast longingly and fiercely into mine. Er, who’s in charge here Mr?! Our eyes not once breaking contact until he unbuttons and removes his white shirt to reveal the body of an Adonis. Fuck a duck! My attention quickly double-takes the gratifying vision as I obligingly lift my leg, but immediately lose balance. I quickly tap my lifted foot onto the floor as I retry to regain equilibrium; this time succeeding as Walt slowly peels down one of my stockings.
“Now the other.”
Again, I do as I’m told. So much for me taking the lead.
Lexi observes us as she climbs off the bed and approaches me from behind. She grips and squeezes my breasts together, gripping my nipples between her fingers, tugging at them before running both her hands down my front and into my panties. Back down there again are we?
I slide my hands in with hers and there’s an abundance of fingers flicking and slithering about like snakes. I lean my head back onto her collar bone and she starts to bite the tip of my ear. The pace of her hand massaging my pussy quickens. Eyes still closed, I feel another hand tickling my neck. I open my eyes. It’s Luke. He’s standing to the side of Lexi, as Walt, watching from the comfort of his first row seat, relishes in the sexual close up and strokes his hard on.
Luke pulls me away from the shared revelry and turns me to face him. He caresses me emphatically as Lexi’s forced to remove her hands from the clutches of my yearning pussy. She runs her long sharp nails down my back and I dig mine into Luke’s strong muscular biceps as he hooks his arms around my waist. His groan vibrates my lips as he pulls me in closer to his sleek hairless chest. Lexi moves away, slinks back onto the bed, rolls onto her back and plays with herself as she keeps a watchful eye on us.
Walt eventually gets up and stands behind me, sneakily sliding his hands onto my hips, pulling me gently back from Luke’s grip. I’m now a Gemma sandwich. Shitting hell, here I thought these boys wanted Lexi!
As Luke eases his embrace, Walt turns me to kiss him instead. Luke continues to massage my ass cheeks, then moves his hand in between my legs to find its way to the warm pulsating insides of my pussy. I push my ass outward a bit more so I can feel him deeper. He pulls me away from Walt’s lips and bends me forward onto the chaise longue. I lift myself on top of it, on all fours, ready and waiting and hoping he’ll shove his cock in my ass. I’ve never had the urge to do it but now I want to try it. I’ve heard it can hurt like fuck but it’s seemingly a rather worthy pain. Besides, I’m numb from all the alcohol I’ve consumed non-stop.
Instead I feel a pitter-patter sensation on my back. What the hell? Luke’s beating my butt like a drum with his dick. It’s not my thing. In fact, I find it really odd. I mean can it really feel any good to him? I tap my nails against the side of the chair leaving him to enjoy whatever it is he’s trying to gain from the awkward motion, and wait for it to end.
“Is that good?” he questions in a soft subdued voice.
I peer over my shoulder giving him a sympathetic lopsided smile. Poor thing hasn’t a clue.
“Er, yeah, sure,”
A few seconds later, I hear him spit on his hands. I turn to see. He’s covering his condom covered cock with his wetness. Finally! He gently slides his modest erection into my ass. I gasp and flick my head back as I grab behind me, pulling apart my ass cheeks in the hope the pain will subside. It doesn’t. I feel a tremorous current of seismic waves crackle along the length of my spine shooting up into the tips of my hair. I feel electrified, like a bolt of lightning has just struck me. But I don’t want him to stop. I pull forward slightly but then back into him again. It eases in. I’m not as tense and I don’t completely hate it. It still takes my breath away completely but fuck it, I’ll breathe at the end of it. If I don’t pass out first that is. I begin to enjoy the pressure of his cock as I turn to see what’s happening on the bed.
Walt and Lexi are hurriedly fucking like rabid bunnies. Lexi’s flexing her hips, thrusting backward and forward as she rhythmically rocks over Walt. She runs her hands through her own hair, her expression that of distressed contortion. Her screams ricochet off the walls and her echoes boomerang right into my ears. Her scream of pleasured pain turns me on even more. Oh no, am I just sick? Does pain actually turn me on? I need help! Oh god I want some of that!
I pull away from Luke’s cock and head over to the bed to join Lexi and Walt.
As I move toward the rampant bunny-fucking, I hear my phone go. I worry ridiculously about my cats when I’m away so if my phone sounds there’s nothing that’ll stop me from checking it. Just in case anything’s wrong. Not even dizzyingly breath-taking sex. My cats are my babies and I love them entirely. They are literally my life.
I dive off of the bed and quickly scramble about my handbag for my phone. It’s my mother! Okay, so the babies are fine. I may as well read the message whilst I’m here. Take a breather and all that.
Received: Hey luv, how you been? I haven’t heard from you for ages
Ages? I only called her the other day. Jeez.
Okay, so my mother lives in South Africa. Why on God’s green earth did I leave sunny SA I hear you and the rest of the world ask? Well, I left because as gorgeous as it is to holiday there, my personal opinion, relating only to me and my specific requirements and of course experience, is that it’s not entirely the greatest place to live and certainly not an ideal country to raise children. Not too sure it’s fair to say that as parts of it are wonderfully beautiful and serene but far too crime-ridden.
I’ve had my time there and from what I can recall from my childhood and younger adult days, I’ve enjoyed the years I lived there but as I’ve grown older, I began to realise that I wanted more; more opportunity and most certainly a lot less law-breaking. I mean our house was broken into so many times that our insurers stopped paying out! My mother was attacked in our own home. So yes, I left the sun and beach for grey, wet UK.
You see, whilst these aren’t the only reasons for my decision to leave, it certainly help
ed. Even I was attacked and stabbed in my home town; in broad daylight in a shopping mall might I add. Now granted, this can happen anywhere, but let me put it to you this way: females can’t really go out alone in South Africa; certainly not at night anyway, so frustratingly I didn’t have much in the way of a social life other than going back and forth to friends’ houses. It’s quite deceiving in that there are such exquisitely picturesque places to see but it can be exceptionally dangerous with hijackings, burglaries, murders and rape. You’d be shocked to see the statistics on this. I know, I’m not exactly illustrating much in the way of an appealing depiction here for you am I? Saying this, it’s not that way every second of the day. I’d still encourage anyone to go. As prominent as crime is in SA, it’s a matter of just being extremely vigilant, avoiding certain areas and never wearing anything sparkly, least not valuable.
Sent: Hey ma. Miss you, love you, must go. I’m in the middle of shagging! Hahahaha x
It’s obvious that my mother and I are very close and we tell each other everything. It’s the most blessed mother/daughter relationship anyone could wish for.
Sent: I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m in bed, resting my genitals. Haha Love ya x
Received: LOL, you hussy. Love you too. I want all the details tomorrow! Eye colour; how good he was and dick size! x
I speak to her daily and we talk about anything and everything. Sadly, even after thirty plus years she continues to miss my dad terribly, and often cries. The more time she spends alone, the more she pines for him. She still lives in South Africa; my brother immigrated to America and I’m in the UK.
On a more dismal note, my father was abruptly taken from us when I was just six; a horrid motorcycle accident. I don’t remember much of my childhood at all but the day the police knocked at our door and told my mother we had just lost our dad—her forever love, is still as clear as if it happened just a week ago.
My dad was rushing home to us one evening after work. Tragically, he sped into a street light, literally wrapping his motorbike around the lamppost. We were told that he broke every bone in his body on impact and died within minutes of being transported to the hospital.
I too still cry and not only because I miss him and always will, but the most poignant fact that I have heartbreakingly managed to outlive my own father is a wretched guilt that will never subside.
Jesus, I can’t think about this now. I’ll become a bloody mess! I swallow hard and reassign my mind and vagina back into a state of lust.
Quickly snapping out of my soul-destroying daze I throw my phone down into my bag and mount the bouncing bed where Lexi’s astride Walt; he’s winching her up and down with his prodigious biceps. I watch Lexi’s tits flap about like jellies and reclaim domination by squatting over Walt’s face, lowering myself as I instruct him to lick my pussy until I come. I’m face to face with Lexi as I press my hands into Walt’s chest and lean forward to kiss her. I convulse with every flick of Walt’s frenzied tongue against my clit.
I become frustrated with not being able to climax and swivel myself around for better control. I clench firmly onto the headboard that’s raucously being clobbered against the wall as the four-poster is vigorously bumped back and forth with the amorous pounding and slamming. There’s no doubt in my mind that the occupants in the neighbouring room could either be very tempted to come over and join in or rather they’d be quite up for bashing our heads together in return for a bit of silence.
Within moments of Walt’s tongue gratifyingly caressing my clit and the external borders of my saturated pussy, an orgasm erupts like a volcano shooting exhilarating tingles to the tips of my toes and fingers; through every limb, and raising every hair. My abs tense and the ferocious release launches my body into spasms as if I’m having a minor fit. I let go of the headboard, leaving imprints in the padding and collapse sideways over his face onto the soft mattress before rolling breathlessly onto my back for well-earned a break. Immediately Luke, who’s been watching the arousing revels, joins us all. I’m dangerously dehydrated and thankfully, he’s brought over a bottle of bubbly which I grab. Before I can knock any back, he retrieves it precipitously from my desperate grip and shakes his head with a suspicious grin as he swallows a mouthful himself, followed by a large swig. Selfish shit.
Travelling his blowfish cheeks towards my face I hide behind my hands. Shit he’s going to spray it all over me the fucker.
“Don’t you dare Luke!”
He moves my hands away to meet his lips with mine and releases the now warm bubbles into my parched throat. I swallow gratefully as he moves further down to widen the gap between my groin, runs his nails down the inner parts of my thighs and...holy fucking lightning bolts...gradually discharges it into my already beating pussy. Oh my shitting fuck! It’s fizzing away inside. Not unlike the energy-inducing effervescent vitamins I watch bubbling in my water each morning.
Oh my god it sounds like popping candy! So not only have I learned a new trick with pearls, but champers too. I shudder at the tingling responsiveness. My body is like a plane in turbulence. It’s weird. Oh hold on, no, it’s good. Oh, it’s really, really good! Oh fuck me! I giggle as I squirm about and laugh so much I snort. Attractive!
Thankfully it doesn’t faze Luke in the least. He moves back in and brushes his tongue against my clit as he savours the bubbles trickling down the sides. I’m unbelievably sensitive already and I giggle some more as I try to push his head away but he’s like a gigantic boulder, he’s not budging. He persists at licking my pussy like a hungry dog gnawing at a bone. I stifle a scream and eventually relax into it, allowing it and I actually manage to come all over again. God I hope my own wetness doesn’t friggin curdle with the bubbly.
Chapter 7
I wake up in a panic, disorientated. It’s 4.02am on Friday. We’d fallen asleep at some point. I’m spread-eagled across Lexi’s bed. Oh shit I hope I didn’t pass out mid-fuck.
I gently peel my face from one of Lexi’s 36DD tits, slowly remove Walt’s hand from between my crotch and silently gather my bits. I throw on just my dress and exit the room barefoot. It’s only two doors down—that much I remember from that evening. I scamper over to my door, quickly unlocking and hiding myself behind it like some prowler in the night. Giddy and befuddled, I climb into my bed, weaken under the soft embrace of the duvet and enter a dreamy slumber.
At a more reasonably acceptable time, I awake with a banging head. Shitballs. I roll off the bed, onto the floor and crawl—literally, to the bathroom where I hang my head in shame over the toilet and puke my lungs, my liver and my spleen out. I’m in agony. I’m usually fortunate enough to be able to mix my drinks without quandary. Just every other night barring last night it would seem.
Weakly, I lift myself up to the basin, brush my teeth and switch on the shower. I climb in with my toothbrush, still brushing, and let the powerful running water hit the hell out of my head. Massage bitch, massage my head better. I exit the shower, dab myself dry and collapse face first back onto the bed.
“This is only the third day and I’m fucked already,” I murmur to myself. Then I giggle at the irony.
“No! I won’t have it, I won’t be defeated by booze,” I demand to myself.
“Get up you miserable cow bag. Sort yourself out and get cracking.”
I lift myself from the bed and suddenly I feel a bolt of energy shoot through me. That throw-up earlier must have done the trick—vile, but greatly needed. I send Tally a text to check on the boys and quickly recognize it’s a challenge to type. The sensation of vigour must be in my mind...not yet reached my body.
I ease myself gradually into the next step towards leaving the room and loaf across the bed switching on the TV. There’s a cooking show on. No doubt, it would be my favourite. Seafood. More seafood! You’d think after the mass of shellfish I guzzled last night, I wouldn’t want to see another clam, mollusc or shrimp in a good long while. Wrong. I could live off of the stuff. Mmm, garlic sea cockroaches.
As
I thought; the moment of get-up-and-go is rapidly lost. Lazily, I watch as a scoop full of pinky orange king prawns are neatly stockpiled like a game of Jenga over a blanket of steaming hot mussels. Then yet another layer, this time of spongy scallops is evenly spread across the top. The stacked heap of shellfish is then placed inside of a huge chunky lobster. My mouth floods with saliva, as I watch the chef drizzle a sizzling buttery glaze which drips down the sides and onto a plate decorated around the edges with, you guessed it, more juicy prawns.
I can almost smell the lemon and garlic sensation. The fifty four inch flat screen gives off the clearest picture I have ever seen on a telly. I can practically reach out and grab a hold of the beautiful crustacean-loaded lobster and shovel it down my throat. Mmm. Food. Must eat.
I turn off, spritz some complimentary perfume. Well in fact, I virtually re-shower myself with the entire bottle. It is only little...and free after all. I check myself in the mirror and concur with the bloodshot eyes glistening back at me that for someone who’s only had around 3 hours suspended consciousness, a chuck-up and a gang bang, I look pretty darn doable still.
An hour later and a belly filled with runny poached eggs, smoked haddock and two cappuccinos, I make my way outside. Oddly I’m gagging for a cigarette, but I don’t smoke. I notice a couple standing face-to-face. They’re both leaning against an angular black metal art deco railing. The woman’s sucking on a long, thin cylinder of tobacco. They’re busy chatting.
I head in their direction in the hope I can bum a ciggie off of them. Hmm, I wonder if they’ve come here together.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could be cheeky and ask if I could pinch a smoke from you please?”
They look over, astounded. Jesus, did I suddenly have a head of an alien or something? Why are they looking at me like that?
Sweet Convictions Page 9