Deep Blue

by Aishling Morgan

  He came behind Tammy, entering her as Yasmin held tight. The sensation of holding a girl who was being fucked was wonderful, not just sexy but protective, hearing Tammy’s groans and gasps as the big penis worked inside her and knowing that she herself would shortly be getting the same treatment. Sure enough, once Topher had taken his fill of Tammy he withdrew, took a hold on Yasmin’s ankles and tipped her up. She was entered, her legs high, her thighs pressed to the soft flesh of Tammy’s bottom. He began to fuck her, moving in long, slow pushes, her vagina feeling wonderfully full with his big penis inside.

  She began to suckle Tammy’s breasts, taking each nipple in turn and pressing her face to the heavy, hanging globe of flesh. There was something wonderful about sucking a girl even bigger than herself, and one who took such obvious pleasure in her ample curves. Like her, Tammy thought nothing of flaunting the size of her breasts and bottom, wearing tight clothing to enhance her figure, doubtless equally aware of just how much such a display of female flesh turned men on, real men.

  Certainly Topher was enjoying it, taking turns with their pussies, never too long in either girl, but just enough to leave each sighing and moaning before once more putting his cock to the other hole. Yasmin let him do it, her pleasure rising as she was entered again and again, or as Tammy grunted and shivered in her arms. He was holding back, she knew, eager to take his fill of two willing girls, never going too fast until at last his resolve broke and she felt Tammy’s body jerk to harder, firmer pushes. He groaned and she felt something wet on her belly, his sperm, spilling out from Tammy’s overfull vagina.

  Even as he pulled out Tammy had begun to turn, and before Yasmin could make a choice she had a full, opulent bare bottom over her face and a head buried in her pussy. Tammy was licking, working eagerly on Yasmin’s clitoris, seemingly desperate to bring her to climax. It was impossible not to return the favour, reaching up to take Tammy by the hips and pull her bottom down into her face. Tammy went with the pressure, spreading her thighs over Yasmin’s face and pressing her pussy to her mouth. Yasmin began to lick, her eyes glued to the pale skin of Tammy’s bottom and tight hole of her anus.

  Topher had stood back, sipping his drink and watching the girls lick, his big cock hanging half limp over his balls. Yasmin could taste his sperm, salty and male in Tammy’s vagina, filling her mouth as she licked, smearing her chin and nose as she rubbed her face in her lover’s sex. He began to masturbate, watching, obviously enjoying the view despite his recent orgasm. Yasmin felt a finger touch her pussy and slip inside; another touched her anus, tickling the tight hole, and she was coming, full in Tammy’s face, licking Topher’s sperm up as her orgasm hit her, a long, glorious climax to leave her lying back in bliss.

  Tammy’s response was a grunt of frustration and to sit up, smothering Yasmin’s face. Yasmin began to lick once more, her nose pressed to Tammy’s bottom hole as she did it, uncertain if she wanted to be queened so blatantly in front of Topher but with little choice in the matter. Tammy squirmed it in Yasmin’s face, groaning aloud. Hands went to Yasmin’s breasts, feeling them eagerly, then slapping, making her jump as she felt the first contractions of Tammy’s vagina. The smacks stung her breasts, making her want to spread herself, bare to the girl she was licking, an unfamiliar but lovely feeling that went with having her nose rubbed in a girl’s bottom hole as her face was used to come on. Not that it mattered what she thought, with Tammy sitting on her face, gasping in ecstasy as she came, crying out loud and finally slumping forward and to one side.

  Four

  ‘If it happens again I’ll know to call on Sigodin-Yth earlier!’ Violet laughed, doing her best to make light of the nightmare that had left her shivering and frightened in the night.

  ‘It will happen again, I’m sure of it,’ Nich answered.

  He had been doing his best to show concern, but she knew it hid excitement. She had described her dream on waking, then again in the morning, leaving Nich with his fingers steepled and his brow furrowed in thought.

  ‘I had imagined something less traumatic,’ he admitted after a pause. ‘A calling, a compulsion, something serene and mystical. Still, maybe I am simply trying to impose a modern ethos on an ancient god, which could never be valid. Let us consider the Bronze Age equivalent. What might a Bronze Age woman have feared? Wild beasts? Raiders of some sort? So she meets her fear and is protected if she calls on the god.’

  ‘That works,’ Violet answered. ‘I’ll tell you something, private. My parents were very religious. We used to go to church every Sunday, say our prayers before bed, the works. I started to rebel at thirteen and church was the thing I hated most of all. My parents were tolerant at first, condescending actually, saying it was just a phase and that I would grow out of it, all that crap. That just made me worse. I had my ears pierced when I was fourteen and I started getting into pagan jewellery designs for my earrings, chaos symbols, little ankhs and things, which really pissed them off. So they tried to stop me and the more they pushed the more I pushed back. I started reading pagan stuff, including some of yours. It was great, it made me feel I could be myself and not worry about sinning and doing as I was told all the time.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Nich cut in. ‘Allowing people to escape the restrictions of the Lah religions has always been important to me. I’m glad I helped. Go on.’

  ‘When I had my nose pierced they really freaked,’ Violet continued. ‘They sent me to this priest. Syrupy Sam we called him, because of the way he talked, really oily. He used to play the guitar and make us sing and tell little stories he called parables to make us behave properly. I hated him. I’ve never hated anyone so much in my life!’

  ‘Was it him who came to your dream?’ Nich asked.

  ‘No, Syrupy was tall and sort of fleshy faced. The priest in the dream was much older, with big white sideburns and that. Syrupy wouldn’t have had me beaten for being outdoors in bra and panties either: he’d have taken me aside for one of his ‘‘quiet words’’.’

  ‘He wasn’t a molester, then?’

  ‘Not physically; mentally I felt violated.’

  ‘And you fought?’

  ‘I had my tummy button pierced, got my Ianthe tattoo and turned up in a crop top.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I got a quiet word. You see, he wouldn’t believe I’d done it because I had different beliefs, or even because I was an awkward little cow. It was because I didn’t understand the truth of his rotten god. In time I would see the light. He was sure of it, so were my parents.’

  ‘Incorrectly.’

  ‘They still reckon I’ll change, but last year Mum gave me a big amethyst geode for my birthday. The thing is, there’s nothing like Christianity to put me on the defensive. I suppose my attitude is much like a Bronze Age girl would have felt about wolves or whatever.’

  ‘It fits,’ Nich agreed. ‘I wonder if your priest was the image of the Reverend Wilmot, taken up by Sigodin-Yth as an image of antagonism. There might be an early photo of him, with luck, then we’ll know for sure you are being called.’

  Violet swallowed, unable to deny the excitement Nich so obviously felt, yet still fragile from her nightmare. Still, before she had doubted Nich’s word, seeing Sigodin-Yth as conceptual but no more. Now she found she shared his belief if not his absolute certainty, yet she knew that would come if the man from her dream proved to be the Reverend Wilmot. Wanting some time to think, she went to make coffee, only to be interrupted by Yasmin.

  ‘Did I do it or did I do it!’ Yasmin declared, her face one huge smile as she greeted Violet.

  ‘Do what?’ Violet demanded. ‘You’ve been to bed with this Knight guy, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yup,’ Yasmin answered, ‘and not just me: this other girl, too! It was well wild!’

  ‘You slut! What did you do? Tell me!’

  ‘What didn’t we do? Five orgasms I had, five! Topher’s great. He’s got this thing, right, where he holds your legs and rubs his prick on your clitty in between putting it in.
That was good, so good. He’s big, too, not so much long, but thick, really thick!’

  ‘Wow! So what about this other girl?’

  ‘Tammy, she’s great, really dirty, worse than me! She sat on my face! She’s got huge boobs, and this really cool tattoo, an octopus, right on one bum cheek!’

  ‘An octopus?’ Nich asked from the door of Violet’s room.

  ‘Yeah, in green, with red eyes. Look, I was going to say. Your part of it didn’t go so well. Tammy was after doing some sort of cabaret at the festival, actually on the barrow. She’d got it all fixed before I had a chance to talk to Topher alone, and once we were in bed, well you know, I just never got around to it.’

  ‘A cabaret?’ Nich asked.

  ‘Sort of,’ Yasmin answered. ‘I didn’t get the details, but it’ll be four girls, nude!’

  ‘Neat,’ Violet put in.

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ Nich said thoughtfully, ‘especially if you got in with Knight. I wonder, do you know where this Tammy lives?’

  ‘No.’ Yasmin shrugged. ‘We talked a bit, in between sex. She sounds really posh even though she’s a dirty bitch. I think she’s from France, or maybe Spain. Her hair’s darker than mine, real glossy black. I did ask where she got the tatt. She said from a sailor, some place in behind the docks.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be hard to find,’ Violet said.

  ‘It was pretty faded. I was telling her she ought to get it filled in. Maybe the bloke’s not there any more.’

  ‘Worth a look. I might get something done myself.’

  ‘Do that, if you’re of a mind,’ Nich put in. ‘I have some research to do and I also hope to retrieve my copy of Laverack.’

  Thomazina walked from the door of the Royal. Her head hurt and she was grateful for the cool weather that had come in from the west during the night, bringing a fresh wind and showers. Crossing the formal gardens that separated the beach from the buildings of the front, she leaned against the railings, looking out over the sea. The beach was deserted, the waves tumbling in, high and fretful against the sand, cold and welcoming, stretching away to where St David’s Island was no more than a dull loom against the grey horizon.

  Shaking her head, she chided herself for pouring rum cocktails on top of beer, then smiled at the memory of indulging herself with Yasmin and Topher. Starting to the east along the front, she quickly passed the town, walking on by the railway until she reached the headland, against which the waves were breaking in angry splendour, sending spray into her face and across the tracks.

  Her clothes were wet, her top plastered to her breasts, her jeans uncomfortable between her thighs, and as she reached the shelter of the boulder patch she began to undress, stripping nude before burying her clothes beneath a cluster of rocks. With a quick glance along the beach, she went down to the water’s edge, walking out into the waves without hesitation to slip into the cool, comforting embrace of the sea.

  With vague thoughts of the stacks to the west of St David’s Island she struck out, swimming easily and coming to the surface only for the occasional breath. Tawmouth quickly became blurred, no more than a jumble of grey shapes in the rain, with even the high red cliffs to either side of the town losing their colour. Above her the sky was broken, a ragged tumble of cloud, with odd shafts of sunlight striking down on the western horizon. Vague thoughts of rest stirred her mind, along with contentment and self-satisfaction.

  On finally reaching the biggest of the stacks, the Ore Stone, she made for a sheltered gully on the eastern face, a favoured place, out of the west wind, its angle making it invisible from the island. The water was calmer, the surface moving to the heavy swell but oily smooth, broken only by the spatter of raindrops. An object moved as she approached, black and glistening for a moment, before slipping beneath the surface. She paused, checking the sea around for signs of floating tar even as something took hold of her ankle and she was wrenched beneath the surface.

  She went down, struggling to reach her leg, pulled under in a swirl of bubbles, twisting and kicking to break free. Kicking out with her free leg, her foot struck something that darted away, then took hold, clutching at her leg. Green water swirled around her, darker below, where something pale moved beyond the black swirl of her floating hair, and more, deeper. Reaching, she grabbed, pulling until the grip on her legs gave and her body pressed to another, cool and soft. Arms encircled her waist, squeezing her, a hand slipping down to cup the turn of her bottom, another sliding up her back. A face appeared in front of her, neat, piquant features in a pale oval, small and delicate, an instant before they broke surface.

  Thomazina shook herself, gasping in air as the impish face in front of her broke into a happy smile. Once more she began to swim, hurriedly, into the shelter of the gully, where she pulled herself from the sea on to a sloping ledge, and composed herself just beyond the reach of the waves.

  Her companion followed, easing a small, slender body on to the rock, entirely naked. Like Thomazina, her hair was true black, showing a blue-green sheen in the dull light. Otherwise she was quite different, tiny, svelte, her breasts no more than gentle swells, her hips subtly rounded, only the tangle of curls over her sex showing her maturity. Lying full length beside Thomazina with her feet on the wet rock, she let her breath out in a long sigh.

  ‘You, Elune, need to be introduced to a man I have met,’ Thomazina stated. ‘He is keen to place wayward girls on a straight path.’

  ‘Tell me,’ the other demanded.

  ‘In time. Have you been yet?’

  ‘Last night, when the tide was low. And you?’

  ‘I have been here three full days, although I spent the first basking. I have allowed a lecherous little Peeping Tom to seduce me. I have enjoyed a strange and wonderful man with dark skin, in company with a similar girl. I have met an old man who likes to smack girls’ bottoms.’

  ‘And doubtless done nothing to ensure the success of the party?’

  ‘Not at all. All four will be helpful. Well, the Peeping Tom perhaps no more than a little and the girl was just along for the ride. The old one and the dark-skinned one will be useful. So I have done a great deal, more, in any case, than you. Where have you been?’

  ‘Inishmaan, lately, with a mad old fool who thinks I’m a pixie. He is rich, though, and generous, and dirty.’

  ‘What does he do? Tell me.’

  ‘He likes to watch me pee, and best of all he likes me to do it in my pants, little white pants he buys especially.’

  ‘How strange. Is it much fun?’

  ‘It feels warm and wet and heavy. It drives him to a great passion, especially if I am in those blue trousers, jeans, and undress in front of him to show what I have done. The feel is nice, but he is sure I hate it and will buy me ice creams and chocolate afterwards, so I always touch myself later, when he is not looking. Except when he makes me do it in front of him, which he still thinks I hate. What of you?’

  ‘I have been in Brittany and down to Oléron, eating oysters and lobster and teasing the boys. Twice I came up, once to live with a painter in Rouen. He was full of passion, but angry. When he couldn’t sell his work he would hit me, so I jumped into the Seine, from a bridge. He thinks I drowned.’

  ‘Thomazina!’

  ‘Perhaps he will be kinder to his next girl. The second was with Juliana, who I met on Karrec-Hir. She wanted to see Rome again and I went with her as far as the mountains. There is a long lake, the Drac, where I lived with a man who made honey, but it wasn’t the same.’

  ‘Is Juliana here, or Aileve?’

  ‘Neither. They will come.’

  ‘They will. But tell me of the man who likes to smack girls’ bottoms. Is he dirty, or cruel, or only strict?’

  ‘I suppose he must be cruel, to so enjoy a girl’s suffering, but he did not seem so. Certainly he was dirty, and not strict at all, although I thought so at first. He had a periodical, with pictures, showing a man beating his daughter for playing at lawn tennis instead of studying. I thought it was for
instruction, as it seemed to show the way to punish the girl, but when I told him how my sisters and I were beaten he became very excited. I pulled his little man for him and afterwards he gave me money for a coin I took from the Sao Joao. More than he should have, I am sure.’

  ‘Money is difficult. The boys on Inishmaan have a trick which is both cruel and dirty. Shall I show you?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, that would spoil the fun. Just lie and bask, face down.’

  Thomazina turned on her front, watching Elune sidelong, uncertain as to her feelings and remembering one or two of the small girl’s other tricks.

  ‘Shut your eyes, silly,’ Elune laughed. ‘Pretend you are a pretty Irish girl, asleep on the beach in your bathing suit, dreaming of handsome young men and pretty frocks.’

  ‘I have no bathing suit.’

  ‘Imagine one, very cheeky, bright red and hardly covering your great big bottom. Come now, don’t be dreary.’

  Thomazina pouted but shut her eyes and turned her face to the rock as she heard the gentle splash of Elune’s body entering the sea. She waited, listening to the sounds of the sea and the cry of gulls, feeling her fatigue despite her worry. Half asleep, she never heard Elune emerge from the water, but felt something soft and wet pressed gently between her legs where her buttocks met her thighs. It had a rubbery texture, like kelp stem, yet she could imagine the horrible embarrassment of a girl on a beach waking to the feeling and thinking she had somehow soiled her bikini pants in her sleep. It was cruel, and dirty, even for Elune, who took a delight in mischief. Still, it didn’t really work on her, not when she had known something was going to happen.

  She stayed still, sure that refusing to respond would be the one reaction that thwarted Elune’s wicked humour. The thing was pressed tight in between her thighs, touching her sex, rather like a cock just about to be pushed inside her. It seemed to be moving too, very slowly, running like treacle. For a moment she wondered if it was not kelp but a lump of tar, which was bound to catch in her hair and force her to shave herself. Anger at Elune welled up inside her, only to be replaced by shock as the thing squirmed against her, now definitely moving, sucking to her leg and swelling against her sex lips. A hot stinging sensation started at the mouth of her vagina as she reached back, grabbing at the thing. It was squashy and wet, hard to grip and stuck to her thigh, forcing her to stick her bottom up and cock her legs apart, an act that drew a peel of high-pitched laughter from Elune.