by Noel Amos
Then the slip was up and off, revealing her soft and shapely form to his famished gaze, the weighty rounds of flesh out-thrust and trembling, the nipples pink and swollen.
As if in a dream she pulled the skirt to her waist and turned to bend over the desk. Her rear was framed by pink suspenders and stockings, the thin straps drawn tight over the jutting curve of her buttocks. A wisp of transparent panty was tucked into the pocket of her bulging arse, leaving the alabaster cheeks bare of any protection. The perfect white moons were on offer to Rodney in open invitation, begging for the first caress of the strap.
In the corridor outside, Melanie shifted on her knees.
Not that she was going to tell Hot Rod, but the new skirts made peeking through keyholes much less comfortable.
Chapter 19
Not far from the corridor where Melanie crouched on her haunches, another woman squatted down in the cause of sex. Felicity Dodge - Fliss - was a woman on the verge of her thirtieth birthday and her best days still lay before her, so everybody told her. In any event, a few good years lay behind her and she felt that, by now, certain matters should have come to a head. Like the matter of Clifford Rush, on whom she was currently bestowing head as she knelt on the bedroom floor of the room directly above Julia's office.
In the past Fliss had not always been what is known as a good girl. In fact she had been a downright naughty one. Her curvy figure, full lips and big brown eyes had got her into a lot of mischief. Meeting Cliff, however, convinced her she should turn over a new leaf and stick to one guy. He was successful, rich and generous. In short, he was marriage material. Now, however, two years with him had gone by and she was staring down the barrel of the big Three Oh. As she saw it, this trip up north on Cliff's latest assignment was make-or-break time.
Right now Fliss was pleasuring Cliff in the way he enjoyed best. It was possibly the most unequal sexual activity in the book and one her liberated friends in London would not have approved of - but this was no time to be a killjoy. Especially as, according to him, she was so good at it.
They had christened the position the San Francisco Suck-off since they had done it in that city in the first flush of their romance. Stranded by fog in a hotel bedroom lined with mirrors, Cliff had become addicted to the reflection of Fliss's bouncing white posterior as she knelt on all fours between his legs and gobbled his prick. Then as now, its particular charm for Cliff was the image of Fliss's winking vagina displayed between the smooth lower cheeks of her shaking buttocks as she knelt before him.
They had been at it for a while, he sitting on the bed and she crouching before him, her bum thrust backwards, towards a carefully angled mirror. Up down, up down, went her mouth on his stiff penis, wink wink went her other mouth in the mirror. Her knees and arms were aching and so were her breasts because Cliff enjoyed slapping them from side to side as they dangled beneath her crouching frame. With her titties swinging, her arse wobbling, her head bobbing and her cunt winking, he was in seventh heaven. In his opinion, for visual and tactile stimulation this position could not be bettered. Fliss never volunteered her opinion. She usually had her mouth full at the time.
'Uh,' grunted Cliff and reached forward to land a smack on her upturned bottom. Her bum cheeks danced for his pleasure.
'Ooh, baby, that's good,' he muttered. 'Shake your fat little arse for me.' And he smacked her again, hard. This was a sign he was getting excited.
She accelerated the tongue action and brought a hand up to squeeze the base of his root. He had to come soon, surely. But he bent to kiss her head and whispered, 'Slow down, darling, let's make this last.'
Fliss wouldn't have minded so much if she hadn't discovered that Cliff had played the same game two months ago with her former best friend Betsy in a hotel in Palermo. (So, what cute little name for it did they dream up? The Betsy Bumdance? The Sicilian Swallow? The bastard.)
Suddenly an alien sound burst upon their ears. A shrill squeal. Then another, louder this time. And another.
Fliss raised her head. 'What's that?'
'It's a woman.'
'Where's it coming from?'
The cries were loud and regular. And between them could now be heard other noises: muffled cracks, low masculine grunts.
'What's going on?' said Fliss.
'What do you think, sweetheart?' Cliff was grinning at her. 'That's the sound of a woman getting laid.'
'But she's in agony!'
'Oh really? Just listen.'
It was true, the sounds had changed. The voice was lower now and the cries had become moans and sighs. Some words could be discerned: 'Oh, you swine. Don't stop. Please don't stop. Oh! Yes, yes! God, I hate you!'
'You see,' Cliff laced his fingers through Fliss's dark curls and pushed her lips towards his straining member. 'Now, let's get back to business.'
Fliss did not protest. Indeed, she sucked the ruby red knob back into her mouth at once and swivelled her hips for him with a will. The sound of the unknown woman teetering between agony and ecstasy filled her ears. She imagined what the grunting man was doing to her. She'd bet he had a big cock, that he was ramming it up the woman's pussy while she screamed out, begging him for more. That's what she wanted too. A cock in her own hungry pussy. A thick red-capped stalk to fill the void between her legs. Oh yes! She thrust back hard, imagining a rock-hard male organ plugging her empty hole.
'Ooh, baby!' moaned Cliff, drinking in the sight of her gyrating bum cheeks.
'Aah! Yes, yes, do it to me hard! Fill me up! Oh you bastard!' yelled the other woman.
'Fat little arse indeed,' thought Fliss to herself in an agony of frustration as a very naughty plan took shape in her mind. It could backfire but it was make-or-break time after all. 'I'll nail you down yet, Clifford Rush,' she muttered but the words were drowned in a cascade of spunk as her lover finally shot his load and collapsed onto the bed.
Fliss sat back on her haunches and allowed his cream to bubble from her lips and dribble down over her pink and heaving tits. Just the way he liked it.
Between her legs, her empty pussy wept.
From below, the howls of a woman in orgasm rent the air.
Chapter 20
The sounds of Julia Jarvis's orgasm travelled across the grounds of The Blisswood Spa Hotel as far as the adjoining donkey sanctuary. The plump and contented collection of asses foraging in the meadow registered the noise but did not let it disturb them. They were used to it. Gavin Bird was not.
'What the hell's that?' he said.
His companion, a pink-cheeked girl in cut-off denims and a blue gingham shirt, just giggled.
Julia screeched on, the sound echoing round the big barn they were attempting to clean in preparation for the forthcoming Midsummer's dance.
'What is it, Lucy?' repeated Gavin. 'It sounds like someone being murdered - shouldn't we do something?'
The girl stopped sweeping the floor and turned her big amber eyes on Gavin.
'I thought you townies were meant to be sophisticated. That's Miss Jarvis entertaining Hot Rod up at the hotel. She's a bit of a screamer.'
'Oh,' said Gavin, recognising the dying notes of a woman in the throes of lust.
This was a new Gavin. Stripped to the waist in the mid-morning heat, a pitchfork loaded with straw in his hand, he looked like any other healthy country youth. The burdens of a nine-to-five life had slipped from his broad and now-tanned shoulders. The pinched and pasty air of city-bred anxiety was gone from his face.
He began to laugh and Lucy laughed with him. She gave him the kind of look she'd been giving him all morning. The look that said, 'Why the hell not?' He put down the pitchfork and took the broom from her hand. Her big eyes grew wider as he slipped an arm round her waist and backed her towards a pile of hay bales inside the door. She could guess what was coming.
The new Gavin was a man with a mission. He knew Brenda was in Blisswood somewhere, he couldn't prove it but he knew it to be true. It was the letter that had convinced him - and the Blisswood
women. They were all around, luscious laughing lasses with big breasts and swinging hips. She could be anyone of them. He'd know it when she was naked in his arms. All he had to do was fuck every one - it was simple.
The girl on the hill had merely been the first. He'd been busy since then. The women of Blisswood had welcomed him with open arms, you might say. And now there was Lucy.
Her tongue slipped into his mouth as his hands eased the thin shirt from the waistband of her shorts.
'We can't do it here,' she said. 'Miriam could pop in at any moment.' Nevertheless he ignored her protests and she did nothing to stop him unbuttoning her blouse and pulling the cups of her bra up over her breasts. The soft flesh fell into his hands and he lowered his head to take a firm pink nipple into his mouth. Now was the moment of truth. He nuzzled and fondled the two globes, lifting each in turn to squeeze and lick the satiny skin. Gavin had suspected from the first that Lucy was not the Topless Raider - her tits were too pointy and pear-shaped - but he believed in being thorough.
She cradled his head to her bosom and stroked the blond curls on the back of his neck.
'Who's this Miss Jarvis?' he said, raising his lips from her bosom and undoing the button at her waist.
'Julia, Miriam's daughter. She's the manager of The Blisswood Spa. She looks a prim little miss but she fairly howls the place down when she gets going. God, you're a fast worker, aren't you?'
Gavin had her denim shorts off by now and her panties soon followed onto the wooden floor. She lay back on the prickly makeshift bed, making no attempt to hide her pink and nubile body from his searching gaze. Her legs lolled open to reveal a thick brown triangle of fur, trimmed neatly round the prominent lips of a pouting pussy. She was fired up already, he could see, and he trailed an experimental finger down the gentle slope of her belly and through her silky bush. It came up wet with her juices and, on impulse, he fell to his knees between her thighs and ran his tongue the length of her crack.
'Ooh,' she squealed, 'ooh, yes please,' and swung her lithe brown legs up into the air, over his bare shoulders, thrusting her exposed pubis into his face. Gavin lapped her with an enthusiasm and skill he would never have imagined just a few weeks ago. He swirled his tongue deep inside her and sucked on the long scalloped lips of her labia. Then he pushed two fingers deep inside her and began to massage the sensitive inner walls of her cunt. As his mouth closed over the tiny finger of her clit she bucked her entire pubic delta against his face and launched into her first orgasm.
Gavin had done this to Josie, of course. But not often and not recently. He'd always worried that maybe she didn't like it, that she was only doing it to please him. In his previous life he had never fancied himself as a great lover. But now, with the Blisswood air in his lungs and this uninhibited country girl squirming on his tongue, tugging his head into her loins and whispering that he must never, ever stop and that she was coming, coming, coming! he felt he had been reborn in paradise.
Miriam Jarvis moved through life amused by the foibles of others, rarely jolted from her customary serenity. There were only three subjects capable of rousing her passion. The first was her donkey sanctuary. It was even more important than the second - her children - because the poor helpless asses needed her, whereas her daughters were intelligent young women able to look after themselves. Nevertheless, Miriam did worry about Julia, the most vulnerable of her brood, in the way that every mother does. Specifically, she wanted her married to a rich young man with a kind heart.
And so, had Miriam realised that the blistering screech which regularly rang out across the dale was the sound Julia enjoying a man's cock she would not have turned a hair. More to the point, had she known the cock in question belonged to Rodney Holmdale she would have been thrilled. In her eyes, the young beneficiary of the Holmdale estate, who indulged her donkey refuge - as his father had done - without asking a penny in rent, was Prince Charming. And she nurtured a not-too-secret hope that her Julia might turn out to be his Cinderella.
She approached the barn with donkeys and Julia on her mind, then both were suddenly wiped away and the third passion of her life took over the entire focus of her attention.
Through a crack in the barn door her eye was fixed on Lucy Salmon, her regular helper, and the young man from London who had volunteered his services only that morning. And what services they were! She could see that he had Lucy on a journey to the stars simply by the use of his tongue. A pulse beat in the pit of her stomach at the thought. It had been a long while since she had had a fresh young face between her thighs.
One hand stole unconsciously inside her blouse to pinch a swollen nipple as she watched the lad - Gavin, she remembered - climb to his feet. He stood in front of the girl and stripped off his jeans, freeing his cock with pride. It was long and hairless with only a down of light fuzz covering his balls, but the staff was straight and the bulb was purple and Miriam thought that she had never seen anything quite so delicious in her life.
Lucy evidently felt the same for she bent her knees back to her chest and spread herself wide. 'Put it in all the way,' she said. 'And hurry up.'
Gavin held back. He savoured the sight of his new conquest squirming before him, offering herself without shame or reserve.
'I thought you were worried about Mrs Jarvis,' he said, stroking his cock, pulling the foreskin over the shiny glans and slowly easing it back again.
'She won't care. She'll be jealous I got to you first,' said Lucy. 'Don't tease me. Just shove it all the way up. Please.'
Turned on as she was, Miriam smiled at the reference to herself. She toyed with the idea of intruding, of claiming that beautiful white staff for her own use. Lucy was a good-natured lass, she wouldn't hold it against her - they'd shared a travelling sales rep only two months ago. However, she wouldn't want to frighten the young man away.
He'd put it in now. Just the knob. And Lucy was wriggling her hips, trying to capture more of his length in her hungry hole.
'Play with your cunt,' he said to her. 'Show me how you do it. Bring yourself off.'
'Must I?' she muttered and turned her crimson face to one side. But her fingers splayed open her crack and busied themselves at the apex of her slot. Eyes bright, he pressed his cock in another inch as she diddled herself into a frenzy.
By now Miriam had pulled her skirt to her waist and she, too, was knuckle-deep in her burning loins.
Lucy came once more with a sigh and jerked up and down on the bales making her breasts bounce and judder. Gavin fell on her and drove his tool all the way home, his lean white buttocks pounding in pent-up longing between her brown thighs.
'Oh my God,' groaned Miriam; both hands busy in the wet thatch between her legs, bumping her hip heavily against the door as the first wave of orgasm shot through her. The door swung back slowly on its hinges with a loud creak, flooding sunlight across the dirty wooden floor and the naked bodies of the copulating couple.
As the light fell on Gavin's face, blinding him to everything but the sensations of the moment, his cock leapt and spurted inside the pretty girl beneath him. She took all he had with a shout of pleasure. Paradise indeed, was his only thought.
Chapter 21
Julia Jarvis found the best way of coping with Rodney Holmdale was to pretend he didn't exist when he was not in her sight. Fortunately the running of the hotel threw up so many dramas which demanded her instant attention that this was just about possible. But Rodney did have a way of thrusting himself into her mind. His presence was everywhere.
Like now, in the sound of heated voices rising from the reception area. Rodney was elsewhere doing God knows what - Julia couldn't bear to think - but the altercation below was nevertheless his fault.
The girl on reception was at the centre of the dispute. She was a small disdainful beauty with jet-black hair cut smartly to her jaw revealing the delicate white tulip-stem of her neck. Her eyes were big and dark, her cheeks porcelain pale and her mouth a perfect pout of scarlet. She was French and Rodney's mo
st recent appointment.
Julia had objected, of course.
'I thought you said we should make more of our local girls.'
'And so we will but we must also cater for a variety of tastes. Chantal is a sophisticated Parisienne. She adds a touch of class et du mystere, n'est-ce pas?'
'She's rude to every female guest and she looks like a tart! The only room number she knows is soixante-neuf!'
'And how, darling. She was very persuasive at the interview. Why, I do believe you're jealous...'
Of course there had been no point in arguing with Rodney. And now here was Chantal standing up to a slim brunette who towered over her by about a foot, while a younger woman in red leggings and clumpy shoes with a rucksack on her shoulder looked on.
'See here,' said the tall woman in a low voice with a transatlantic twang, 'I phoned you from London at two o'clock today. I booked a two-person suite and requested the use of a fax machine. I told you I didn't know how long we would be staying. I gave you a credit-card number and said there would be two for dinner. You confirmed it all. So what do you mean the suite is booked?'
'It's no longer available,' said Chantal. 'I may be able to find you two separate rooms in the annexe just for tonight.'
'But what happened to my booking?' The American was beginning to lose her temper.
'Please, madame, if you do not keep your voice down I must ask you to leave at once.'
Julia made her intervention not before time. 'What's the problem here, Chantal?'
The French girl turned to her and said, without lowering her voice, 'This Yankee woman and her scruffy girlfriend are on their own. They have no men and no luggage to speak of. They say they want a suite and dinner but it is eight thirty and the suite is being used. They are not desirable clientele in my opinion. Why don't they stay at the pub?'