by Simone Leigh
CONTENTS
The Virgin’s Summer– Part One
The Virgin’s Summer– Part Two
The Virgin’s Summer– Part Three
The Virgin’s Summer– Part Four
Copyright © 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, mechanical, electronic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.
The Virgi n’s Summer
Part One
A Continuing Tale of
(Ex-)Virgin Erotica, BDSM and Ménage
with Two Masters and More……
Part Thirteen Of
The ‘Buying the Virgin’ Series
Author: Simone Leigh
The Virgin’s Summer
Part One
And so, it is Summer. And we are free.
Having driven for an hour or so, we are coming close to our destination. Driving along the coast road, the sea close by, sparkling blue, and the sky an azure dome above, it could not be more perfect.
“According to the sat-nav, we should be nearly there.” says my Master, brow furrowed in puzzlement, but I can’t see anything. Either of you spot anything I’m missing?”
Certainly, there is nothing that looks like a beach house in sight. There are dunes, pinned in place with tough grasses and with little pink belled creeping plants sprawling across the sand: a couple of small boats moored by a tiny quay, fishermen’s boats perhaps, a small hotel a mile or so away. It is a gorgeous spot, but there is nothing that resembles the timber built, wooden shuttered beach house of my imagination.
Loaned to my Master for the Summer by the CEO of the company he is contracted to, the three of us; my Master, Michael, my Lover, and I, have travelled here to spend time together, and generally, have fun…. but where is it?
“Perhaps we should ask at that hotel?” suggests Michael. “With so few houses around, they’re bound to know where it is, surely?”
“Mmmm, yes.” My Master nods, and turns the car around, again, this being the third circuit we have made of this stretch of road.
Pulling up outside, he jumps out of the car, knocking at the entrance. The hotel, while small, looks expensive, with marbled steps leading up to an intricately carved door in some beautiful, dark hardwood. Tiled pathways lead around the sides, to terraces perhaps? And beyond…. is a view of naught but blue and white from one horizon to the other.
There is no reply.
He knocks again. Still no reply.
He stands back, looking around, puzzled, then after a moment he glances across to us, smiles, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a key.
Slipping it into the lock, it turns…. and the door opens. Grinning, he turns back to us, waving his arms to invite us in.
Michael and I gape.
“This is the ‘beach house’ you’ve been loaned?” laughs Michael.
“That guy you’re working for must really like you, Master.”
He says nothing, shaking his head and looking smug.
Inside, we stand in a spacious hall, high ceilings and chandeliers above us, rooms off to either side. The floor is elegantly tiled, leading right through the house, to a vast picture window overlooking the sea.
“Oh….My….God….” I say.
Michael stands, arms folded, just looking around. “I see why you were so keen to get that contract.” he says. “If this is one of the side benefits….. No wonder you wanted to celebrate that day…”
I smile inwardly at the sort of ‘celebration’ my Master is likely to have chosen. My voice all innocence, I ask “What did you do to celebrate, Master?”
He hesitates, looking away. “I bought myself a very expensive present.”
Now, what would that have been? I ponder what I know of my Master. I know what he drives. He didn’t buy himself a flashy car. He doesn’t wear designer watches or jewelry, and his clothes, while smart and stylish, are not over the top.
My Master has vanished off into the house. Is he avoiding me? Certainly, he avoided the question.
“What did he buy himself?” I whisper to Michael.
He eyes me sideways. “You figure it out…” he grins. And he disappears off after my Master.
?
?
Ohhhh….
Me?
OMG! He bought himself a Virgin.
Giggling hysterically to myself, I follow the two through the beautiful house, almost walking into them as I find myself outside again, standing on a terrace.
The view is amazing. Nothing but beach and dunes and sea, as far as the eye can see. White sands curve in a gentle crescent, before disappearing out of sight at either end of the bay. Palm trees sway over the house, and the sea is jade, fading on the horizon to a shade of azure matched only by the sky.
Wow!
And we have this for the Summer?
My Master is simply standing there, shaking his head. “Richard did say it’s a private beach, but….” He waves an arm randomly out at the astonishing view. “I never expected….”
Michael is more pragmatic. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If you’re getting this thrown in, he’s going to work your arse off for it.”
“I would think so, yes…”
My eye swings around to the side of the house. “Michael, Master, have you seen that?”
Their eyes follow mine, and they both laugh.
“A pool as well as the sea?” chuckles Michael. “This is unreal.”
We all troop around to the poolside, looking down into the water. My sense of mischief takes over, and I push at Michael. Caught by surprise, he staggers, then falls, but as he goes, grabs me by the wrist, pulling me in after him. Shrieking with laughter, I tumble in, still fully clothed, then tread water, as I splutter and splash, trying to unwrap my face from my long red hair.
My Master stands staring down at us, both splashing around, his expression amused. “If you don’t mind, children, I’m going to change into something more appropriate before I join you.”
Michael and I clamber out of the pool, still laughing. Our dripping clothes leave a trail of water as we go back to the house, so we both strip off outside the door.
“Just as well it’s private here.” he comments, as we shake ourselves off, naked in the sunshine.
“I’ll go track down some towels. Do you want to get the cases?”
“No need.” shouts my Master, from the end of the hall. “I’ve just brought them all in.”
We all don holiday-wear. Michael and I go out onto the terrace to absorb some sunshine, laden with bags of beach towels, blow-up rings and frisbees.
Michael glances down at me. “No bikini?”
I am wearing shorts and a light beach wrap and smearing sun block over my arms. “I have to be careful in the sun. I don’t go uncovered too much.”
“Here, let me do your back. The sun will get through that wrap,” he says.
Squeezing sun cream into his palm, he looks at the label. “Factor 50? You’re not aiming for a tan then?” he grins.
“I don’t tan. I’m a red-head.”
Michael massages the cream over my back and shoulders, easing it down under the top of my shorts. I wince.
Michael looks down at me. “Those stripes on your backside hurting?”
“Mmm. Yes.”
The ‘stripes’ were awarded to me the previous evening during an adventurous few hours in a club. My Master loaned me out, and a riding crop left several weals on my bottom. It hurts.
Michael says nothing, simply working in the cream.
“What is it, Michael?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
“It just unsettles me sometimes, seeing what turns you on. I couldn’t bear to do those things to you.”
“I can understand that, but you and I enjoy ourselves in other ways.”
“Forgive me if my sympathy is a bit limited.” he comments, tartly, “But when you ask a man who has a taste for making your ass glow in the dark, for ‘intense’, you shouldn’t be too surprised if it hurts to sit down afterward.”
Piqued, “Did I ask for sympathy?” Michael is clearly right, and it doesn’t help either my pride or my sore rear end.
He shrugs. “Fair point. No, you didn’t. Here, turn over, let me have a look. I’ll rub in an analgesic for you.”
I feel a bit sulky. “I didn’t bring anything like that with me.”
“No, but I did.” He produces a tube from his bag, “Someone has to think of these things….” I pull down my shorts and roll over. Michael looks, then whistles. “For Heaven’s sake, Charlotte, I know you get a kick out of that stuff, but this is ridiculous.”
“Is it bad?” I strain over my shoulder, trying, unsuccessfully, to see my own bottom, where Michael is applying cream.
“Are you alright, Charlotte?” asks my Master, as he appears from the house, beach towel slung over his shoulder, and sees what Michael is doing.
“No, she’s bloody not!” snaps Michael. “Look at the state of this.”
My Master peers at my butt, and sniffs. “I did have words with Kris about that afterward. I had stipulated that he was not to leave any lasting marks.”
“A fat lot of good that did!” Michael is clearly furious. “I don’t know what the Hell to make of the pair of you sometimes….” Then he sounds upset. “For pity’s sake Charlotte, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. What would I do if something happened to you?”
My Master looks abashed. “Charlotte, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Michael is not so easily put down. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place! You can turn over now.” As he finishes tending my sore stripes, he slaps my backside, making his point, as I holler a loud protest.
“Serves you right.” he mutters, his voice livid.
Michael’s obvious displeasure casts a bit of a pall. He stretches out on a beach towel and picks up a book.
Feeling foolish, I lie back and try to read my own book.
As the pain-killing cream works its magic, I begin to feel better. The warm air and the company of my two Lovers enjoying the sun beside me, begins to stir things inside me.
Perhaps I can cheer Michael up….
Sitting up, and carefully controlling the urge to an ‘Ouch!’ as my ass rubs on the cushion, I stroke Michael’s arm.
“If you think that’s going to stop me being mad at you, you’re mistaken.” he says from behind his book.
I continue stroking him, a gliding touch up his shoulder, and onto his chest.
Still, he doesn’t move.
Rippling my fingers through the fine golden hairs of his chest, following their line down his abs, to where they disappear below the line of his shorts, I know that I am winning, as I see the movement of a growing erection.
Gotcha!
I slip my hand under the waistband and inside, where I find his cock semi-erect, and rapidly growing. Caressing it, I rub the head between fingers and thumb. He puts his book down and groans.
“Oh, God. You win. You do it to me every time, don’t you.” I look back to his face, to find him grinning at me, his beautiful face flashing a bright, white smile at me from his tan. His golden hair is sun-bleaching already, and gilded streaks shine out from the deeper bronze.
Confident that I am forgiven, I slip off my shorts and swing a leg over to straddle him, feeling his growing erection pressing against my crotch through his shorts. As my weight comes down on him, he shudders and gasps.
I sit up, curving my spine to display myself, then lift away the wrap to sit naked above him. Book forgotten, Michael’s hands rest on my thighs, rubbing and massaging, before questing to my flat belly. Leaning forward, I allow my breasts to swing pendulously over his face as he tries to capture a nipple in his mouth.
There is a hand behind me.
Not Michael’s hand….
I look over my shoulder. Still sitting in his chair beside us, stroking the tender skin at the small of my back and up my spine, between my shoulder blades, my Master sends shivers rippling up through me. He alternates his strokes between soft finger tips and the hard edge of his nails. As the nails bite, I shudder and my breath grows short.
I tug at the waistband of Michael’s shorts. “Um, you think we need these?”
His good mood restored, he grins, “They do seem a bit surplus to requirements don’t they…?”
I kneel up, reaching down to unbutton and unzip him, then pull them down past my legs and his knees. He kicks them off past his feet.
I am about to settle down across him again, but he says “No, stay like that. Let me look at you.”
As upright as I can, knees akimbo across his hips, I arch my back. Cupping my breasts, I rub them, watching his eyes follow my hands as I pinch and roll at a nipple.
As he watches my performance, with one hand he runs fingers through my foxy curls. They glint auburn in the bright sunshine, growing moist and warm as arousal puddles into my pussy.
His gaze now alternates between where I am playing with my nipples for him, and where he runs skilled fingers through my folds. Already growing wet, swelling and readying me for my Lover….
….for my Lovers….
…. my pussy is opening, unfurling, sending sweet fire coursing through me in anticipation.
Still watching me play with my breasts, Michael reaches two fingers inside me, resting his thumb on my clit, pressing lightly on it.
My own control is beginning to go now, my hips to shudder and quake. There is a movement behind me. My Master, standing behind me, one foot either side of Michael’s calves, reaches down and takes one of my wrists in each hand, stretching my arms upwards, over my head, displaying me, stretched and pinned for my Golden Lover.
The tension in my back, belly, and thighs, heightens my awareness of Michael’s exploring fingers. Abruptly, he pulls himself out from under me and kneels up to face me. One arm around my waist, he pulls me close into him, reaching now, deeply into me, his fingers scraping my inner walls over my g-spot while still, his thumb pressures my clit.
“What do you think James?” he asks, looking up over my shoulder. “Do I take her all the way there yet, or do we work her a bit more?”
“Oh, a bit longer yet, I think.” says my Master. “I want to watch her suck you off.”
“Sounds good to me.”
My Master heaves, pulling me up by my wrists into a standing position, then he spins me to where Michael is taking the chair he just vacated. Michael sits, sprawled, his cock tremblingly erect against his stomach. Glistening in the sunlight, from the slit trickles a little pre-cum.
My Master tosses a cushion onto the tiles, kneeling me down on it. He manoeuvres me between Michael’s knees, bending me over, pressing my head to his cock. A hand twisted into my hair, he rubs my face over the cock-head, leaving a trail of pre-cum over my skin.
“Do your work, Madam.” he says. “Let’s see you get a good mouthful from him.” And he slaps me, right over the stripes on my buttocks. I yell, but now aroused, my pussy wells up hot.
He knows me too well, does my Master.
As I wrap my lips around Michael’s hard shaft, my Master, behind me, is arranging me to his satisfaction, parting my knees, pulling my hips up. With Michael leaking, briny-sweet into my mouth, slow
ly my Master penetrates me from the rear.
Slowly he fills me, his cock working me. He rotates his hips, rubbing at my g-spot inside, making me twitch, as I work the tip of my tongue around the ridge of Michael’s shaft.
Michael is growing breathy. His fingers holding my face to either side, he begins to work my head up and down, sliding me over his cock. I tighten my lips around him, struggling a little with his girth, but making it as good for him as I can. He comes with a growl, and I suck and lap and lick, as he gushes his stream into me. Pressing himself into me, I gag as his penis pushes into my throat, before he remembers himself, pulling me away again.
Freed from Michael, once more my Master grasps my hair, winding it around his fingers, pulling my head back, and straining me backward to kneel upright against him as he pumps me.
Michael reaches down, fingering my clit as my Master locks my arms behind me, fucking me hard all the time. Each thrust is individual, rammed hard up into me, and all the while Michael plays with my bud, rubbing gently between thumb and forefinger as my pussy leaks hotly down inside my thighs.
Orgasm spears through me, exquisite and sharp, sending my pussy into throbbing paroxysms. I think this triggers my Master’s climax as my cunt clenches and reclenches around him. He holds me ever more tightly as he presses into me and I scream out my own orgasm.
“Michael stop. For God’s sake, stop.” My pulsing clit is released, and I drop forward onto all fours, my Master atop and inside me.
As he pulls out of me, his final gesture is to slap my ass again, squarely on the sore spot. I yelp.
“Say, ‘Thank you, Master’.”
“Thank you, Master.” I grin up at him.
Michael stares at me, shaking his head.
___________________________________
We choose the largest, front bedroom as our accommodation. Again, it overlooks the sea, with windows to front and both sides.
Wearing a large furry bathrobe, I stand, staring out, watching a yacht on the horizon as it sails out, falling over the edge of the world….
Michael unpacks, hanging his clothes neatly. My Master I notice is looking speculatively across the room.