by Felix Baron
Her third finger joined the other two. Randy seemed to have adjusted to the invasion. His eyes closed in concentration. His fists knotted in Trixie’s hair. The boy’s muscular thighs shuddered.
He grunted, ‘I’m coming!’ and he was right. His cream flowed across Trixie’s tongue.
She concentrated, telling herself how wicked she was and how debauched the scene was and wallowed in her own depravity, and forced herself over the edge.
Randy staggered back.
Trixie told Dirk, ‘That was wonderful!’ She looked at Randy. ‘You too. I love fingering your tight little bum and when you come, it’s absolutely delicious!’
Dirk said, ‘You too, Bambi. Your stuff tastes pretty good.’
‘You’ll get more, I promise.’ As if absently, she reached out to scoop the jism that still drooled from the eye of Randy’s cock onto her fingertip and put it to Dirk’s lips. Without thinking, he licked.
‘Your friend tastes good as well, right?’
Dirk mumbled something, looking away from Randy.
‘You’ve only come once today, right, Dirk?’ she asked.
He nodded.
‘Would you like to fuck my bum?’
Dirk swallowed hard and nodded.
‘Randy,’ she said, ‘you know what it feels like to have your bum-hole lubed. Do you think you could do mine?’
Dirk writhed to his feet. ‘You said that I . . .’
‘Am going to fuck me there. So you will. Randy will oil me and you’ll fuck me. Fair?’ She turned and bent over, her hands flat on the slats of the bench. ‘You spread me, Dirk. That’ll make it easier for Randy.’
‘Spread?’
‘Hold my cheeks apart. Maybe, if you’re up for it and as you’ve such a good tongue, you could lick me there first.’
‘Lick your . . .?’
‘If you won’t, I know Randy will.’
‘I’ll do it!’ He squatted behind her. His friend eased Trixie’s cheeks apart. Dirk saw that the ring around her anus was a shade darker pink than the rest of her skin, about as dark as her nipples. Dirk took a deep breath. His face worked between her cheeks. His tongue stretched out and explored.
‘Down a fraction,’ she told him. ‘That’s it, right there. Ring me, sweetheart. Oh God! That feels so good! Now probe. Work the tip of your tongue in. Make it really wet. That’s it, tongue-fuck my bum, Dirk. Tongue me good.’ She squealed, not faking it. The sensations were utterly delectable. She could have submitted to Dirk’s tongue all day but he’d get bored, eventually, and she hadn’t finished corrupting the handsome boys.
‘Let Randy oil me,’ she said. ‘Two fingers, Randy. Work them in deep and then spread them to open me up. I’m really tight there. You nice and stiff, Dirk? You’ll need to be.’
‘I’m stiff,’ he assured her.
Randy’s two fingers twisted into Trixie. She clamped at first so as not to betray her ability to relax her internal muscles. As she was tilted forward, the lube trickled in even deeper, which was always a nice sensation.
Randy asked, ‘Enough?’
‘Plenty. Dirk, my bum’s all yours. Fuck me hard. Fuck me deep. Randy, you come here, on the bench in front of me. Bring the lube. I want you to play with my clit while Dirk buggers me, OK?’
Despite having come already, Dirk’s cock proved stiff enough to force its way into Trixie’s bum-hole. Once its head was lodged beyond her tight ring, he took hold of her hips and surged into her. Trixie winced, for Randy’s benefit. Men prefer it when being buggered hurts the woman some. As Dirk slow-fucked her bottom, Trixie reached down and lifted Randy’s hand to her cunt. She let him play for a while, enjoying it more than she had Dirk’s tongue, before she steered his fingers into her, where he’d be able to feel his friend’s cock.
‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’ she asked.
‘What does?’
‘Dirk’s cock, moving inside me. You’re making it better for him, you know, making me tighter. It’s dirtier, as well, you feeling your friend’s cock.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Randy told her. ‘I’m game for anything.’
‘You are?’
He nodded.
‘In which case . . .’ She leaned down and whispered softly into his ear.
Red faced, Randy nodded and ducked under Trixie’s arm. As if casually, he rounded Dirk. Trixie reached back between her own thighs to take a firm hold of Dirk’s swaying balls. Randy, as he’d been directed, poured lube over his own cock and presented it to Dirk’s bum.
Dirk jerked. ‘What the fuck!’ He tried to pull back but Trixie had him by the balls.
‘This is what the lady wants us to do,’ Randy told him. He leaned into his friend, forcing his way between clenched cheeks and past the tightness of his virgin sphincter.
‘You’ll like it,’ Trixie promised. ‘A bum is a bum is a bum, remember.’
‘No!’
It was too late. His friend was buggering him and he was buggering Trixie and the sensations had no morals, no standards. Within seconds, he climaxed, filling Trixie’s bum, and then he endured the humiliation of what his friend was doing to him until, to his surprise, his cock hardened again, still inside Trixie, and that time both young men climaxed at about the same time.
Randy and Dirk sank onto the bench, not looking at each other.
‘That was nice,’ Trixie chirped. ‘But neither of you has fucked my cunt yet.’
Randy shook his head. ‘Sorry, Bambi, but I’m done. I couldn’t get it up again to save my life.’
‘You will, I promise. Then we’ll try a DP.’
He looked blank.
‘Double penetration? You fucking me up my bum while your buddy fucks my cunt?’
‘Oh.’
Dirk looked up. ‘I’ll take her bum again if you don’t want it,’ he told his friend.
‘No – I’m down with it.’
Dirk’s face fell.
Trixie said, ‘Don’t squabble, boys. It’s early. There’s lots more we can try.’
Randy said, ‘Huh?’
‘Both of you fucking my cunt at once? I really like that.’
Six strenuous hours later, on the way back to the kiosk to return the cabana’s key, Trixie had to walk with her legs apart. She was pleasantly sore in some places and feeling nicely dilated in others. Luckily, she had good muscle tone. Her cunt would be tight again long before Rolf returned but the bruises and bite marks around her sex wouldn’t have faded by then. She’d have to avoid getting too intimate with him until they were gone. That’d be no problem. She was adept at avoiding sex with her husband. Trixie had Rolf trained to the point that he expected disappointment and was grateful for any sexual sops she tossed him.
The bigger problem would be Penny. No matter what clever lies Trixie concocted, her daughter always knew when her mother had been on one of her little adventures. There’d be disapproving looks from Penny, at least, maybe worse, much worse. Penny could be quite the little tartar when she was roused.
Oh well! She’d played her game and she’d enjoyed every moment of it. She was prepared to pay the price if she had to. Perhaps, if she was very sweet to her daughter, took some flowers in with her, maybe, she could wheedle her way past Penny’s stern looks?
Twenty-two
They were all three, Rolf, Trixie and Penny, in the kitchen, sampling ginger muffins that Penny’d made, when the phone rang. Trixie picked up. After a moment, she said, ‘Of course. As soon as I can. Don’t worry.’ She hung up, pale as parchment.
‘What is it, Mom?’ Penny asked.
‘Aunty Elizabeth. Cancer. She’s dying.’ Tears spilled from her eyes.
Penny hugged her mother and patted her shoulder.
Rolf said, ‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?’
In a voice that crackled with grief, Trixie said, ‘She needs me, Rolf. I have to go to her. It’s a long way – in Colorado – a tiny place – Wishburg – almost in Wilderness country.’
‘Of course you may go,
wherever it is.’
‘Thank you. It might be for quite a while. You never know how long these things will take and they’ll need me to take care of everything. She’s all alone. I’ll have to arrange the funeral, when . . .’ She broke down, sobbing.
When a large brandy had helped Trixie compose herself, Penny told her, ‘You aren’t to worry about us, Mom. I’ll look after Rolf for you.’
‘And I’ll look after Penny,’ he said, and then it sunk in. For some time, for an indefinite period, he was going to be left alone with the young girl who, he suddenly realised, he lusted after even more than he lusted after her mother, his wife.
The Friday after Trixie left, coming back from Manhattan, a traffic tie-up delayed Rolf. He didn’t get home until half past nine. Penny greeted him at the door with a warm hug. ‘I’m so grateful you called me to tell me you’d be late. I’d have been worried sick, otherwise. I’ve run a bath for you. You must be famished as well as exhausted, so how about I bring your supper into your den for you?’
‘Thanks. Wonderful.’
She took his briefcase. He trudged up the stairs.
Rolf had long considered that one advantage of his mature years was that he’d encountered most sorts of situation and knew how to react to them – how to feel about them. That wasn’t the case when he entered the ensuite bathroom.
The air was steamy and fragrant. The room was lit by two score or more candles, everything from stocky wax pillars to tapers to votives. The underwater jets were on. The tub was filled to overflowing with thick rich foam. There was a glass of scotch on the ledge, with an ice cube melting in it.
What did it mean? How should he feel about this, whatever it was?
Was this simply a dutiful stepdaughter’s way of showing him he was loved, platonically, and that she simply wanted to help him unwind from the ordeal of three days’ work? Or had she set the scene for seduction?
Nonsense! If, in the unlikely, impossible, event that Penny had designs on his body, she’d have been waiting in the tub, posed prettily. He was being foolish. Penny was just being her sweet considerate self and he was allowing his forbidden feelings for her to paint her innocence as corruption.
Sin is in the eye of the beholder.
Rolf dealt with his confused thoughts by blanking his mind and letting his subconscious take care of them, if it could. He’d luxuriated in the suds for about half an hour when Penny rapped on his bathroom door. ‘Supper in ten, Rolf, please.’
He pulled on pyjama pants and a robe. When he was ensconced in his favourite chair, Penny, in one of her shortest and flimsiest wraps, brought him a tray and a beaded glass of Chablis. ‘Blackened cod, Cajun style,’ she announced. ‘You said you’d had it in San Francisco once and liked it.’
‘Wonderful! Do you memorise everything I say, Penny?’
‘Most of the time. I just want to please you.’
‘Well, you do. You please me a lot.’
She blushed and skipped to plop into the chair opposite him, where she curled up and watched him enjoy his special supper. He ate and tried not to let her see that he was watching her. Penny had lovely legs. Her ankles were slender; her calves sleek; her knees dimpled and her thighs were surprisingly full at their tops, tapering in intoxicating curves.
They were very mobile, those young legs, so that even if he tried not to watch them, they drew his attention back by crossing and recrossing or sliding on each other in a way that was innocently sensuous. Penny was likely unaware of the effect her legs had on men. Male lust was probably still a mystery to her.
No sooner had he finished than she was up, clearing his tray away and fetching another large scotch. ‘You have your book?’ she asked.
‘I’ve got everything I need,’ he assured her, and quickly added, ‘except for your mother, of course.’
‘She called today. Aunty Elizabeth is in pain but being very brave. Mom sends her love and said to tell you she misses you. We aren’t to call her because of the medical equipment, like in a hospital. She’ll call us whenever she can.’ Penny took a book from his shelf. ‘Do you mind if I stay here and read with you? I won’t disturb you, I promise.’
That was a promise she couldn’t keep. Her mere presence disturbed him. He said, ‘I’m delighted to have your company, Penny.’
She refilled his glass before he realised he’d emptied it. His book was one he was forcing himself to finish because of the time he’d already invested in it. After about an hour, it slipped from his fingers. It didn’t seem worth the effort to pick it up.
When he woke, his den was dark except for his reading lamp, which had been turned aside so as not to shine on him. Rolf sat up. He realised that his robe was dangling loose and the fly of his pyjama pants was gaping. He must have disordered his clothes by squirming in his sleep. Penny would have gone up to bed long before he’d done that. She had to have.
Penny woke him at ten in the morning with the promise of flapjacks with Vermont maple syrup and real English sausages with fried green tomatoes for breakfast.
‘I’m going riding later,’ she told him. ‘Want to come?’
After the disturbed and disturbing night he’d had, he had two choices. He could crawl back to bed or he could snap out of the blahs with some invigorating exercise. ‘I’d be delighted,’ he told her. ‘It’s been years since I was on a horse.’
Penny rode well. Again, Rolf found it a pleasure to watch her. Riding beside her, he could see the muscles in her bare midriff flex. When he dropped back, her jeans were tight enough that he could follow the clenching and relaxing of her bottom’s cheeks. He tried pushing ahead of her but she was the better rider and always caught up.
‘I love riding, don’t you?’ she said with glee in her voice.
‘All girls do, don’t they?’ he commented. ‘I wonder why that is?’
Penny giggled. ‘Rolf! Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Obvious?’
‘We take great powerful beasts between our thighs, and rock . . .’ She exaggerated her hip movements. ‘. . . like this. Girls get off on it, of course. When I was at school, we used to argue which was best, a canter or a trot, for . . . Well, you know.’
‘Penny!’
She pouted. ‘Well, it’s true. Better we should ride horses than stable boys, right?’
‘Does your mother know you talk like this?’
‘I have no secrets from Mom and she has none from me.’
‘I hope you’re wrong about that.’
She giggled again. ‘Well, I don’t get all the details, of course. She has told me that you are a fantastic lover, though, Rolf.’
In self defence, he urged his mount into a gallop. Penny chased after him, whooping.
When they got home, after a sandwich lunch, Penny announced that she was going to take a swim, to cool off, and invited Rolf to join her.
‘I’m too stiff. I think I’ll take a nap.’
When Rolf got to the top of the stairs, the spare bedroom door was ajar. He hadn’t been in there, not since he’d discovered the view from the room’s window. He’d better go in, just to check. Once inside, it was only natural that he’d glance out the window.
Penny was floating on her back, on an inflatable raft. She wasn’t wearing the top of her bikini. Her hand looked as if it was tucked into the front of her bikini’s bottom. Rolf turned aside. There, in front of him on a chest of drawers, was a pair of binoculars. Either Penny or Trixie must have been looking at birds, or something.
Rolf bit his lip. His hand reached for the glasses, drew back, and reached again. It was just too damned opportune! There was Penny. There were the binoculars. He knew what he should do and he knew what he was tempted to do. Temptation won.
When he focused the lenses, he saw that he’d been right. Penny’s hand was pushed down under that scrap of fabric. It seemed she found the cloth restricting because she pulled her hand out, undid the tie at her hip, yanked the fabric aside and put her hand back, right on her sex. Her thighs spread. T
he middle two fingers of her hand bent under and disappeared. Penny’s body tensed. She arched, straining up against her hand.
Rolf felt his face reddening and his cock hardening. Penny, sweet innocent Penny, was masturbating! He put his hand to his own crotch. What he wanted more than anything at that moment, was to take his cock out and jerk off, joining Penny in her pleasure. Somehow he forced himself to lay the binoculars aside and go to his bathroom for a long cool shower.
When would Trixie be back? When?
That evening Penny made stir-fried jumbo shrimp with a medley of baby vegetables on a bed of wild brown rice, with Hoi Sin sauce. Rolf mumbled his thanks. He couldn’t look at her without seeing her on that floating raft, legs spread, head thrown back in ecstasy. As soon as he could, he retreated to his den and his boring book. After a while, Penny followed him, poured him a scotch and settled into the chair opposite. She was wearing that goddamned pyjama jacket again, and not even properly done up.
He kept his eyes on his pages, even when she brought him refills for his drink. At eleven, she made hot chocolate. Rolf hoped it was a sign she was going to go to bed but after they’d drunk, she poured him another scotch.
‘May I have one?’ she asked.
‘Does your mother let you?’
‘I’m nineteen, almost twenty, Rolf. I’m legal, in every sense.’
‘Then help yourself.’ Perhaps a scotch would make her sleepy. It wouldn’t seem right if he went to bed before she did but it was getting late and his eyes were heavy.
Once more, Rolf woke in the wee small hours, alone in his den. By reflex, he checked his crotch. Damn! Not only was his fly gaping but his naked cock was lolling out. How in hell’s name had that happened? Could he have touched himself in his sleep?
For the rest of that week, Rolf changed his habits. He didn’t prepare for his evening’s relaxation by showering before supper. He stayed fully dressed until he went up to bed and he rationed himself to one small scotch a night.