Chilli Heat

by Carrie Williams

  Sue pulls her head back, turns and looks out over the ocean, then starts to follow him. Not wanting to be left out of anything, I pull off the rest of my clothes and, leaving them heaped on the sand, run after her. I catch up just as she’s located Dean, is winding her arms around his neck, mouth already open to meet his. For a moment they kiss, and I feel a twinge in my belly as I see how they eat at each other’s faces, as if they were new lovers. Then each of them holds out one arm, opening the circle to include me, and I step into it.

  I’m not sure whose hand it is that enters me first, but it doesn’t seem to matter – what matters is the sensation, as the fingers go round and round inside me, deeper and deeper. Then I realise that it’s Dean’s hand, from the way his shoulder is gyrating. Pretty soon he releases his other arm from around Sue’s bare shoulder and that shoulder starts to follow the same motions. Sue’s face confirms that he has his other hand inside her, is pleasuring her in exactly the same way. Looking back at me, she sends me a complicitous smile and leans forwards a little to kiss me, open-mouthed, giving herself fully, one hand back on my breast. I hold hers too, and feel her nipple bullet hard on the flat of my palm. I groan; my orgasm is coming, coming too soon. There’s an ache for it not only in my cunt but in my arse too. I keep kissing Sue as Dean’s hand increases speed inside me, and presumably inside her too, and, perhaps pulled along in the wake of my excitement, Sue comes at the same moment as me. Our mouths are still locked onto each other, our cries half stifled by each other’s tongues.

  Taking charge now, but wordlessly, Dean turns me around in the thigh-high water, so that I have my back to him. Sue places herself in front of me, back to me too. When Dean puts one arm around my waist and pushes me forwards over it, she bends forwards in front of me, and I put one arm around her waist obligingly. Having given me barely a minute to recover from my climax, Dean spits into his palm and, as if he’s read my mind, felt my urges in some telepathic way, massages it into my anus. Then, checking me for readiness, he eases a finger into my sphincter. I gasp, in pain but also in delight. He adds another finger, then another, and then he murmurs something, takes his hand away and I feel his cock at my entrance. I’m still a little high from the toddy, and I guess that maybe this makes the first time easier. Despite his having prepared the way with his fingers, though, it’s still tight, and he has to make his way in gradually, like an animal forging its burrow. Muscle by muscle, however, I open up to him, until my arse is full of him and he’s free to start thrusting.

  Not forgetting Sue, who’s looking over her shoulder at proceedings, going at her clit with her fingers, I pull her hand away and start massaging her clit in her place, occasionally letting my fingers wander down over her soft lips to her hole, lingering there and then returning to their starting point. I put the fingers of my other hand into my mouth then bring them to her arse and replicate Dean’s actions with me of just a few moments ago. They go in easily, from which I deduce that she’s no first-timer like me, that this is a regular part of their love-making. I wonder what else is in their repertoire. One thing’s for sure: this week is going to be an education for me. A virgin only a couple of days ago, I sense that over the course of the coming week I’m going to be taken to places few people ever visit.

  The waves splash around my thighs as Dean continues to move in and out of me and I in turn duplicate his rhythm with Sue. Then, abruptly pulling out of me, he lifts me up with the arm that’s still around me, causing my hand to slip out of Sue, and lifts Sue under the other arm. Surging out of the sea with one of us under each arm, he lowers us to the sand.

  We are by some rocks at one end of the beach, where it curves around to the lighthouse, and are not on view to those still dining at the restaurants. A ramshackle fishing boat beside us conceals us too. Sue and I are looking up at Dean. It’s clear that he’s in charge this time and we await his instructions or directions.

  He looks at Sue, nods, and she knows from that simple gesture what he wants. Lying back on the sand, legs open, she reaches over and pulls me back down against her. I feel her boobs against my back, the wetness of her snatch against the very tip of my tail bone. She has her arms round me, one hand playing with one of my nipples, the other fingering my clit. Already I feel so hot I could come.

  But Dean is kneeling between my legs, fist around his prick, jerking it backwards and forwards towards my cunt. I let out a moan of frustration; I need him inside me now, and with one hand I try to reach for him. But with Sue pinning me back against her, it’s impossible to reach. I have to wait, wait until he is ready to bestow his gorgeous dick on me again. My mouth is dry with anticipation.

  He lowers himself, and I close my eyes, but when his skin touches me it’s not his prick but the swell of flesh and bone above it, and I realise with wonderment that it’s Sue he’s entered beneath me. Her body goes rigid against my back, and her grip tightens on my breast. Despite my weight on her – Dean is supported on his arms above us – she arches her back. I press my clit into her fingers and despite her rapture she responds immediately with increased pressure from them, then a frenzied side-to-side motion. I feel the tide swell inside her, and I know that though she’s struggling to fend it off, it’s proving irresistible. This time it’s her excitement that goads me and, as I feel her lose it beneath me, I too start to come, legs spread as wide as can be. Unable, inevitably, to hold back given that two women are screaming their heads off in orgasm beneath him, Dean yields too, face tautening in a grimace as his hips twitch and he spills his seed inside his girlfriend.

  We all collapse on the sand, laughing. ‘Fuck me,’ says Dean, and Sue says, ‘We just have, haven’t we?’

  ‘I think you’ll find it was me fucking you,’ he says. ‘But anyway, who cares? Coming together takes on a whole new dimension when three of us manage it, don’t you think?’

  I can barely speak, I’m so overcome. For a few minutes I just lie there, panting, and then I sit up, my back to them, and look out over the sea. The moon has moved across the sky and the sea looks like a magical silver carpet which might take off and carry you away into the sky. For a moment, thinking these thoughts, I feel a sort of grief, and my first pang of homesickness too. It comes from nowhere, or seems to.

  ‘Come on, Nadia,’ I hear Sue say. Her voice is strident, an imposition in the quiet of the night. She’s like a schoolteacher, bossy, chiding, and the teenager that I still am, after all, rises up instinctively in rebellion.

  ‘Do you want to come back to the cottage,’ comes Dean’s voice, softer, as if sensing my feelings, ‘or are you staying out here for a while?’

  I nod, grateful to him for understanding that I need to be alone. ‘I’ll catch you up,’ I say.

  ‘OK,’ he says, bending to touch me lightly on the shoulder. ‘We won’t lock the door then.’

  I continue to gaze out over the water, but before they’re long gone I can’t help but turn around and watch as they make their way back down the beach, still naked, clothes tucked under their arms. My heart clenches like a fist when I see that they are holding hands. I haven’t known them to do that before, and it’s a cold hard reminder of the fact that they are a couple, a couple who pre-date me and exist beyond me, without me. Whereas without them, everything that I now have, my whole world, is gone. I fold in on myself, arms around my knees, suddenly chilled. Am I any less lonely than before, despite this attachment? I look back at them, Sue’s head is now on Dean’s shoulder. I wish I’d never looked. The three-way sex we had seems to have brought them closer, where you might expect it to drive a wedge between them. Dean was, after all, inside me, exploring my most intimate realms. Does that not loosen the bond between them?

  I sit out for a long time. I have a strong feeling that the night is not over for Sue and Dean, that they have more in store for each other when they get back to the room, and I don’t want to walk in on that, no matter how intimate our bodies have been tonight. The sky is already paling when I finally make up my mind to return, bun
dling up my clothes in my arms and walking naked along the beach, as they did.

  In the room I find them sprawled across the bed, Sue’s head on Dean’s belly, her hand wrapped around his cock, even in sleep, almost proprietorially. As I climb in one side, claiming the narrow space left for me, I look at them and bring myself to yet another orgasm with my hand. But it’s one that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

  Sleep eludes me, despite the advanced stage of the night, and I’m too tired to get up when Dean and Sue do. In the kitchenette I hear them making coffee, but I can’t make out anything from the murmur of their talk. Drifting in and out of sleep, I’m beset by visions of the night before, of Dean bearing down on me as he comes inside Sue, as Sue comes beneath me and I come to the pressure of her fingers on my nipple and my clit. It was amazing. So why am I feeling so down?

  I sleep some more, and when I wake it’s almost as if I can see the steaminess of the heat outside in the air itself, though the fan above my head – Sue or Dean must have switched it on before leaving – is keeping the room surprisingly cool. Still oddly depressed, and no doubt exhausted from what we all did together in the sea, on the sand, I close my eyes and seek sleep again. I’m just drifting off when the door squeaks. I keep my eyes closed but feel my legs part, almost automatically. I bring my hands down and am stunned by my wetness.

  Of course, I want it to be Dean: this could be my big chance, the moment I’ve been waiting for. But I know that in spite of what my head is telling me, in spite of my pique last night at Sue’s bossiness, the juices are not for Dean alone but for his lover too. No matter which one of them it is, I’m ready.

  My eyes are closed, deferring the revelation, my throat tight. The bed sheets have been thrown off while I slept – or perhaps Sue or Dean removed them when they switched on the fan, either out of thoughtfulness or to admire my body against my knowledge, or perhaps both – and I am exposed. I part my legs further, allowing whichever one of them it is to see that I am awake and ready for them. The message is received: fingers alight on me, softly as a butterfly might, and then slip inside me, easily, naturally. Equally lightly, the pad of a thumb brushes my clit, gradually growing in speed.

  I’ve unfurled myself over the width of the bed and my head hangs down, my hair trailing to the floor, fully abandoned. I feel a mouth on my breast, teeth on my nipple, and I shout out, not a word but a sort of guttural cry, only half-human even to my own ears. It’s as if I’ve become some primordial being, slave to the body’s urges, without reason or the power of speech.

  My eyes burst open, and it is him. I knew it was, in my heart, in my blood and in my bones. He has a tenderness that Sue doesn’t, that butterfly touch. It’s unmistakeable, now that I know him. He’s kneeling there, prick in his hand, and the way he’s holding it, tending it towards me, makes me feel like my birthday’s come round early, and I’m receiving a gift that I have longed for for so long, without ever really believing that I’d get it. As he moves towards me I wonder if I’m going to faint. But I don’t, and I even act, reaching between my legs and holding myself open for him.

  He plunges right inside, as if aware that time isn’t on our side, and I wonder exactly where Sue is and how long we’ve got. I hate to rush, but on the other hand the thrill of having Dean inside me without her watching or being involved is huge, and I know my climax won’t be long in coming. I’m wailing beneath him, thrashing my head from side to side, my fingers still pinning back my lips. His smooth balls bash against my perineum and sphincter as he moves in and out of me.

  A movement in the doorway stills my head. Sue is standing there, smiling strangely, eyes flashing. It’s a smile that’s not quite sure of itself but that refuses to go away. I sense that beneath it lies anger: this was not part of the plan.

  Still, she’s going to make the most of her little discovery. This is not the type of woman not to turn everything to her advantage. She walks towards us, pulling off her bikini bottoms, smile triumphant now. When she’s nearly at the bed, she stops, turns, reaches into her rucksack propped against one wall. Then she turns back, climbs onto the bed, and places one hand on Dean’s hip. He’s still moving in and out of me, only more slowly this time. His eyes are closed.

  I stretch my neck and peer around him. Sue is tightening some kind of halter around her hips. As if foretasting what she has in store for him, Dean’s jaw flexes, his whole face tenses. He groans heavily, and I know she’s parting his cheeks, pressing the tip of the dildo against his arsehole. I didn’t see her apply any lube and I guess this can’t be the first time.

  He plunges hard into me as she thrusts into him, and from this moment on the cadence of his cock in me is an echo of her movements inside him. I feel that she’s taken control and, trying to wrest back what limited power I might have had, I grope around and take Dean’s balls in my hand, give them a good squeeze. He opens his eyes, smiles at me gratefully, kindly. It’s a smile in which I think I read, although this may of course be wishful thinking, an apology. I tried, he seems to be saying, but she wouldn’t have it.

  I smile back, keeping one hand furled around his balls but bringing the other to his strong, reassuring jawline. Certain that she can’t see what I’m doing from the position she is in behind him, pumping in and out of his arse, I lift my head towards his face. He brings his down for a moment, and we exchange a brief and somehow chaste kiss that speaks of so much more than it is. That speaks of lost hopes and wishes that will never be fulfilled.

  Then I close my eyes, let myself be rocked into oblivion by these movements of his that are really her movements, and for a moment I find I can forget that she is there at all, and forget, too, that I will never have Dean to myself.

  26

  IT’S AT BREAKFAST the next morning that I realise that something is very wrong. There’s a woman in the yoga class – Kat, she calls herself, although I suspect her name is really Kate, as in Katherine, and she’s truncated it even more to make herself seem more interesting. But her name is irrelevant – it’s just something else that annoys me about her, that gives me a clue as to who she really is, or thinks she is.

  Kat and Chris exchanged a look this morning, as the session was about to begin, that made me almost certain that something had happened between them. She’s fit, this woman, cheery in a nauseatingly wholesome American way, and has a good fifteen years on me. Her skin glows as though she’s constantly just finished exercising – or fucking. She has the latest yoga gear, the designer stuff. A pierced nose, a pierced belly button, and a pierced clitoris in all likelihood. I wonder if Chris knows for sure about the latter.

  The look, a sizzling one, made me very uneasy, and I wasn’t concentrating as much as I ought to have on my postures. Kat had chosen to sit at the back, which I thought was unusual for her – not that I took too much notice of these things, but I seemed to remember she was normally in front of me. In fact, I was sure of it, since in addition to her piercings she had a butterfly tattoo on one of her shoulder blades, and I often used that as a point of focus to stabilise myself during difficult positions, such as one-legged balances.

  But this morning, this morning she was at the back and that made me suspicious too. So whenever Chris walked to the rear of the studio I pretended to do something, such as adjust my hair-tie, which allowed me to turn my head a little and sneak a look at them. It wasn’t long before my unease was justified. I heard her ask for help going into shoulder-balance, and when I looked round I saw Chris not only tweak her into place by putting his hand on her hips and adjusting them slightly, but then, so quickly that afterwards I told myself I could have been mistaken, put his hands between her legs and run his fingertips over her pussy in her clingy Lycra bottoms.

  I spun my head forwards, in denial, not wanting to admit what I had seen into the realm of possibility. But my intuition was normally strong, and I’d known, from the moment Kat entered the room and electricity flew between them in the form of a glance, that something must have happened between them yeste
rday.

  I think back to last night, to the intimacy of what I thought was our love-making and turns out to have probably been just another fuck for Chris to add to his collection. All that crap about closeness, and taking things slowly to achieve it, when at some point in the day he’d already taken his fill of one of his other students. I wonder when it was: there’s no way of knowing, but now I understand, at least, why he never has time for me in daylight hours. Who’s to say Kat is the only other one besides me? What about Jasmine, and the other acolyte I overheard him ‘instructing’ in his room? What about the other students? I stand in front of my mirror, in my room, looking at my naked body, and I resolve to find out.

  Most of the other women head to the beach in the afternoons, no further. For all their talk of higher planes of consciousness and spiritual awakenings, they seem more concerned about getting a good all-over tan than experiencing any local culture. Like a row of sardines frying in a pan, they lie naked on the beach, slick with oil, indifferent to the stares – and sometimes more – of the Indian boys who come to stand on the rocks at the end of the bay just to catch a glimpse of them. Indifferent to having their photos taken for the boys’ private delectation. Do they have no pride, or cultural sensitivity?

  Today I join them, although I know that I won’t be terribly welcome, given how I’ve been with Chris. Now, knowing what I do, I feel a little sheepish, a little stupid. There I was, feeling superior, lording it over them, thinking they were all green with envy, when they were in all likelihood laughing behind my back at my idiocy, my gullibility.