Rubbing his eyes, Darryl obeyed her, trying not to groan aloud at the burning ache in his fiercely erect cock. It hadn’t taken much to bring him to full hardness, but Stevie’s nearness, and the thought of whatever those “best bits” might be seemed to be making him even more rigid.
It must be Hettie and Starr.
Acutely aware that his hard-on was making a huge tent in his pajama bottoms, he shoved his feet into his slippers and then allowed Stevie to take him by the hand and lead him onto the balcony. The full moon was very bright, and he saw his companion’s rosy mouth quirk into a broad smile at the sight of his condition.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not feeling sorry at all, but Stevie “shushed” him with a finger to her lips and gave him a wicked wink that played havoc with agony in his groin.
Like a pair of cat burglars, they crept along the balcony, keeping to the shadows, until they reached a spot where they had a good view of the terrace while remaining hidden themselves.
Darryl felt his mouth drop open. Below them a vision of erotic drama was unfolding.
They’re fucking! Dio mio, they’re fucking!
It was what he’d expected to see, but the reality far exceeded even his wildest, most detailed fantasies.
Hettie lay on the stone parapet, almost doubled up beneath Starr, who was thrusting into her with a manic desperation. The tall blond was a strong man, and he seemed to be using every last ounce of that strength to hurl himself into the body of the woman he loved. The woman who was clutching at him, twisting about beneath him, shouting and crying out while her lover fucked her with almost superhuman power.
As the couple down below writhed and bucked against each other, Darryl’s hand flew to his groin and his monumental erection.
But before he could free himself from his pajamas, a smaller, more nimble hand had negotiated the fly and eased his cock out into the open.
Darryl bit down on his lip. He sincerely doubted that Hettie and Starr would hear any sound he uttered, but he daren’t take the chance of shouting out aloud. Stevie’s elegant fingers curled around him and began a slow, swirling, tormenting dance that almost made him forget what he was watching.
Squeeze. Slide. Squeeze.
It was all done so teasingly, so calculatedly. The glide of Stevie’s fingertips seemed to be synchronized with Starr’s thrusts as he powered into Hettie down on the parapet.
Darryl felt as if he was going to pass out. That, or shoot his cum into the empty air in front of him. He tasted blood in his mouth as he struggled for control. Then nearly lost it completely when he felt Stevie’s other hand pushing his pajama trousers down at the back. A second later, there was bare skin against his bare skin, and the soft, silky tickle of her bush against his bottom and the back of his thighs as she rocked herself against him.
Afraid that he’d fall, Darryl grasped the railing in front of him. He no longer cared if the couple on the terrace knew that they were being watched. He didn’t think it was likely, although he could barely think at all.
He couldn’t hear properly, for the pounding of blood in his ears, but as Stevie began to do something intricate and devilish to the head of his cock, he realized that Hettie was speaking to Starr, her voice breathy yet somehow also imperious. The words were indecipherable, but her intention was clear. A second later, Starr withdrew, and the beautiful woman wriggled around beneath him, and turned over on the stone surface.
What now? Oh, what now?
Feeling as if he were going mad and had stumbled into the most intense sex dream he could possibly have imagined, Darryl watched, his arms and his thighs shaking with tension, as the couple below rearranged themselves into new symmetry that was both beautiful and perverse.
Clad only in the rags of a black silk nightshirt, Hettie was offering a rare gift to the blond man who loved her. Opening herself in a way that Darryl hardly dare think about. If he did imagine what that dark, forbidden penetration might feel like, he knew—he knew for certain—that he’d come immediately.
Darryl shut his eyes and surrendered himself to sensation rather than the extreme vision of sensuality down below him.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Stevie’s voice was scarcely more than a breath against his naked shoulder.
“I-I can’t watch,” Darryl gasped, feeling her fingers grow still on his cock. Involuntarily, his hips jerked as if his body were urging her of its own accord to continue fondling him. “It’s just too much. If I look at them any longer, I’ll just come!”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“But I want…” His voice simply failed him. He didn’t know what he wanted other than to climax. Somewhere at the back of his brain, a small voice was telling him that he shouldn’t be selfish, and that he should think of Stevie’s pleasure too. But that chivalrous whisper was being drowned out by the baying of his primal sex drive, the screaming and shouting for immediate orgasm.
“Watch them!”
Darryl could not honestly say whether he’d actually heard the words, or whether Stevie had suddenly acquired telepathic powers. All he knew that in the instant he opened his eyes, the sweet warmth of her bare body was withdrawn from his back and buttocks and her hand released his penis. He felt a moment of excruciating loss, then his heart leapt as he realized what Stevie was up to.
Darryl was in no doubt that below, on the parapet, Starr was buggering Hettie, but up here, on the balcony, there was an equal wonder.
Stevie had sunk nimbly to her knees, and scooted around to fit her lithe body in between him and the balcony railing. His teeth dug fiercely into his lip again as heavenly heat and moisture enveloped his burning cock, and a flexible muscular tongue began to work pure magic on him.
His thighs went rigid and the tendons in his arms seemed to pop as he fought to not fill Stevie’s mouth with his semen almost instantaneously. The sensation of being sucked and licked and tantalized was out of this world, and even while his body clamored for release, he was filled with an enormous rush of gratitude. He suddenly wanted to kiss the beautiful woman who was pleasuring him so unselfishly, yet at the same time, he knew he was beyond anything but coming in her exquisite mouth at any second.
Yes, he wanted to come, just as Starr and Hettie were coming. The couple below were bucking and jerking against each other, and crying out now, the sounds unearthly, almost animal, yet obviously expressions of great love. Darryl heard Starr shout, “Oh Hettie, I adore you!” then suddenly it seemed to be over as the tall, black-clad man collapsed over the back of his beloved.
It was too much, too beautiful to behold, and like Starr, Darryl finally lost control. His spine seemed to melt and he climaxed helplessly into the sweet, liquid warmth of Stevie’s mouth. His hips pumped furiously, but with a supreme effort he suppressed his own cry of triumph. Inside though, he howled out a litany of praise for the lovely, generous woman who was pleasuring him. He knew he didn’t love Stevie as Starr loved Hettie, but he did care, and she would always be precious to him.
And pretty soon, when he recovered, he would use everything she’d taught him to give her pleasure in return.
Chapter Eight
Hettie woke late the next morning. The sun was already riding high when she turned over in her tangled sheets, shivering deliciously as her body reminded her of what’d happened in the middle of the night.
She’d got off amazingly lightly all things considered. Her nightshirt was in tatters but there were only a couple of small grazes on her bottom and some light scratches on her thighs and breasts. It was a miracle considering the raw power that Starr had expended in making love to her. How passionately he’d taken her—in both her sensual orifices.
The thought of him made her go hot and cold. Hot at the thought of the pleasure, the wildness, the almost transcendental quality of his lovemaking. Cold at the fact that he might well draw away from what they’d shared and become his old self again. That when he next appeared, he might be as remote and emotionally insulated as he always was.
Where are you now, you bastard?
Rolling over in her bed, she felt a great lift in her spirits when she realized where he had been not long ago.
There was cup of tea on her bedside table and when she reached gratefully for it, the brew was fresh and hot and steaming. Starr had stood at the side of this bed perhaps a minute before she’d woken.
What’d passed through his mind as he’d looked down on her? She knew now that he did have feelings for her. He had to feel something. He was far too honest to fake and last night he’d groaned and wept and fucked with a force and fury that’d taken her breath away.
For her own part, she was in turmoil. Even if Starr was able to compartmentalize what he felt, last night’s glories had touched Hettie more profoundly than she dare admit.
She had felt as if she’d opened not only her body but also her soul to him. She felt vulnerable and submissive in a way she’d never felt before. It was what they’d done, she supposed, sipping her perfect tea. The intensity and darkness of it. In an act more intimate than straightforward fucking, you had to trust more, allow more and reveal more. She’d put her faith in him and he’d cherished her in a way that was both fiery and delicate. Great swirls of emotion rushed through her, and in her secret heart, she hugged her love and cherished it.
Soon, Starr! Soon I’ll tell you!
The idea of finally revealing more than her physical self gave her an exhilarating rush of energy.
When she was showered and dressed in a black thong bikini and filmy cheesecloth overshirt, she considered what to do with the garment that’d been ruined last night.
The nightshirt was in shreds both back and front, yet Hettie couldn’t bear to throw it away even though it was far beyond any kind of repair. She held it to her face and smelt an intoxicating cocktail of odors. Her own perfume and the mingled sexual sweat of two bodies that had performed with passionate vigor. She could smell her own arousal and the sharp distinctive note of semen.
She could even see his essence. White streaks plain and telling on the thin black satin. Folding the shirt almost reverently, she slid it into her drawer, knowing she would never discard it and probably never wash it. Starr had revealed a lot of himself last night and she would always treasure this ragged black reminder.
But where was the man who’d shredded the shirt?
Shall I go to him? Seek him out? Test the bond we forged last night in the harsh light of day?
Closing her eyes for a moment, she sent out a silent mental query. She didn’t believe in ESP and telepathy and other mumbo jumbo, but even so she felt a connection between them shiver like an invisible silver cord. He was close by, with her yet not with her. For the moment it seemed unnecessary to compel his physical presence. That would come later. For the moment she felt an urge to seek out her friends—one old, one new—and see how they were faring.
Both Stevie and Darryl had beaten her to the terrace, but obviously not by much because they were both still lingering over coffee and the remnants of their breakfast. Plates bearing toast crusts and melon peel still lay on the floor beside their loungers.
Stevie sat up and smiled, her eyes hidden behind her dark sunglasses. “You’re late, sweetheart,” she observed with a faint but enigmatic emphasis, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine!” replied Hettie, realizing that she was. Much more than fine. Her body was a bit battered, but it still bore the resonance of some truly remarkable lovemaking. With a truly remarkable man.
“Good morning, Hettie.”
Darryl was on his feet before her, gorgeous as ever in his brief black swimming trunks and with an expression that could only be described as awe in his shining brown eyes. Before she could frame even the simplest answer, he’d reached out, taken her hand and drawn it to his lips in a salute that was as fervent as it was unexpected.
What’s going on?
Unnerved, Hettie allowed Darryl to get her a cup of coffee from the fresh pot that was perking there.
“Do you want something to eat, love?” inquired Stevie, slipping off her sunglasses and giving a Hettie a long, narrow-eyed look that managed to be both kind and assessing the same time.
“No. No, thanks. I’m not really hungry. I didn’t sleep well… I might have something later…” She was almost stammering as a sudden and totally outrageous thought occurred then coalesced into an absolute certainty.
They know! Somehow they know what happened here last night.
Without thinking she glanced towards the parapet, the stone altar where she’d spread her body in a willing sacrifice to Starr. When she looked back, Stevie was still regarding her steadily. And Darryl still looked as if her were prepared to fall down at her feet and worship her!
They saw it! They must have! They must have heard all the yelling and come out here to investigate.
Hettie felt a blush start rising up her chest and throat. A roaring panic surged in her heart, then died again just as fast. For all its raunchiness and indecency, what had passed between her and Starr had been beautiful. An act of immense sensuality, and yet an act of love. A series of couplings to be proud of, to glory in and to thrill others with by letting them watch.
She looked first at Stevie then at Darryl and though it was just too much to tell them outright in words, she used her eyes to let them know that she didn’t mind.
Stevie smiled, and Darryl still looked awestruck. Gazing back at them, Hettie felt a new surge run through her but not of panic this time. It was an odd sensation, an amalgam of affection and a strange erotic kinship. This beautiful woman and the equally beautiful man beside her were her comrades in sex somehow, and she felt a sudden sharp surge of fondness for them. Starr was still with her, a silent but permanent resident in her heart and her imagination, but her thoughts and memories of him didn’t make either Darryl or Stevie one bit less appealing.
“So what have you two been doing?” she inquired carefully, taking a sip of her coffee then sinking down onto a lounger in the shady part of the terrace.
“Drinking Buck’s Fizz. Waiting for you. Discussing life…and sex,” Stevie replied with a frank grin, sliding off her voluminous overshirt as she spoke and revealing that all she had on underneath was a pair of tiny high-cut denim shorts. They were bleached almost white and so frayed at the legs that when Stevie flipped elegantly over onto her stomach, her pale, sleek buttocks were almost completely exposed.
“Is that a fact?” Hettie said softly. She nearly asked what Darryl thought of Stevie’s choice of conversation, but it was quite obvious. His skimpy trunks hid as little as Stevie’s ragamuffin shorts did, and Hettie could see the clear evidence of an erection rising beneath them.
He grinned at her, and she felt sex swirl lazily through her loins as the hot as the morning sun beat down on the canopy above them. She felt horny, but completely passive.
Maybe it’s my turn to be the watcher now?
The thought amused her. After all, she’d provided the floorshow last night, out here on this very patio with Starr. Let the good doctor and her pupil provide the entertainment this time. And then later, someone else would reap the benefits—when she found him…
“Let’s have some of that Buck’s Fizz.” She glanced across at the smiling, half-naked Stevie, “If the good doctor hasn’t drunk it all.”
“Don’t worry I can easily mix some more,” said Stevie, uncoiling herself from her resting place and making for the table.
Stevie’s hand with the champagne was more than generous.
“There’s more fizz than buck in this,” gasped Hettie, recklessly swallowing down another mouthful of the delicious concoction. With her stomach unlined, the Champagne had an immediate and potent effect, and she could almost feel Stevie studying her intently across the lip of her own freshly filled glass.
Hettie began to feel drowsy again, from the effect of her fine wine not so hidden within the orange juice and the tumultuous night with its shortfall of sleep. She took another small sip of the Buck
’s Fizz and then settled down upon her lounger again. “It’s so hot already,” she murmured, “I don’t know about you two but I could do with a snooze.”
Stevie laughed but said nothing. Her impish wink was more eloquent than words.
Lying facedown, Hettie cradled her head on her folded arms, and let her eyelids drift downward and the perfumed warmth of the golden day embrace her. Beginning to float, she imagined Starr touching her lightly—not in ferocious passion as last night, but gently, tenderly, reverently and with the love she knew he bore her. The love that was a mirror of her own. He might not have said anything just yet. And he might not say anything for a while. But Hettie knew that eventually he’d declare himself.
In her pleasant haze, she focused in on snippets of conversation drifting from across the patio. Stevie and Darryl were whispering, laughing, murmuring naughty secrets and totally intent on each other. They were having a marvelous time—a blast—flirting outrageously and making little threats and promises.
You’ve come a long way in such a few days, Signor di Angeli.
Hettie smiled indulgently at Darryl as a potent silence settled over the patio.
After a little while, she opened her eyes a smidgen and sneaked a look at the mischievous pair.
And almost gasped out loud…
Darryl and Stevie were entwined on one of the mattresses spread out on the warm stone. They were kissing passionately now, their mouths dueling and their hands all over each other’s bodies.
As she regarded them from beneath her lashes, she saw Stevie wriggle sinuously against Darryl while she pulled off her shorts and then tossed them away. A second later, she’d drawn his hand between her thighs and adjusted her hips to position his fingers in exactly the right position to give her pleasure.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” she crooned, as Darryl began to kiss her throat while he fingered her, “Rub me just there… Ooh, that’s wonderful! That’s so good!”
Lessons and Lovers Page 13