by James Grey
My eyes are shut again, and I become intensely aware of the sun beating down on my forehead while their hands apply the cream. I swear I feel a little pinch on my left nipple as Alyssia’s hand retreats for the last time. Something makes my toes curl, anyway.
“Nothing worse than burnt tits, hey?” Alyssia says to the world in general. Did the two girls take a little longer than necessary on my chest area? “Gotta take care…especially when they’ve not seen the sun before. Your nips would sting like hell if we didn’t cream them up.”
Latifa chuckles and I sigh: enough now! The girls finish up with my neck and shoulders.
“You can do your face,” says Alyssia, handing me the bottle. “But I’ll be watching you!”
“Alright, alright, I won’t cheat, promise!” I smile.
“Yeah don’t miss a spot now, not after all that effort we put in.”
I give my face a gentle layer of sunscreen while the girls settle back into their loungers.
“Thanks guys,” I say. And I just stop myself from adding ‘that was nice’. But it was. It really was.
The sun beats down on us and conversation peters out again as we all get a little drowsy. Even though my mind is spinning so fast that it’s crying out for a shutdown. It’s lumbered with so much: the slight hangover, the whole thing with Rupert, having my clothes taken off me. And now the weirdly cool feeling I had when Latifa and Alyssia worked their hands over my body.
I expect myself to dwell on some of today’s more trying moments, but instead it’s the good times that push their way to the front of my thoughts. Lying here in the sun with my legs slightly ajar, I can’t help but think how good that fuck was. Even if the ending sucked. This place is pushing me, yes, but I think I’m going to find a lot to like. If I let myself.
And that’s the last thought I remember thinking before I drift off.
Chapter X
Something’s not right. I’m groggy, probably half sun-stroked. At first I don’t remember where I am. Someone is saying my name.
“Emma. Wake up. Wake up immediately.”
It’s a male voice. Insistent, laced with urgency. There’s a vaguely familiar Scots twang. And a note of authority that startles me into full consciousness. Where have I heard that note before?
My perceptions erupt into life. You’re naked at the poolside, remember? You must have fallen asleep.
But I’m in shadow now. The sun has sunk lower. A man stands above me, one leg either side of my reclined deck chair. He is naked.
It’s Harry. And his cock is barely three feet from my face.
Erect.
Latifa! Alyssia! They were with me!
I look left and right. The Australian and the Irish Omani are still there. Each of them is propped up on an elbow, facing me, intent and watchful. Oh great. What happened to my vocal helpers? Has someone torn out their tongues or what? Looks like I’m on my own here.
“I want you to suck me, Emma,” Harry says crisply. “Do it now. Take my cock in your sexy little mouth immediately. Give me a blowjob.”
Everyone must be watching me. I can’t see much past his sculpted torso, but maybe the terrace crowd has gathered at the railing, above my head, to have a look. And I bet Petra is still there across the pool, taking all of this in. Probably ready to judge my technique.
I’m hesitant, of course I am. But like hell am I going to give her the satisfaction of watching me struggle with my inner prude. Fuck it. Shirk at this, and I may as well pack my bags this minute.
“Yes, Sir,” I hear myself say.
I have no idea where those words came from, but somehow I feel like they absolve me of all responsibility for anything that might happen. I feel lighter as I sit up straight, and come face to face with his tautness. I notice there’s a large tattoo running down his left side. I can’t quite make out what it depicts, as it stops just where his V begins. I get the feeling it’s something tribal. I like tattoos. But I have more pressing concerns before me.
I am going to tackle this. I find myself wrapping my right hand around its base, steadying my naked body in a seated position, and plunging him into my mouth, deep as I can.
My sexy little mouth. That helped.
God, he tastes fucking phenomenal. I can smell his manliness even as the buds on my tongue pick up his musky flavour, tinged with perspiration. And I hear him groan a little as he slides his fullness between my lips.
It feels sexy that I have my legs so wide open, one foot either side of the chair as he stands between my knees, awaiting my service. Some part of me stops myself looking up at him, but the physique in front of me – and my memories of last night – remind me that I’m working on a fine specimen.
I didn’t tell Miss Jackson how much I love a cock in my mouth. But I do. It’s an amazing, spectacular feeling. I am truly awake now.
Though the feeling of his arousal on the roof of my mouth has me in rapture, I’m acutely aware that I’m being watched. That this is weird. The sensible side of me is surprised that I’m carrying on with this. It’s shocked to see me begin to work up and down his shaft, nibbling gently on the flesh as I pause at my limit, then sucking hard as I pull back up him for another lap.
I move my hand to cup his balls, and I hear another response as I lightly jiggle them in my hand. I also feel his hardness rise on my palate, where I taste a new taste, a drop or two of early excitement. And to that I respond with a firm groan of my own.
And yet I can feel the eyes on me, especially Petra’s. Somehow I know that the more evidently I arouse Harry, the better I will feel in her piercing gaze. How do you like this then, you judgemental, superior bitch-cow?
I’m dimly aware of movement in my peripheral vision. Alyssia is sitting up straight now, and Latifa has risen to her feet. A moment later, I feel her hands on my shoulders. That silky, light touch again.
Not a word is spoken as Harry begins to lean forward. I guess I tilt back a little, still gobbling on his rigid flesh. I feel Latifa’s body against the back of my head, and roll my eyes up to see their silhouettes kissing against the bright, blue afternoon sky.
I sense him reaching out with his right hand to caress her breast: he steadies himself with his left hand behind my head. I’m happy she’s there. It’s no longer just me in the spotlight. I feel her stomach press closer against the back of my head, keeping his hand in place. We three are connected. My brain is racing: envy, pride, lust. Uncertainty. Was she asked to do this? Does it matter?
Minutes pass. Maybe seconds. He begins to thrust in my mouth and there’s a helpless need growing between my legs. So soon!
And now Alyssia wants to join in. Through the gap between Harry and Latifa’s bodies, I spot her move.
“Come on, big boy,” I hear, laughter in her voice. The brazen Australian. “Give me that.”
And gently, so gently, her hand brushes mine out of the way and takes hold of him. Pulls the straining sex out of my mouth. I’m not indignant, but I purse my lips as I realise what’s happening, dragging it out as long as I can.
I sit up, confused, aroused and expectant. I think she is going to try and take him in her mouth too, but instead she puts an arm around his waist and begins to work him with a deft hand. He straightens up now, leaving Latifa’s lips. I feel her hands gently tilt my head back.
Oh, fuck, I know what this is about.
I’ve never…
Alyssia’s going hard now, and talking to him.
“You gonna come for me, yeah? I feel that spunk coming. Go on! She wants it in her face. Come on her face!”
“Open up, baby,” says Latifa, gently stroking a cheek with one hand.
Harry says nothing. He doesn’t need to. His wet head is growing purpler by the second as Alyssia jerks his base without subtlety.
Now, at last, I forget the audience. This moment is so intense, so new. So captivating. I don’t want it, but I want it. I forget to breathe. And I wait with my eyes closed.
“Fuck yeah,” says Alyssia. “Yo
u’re so hard in my hand, Harry! Oh yes, there it is, you’re coming, you’re coming…”
Splat.
Above my left eye.
Splat.
All over my upper lip. I hold my mouth still. It trickles down, thick, and oozy.
Splat.
He’s painting a line across my right cheek, up and over my nose. It’s hotter than hot. Summer spunk.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He’s releasing the last remnants directly into my mouth. I’m paralysed now, unsure all over again. I lick my lips but I’m afraid to move.
“You like that taste, don’t you Emma?”
It’s Harry speaking, at last.
Do I?
I think I do.
I swallow the seed that’s in my mouth, and nod. My eyes still closed. I swear I hear a couple of approving murmurs from somewhere in the distance.
“Don’t you touch your face now, Emma,” he commands. “Not till showers tomorrow morning.”
I nod again. I don’t know what I feel. The buzzing in my pussy has suddenly subsided, and now shame rises inside me. I have semen running down my face. That makes me a dirty slut. Right…?
Of course I am. But for here…I know I must have done the right things. I must have been a good little whore. Not even Petra can say otherwise. And Rupert, well, he can go and get fucked. Double entendre entirely intended.
I’m quiet at dinner. The clouds keep their distance and it’s another soft, pleasant evening, so we dine on the terrace again. But now I am not only naked, there’s a streaky white crust on my face too. I feel a soiled mess, a freak show. I keep my head down and concentrate on navigating my lobster. I haven’t had much practice with those.
I do notice that Jane has similar facial markings, which comes as a huge relief. Logically, everyone here knows that we are all subject to certain happenings and instructions. My brain tells me that nobody is judging any of us. But logic doesn’t always win out in my head. I’m embarrassed on multiple levels, especially after what I did by the pool.
Evidently, Jane is allowed to wear clothes. Alyssia and Latifa remain topless – and chatty – at the table. Latifa messes around with a severed lobster claw, tweaking Alyssia’s nipple with it. Fuck, this is surreal. None of it makes the slightest bit of sense. But their underdressing and tomfoolery takes the heat off me a little.
He said not to touch my face. And I haven’t. Just like an obedient little tart. It feels nasty and ridiculous, though a tiny part of me is proud to have been chosen for the treatment. Not that that I really let that thought in. I want my face clean.
I’m allowed to visit that sauna, aren’t I? I wouldn’t be touching my face, strictly speaking. If I sweat it off, that’s just one of those things, right? Plus, it’s a great hidey-hole where everyone has to be naked. I’m pleased by my clear thinking. I just want to chill.
I head for the sauna as soon as my dinner has gone down. As I tiptoe down the garden steps in the evening cool, it hits me that I’m utterly drained. After the late night yesterday, so much emotional turmoil with Rupert and so much sun, it’s no surprise. The sex and the blowjob sapped me too. And I still have a hint of a headache.
Just let me lie down.
I cross the paving stones outside the sauna, enjoying the cool feeling they impart to my feet. I push the door open. It’s not empty inside.
Sigh. Petra. Is there no escaping her?
She’s stretched out on her back, facing the door. She lifts her head a little as I enter, but loses interest when she sees it’s me. Wordless, she goes back to eyes-shut mode.
I sit down for a moment, in a corner as distant from her as I can find. I’ll ease myself in: the surface of the wood is quite hot and will take some getting used to.
I just can’t help my eye resting on the naked Petra. Again I feel seized by a kind of unwilling fascination that I’m struggling to deny. Her pale ivory skin has become a golden glow inside the semi-lit sauna. And she wears it so tight. Her ass and breasts and stomach and thighs cling to her with a kind of tenacity you have to envy.
There’s something about the ensemble of her skin. So smooth and hairless, apart from a little runway patch similar to mine. It has me jealous…yet it draws me in. Why do I keep thinking about brushing my lips across her satin belly?
She wiggles her petite toes and clears her throat. I look the other way.
Fuck, this can’t be happening. Not her.
Surely it’s just the heady sexual atmosphere of this place messing with me? I’ve never been attracted to a woman. Yes, I had a couple of girl kisses, but that was just drunken curiosity…who hasn’t done that? A bit of student playfulness, that was. But this? All these years on? I keep telling myself it’s not there.
But it’s there. Holy hell, I have a crush on this bitch. But I hate her too. It’s a crush I have to crush.
Cross with myself, I lie down and try to stare at the ceiling. A minute later Petra stands up and leaves the room without a word. I open one eye and watch her cute little bum cheeks, taut like tightropes, make their way out of the door.
Finally I am alone, replaying the day’s events in my mind. Rupert seems so long ago. Boy, the end hurt, but I needed that fuck. I smile at the recollection, but my brow furrows when I remember how I felt when he made me leave his room immediately, and naked.
Then there was the poolside blowjob. I thought I handled the surprise well, held my own. I can’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it. Much to my surprise, I wasn’t shy performing in public. But the spurting in my face? Walking around stained and shamed? Will the demanding, careless treatment those men dished out be an everyday thing in a hooker’s life? Can I handle it?
I’m not sure. Maybe I can. Everything gets easier with time, right? But do I want to be good at this kind of thing? My mind’s eye roves across the open-plan office I’ve so recently abandoned. Row upon row of rat-race drones, enslaved by their e-mail. Tight suits, tighter personalities, conflict everywhere. Hmm. If you told me I’d never have to work in an office again, I’d hug you.
I don’t remember lobster, sunbathing or creamy hands rolling across my breasts as part of a typical day back in London, either. If I can only make peace with the rest of it…
I start as I hear the door open.
“Hey Emma – us again!”
It’s Latifa and Alyssia. They drop their towels without a care and find spots to lie down. It’s a spacious sauna.
“Oh…hey guys. Sorry!” I don’t know why I’m apologising. It’s this weird thing we English like to do. “I’m just gathering my thoughts here. I’ve had just about enough of today!”
“Bit knackered, are ya?” grins Alyssia. “Me too. We’ve all had a busy one. You especially. You were bloody good out by the pool, you know that?”
I feel myself going red. Ridiculous.
“Oh, was I?”
I can’t seem to think what to say next.
“Did you mind us joining in?” asks Latifa.
“Yeah, that was fine,” I pause for thought, and ask the question that’s been nagging at me. “Did someone tell you to do that? I mean, I didn’t hear anything said…”
Latifa chuckles.
“Er, no. That was just something we wanted to do. Kind of spontaneous on our part, wasn’t it Liss?”
“Mm-hmm,” Alyssia murmurs. The sauna must be getting to her.
“Oh,” is about all I can muster. I’m not entirely sure I wanted to hear that.
And again, I’m lost for a response. Latifa rescues the silence as only she can.
“Look, babe,” she says. “We’re horny women! We wanted to get involved. Just because there wasn’t a specific instruction…well, we figure they’re not going to be mad at us for being enthusiastic, are they?”
“Well, no,” I admit. “The opposite, I would guess.”
“Exactly!” I can almost hear Latifa beaming. “I mean, we’ll happily do as we’re told, but going above and beyond is probably going to be a good thing.”
&nbs
p; “Yeah, and it’s fun too. So it’s hardly a chore,” Alyssia chimes in. “Everyone’s a winner. I can’t get enough cock.”
“Or pussy…” teases Latifa. “You great big lezzer.”
“So I like it both ways!” laughs the Aussie blonde. “Shoot me then!”
“And I like women too, Emma,” Latifa says, turning her head slowly towards me. “Just so you’re not in any doubt on that point. I sense you’re a little uncomfortable with girl-girl stuff though?”
Looks like not much is off the table in this conversation. And I’m not sure I know the answer. I mean, yes, I am uncomfortable about it. But can I deny that I might be kind of interested? This Petra thing is playing on my mind. And closer to home, my eye falls again on Latifa’s ripe tits.
I can see the appeal of her exotic mix and vivacious, perky boobs, topped as they are with nipples that I’ve only ever seen stiff and taut. I clear my throat and shift my gaze to Alyssia. I can’t help thinking she does nothing for me. Or at least, her body itself doesn’t.
The brazen Aussie girl was so eye-catching in her wacky see-through dress yesterday, so comfortable in her skin, that I hadn’t really noticed her plainness. I run my eye over her now: her breasts are too big. They’re just a tiny bit bottom-heavy and they splay out to the side as she lies on her back. She’s got the odd speck and freckle down her torso, and her legs are a little too muscular to be ladylike. She fits the overly-sporty bisexual beach chick stereotype just fine.
She’s not exactly hot, I wouldn’t think. She just doesn’t seem to be in our league. Did she get in on personality alone?
Suddenly my stupefied brain remembers Latifa’s talking to me: “No…I mean, okay, it would be something a bit new. But we’re pushing ourselves to experience new things here. It might be okay…”
“She doesn’t give much away, does she?” Latifa remarks to her friend. “That’s okay, girl. I know you English are a bit repressed! Us two have experienced quite a lot and we just love it here already. We’re actually sharing our bed – didn’t get much sleep last night to be honest! And then this morning…” she pauses. “Oh my, did we get a hard seeing-to! This place rocks!”