Wilco- Lone Wolf 1

by Geoff Wolak

  I moved down to her lower spine, time on the sacrum, where the main tendons joined the hips.

  ‘You know massage,’ the taller girl noted.

  ‘I read the book. What’s your name?’

  ‘Anja.’

  ‘Pieta,’ the other girl put in.

  ‘I’m Wilco.’

  I moved down and worked the thighs, which always looked a lot bigger on a girl in this position, making sure I moved close to the pussy without touching it – just to tease her, and into the back of the knee, an erogenous zone. ‘I do a good vagina massage, if you’re not shy.’

  She turned over, and spread her legs. ‘Two cold beers, yes?’

  Easing off the bed onto my knees, I yanked her down towards me. ‘Two cold beers and a full English breakfast.’ My tongue hit moist pussy, causing a gasp. Fingers holding her pussy lips apart, I worked my magic, thanking my dear old Uncle Richard for the early start.

  Looking up a minute later, and Peita was touching herself as she observed us, not a bashful bone in her body.

  When Anja started to breathe harder I got a finger in, and when she started to arch her back I got two fingers in, making her scream, the patio doors wide open.

  After she finished jerking I washed my fingers, and knelt in front on Peita, my knees now sore. I sat on my side after I pulled her towards me, my tongue heading for a little pink pussy that looked way younger than nineteen.

  She was already moist and halfway there, I did not need to do much, my knees saved further hardship. First finger in, second finger at the right time, and I made her gasp, but looking up I saw Anja sucking a nipple. This was getting better and better.

  After Pieta came, a loud moan issued, I said, ‘You are lesbians?’

  Anja said, ‘I like girls sometimes, Peita likes men mostly.’ She moved down and licked Pieta’s moist pussy, causing another gasp.

  I grabbed a pillow, took off my swimming trunks to reveal a stiff cock, and knelt down, Peita pulled towards me. I risked it, and pushed my cock towards Anja, but she took it without hesitation, and after she had moistened it I pushed into Pieta’s small pink slit, causing a moan.

  A dozen thrusts, making sure I took my time, and I pulled out, Anja darting in to lick the pussy for a few seconds before I shoved my dick towards her mouth. Moistened again, I eased back into Pieta, getting faster, and getting harder, now causing my Swedish blonde to moan loudly, but in a hotel like this it was probably a normal everyday noise – just not around noon.

  Pieta came at least twice, and when I was sure I had given a good account of myself I stood and yanked Anja back, mounting her and easing inside. Unfortunately she was loose, quite loose, so I pulled out, a leg pulled over and down, a knee up towards her chest, and pushed in again, more friction created. And I kept to the rim, almost pulling all the way out each stroke.

  Anja took two minutes, but moaned and screamed as Pieta lay there looking asleep. Having done my bit, and hung on, I stood, a jerk of my cock in my hand, and I came in Anja’s mouth as she rose to meet me, the girl having no problem in swallowing. She left a clean cock.

  I pointed at Pieta.

  Anja looked over her shoulder. ‘She will sleep now.’

  I put my trunks back on. Whispering, I said, ‘I’ll be next door, drink later.’

  Anja nodded and smiled, and as I left I caught an image of Anja licking her sleeping friend’s pussy.

  Back in my own room I needed water, and gulped it down. I sat on the balcony. ‘Right, where was I? Ah yes, thinking about the future,’ I told myself. And an hour later I was still there, but now mellow and relaxed.

  Through the railing of my balcony I could see a beautiful girl with a big pair and small hips being taunted something terrible by a gang of lads. But she seemed to like the attention. And the pool area offered many pairs of nicely tanned boobs on many girls, none of them fat. But the gang of men caught my attention after they seemed to be bullying younger lads.

  As I observed, two young lads sat on empty sun beds near the gang, but were threatened with pointed fingers and scared away. I grabbed my towel and my key, but then stopped to wash my dick before heading down barefoot, three storeys on concrete steps, and onto the grass, to the pool edge getting looks, and to the gang. Past them I placed down my towel.

  ‘Those are taken,’ came a voice.

  I turned my head and offered an insolent look. ‘Suck ... my ... cock.’ Turning back, I laid out the towel and moved the bed a bit closer to them.

  The lad I had spoken to was on his feet, and ready for trouble, nudging his friends. When I turned, I could see a t-shirt on the back of a chair; Royal Green Jackets. They were soldiers, which figured.

  ‘You looking for trouble, mate?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not your fucking mate, cock sucker.’

  They were not sure what to make of me.

  I pointed at the t-shirt. ‘Royal Green Jackets?’

  ‘Yeah..?’ a lad at the back said. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Captain, Red Caps, Close Protection. And if you open you gobs again I’ll not only kick the shit out of you, I’ll come find you back in the UK. You fuckwits will behave here, and never forget who you represent.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  A young lad pointed. ‘You been shot a few times, sir.’

  ‘Twice. Now why don’t you enjoy your holiday without causing any trouble, and if you want to cause some trouble – do it down the road away from here.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  I lay down, a little deflated, but I soon realised how wrong I had been. I had wanted to hurt them, to smash their faces into the concrete, and I had to wonder why I was on a vigilante mission, why I had so much anger inside.

  An hour later, the sun having moved so that I was in the shade, my Swedish ladies had spotted me from their balcony and came down. Anja took the bed next to me, but Peita lay on me and curled up, all the while being observed by the young soldiers.

  I stroked Peita’s hair and left a hand resting on Anja’s groin, close to her pussy. We attracted many looks.

  With the sun low, and Pieta now awake, we wandered through the hotel rear gates and down to the sandy beach, kids screaming at the water’s edge. Towels down, we went for a swim, the girls both confident and proficient.

  When the girls headed back to shore I asked them to watch my towel for a while, and swam out, a fast front crawl, half a mile out to a boat.

  ‘Nice day for it,’ I told the surprised sailors, turned and headed back in.

  Up the beach and to my towel, the sun now behind a cliff, they noted my swimming.

  ‘I won the 1500metres military race, and in August I’ll swim the English Channel.’

  Sand between our toes, we arranged to meet in the hotel bar at 7pm, and at 7.15pm I led them down the street, a slow wander through the tourists, and I found that Cala D’or was a string of small coves and beaches. We found a busy street of bars and cafes and ducked into a restaurant, soon ordering food.

  With the two sets of couples on the next table asking me if I was “Deutche” because I was tall, I chatted in German, and we pushed the tables together, the girls chatting in German, one of the German ladies born in Copenhagen.

  It was all very relaxed, no one competing, and I felt great. It felt great to just be with people who accepted you without wanting to measure their dicks. One of the German men had been a Kriegsmarine, so we talked about his experiences, and mine. He had retired, and opened a dive shop down here.

  ‘I want to try. I swim competition, national standard, but I have not tried diving yet.’

  ‘Come to the school, 5,000 pesetas trial dive, then a short course if you like.’ It was twenty five quid.

  I asked the girls, both very keen. It was a date.

  After the meal our dive instructor led us to his place, not far, so that we could find it again the next day, and near his place was a secluded cafe owned by the other couple, a flat roof with a great view, so we ducked in there, the wine flowing.r />
  Below us was a small beach, very small, not belonging to the dive school but few tourists found it, only locals.

  With our hosts wanting to get to bed, we thanked them, the girls hugging the ladies, and I led my Swedes to the water’s edge. No one around, we stripped off and walked in, swam out and back, soon fondling.

  Back on the sand, the girls giggly drunk, I had them both kneel down. With my cock in Peita I had three fingers inside Anja, and ten minutes hard work had them booth moaning.

  A quick wash in the gentle surf, clothes on but damp – sand everywhere, we walked back slowly, and I told them to drink some water and to sleep well, we would be up early.

  At 7.45am I knocked on their door, finding them almost ready - if naked could be called dressed and ready, but they had made a bag. We skipped breakfast and bought sandwiches, soon in the dive school and enjoying coffee in mugs.

  Wetsuits found and tried on, we got a quick lesson on how to fit the “jacket” to the tank, turn on the air and test it, read the gauge – should be around 200bar. One bar was sea level, 10m down would be two bar, and so on. When you had just fifty bar left you came up, slowly, never faster than your bubbles – so we were told.

  Into the clear calm and warm water we went, masks on, mouthpiece in, we breathed above surface and then dipped lower, suddenly in a quiet world, small fish darting past. We knelt, simply getting used to breathing, the instructor and owner demonstrating the technique for clearing a mask. We tried it ourselves in turns, various degrees of success achieved, and headed out into the dangerous big blue - a bay that was never more than eight feet deep.

  Gliding along just above the sandy bottle - the sand rippled into ridges and looking like sand dunes, we studied small fish, even octopus. Twenty minutes in a big circle, people seen swimming over us, and we were back to the shallows, fins off whilst knelt, and we were out the water – the three of us happy with the experience.

  The girls considered the course over lunch, but only had three days left. I told our host I would be back in three days for the course and thanked him.

  Back at the hotel beach, cold drinks bought, I suggested a pedal boat so we hired one. I paid twice since I wanted two hours, and we shoved off, a few bottles taken with us. The ladies stripped off after twenty yards, so I copied. Out beyond two hundred yards, the water calm, we stopped pedalling and claimed the flat rear.

  I sat between the girls, a finger on each pussy, a slow movement to the boat in the waves, and a slow movement to my finger. A sailboat glided quietly past, the crew looking and smiling, not that I cared.

  With both girls starting to arch backs I got a finger inside whilst trying to work our which room was mine in the distant hotel. And looking left I thought I could see the cove of the dive school.

  When it seemed that Anja had come I awkwardly moved position and rammed my tongue into Peita, making her moan, fingers soon in, my elbows killing me, my knees about to push Anja off the boat, and Peita screamed. Good job there was no one about.

  Anja, never one to leave a moist pussy alone, clambered across me to lick Peita as I lay back, my cock getting a tan. I reached for their bag and grabbed the sun cream, but not for my cock; my shoulders were burning.

  After Anja had finished her invasion of Peita’s pussy she eased back and started on my balls as I kept an eye on other peddle boats getting close.

  Pieta was sleepy, but turned on her side and swallowed my cock, and I would not take long, an eye on the peddle boat getting closer. But I could see two girls, someone on the back, so I relaxed, just hoping they’d not call the police.

  Anja snatched my cock away from Peita and had a go, a firm mouth, before handing it back. I finally came Pieta’s mouth, pushing her head down, Anja keen to clean me up; the girl was on a mission to clean away bodily fluids.

  ‘Tag,’ a girl offered, German, as their peddle boat drew level.

  In German, I said, ‘Nice day for it.’

  ‘Nice day for a good double-headed, yes,’ came back, and they pedalled past, not a care in the world.

  With Peita sat between my legs, back to me, I massaged her shoulders as we chatted about airlines and hotel bookings, and was Tunisia a good place for a holiday.

  Back in their room, we fell asleep with the patio doors open, the sounds from the pool reaching us, and I surprised myself by drifting off to sleep cuddled up to Pieta on the front and Anja on the back.

  When awake, and after a shower together but with no sex, the girls elected for a return to the secluded cafe, and we met again one of the couples. After a meal there, we sat chatting and drinking till 2am, when the cafe closed.

  Back at the hotel, the girls wobbly on their feet and tired, I left them alone and sat on my balcony, staring at the ocean in moonlight. And back to thinking about my future. Being a dive instructor in a place like this would not be so bad, but it would be seasonal work.

  I eventually went inside around 3am, and woke at 8am as the kids around the pool made a noise. After I showered I peered into their room from my balcony, both naked and asleep. I was very tempted to go lick some sleeping pussy, but instead I grabbed some breakfast before sitting on my balcony.

  The girls woke at 10am, wandering out onto their balcony naked and yawning, a wondrous sight. I handed them cold water - much appreciated, and a tin of pears I had bought in the hotel mini-market. They sat on the balcony and ate.

  After their improvised breakfast they wanted to do something different, so after a look at the tourist map we got a taxi to Porto Colon, soon strolling through the harbour area, small boats looked at, and around the busy headland to the main beach, a large beach. Lunch in a cafe, cold drinks downed, and we headed back to another place on the map, but must have got it wrong because we found domestic houses and small cliffs.

  Seeing a sign, I led them down a narrow path and to a rocky area, a huge secluded rock pool of shallow sea water, sand to step on. We stripped off and got in, the water very warm, almost like a spa.

  After fifteen minutes, shadows were seen and voices heard, a couple wandering down, and I wondered if they would shout at our naked state. The couple were German, in their thirties, and simply stripped off everything and joined us, soon chatting away about Denmark. I was growing to love the European attitude to life, such a contrast to Brize Norton.

  Out the water, stood naked drying off, I chatted to the lady in English about property down here, and she pointed across the bay at villas, and what they cost to buy and rent. I would need to save my pennies.

  Back at the hotel the girls checked their tickets, and it was tomorrow they were leaving, not the day after, so they had to pack in a hurry, and since there were over a million items on display it would take a while.

  I left them to it and sat on my balcony having bought two bottles of cheap wine, as yet unopened. When the girls had finally packed, and it only took two hours, they appeared on the balcony and I clambered over, the wine opened, plastic cups used.

  With the wine finished we headed out, some cold beers needed, and found a lively bar, Peita dancing by herself, her t-shirt hiding nothing. A big German, almost forty years old, wandered over and made a lude comment.

  I was relaxed. In German, I said, ‘Hey man, come on, she’s with me.’

  He shrugged, made a face and wandered off, when I could have hit him instead. This place was having a good effect on me.

  I danced close to both girls a few times, the beer flowing, but my soldiers were about to spoil the mood. Stood at the edge of the dance floor, I saw the German who had approached Peita now hustling another girl, a girl seemingly with the soldiers. The biggest of the soldiers squared up to the German, who backed off, but a moment later the German hit a soldier on the head with a bottle.

  I rushed in past girls dancing, my approach masked somewhat, and hit the German so hard he flew back. His mates were not impressed and came at me, but they were no experts – and drunk, three fast jabs connecting with chins, and eyes rolled backwards.

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p; I grabbed the unconscious soldier and dragged him out, rudely grabbing someone’s t-shirt from the back of a chair, the wound pressed down on. He pulse was OK, but his pupil responses were a worry.

  The other soldiers gathered around.

  ‘Get an ambulance, keep checking his pulse, he’s in a bad way,’ I told them. ‘Keep pressure on the wound. And if anyone asks ... I’m German.’

  Lifting up, a few people observing us - and most not caring, I led the girls away quickly and down the road, my hands washed in the sea.

  ‘Stupid drunk men,’ Anja cursed. ‘Little boys.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But dangerous little boys.’ I had gone to the assistance of the gang I had wanted to hit, quite a turnaround.

  The mood was a bit off as we headed back, but in their room I suggested a shower, the three of us just about fitting, and the mood lifted. Out the shower I fucked Pieta as Anja moistened, and as she licked Peita’s clit. When Pieta came I lay down between them so that I could go down on Anja. As I did so, two mouths attacked my cock, making it hard to concentrate on my chosen task up this end of the bed.

  With Anja coming I licked hard, coming in someone’s mouth a moment later, and I kept going, very turned on, fingers inside, Anja screaming.

  I soon found myself alone on that balcony again, staring at the ocean, and thinking, but not finding any answers, and the hours ticked off the clock. A few people shagged around the pool or on the beach, people came and went, a boat sailed by. There was a world out there, a world beyond the RAF, beyond small rooms in a barrack block, beyond cleaning rifles and driving officers around.

  The next morning the girls boarded their coach, a kiss goodbye, and we did not even bother to exchange addresses. I headed to the dive school, signed up, and would start after lunch. A video to watch, some instruction, and a German lady in the mid thirties took me for a dive.

  I practised taking my mask off underwater, clearing it, then taking my jacket off and putting it back on underwater, after which we swam around the bay looking at the fish. Back on dry land, we sat with cold drinks and she explained the dive table theory. Dive deep and short, dive shallow and long, deepest part of the dive at the start, come up slowly.