Drenched Page 7

  Suki sighs, relaxing as the beer hits her blood stream. The rest of the gang are playing cards up the other end of the beach.

  “So who is this?” she asks, pointing at the newcomer. “How do you two know each other?”

  They exchange glances. “This is Serge. We, er, we grew up together.”

  Suki smiles. They are both pretty gorgeous. All the more so in this flickering light. She can’t stay still. The taller boy, Serge, is pulling off his wet shirt and soaking jeans, revealing a pair of equally wet, clinging boxers. The boxers stay on. Suki crawls across to Francois and tweaks at the buttons of his shirt.

  “We may as well all get naked,” she giggles. “What do you think?”

  The boys exchange glances. The older one flushes and bites back a grin, before busying himself with tidying up the mess. Maybe they haven’t understood her. Suki glances up at the sky, which looks black and thick with cloud. A slight breeze is cutting of the sea and she shivers.

  “Well, I’m taking this wet dress off before I catch a chill.”

  She pulls the dress easily over her head and lays it out flat on the sand. Francois’ brown eyes are like saucers and she shivers again, this time with pleasure, as she releases her breasts from her bra.

  “Come and lie down,” she says, crawling over to Francois and pushing him down onto his back. The bonfire is warm on her skin now, and when they lie down they are sheltered from the breeze. Francois lets her push him down on to his back. She can’t resist him any longer. She crawls over his prone body, rubbing herself up his legs, pausing over the cock that is rearing so eagerly, effortlessly tenting the soft fabric of his shorts. She pretends to ignore it, continues to slither up his stomach, until she’s on all fours poised over his face.

  Francois grabs her buttocks. They haven’t done this before. Very slowly Suki lowers herself until her pussy is against his mouth, and as she rocks herself gently her soft wet pussy brushes against his lips. A moan escapes her, even though she’s trying to be cool and in control. Francois tries to lick her, and she is desperate to sink down on to his face, but she wants to tease him. Actually she’s teasing herself more by holding herself away.

  She glances up at the cliffs and the sandy path for signs of Henri. But he’s not coming back. A mixture of annoyance and determination surges through her. So she’ll take her pleasure right here, and if he comes down and catches her with his precious son, well, so much the better!

  She sinks down at last, tossing her head back with delight as Francois digs his fingers into her flesh. She wriggles into his face and he obediently starts to lick at her. The fluttering of nerves and anger in her stomach tightens into a clump of fierce desire. She spreads her legs a little wider, opens herself to the searching tongue, relishing the tiny sensations pricked and building all through her.

  With a huge wrench of will she pulls herself away from his face and moves down so that now her breasts hang in his face. She knows he likes this. She watches his fingers molding her breasts, wandering across them and squeezing, pushing them together, letting them fall, playing with them, his young face staring at the rigid raspberry nipples. She pushes them invitingly at his mouth. His breath whistles against her flesh.

  Forget any teenage gropings Francois might have had before. I wonder if he’s done this in front of his friends? Not with a brazen English girl, surely? She wants him and his father to remember her. She wants this summer to be the best they ever had.

  And in a way this is a first for her. Playing the older woman. She wants to smother Francois, keep him there. With swift, deft fingers, Suki soon has him naked too. And he nuzzles his gratitude between her breasts. Suki wants to slow it down, let him to relish every moment of this so he will always compare her to the other girls and she will be queen. She rubs one taut dark nipple across his mouth. The tip of his tongue flicks out tentatively. Suki’s knees wobble, and she clutches more firmly to his shoulders, to keep her balance and to keep him in place, her nipple angled right into his mouth.

  His tongue flicks again and his hands squeeze her breasts until they sing with delicious pain. At last, at last, he nibbles it, the tongue lapping round, drawing the burning bud into his mouth, pulling hard on it as he begins to suck. Suki gazes at his long tangled hair, the salt water dried in granules and flecked white across his cheek bones. She’s not sure if she loves him, but she loves all this. She wants to stay forever. She looks away over his head, across the dark hump of the dunes and over the ocean, up at the deserted cliffs. The older boy seems to have vanished.

  She experiments with the idea of distancing herself from what is happening, but Francois knows her well now, his mouth, his teeth, keep pulling the aching nipple, pulling her attention back.

  Charges of electricity streak through her body to her empty, waiting cunt.

  He has the other breast up by his face and turns his head this way and that, lapping and sucking, snuffling through his nose to breathe, groaning, biting and kneading harder and harder as if he owns her breasts. This is real, selfish satisfaction for both of them.

  Suki pushes herself more roughly against him, seeking, searching for more pain at her nipples to communicate more pleasure through the rest of her. She parts her legs and lifts her knees to plant them on either side of his thighs so that she is straddling him, and still she has his head crushed between her tits. She tilts her wet pussy desperately towards his groin and rubs it briefly against his cock. It pulses against her, thumping free from the rough tangle of curls, pulsating golden brown like the rest of him, its surface smooth like velvet, the mauve plum emerging to show itself to her as the soft foreskin retreats.

  Suki folds her fingers round it and its owner bites her nipple so hard that she screams delight, leaning over him and settling herself just above her new toy.

  “Just take a little break,” she whispers. She starts to wriggle back down his body so that his head follows for a moment, still nibbling at her nipples, but then he falls back as she slithers down towards his groin. He can only grab at her wet hair. Her face reaches his young cock, standing up like a beacon. The tip is already beading in anticipation and she opens her mouth and draws it in with her teeth and tongue until the knob knocks at the back of her throat.

  He gasps, exquisitely shocked. His buttocks clench as she sucks on him, nibbling down, licking and sucking the sweet length of it. He starts bucking gently, crying out in amazement. Suki wonders if his pert little girlfriends give head like this, and doubts it. After all, she didn’t have a clue at that age! She hopes he’ll think he’s died and gone to heaven. Any minute now she is going to heaven, too. She’s just preparing the way. As she sucks she rubs her tits against him, grinds her pussy into his leg. He pulls at her hair, and she has to slow herself down. She doesn’t want to waste this golden moment by coming all over his thighs. Her pussy is contracting frantically now, and she’s leaving a slick of juice wherever her naked pussy has been.

  She gives one last, long suck, pulling it towards her throat and nipping it with her teeth, then she lets it slide out past her teeth, along her tongue and out into her waiting hand. She starts to rise, and he pushes up on his elbows, seeking her tits again, but she presses him gently down on his back. She leans toward him, with his cock standing proud and slick and needy between them

  “See how beautiful it is,” she coos, showing him the length of his cock encircled by her fingers and glistening with her lick.

  She smiles as he watches her rise on her knees. She aims his cock towards her soft center and lets it rest just there, at the entrance, nudging past the wet sex lips. At last she lowers herself a little more, gasping as each inch goes in, then she reaches under him and cups his balls, making him groan again. The tension is ecstasy, but she can’t hold on for much longer, and slowly, luxuriously, Suki lets the boy’s smooth, fat bulb slide all the way up inside her. It is tempting to ride it, to ram down on it over and over, but she forces he
rself to pull out again. He frowns but she eases herself down again, moaning and tossing her head back, and the next time she does it he is with her, pulling his own hips back, waiting when she waits.

  His eyes are on hers again, but as she sighs with the delight of being filled, and bends over to let her tits swing across his mouth again, his eyes flip sideways. His hands come up to her hips and hold her still. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t want to, and she can’t, but then he pulls her nipples back into her mouth, raising her butt in the air as they start their rhythm again. If they do this much longer she’s going to come. Her inner muscles are tightening each time to grab hold and keep him inside her, and his cock gets harder with each thrust. She’s just poised to ram herself down onto him harder than ever when she feels the cheeks of her ass cupped and pulled apart as the warmth of another male body presses up against her back.

  “Excusez moi,” someone says. “May I?”

  Suki is too astonished to answer. Francois frowns and shakes his head, but the other boy takes hold of her anyway.

  “Je suis son frère. Serge.”

  Suki’s jumbled brain takes in the words and she squeals with shocked laughter as she realizes that these two are brothers. So either there’s no such thing as sibling rivalry and these brothers have the same easy relationship that she has with Kara. Or there’s going to be some fierce competition with her as the prize.

  Too many different sensations are swirling through her to allow much thought and she allows herself to be manhandled. She’s pulled, first forwards, her tits licked and sucked to burning point by her accomplished pupil, and then tugged backwards by his invisible brother, who now has his own stiff cock wedged up between her cheeks and he is sliding it up and down the warm crack. He guides it lower, sliding right under her, soaking in her honey, jousting and jostling alongside where his brother has already spliced her open. Such a confusion of cock feels lewd and immoral, and both cocks are slick with her dew. One big dick inside her, the shaft of the other grazing her swollen pussy lips while its head nudges her exposed clitoris. Suki’s is dizzy now. She doesn’t know which part of her is which. Everything is fizzing and burning as she dances on her boy’s cock, flinging herself wildly about as the urge for satisfaction and the loss of her previous control start to overtake her.

  Both brothers take hold of her then and make her stop, and the pause is as titillating as the wild movement, because all her muscles keep on working. Francois takes her arms and pulls them taut above his head so that she is suspended above him. Her breasts in his face, he goes on suckling her nipples, but he stops his thrusting for a moment and she lets the hovering orgasm recede a little while they wait.

  Then Serge the invisible brother brings his stiff cock once again to the cleft of her ass. She can feel how slippery he is—how slippery she has made him. This time, instead of letting his penis slide down along the crack, he starts to push it toward the puckered hole of her anus. She goes rigid. She can feel the hole tightening like a fist against the intrusion, but at the same time a throb ignites like a pilot light somewhere inside her vagina, just the other side, she supposes, of that thin wall separating the two openings. Christ, what’s happening now? Is this even physically possible? Who’s the teacher now?

  She’s never had a threesome, despite what she’s boasted to Kara. And certainly not been the plaything of a father and his two sons.

  The throbbing deep inside is threatening to explode as the other secret part of her opens to its invader. Serge’s thick tip pushes in a fraction. Her own shy muscles try to push it out at first, and then slacken to accommodate him, welcoming the male hardness, so that inch by inch it grinds up her backside.

  She can’t think, she can’t breathe. She has two thick cocks wedged inside her, impaling her, and she’s embracing them both, straining to keep them there and to milk them for all the hot pleasure they have to offer.

  They are all three very still for a moment, introducing their bodies to each other. And as they pause, there’s a rumble of thunder far away in the mountains and a noticeable shivering in the air.

  Serge is deep inside now. His thighs are propping up her own, and he starts to rock, his breath hot on her neck, one big hand fanned out against her stomach to support them both in that position, and she lets the rocking move her body, carefully at first, still unsure of how the complicated design of her body can manage this, whether it will hurt or damage, but then she relaxes as her body becomes conflicting zones of exquisite pleasure.

  A fat cold drop of rain falls on her neck. Another on her shoulder. A rapid spattering on her back. The sand pops with rain as if a sniper is firing at them from the cliffs.

  The boys swear under their breath and move faster.

  Suki falls first forwards onto the rigid cock inside her cunt, then back onto the one in her butt, and it’s fiery now, jets of fire burning her everywhere. As she moves off one brother the other brother penetrates her. The storm of orgasm gathers along with the thunder shouting over their heads now. The grunting of both the boys and her own moans rise into the heavy sea air from somewhere in her throat and are snatched away to mingle with the steady shower.

  And then it’s happening, she’s shrieking and shivering with the cold rain on her skin and the heat building inside her. All three of them are rocking frantically, both boys ramming their cocks into her in unison so that she spirals on to them at the same time, welcoming the burning heat, Francois falling back on the rug when he can hold his seed back no longer. The explosion comes spurting out of him, met by her own gripping, convulsive orgasm.

  Serge laughs and yells as their friends come running up from the other end of the beach, just in time to catch him bringing up the rear in this debauched mêlée.

  Suki’s legs are shaking with the effort of keeping upright and she topples sideways. The boys jump up, throw her clothes at her, then rush around packing up everything that needs to get out of the rain. She lies back on the rug, letting the rain soak into her, and that’s when she notices the row of watching figures standing on the cliff top above. Henri and another man have their arms crossed. Odette and Kara have their arms around each other. The other guests either beam with delight, or have mouths agape in awe at the exhibition they have just witnessed.

  Francois and Serge wave at their audience. Their friends run up the cliff ahead of them but are virtually ignored by Henri and Odette, who keep their eyes fixed on Suki and the brothers.

  She is going to be greeted by her hosts either with fury or fanfare, Suki can’t tell which. She’ll find out soon enough. The brothers grab each of her hands and together they all run, laughing, across the sand, up the stony path, and into the fairy-lit villa.

  Naiad

  ♦♦♦♦

  By Justine Elyot

  The others were sleeping off their hangovers, still fully dressed on the collapsing cane furniture. None of them stirred when I opened the wooden shutters to admit sunlight to the bottle strewn floor, though Louis grunted a bit, so I went down to the boathouse on my own.

  The boathouse was underneath the villa, a kind of basement garage built from crazy paving with two arched exits for the boats. I didn’t really want to speed around the lake today so I killed the motor once I’d made it a few hundred yards from the villa and lay down in my wooden shell, having no ambition beyond an hour’s drifting under the mid-morning Mittel-European sun.

  From here, I could see the villa in all its tumbledown glory, crouching beneath its canopy of trees as if preparing to lurch into the lake. It was falling apart, but that was why it was cheap, and it had that certain faded grandeur so often seen in old buildings around here. What was it with the Austro-Hungarians and the color yellow though? Did every building have to be that same shade of ocher?

  I pushed my bare toes down against the sandy wood. It was warm and I felt like a basking flounder, lying there in my crochet cover-up and bikini bottoms. I put my
sunhat over my face and let the boat go where it liked, drifting along and rocking in rhythm with it, my body merging into the sunlicked warmth.

  The next time I took my hat off my face, the boat had moseyed its way past the trees that stood out in the lake, demarcating the space between our property and the next. Now I had an unimpeded view of the vacant villa next door, and much more salubrious than our shack it was too. Again, that yellow of the old empire, but the windows were new and the paintwork was smart and everything looked well tended and ornamental. It had a boathouse of its own, a dark wood pagoda with all kinds of gothic touches. Balconies and arched windows and a little turret and all.

  Frau Metternich had told us the owner was rarely there except in August, when he spent the month. It seemed ridiculous that one man should require all that space, but apparently he had no family, although he gave extravagant parties there. I imagined the late lazy summer evenings, fireflies skimming the water, jazz music wafting over the lake, loosened tuxedo collars, women running across the lawn with stiletto straps hanging from their fingers.

  In June the place was deserted. Nobody there. Blank windows gazed down upon me and I felt like saluting them back.

  I sat up. I was hot. The sun was climbing to its zenith and my skin was starting to tighten under its unforgiving glare.

  Nobody was around to see me. I shimmied out of my cover-up, hesitated for a moment, then took off my bikini bottoms. In seconds, I was over the side, a mermaid sluicing through the warm, slightly weedy water. I felt fronds tickle and touch my thighs and I swirled past them, imagining myself on a mission, ducking and curling and flailing through the aqua waters. When my limbs tired, I arranged myself into a starfish float and lay there, lapped and led and tilted by the wavelets, looking at the bleached light on the insides of my eyelids and telling myself that Louis wasn’t worth it … he wasn’t worth it … none of it was worth it …