“What do I mean?” I answered Dahlia, cocksure and intending to amuse her. “I mean, coming somewhere like this for our honeymoon. We are such a pair of old hens … What on earth are we going to here?”
“I thought it only mattered who we were with. I think that’s more important …”
“Of course, Hun …” I cooed. We walked through the Village Square side by side, en route to the Reception, negotiating our suitcases around the oblivious families and numerous buggies and pushchairs that darted into our paths.
“Anyway,” she snapped, digging me in the ribs. “Watch who you are calling old …”
Dahlia hates it when I refer to her age in any context because she’s, like, twelve years older than me and is always acutely aware of the gap. Like when we met, I had to pursue her for weeks to get a second date because she was so wary of dating someone much younger. I don’t care though. I love her the way she is and, besides, it’s not like she’s even forty yet.
We went up to Reception to check into our Woodland Lodge still giggling together, and we proceeded to take the piss out of one another, and the new surroundings that we had chosen to be our home, for the whole of the next week.
“Not everything we do has to revolve around our normal haunts and circle of friends, y’know. We can manage at least one trip that doesn’t revolve around a Pride march,” she reasoned with me.
I assumed she was referring to the summer before when I spoke of my desire to visit America for the first time, and our stay in the three different cities we visited that June coincided with Gay Pride events that were already planned.
She did have a point, though. If it’s not the local LGBT BBQ, quiz or chess night, it’s some sort of girls-only club arrangement that we frequent of a wine-soaked evening. But then everywhere seems to have a Pride event these days. There are even two in Texas!
“Why not go somewhere different?” she had joked, when we sat down and planned our nuptials all that time ago. “Mix with the rest of the world …”
“Hey …” I nodded nonchalantly at the people behind us. “We might not be alone in this camp, after all.”
Dahlia turned (perhaps a little too obviously) and a look of uncomfortable paranoia came over the two women who had just entered the cramped office They were similar-looking brunettes in their thirties. I sensed the awkward moment we had created and tried my best to beam one of my winning smiles at them.
A look of relief replaced the mild horror and as we all carried on waiting I noticed that they were chatting in German. I raised an eyebrow at my partner and she reciprocated with the sort of knowing glance that said I should not doubt her organisational skills but also hoped that we would make their acquaintance.
Now, as appealing as the idea of just escaping with Dahlia, away from the capital and the usual scene, was, a little action with some like-minded souls didn’t lack appeal either. What with the military organisation of events that was necessary for our special day, we hadn’t had a curious fumble with anyone else for a while, not even with any of our regular circle of occasional late-night visitors.
Because we’re not that sort of couple: really intense and insistent on monogamy. We just go ahead and appreciate what life offers from time to time and, with that in mind, I waited for the opportune time to introduce myself to our fellow holidaymakers. I decided to wait until Dahlia began the procedure at the desk before I feigned boredom and cracked a bad joke about my partner being the one who wears the trousers. They laughed.
“She is too,” one nodded to the other, jokingly.
“Magda,” she hissed, pretending to be appalled.
“Oh, you have names too …” I giggled. Dahlia looked back from the desk and smiled, rolling her eyes at them in response to my fooling.
Magda and (as I soon found out) Christine live in a small town just outside Munich. I asked them if they had ever been to London. They hadn’t but wanted to come soon. We told them how much we loved places like The Candy Bar. Both girls looked at each other and smiled, clearly acknowledging they were aware of the notorious, Soho pick-up joint.
As Magda replaced Dahlia in front of the increasingly sour-faced check-in girl, Christine hung back with us and continued to tell us about the scene in Munich, in cheeky subtle whispers so as not to broadcast our lifestyle to the rest of the room. This was cute and also exciting. It was clear to us all that we had run into kindred spirits. Their clubs sounded a lot tamer than ours, but she assured us that this bred a healthy online community of swingers and privately arranged meetings. I asked her why they had come to such a place and not ventured to somewhere like London instead.
“We’ve been coming here for years,” admitted Christine. “We just love the woodland. Magda’s family brought her here as a child.”
Magda came back just as she spoke and rolled her eyes in geek-laden shame at her girlfriend’s admission. Dahlia immediately put a sympathetic arm around Magda and chuckled away, in order to cover her embarrassment a little.
We chatted for a time before arranging to meet later for dinner.
“There’s a really great Indian on the camp, if you are going out later …. We’ll be there,” Christine offered.
The two of us looked at each other and raised our eyebrows in curiosity.
“Sure.. 7pm?”
“I can’t believe we have picked up here!” Dahlia laughed later on as we changed for the restaurant. We agreed to keep things simple. I opted for shorts and T-shirt, but Dahlia pulled out her favourite handkerchief top she reserves for when we are out on the pull. The one that shows off her entire, gorgeous back and tribal tattoo and the base of her spine. She finished it off with a denim mini and flip-flops. Her intentions for the rest of the evening seemed clear!
The girls had already ordered wine for the table and were looking through menus by the time we walked in, hand in hand and fifteen minutes late. Magda and Christine seemed to clock our proud, public display of affection and looked a little uncomfortable. Dahlia embraced Magda and gave her a friendly kiss on the lips. The German reeled a little at this and looked a bit stunned as she sat back in her seat. I waved at the couple, awkwardly and giggled. We exchanged pleasantries and they seemed to warm up slightly.
“We took the liberty of ordering the “Shuruati …whats-it,” Christine said as she poured glasses of wine out for us. “It’s a shared platter of starters … We weren’t sure what you’d like …”
“We’re into most things!” announced my partner, cheekily.
The passanda’s and dopazia’s soon arrived and we tucked in. I felt aroused at the smells as well as the sight of fingers being licked and used in place of cutlery. It wasn’t long before we charmed them and soon enough we were chatting like old mates.
It was getting dark by the time we left the restaurant. All four of us looked up at the brilliant night sky. We were unused to being able to see the stars so bright; without the diluting light of the city. We were all heading back in the same general direction and our two new friends led the way, casually glancing back to see that we were heading the same way. I took Dahlia’s hand and moved in to rest my head on her shoulder. She kissed the top of my head and let go of my hand to fondle my arse through my skirt, as there was nobody else around. I caught the odd word from the two girls in front of us, hoping that they were discussing what they wanted to do with us. I was sure I heard a ‘fuck’ and a ‘from behind’ in amongst their stifled giggles. They stopped, hand in hand at a junction.
‘I think we part here …” announced Magda, glancing at her partner. “Unless, of course, you would like to walk us home …”
“Sure, we can do that,” announced Dahlia confidently, without waiting for me. As we made our way up their path, I released Dahlia’s hand and made up the short distance between us. I slotted myself in between them and put an arm around each of their waists.
“So, which one of you beautiful ladies am I going to get to kiss first?” I teased.
“How about both of us?”
answered Christine. She turned towards me and took my arm, placing it onto her bottom. She took my face in both her hands and gave me a long, deep kiss. Magda stood close to one side and Christine broke off to place a kiss on the mouth of her partner, who too broke away and guided her girlfriend’s lips on to mine in a lovely three-way cocktail. Dahlia hung back and admired the sight in front of her, purring.
“What a lovely view …”
Christine moved towards her and embraced my lover.
It was a good job we were just around the corner from their chalet because we were all getting quite excited and eager to progress further, as we walked up hand in hand with our newfound partners. Dahlia gave me a slow, wide-eyed look and chuckled to herself.
Christine played host, popping a cork on something white and sparkling. We stood around the double bed, awkwardly chatting for a while before Magda broke the ice and pulled her dress over her head and sighing, “That’s better …” and leaving herself very much nude. She picked up her glass again from the top of the TV, which I noticed hadn’t even been turned on during their stay, as the remote was still in its makeshift plastic holder, by the pay-per-view menu.
Magda had an ample body she was clearly very comfortable with. Her partner took a seat on the bed and reached out for her. She cupped one of her breasts and muttered, “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“That she is,” replied Dahlia from behind her and moved in, wrapping her arms around her and nuzzling at her neckline. I also leaned forward for a kiss as Christine scooted backwards on the bed to watch the action unfold. I stepped out of my shorts and joined her for a snog, reaching my hand down the front of her jeans. Dahlia led Magda by the hand and shooed the two of us over to the other half of the bed, so we could all fit on.
Almost immediately, I felt the cheeky hand of Magda wandering over from embracing my lover to touch the crack of my arse. She searched around and slipped a finger into my hole as she tongued Dahlia’s sweet mouth. By the moans coming from her, I sensed that my baby had a few fingers of her own buried in somewhere wet and warm behind me. Christine, on the other hand, was sucking one of my boobs and joining Magda in fingering my cunt.
I sensed someone getting up and opened my eyes to see Dahlia excusing herself to go to the bathroom. She gave me a wink from the foot of the bed, so I carried on. Magda turned to join us and spooned me from behind, while her partner and I rubbed one another’s crotch.
As Dahlia returned, she undid the neck-straps of her top and watched Magda lean over me and kiss her partner. I reached out a hand to Dahlia, now naked and sipping her drink. She kicked off her heels and climbed on to the bed to join us.
She gave me a wonderful, deep kiss that displayed a relaxed confidence, which I was glad about. I was so proud of how instantly she had been at ease with all this, not seeming threatened or bothered at all. It relaxed me enough so that I could really enjoy myself too. Something I was more than planning on doing.
Christine rose from her position to replenish her drink. Magda howled with laughter.
“You OK?” I asked her.
“Yeah, she makes fun of me because I am always the last person to undress …”
Magda broke off from kissing Dahlia and announced, “Get naked then!”
We all joined in and I seconded her demand for nudity.
“Would you like some help?” I joked as she unbuttoned her shirt and peeled the tight jeans over her bum.
“Yes, you can get on the edge of the bed and open your legs …” she ordered. Dahlia looked up and watched me dutifully shift down to the edge of the bed, where Christine was crouched in her mismatched cotton bra and pants. She and Magda were watching intently and sipping from their glasses.
“She gives head like you would not imagine,” muttered Magda.
“Oooo, there’s a challenge …” I motioned down to Christine, with her juicy fingers up my pussy lips. “I’ve had a lot of great head in my time …”
She wasn’t far wrong. I got a delicious combination of clit-sucking and finger-darting that warmed me up considerably. She then concentrated on massaging my inside wall, just on the spot I love. It wasn’t long before she had me making the right noises and making my hips buck wildly. I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into me, encouraging her to continue.
I looked up and demanded that one of the others sit on my face. My gorgeous, dark beauty obliged without batting an eyelid. She rode away on my tongue as Magda fingered her bottom from behind, occasionally bending down to where Christine was lapping away.
At this opportunity, I took Dahlia and got into a lovely 69. I ejaculated onto her face as I straddled over her and screamed into her groin; she purred lovingly somewhere beneath me. The other girls retreated to a couch across the room and brought each other off, kneeling in front of one another with grins on their faces as they enjoyed our display.
They looked deep into each other’s eyes and they made each other cum with a close intimacy I envied but could also recognise in our own relationship. They grasped each other, creating a light film of sweat that blended into a lovely cocktail as they embraced and rubbed at each other furiously until climax. They writhed and gasped and rode each other’s caress until they collapsed into one another’s arms. They laughed a little uncomfortably as they realised we’d been watching and sheepishly hopped on to the bed to hide their heads in our embraces. We lay in a wonderful after-shag trance, drank the bottle dry and then enjoyed the rest of our night with them.
Center Parcs, I’d recommend it to anyone!
Japanese Schoolgirls
by Teresa Joseph
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always known that in my heart that I’m a lesbian.And since the age of about fourteen or fifteen when my classmates started wearing push-up bras and the shortest skirts that they could get away with, I’ve known that I have perverted lust for adult women in school uniform. But five months ago, while I was downloading a few ‘sexy schoolgirl’ videos from the Internet, I came across something that made me wank so hard that I’ve never been able to stop.
At first glance of course, there wasn’t anything particularly horny about this video; just a ten-second clip of an adult Japanese schoolgirl grinning from ear to ear as she wrote “I love you” on a blackboard before bending over to give us a flash of her knickers. But although she didn’t really do anything, the schoolgirl was so gorgeous that, after a few moments, the computer screen was completely covered in lipstick and I was addicted for life.
Within thirty minutes of downloading the clip, I’d signed up to every “Adult Japanese Schoolgirl” website on the internet and fingered my pussy until I saw stars, watching a bevy of pretty young Orientals in skimpy school uniforms giggle with delight as they eagerly touched each other’s naked pussies. But no matter how much I wanked or how many videos I downloaded, I knew that there was only one thing that was going to satisfy my aching pussy and my drooling tongue. And so a few days later, having almost literally beggedmy boss to let me take some holiday time, I jumped on to the very next flight to Tokyo and drove myself mad with anticipation as I spent the next thirteen hours waiting to touch down.
Were the Fates playing some cruel practical joke at my expense? Why else would they decide to seat me in a section of the plane surrounded by more than a half a dozen realJapanese schoolgirls in full school uniform who were on their way home to Japan?
Japan is the only country in the world where the students don’t graduate from secondary education until after they’ve turned 21. And judging by the gold badges on their lapels, not to mention their gorgeous figures, it was obvious that every one of these girls was in their last year of school.
They were all so irresistibly sexy that the urge to kiss and fuck every one of them senseless was almost completely overwhelming. And as I sat there, mere inches away from their gorgeous bodies, almost cumming every time that I heard them giggle and wishing that I could touch their skin, I had no choice but to sit there as rigid as a statue and praytha
t I didn’t end up getting arrested for sexual assault.
The honey was dripping from my pussy like water out of a tap. My legs were crossed so tightly that I was starting to get a cramp. I was so afraid of groaning or whimpering with lust that I bit my tongue for hours on end. And knowing that it was only a matter of time before I’d try to do something that would get me arrested, I kept my eyes shut as tightly as I could and kept my hands crossed in my lap, looking so tense that the stewardess offered me a sedative because she thought I was afraid of flying.
I refused of course, doing my best to dismiss the whole thing and saying that I would be fine. But when the schoolgirl sitting next to me turned to ask me if I was all right, I honestly began to wish that I’d taken the sedative after all.
“Are, you, O-K?” She asked in broken English, but in a tone so sweet and melodious that it actually made me cum. And as I sat there whimpering like a frightened puppy, I couldn’t help but groan with orgasm as she reached out to touch my hand and caress my long blonde hair.
According to the dictionary, ambivalence is a mental state in which a person experiences two separate emotions at the same moment in time. But actually sitting there in economy class, so stricken with terror that I almost started to hyperventilate but so driven by lust that it was hard for me not to kiss her gorgeous lips, I was positive that there had to be a Hell of a lot more to it than that.
After six hours of this torture I was absolutely certain that if I didn’t have a wank soon then I was going to explode. And since a nervous aeroplane passenger dashing off to the toilets was the most natural thing in the world, a few minutes later I was sitting on the toilet seat with my knees pulled up around my ears, fisting my pussy so furiously that I had to bite my other hand.
For ten, long, exhaustive minutes, I pounded my pussy until the hot, sweet honey was literally gushing like water from a fountain. But then, just as I thought that I might be able to satisfy myself, I heard a knock on the door that made me groan “Oh God No” as I started wanking even harder than before.
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