‘No rush,’ he echoes, and his young voice dips violently into a deep manly timbre, at odds with his adolescent face. My cunt gives a couple of uncontrollably cheeky twitches, practically nudging the bottle away as I watch him wrestle with the twin urges to come and sit near me or to stand there and remain cool.
Time to be a little less obvious. I relent and draw my legs up, so that my pussy is temporarily hidden from his confused, hungry gaze, but the movement brings the bottle harder against me, its long shape pushing between my sex lips and nudging the tiny bud of my clit. I grip it with my legs and feel the droplets of condensation mingling with my own sweat and moisture.
I’m getting breathless again, as if I was still swimming. I want to show the boy what I can do with the bottle, but it’s too soon. I hitch myself up the towel, pulling my shoulders back in an effort to look more sophisticated, but that just thrusts my breasts out so that his baby-blue eyes, which are still struggling to remain politely focused on my face, swivel back to watch the tightening of my red nipples.
‘It may be a bit quiet, but where else can you get quite so close to nature, after the city smoke? I expect that’s what your dad was after,’ I whisper, trying not to giggle out loud with delight. Something is still warning me to act very calm, sit very still so as not to alarm him. ‘That’s why I’m stretched out here, starkers. Never do that in London, do you? Hope you don’t mind me being topless like this?’
He shakes his head violently, like a little boy trying not to tell a lie, and at last, like an animal tempted in from the wild, he squats down, just by my feet. He rubs the salty strands of yellow hair off his hot face.
‘So. You here on holiday, or what?’
He’s giving in. He can’t take his eyes off my tits, even though he’s attempting to make conversation. I know my nipples are harder and darker now and impossible to ignore. Neither of us really wants to talk, do we? It’s as if he’s in a sweet shop with no pocket money. His tongue slides across his white teeth and he gulps. I keep my smile faint but encouraging.
‘It’s a mixture,’ I answer. ‘Work, and play.’
‘So which is this bit? Work, or play?’
A soft wind comes off the sea and ruffles his hair. He swipes it impatiently out of his eyes. My own hair tickles my face, and the wind caresses my bare skin like delicate fingers.
‘Oh, that’s easy. Play,’ I whisper, not sure if he can hear. ‘This bit is definitely play.’
I tilt forwards on to my knees, the bottle still clamped there. I pause for a moment as he blinks, focusing on the big tits bouncing right there in front of him as if they were ice creams on offer. Then I pick up one of his large hands from where it’s digging frantically about in the sand. I lift it like it’s a warm animal and place it on one swollen breast. My nipple spikes against his palm. His mouth drops open. My head falls back as his fingers close harder, making it ache. I spread my knees a little to balance more comfortably in front of him, dislodging the bottle. I lean back on the towel so that my spine is arched and my breasts are pushing at him, jumping up with each heartbeat.
The dry grass rustles in the slight breeze, and far away the waves curl with a collective sigh onto the beach. Both the boy and me are panting. My tits disappear into his hesitant fingers. His blue eyes blaze with a crazy request. Christ, it’s enough to make me melt. Of course you have permission, my precious. I’m practically begging you!
My head feels heavy. The only energy is fizzing between my legs. I’m ready to let him take and thrust and pummel. I want to make him into a man. I have privacy, sunshine, a boy with the body of a god waiting for me to show him the way. And all the time in the world.
Lust is eating me up. His fingers dig into my breasts, wander across them and squeeze them, push them together, letting them fall, playing with them, staring at the rigid raspberry nipples. Then I kneel up and place my hands on his shoulders and push my tits into his eager face. I want him to nuzzle in, I want him to lick, suck, bite. Yes. I can tell he’s never seen anyone as luscious as me. A real woman. I want this to be what he’ll write home about, remember for ever. I want to smother him. He buries his face between my breasts, pressing them into his cheeks. Then he draws back. I cup one breast and offer it. I rub its taut dark nipple across his mouth. His tongue flicks out tentatively. My knees wobble and I clutch more firmly to his shoulders. My tit is angled right into his mouth.
He licks the nipple again, and his hands squeeze my breasts until they sing with delicious pain. Hands that a few minutes ago had been wrestling with a surfboard. Then his soft lips nibble up the little nub of the nipple, the tongue laps round it. He draws the burning bud into his mouth, pulling hard on it, and begins to suck. I cradle his bleached blond head, the salt water dried in granules and flecked white across his cheek bones. I could stay like this forever. His sucking makes my whole body ripple with desire.
I look away over his head, across the dunes and over the ocean, distancing myself, seeing us like a movie or a photograph, but his mouth, his teeth, keep pulling at the aching nipple and pulling me back. Electrical currents streak from my nipples to my empty, waiting cunt.
He has the other breast up by his face now. He’s turning from one to the other, lapping and sucking, snuffling through his nose to breathe, groaning, biting and kneading harder and harder as if he owns my breasts. It’s never enough to suck just one. They both have to be stimulated, and, boy, is he getting the hang of it. God, it’s going to be earth-shattering when I get him inside me.
He’s rougher, more ferocious, already more confident. I grind against him, daring him, searching for more pain to communicate more pleasure. I plant my knees on either side of his so that I’m straddling him, and still have his head crushed between my tits. I push him backwards so that, still sucking on my nipples, he’s lowered onto the sand. Now I’m on top of him, my tits dangling down like heavy fruit dented by his brown fingers. I tilt my pussy towards his groin and rub against his wet suit. The rough material is glorious, grating on my skin.
And I can feel the length of his dick. Still pushing my tits in his face, don’t ever want him to stop, I grab at the wet suit and start to roll it off him like a second skin. He raises his hips obligingly. So sweet. He does that so eagerly and readily. Does he realise how big his fucking gorgeous erection is? I yank everything down and his cock thumps free, juddering out from the rough tangle of blond curls, pulsating golden brown like the rest of him. God, it’s a work of art. Its surface is smooth like velvet, the mauve plum emerging from the soft foreskin which wrinkles back to show itself all gleaming. This gorgeous cock thumps into my hand. Now it’s my turn to fold my fingers round something, and as I do it he bites my nipple so hard that I scream out with delight. I lean over him.
‘Just take a little break. Try something new,’ I whisper, both to myself and to him. I start to wriggle back down his body so that his head follows for a moment, still attached to my nipples. Then he falls back as I slither down towards his groin and he can only grab at my wet hair. I reach his dick, standing up like a beacon. The tip is already beading in anticipation. A fresh stick of rock.
I open my mouth and draw his cock into it, using my teeth as well as my tongue, draw it all in until the boy’s knob knocks at the back of my throat.
He makes a sound, exquisitely shocked. His buttocks clench as I suck on him, nibbling down to the base of his shaft and licking and sucking the sweet length of it. He starts to buck about, groaning in amazement. I wonder if any of his pert little girlfriends give head like this. I doubt it. After all, I didn’t have much of a clue at this age. I want him to think he’s died and gone to heaven. Any minute now I’m going to heaven, too.
As I suck, I rub my tits and pussy up and down his legs. He pulls at my hair. I have to slow myself down, because we’ll both come too soon. I don’t want to waste this golden moment by coming all over his shinbone. My pussy is clenching frantically now. I’m leaving slicks of juice all over him.
I give his dick
one last, long suck, pulling it towards my throat and nipping it with my teeth, then I let it slide along my tongue, out through my nipping teeth. Greedily I clamber back on top of him as he struggles up, seeking out my tits. I press him down on his back, tilting myself over him. We’ve moved some way from the towel now.
‘See how beautiful it is,’ I croon at him, showing him the length of his shaft encircled by my fingers. ‘See how well it’s going to fit.’
I smile as I raise myself on my knees and aim the tip of his cock towards the warm hole hidden in my soft bush. I let it rest there, at the opening, just like I did with the lemonade bottle, just nudging it past my wet sex lips. I wait. I smile again, lowering myself a little more, gasping as each inch goes in. I reach under him to cup his balls in one hand and he groans again.
This tension is ecstasy, but I can’t hold on to it for much longer, and slowly, luxuriously, I let the boy’s knob slide up inside, all the way to the hilt. It’s so tempting to ram it, let our hips start jerking, but once it’s right in I force myself to pull away again. He frowns, perhaps thinking I’m rejecting him, but I just ease myself down again, moaning and tossing my head back, and the next time I do that he’s with me, learning fast, pulling his own hips back, waiting when I wait.
I sigh out with the joy of being fucked by something so big and hard after months of sitting on the sidelines. As I bend over to let my tits swing across his mouth again, his eyes flip sideways and his face freezes. His hands jam onto my hips and hold me still. I don’t move. I don’t want to. But I see another shadow falling across his face.
‘Oh, piss off, guys!’ I shout, without looking round. ‘Go back to your poker game!’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it! This looks like a hell of a lot more fun than poker!’
A male voice, very similar to my boy’s, speaks from somewhere above and behind us. I go hot and cold. I try to read the boy’s expression. Then there’s the unzipping sound of another wet suit, and the boy’s eyes widen. First he shakes his head furiously, and then a filthy grin spreads across his face. Not a grin I’ve seen before. He looks at me in a different way. Kind of domineering. I’m thrown off balance. Already he’s learning. Glancing at the newcomer, the boy knocks my breasts from side to side.
‘My older brother,’ he croaks. ‘Back from the surf.’
He pulls me forwards, jamming my tits into his mouth again, and now my backside is up in the air. I want to protest but I can’t move. My butt is all exposed, bouncing in front of his brother, but so gorgeous is the feel of my boy’s almost aggressive mouth sucking on my sore nipples that I can’t stop him. As first one nipple then the other grinds into his mouth I automatically start up the rhythm again. I’m acutely aware of my new audience. It’s unutterably sexy to be watched.
I slide up and down his cock, showing off now. My muscles tighten each time to grab hold and keep him inside, and his cock is hardening even more with each thrust.
I’m just poised to ram down onto him harder than ever when my butt cheeks are pulled apart and another male body presses up against my back.
‘Can’t let you have all the fun, bruv,’ says the voice. ‘Reckon I want a go.’
‘You’ve got some catching up to do, mate. Bloody well wait your turn.’
The first boy pulls me harder down on top of him, ramming me right up inside.
‘You don’t mind me watching, do you?’ his brother murmurs in my ear, still fondling my buttocks.
‘No,’ I puff, barely able to speak. ‘Don’t mind.’
There’s something else going on here, too. I can recognize sibling rivalry when I see it, or rather sense it. It’s not that different from the ‘friendly’ rivalry between me and my mates up at the cottage. Our parlour games are never going to be the same after this.
I’m dizzy now, knowing I’m being watched. Who knows? Maybe the crowd up at the cottage will be down any minute, join the audience. See me in a whole new light. I gyrate as if dancing on the boy’s pole, flinging myself wildly about. The urge for satisfaction and the loss of control starts to overwhelm me.
The invisible brother is right behind me, touching me everywhere. I fall onto the rigid cock inside me and the orgasm is gathering. My moans are snatched into the sea air as I rock frantically. My boy can’t hold back and it’s spurting out of him and I’m bucking in my own orgasm.
‘Can’t let you corrupt my little brother and get away with it,’ the older brother says, pulling us apart. ‘Reckon you need teaching, too.’
He parts my legs, gets his own cock out. I try not to smile too greedily as we all lie on the sand while the tide encroaches up the beach and the seagulls wonder what the fuck these tourists are up to.
Rackula
by Landon Dixon
Upon my eighteenth birthday, when I became a man in the jaundiced eyes of Romanian law, my father sat me down in the musty living room of our ancient cottage and told me the story of the Countess Sabrina Comaneci – the evil, vengeful, undead, large-breasted and downy-pussied seductress who haunted the backwoods byways of our impoverished province, hungrily supping the blood, and other bodily fluids, of virginal males.
A single flickering tallow illuminated our sparsely furnished parlour, as a savage wind howled at the rotted eaves of our humble abode and twisted tree limbs clawed at the shutters as if seeking entry. ‘Her beauty is the stuff of the great artists Grigorescu and Luchian,’ my father intoned. ‘Men cannot resist her, and women detest her. It is legend that on a night many, many centuries ago, when the evening star Venus was at its zenith, the lust-crazed Countess succeeded in seducing one of her stable hands, a virginal boy of eighteen who had only that morning become betrothed to a poor peasant girl whom he had courted for years. And just as the Countess was teetering on the very edge of ecstasy, the young man’s fiancé rushed into the room, saw what was happening, and in a fit of jealous rage seized a sabre from the wall and plunged it deep into the Countess, piercing her wicked heart, killing the beautiful temptress before she could attain sexual release.
‘And from that night onward, whenever the planet Venus is in its ascension, the Countess walks the earth, stalks this province’s virginal sons recently turned eighteen, seeking the ecstasy in death she was denied in life. And by taking her fiendish vengeance, temporarily satiating her unquenchable, ages-old lust, she also takes the life of the young man whom she violates. He becomes a part of her army of the damned, to be used and abused by her for all of eternity.’
I stared into my father’s watery blue eyes, at his trembling blue lips, and a cold shiver travelled the length of my spine. ‘How can I avoid such a fate, father?’ I queried, my voice breaking, my hands shaking.
‘By remaining safely indoors when Venus is the brightest star in the sky; by never setting foot outside when the Countess is on the prowl,’ he replied, grasping my hands with his bony claws. ‘Promise me this, my son!’
I earnestly promised to abide by the old man’s superstitious wishes, seeking to reassure him. ‘And where is Venus now, Father?’ I inquired.
‘In its ascension!’ he cried, staring out the dusty window at the darkening sky.
I would have been wise to have heeded my father’s warning, but I was young and foolish and daring, and dubious of my father’s many tall tales and handed-down myths. More importantly, my gorgeous girlfriend, Daria, had promised me a special treat for my birthday, and what come-of-age man can resist such a titillating promise as that? So, once my father had retired to bed, was deep in his slumber, out into the windswept night I ventured.
* * *
Daria and I rendezvoused at our usual spot, on the mossy green banks of a thin trickle of a cold, clear stream that flowed past an abandoned mill. The long shadows of dusk had been usurped by the inky blackness of night, and I kindled a small fire, admiring my Daria in its glow.
‘You are truly beautiful,’ I told her truthfully, my eyes roaming all over her voluptuous body, which had only recently ripened into full womanhood. She was
scantily covered by a thin white summer dress and her chestnut-coloured hair cascaded long and thick over her bare, buff shoulders. Her large brown eyes reflected the dancing flames from the fire, and her pretty face shone like a princess’s.
‘Thank you, Gregor,’ she responded in a soft, shy voice, gazing bashfully into the fire for a moment, and then back up at me. ‘I told you I had a special treat for your birthday…and here it is.’ She slowly unfastened the buttons on the front of her dress, her sparkling eyes never leaving mine, and the almost-sheer garment slid down her body with barely a whisper and puddled at her feet, leaving her breathtakingly, stunningly naked!
‘Daria!’ I breathed, staring in awe at her lush, creamy-white body.
Her breasts were huge and heavy-looking, round and ivory, capped by twin kitten-pink nipples that jutted out from her dewy tit-flesh fairly half an inch or more (and were growing still longer and harder in the cooling night air). Between her smooth, slim legs lay a neatly-trimmed triangle of downy, brown fur, and when she shifted her lithe legs even wider apart, I could see her pink pussy lips, glistening with moisture, anticipation.
‘Daria!’ I repeated, overwhelmed, rushing around the fire and into her open arms. I mashed my lips against her soft, pouty lips, her enormous tits pressing hotly against my chest, my nimble hands gripping and squeezing her plump, rounded butt cheeks.
She responded with equal passion, sliding her slippery tongue into my mouth and swirling it around, the two of us fiercely frenching for what seemed for ever. When I at last broke mouth and tongue contact with the pretty peasant girl, whom I had lusted after for so many years, I began kissing and licking and biting my way down her long, slender neck, all the way down to the awesome chest that was the spectacular heritage of all of the women in her blessed family.
I cupped her immense jugs in my covetous hands, revelling in the solid weight and silky, superheated texture of her burgeoning boobs, and then I bent my head down and licked at one of her rigid nipples, teasing the pebbled underside of it with my flicking tongue. She cried out with pleasure, clutched at my straw-coloured hair with her long, sharp-tipped fingers, and I took the fully-flowered nipple into my mouth and sucked on it, tugged hungrily on it.
Five Minute Fantasies 3 Page 5
