by Felix Baron
‘I think I’d like some fresh air,’ Trixie told Rolf.
He walked her, holding her elbow, out onto the raised patio. The night air was creamy with the scents of hibiscus, rhododendron and frangipani. Trixie led him diagonally across the flagstones, away from the French windows to the ballroom and behind a group of potted bushes. Taking the hint, Rolf turned her into his arms and bent to kiss her. Their lips brushed. He savoured the soft yielding texture of her full lower lip for a heartbeat before the seductive invitation of her open mouth drew his tongue into its liquid depths. She tasted of gin. He wasn’t averse to that but he couldn’t help wondering about her natural flavour. He fancied it would be fresh and floral, with a trace of lemon, perhaps.
Trixie broke the kiss and turned to lean on the stone balustrade, holding his arms around her. Rolf nuzzled her nape. She arched against him and sighed.
‘Are you planning to take advantage of me?’ she asked. Her hand guided his over the gentle swell of her belly.
‘Yes, but not tonight.’
‘Not tonight? Why not?’ Trixie’s hips rotated against him.
‘The first time – we should both be sober, stone cold sober. When I seduce a woman, I don’t want it to be with any help from Mister Beefeater or Gospodin Smirnov.’ If he’d been honest he’d have confessed he needed time to think. Rachel had been his first and only real love. How would it be, making love to another woman?
‘Ah! You’re a gentleman, I see, and a patient one.’
‘Not too patient.’ Rolf moved so that his erection, although confined, prodded into the valley between the yielding cheeks of Trixie’s lush bottom.
‘So I see! Are we going to see each other tomorrow?’
‘I’d like that. Trixie, do you play bridge?’
‘Bridge? Why yes, some. I’m not brilliant at the game. My Penny’s much better.’
‘Then why don’t the four of us get together tomorrow afternoon, say about four? We could play till dinner and then I’m sure the kids would find some way to amuse themselves for the evening, leaving us to – to get to know each other better.’
‘I’d like that – the getting to know you.’ She swivelled in his arms and gave him a peck on his cheek. ‘So, if I asked you to see me up to my suite, you wouldn’t take it as an invitation to follow me in?’
‘Even if it were, I wouldn’t.’
She pushed him far enough back to look into his face. ‘I love it that you’re a gentleman, Rolf, but moderation in all things, especially virtue.’
‘I understand. Before I lose my resolve, shall we go?’
‘Just a second.’ She pulled a tissue from her purse, wet it with her tongue and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. ‘We mustn’t make it too obvious what we’ve been up to, Rolf, must we.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
Three
The bandleader announced that the Golden O was taking five. Andrew escorted Penny back to their empty table. ‘I wonder where they went?’
Penny pointed to the French doors. ‘I saw them go outside, about ten minutes ago.’
‘Maybe we should go look for them.’
Penny grinned. ‘They’re adults. Could be they don’t want to be looked for. Maybe they’re busy “getting to know” each other.’
Andrew raised a brow. ‘My Dad? No way! He’s past that kinda thing.’
‘You think?’
‘Anyway, he’s way too old for your Mom.’
‘There’s lots of women my Mom’s age, and some even younger, who’d find your Dad very attractive.’
‘Well, if my Dad and your Mom are . . .’
‘Making out?’
‘Whatever – I don’t want to know.’
She grinned. ‘I suppose you were an immaculate conception.’
Andrew frowned. ‘You’re teasing me.’
‘Sorry.’ She nibbled her lower lip. ‘Andrew?’
‘Yes?’
‘Your Dad said you were at university. He seems very proud of you. What’s it like? What are you studying?’
Half an hour later, Penny allowed that they ought to check up on their parents. On their way out onto the patio, Andrew took her hand. Penny cuddled his arm. She called, ‘Mom?’ and released Andrew’s hand to run towards the area that was hidden by plants.
Andrew followed with a querulous ‘Dad?’ When he caught up with Penny she was posed by the balustrade. The light from a three-quarter moon, high overhead, silvered her hair, her cheekbones and the upper slopes of her young breasts. Andrew froze, his willpower drained. His mouth dried. The background had become two-dimensional and unreal. Only Penny had depth and substance.
She pointed to the rhododendrons that grew just beyond the buzz-cut lawn. ‘I thought I saw a firefly.’
Andrew was released from his paralysis. ‘It was likely a cigarette. Some of the staff here, the young ones, hang out in those bushes at night. You know – hang out and make out?’
‘Can they see us?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s too far.’
‘So we can’t see them making out, and they couldn’t see us if we were, right?’
‘Right.’ He strode to her, as masterfully as he could, and took her in his arms.
Penny’s head was back, eyes closed and lips parted. Pretty sure she wouldn’t object, he bent over her and put his lips to hers. Andrew hadn’t meant to be so bold but somehow her tongue was in his mouth and then his was in hers and she was supple and yielding and their bodies were pressed together from chest to knees and something primitive woke in him, telling him he was a man.
Pressing his advantage, Andrew worked a hand between their bodies to cup the fluttering dove of her left breast.
‘Oh Andrew!’ she gasped. She twisted against him and he realised that the movement had partially bared the breast he held. When his thumb stroked, it felt her nipple. By instinct, his forefinger joined the ball of his thumb and rolled the tiny, tender, incredibly intimate nub.
Penny melted in his arms. Her thighs parted to bracket his left leg. He had to brace it and push up against her, just to keep her from falling.
‘Andrew,’ she gasped. ‘When you touch me like that – it feels so good I can barely stand it.’
‘You like this?’ He rolled a bit harder and wondered if a slight tug would please her. He’d touched other girls’ breasts, and even fingered between the legs of two of them. They’d just been girls, though, at high school. If he’d made any wrong moves, well, they’d have expected him to be unpractised. Penny was different. She was older, more sophisticated. She’d expect him to be expert. Penny was . . . She wasn’t just more mature than the other girls he’d made out with. They’d been pretty. Penny was beautiful. In fact, if there was a word that went beyond ‘beautiful’, Penny was it.
Her tongue was sinuous and wet in his mouth again. Her pubes were moving on his thigh. Did this mean she wanted to . . .?
‘Andrew,’ she sobbed, ‘please, can you do both, like this?’ She took and held his hands as she twisted round in his arms to face away from him. Somehow, in turning, she managed to pull the top of her dress down or her breasts up, because when she put his hands back on her warm flesh, both of her breasts were bare, lifted up to nestle in her low-cut neckline. He was a foot taller than Penny. With her head rested back on his shoulder, looking down, he saw her breasts for the first time. He could watch what his fingers were doing. Penny’s aureoles were puffy mounds, like miniatures of the sweet breasts they adorned. Their nipples were beads. He couldn’t be sure of the tints because the moonlight washed the colours out but they seemed to be all about the same, breasts, aureoles and nipples.
‘Tease me, Andrew, please? Be merciless.’
Andrew let the pads of his forefingers drift around the circumferences of her haloes. A fraction at a time, they spiralled in until they rested softly on her peaks. He tapped their tips. She shuddered. He gripped and tugged gently. Penny arched and groaned. Andrew almost groaned himself. His erection had become so hard it fe
lt ready to snap off.
A spark arced behind the distant rhododendrons. Someone had flicked a cigarette butt away.
As if sensing Andrew’s discomfort – of course she could, as it was pressed against her lower back – Penny reached behind herself and gripped the thick throbbing base of his penis through his pants. ‘Oh! I didn’t know that men were so big there!’
Did that mean she’d never touched a man intimately before?
‘Andrew?’
‘Yes?’ he croaked.
‘I want to . . .’
‘You want to?
‘You know, do it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure I want to, but . . .’
Andrew felt a cold chill in his stomach. ‘But?’
‘My Dad. Before he died, I made him a promise. I swore I wouldn’t – not until . . .’
‘I understand,’ Andrew lied.
Her hand felt its way up his shaft, through the serge of his pants. ‘It must be painful.’
‘Some,’ he admitted.
‘I can’t leave you like this. It wouldn’t be fair.’ She moved to his right a little, so that he was only half behind her but could still fondle her breasts. Her fingers reached back to find the tab on his fly’s zipper. Andrew froze in case a movement would break the spell. He felt the tab rasp down. He felt her fingers squirm into his fly. They fumbled, searching for the slit his bikini briefs didn’t have, before moving up to tug his waistband down.
His cock was suddenly in her hand.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Just a minute.’ She manoeuvred, hampered by his shaft’s stiffness, but managed to draw his cock free to jut into the night air, below the balustrade’s cap, between two stone columns. ‘I’ve never done this before,’ she told him. ‘You must tell me if I do it right.’ Her fingers trailed delicately from the base of his shaft to its head before releasing it. ‘Is that right, or is this better?’ She took a firm grip and slid up, tightening her grasp as it went, then pushed down, dragging his foreskin back firmly but not too hard.
‘Mm!’ Andrew managed. ‘Like that.’
Penny’s hand pumped, much too slowly but Andrew dared not ask her to move faster in case it offended her. He started to pant and arch. His fingers squeezed her nipples with more force. Just when he thought he’d never get relief at the pace she was going, his scrotum tightened and he felt the long liquid rush as his semen jetted out into the darkness.
Reflexively, his fingers clamped. Penny groaned and jerked.
‘I’m sorry, Penny. Did I hurt you?’
‘I’m fine, Andrew. That was the best part, when you pinched me.’
‘Oh?’ He filed the information for future use.
‘Do you feel better now?’ she asked. ‘Did I do it right?’
‘You were wonderful.’
She started to tuck his less-stiff but not yet limp cock back into his fly but he took over before her handling made him as needy as he’d been before.
‘Shall we go in, now?’ Penny asked.
‘Of course. Penny, want to go for a swim in the morning?’
‘I’d like that. Did you like that bikini I was wearing today?’
‘You looked so hot!’
‘Well, I’ve got one that’s even tinier. I’ll wear it for you tomorrow if you like.’
Four
As soon as she closed the door behind Rolf, Trixie shrugged and peeled out of her clinging evening gown. It was one of her favourites and she didn’t want to spoil it. Five minutes later, in an old dark-blue sundress that she didn’t care about any more and with canvas flats on her feet, she let herself out again. It was only one floor down and the emergency stairs led to a crash-bar exit. Leaving her shoes wedged beneath the steel door, she padded off into the night, barefoot. Next time, if there was a next time, she’d devise a better wedge.
Unseen and unheard, she made a circuit of the ballroom’s exterior. There were clumps of hibiscus and frangipani dotted about the broad lawn, all the way over to the grove of rhododendrons. Trixie crept from one to another, always in shadow, always sure to keep bushes between herself and the raised patio.
There were voices and the sounds of movement. She skirted a couple who were on the ground, the girl on top of the boy, as far as Trixie could tell. Further on, she dropped to all fours and crawled through deep shadows. She’d recognised Juan the water-boy’s voice.
The handsome lad was standing with a bush between him and the patio, with binoculars pressed to his eyes. Another youth, shorter and broader, was beside him.
Juan was saying, ‘. . . hand up the leg o’ my shorts an’ felt me up.’
‘Yeah, sure, an’ Magda the masseuse is beggin’ me to let her suck my dick.’
‘Carlos, I swear on my mother’s grave.’
‘OK. See anything?’ the shorter one asked.
‘Guy makin’ out with some chick.’
‘For real? Gimme the glasses.’
‘Wait.’
‘What’s he doin’?’
‘He’s got her tits out an’ he’s playin’ with ’em.’
‘Gimme.’
As Juan turned to pass the binoculars to Carlos, his wagging cock was caught in a beam of moonlight. Trixie licked her lips. The poor boys had to be desperate if they got their kicks from jerking off while they spied on the rich guests.
Carlos flicked a cigarette end away in a fiery arc. With one hand holding the glasses to his eyes, he reached across and took hold of Juan’s shaft. Juan returned the favour. They slow-fisted each other as they passed the binoculars back and forth.
‘She ain’t got much tit, has she,’ Carlos remarked.
‘Bet she fucks like a bitch, though.’
‘She would if it was my meat she was ridin’.’
‘After me, bro.’
Their strokes were becoming more urgent. Trixie stood up and pushed between the two bushes that had been hiding her. Petals fluttered to the grass. She brushed a twig from her hair and announced, ‘We’ve got unfinished business, Juan.’
Both lads whirled, their cocks waving. Carlos gaped. Juan tried to hide his cock.
‘Leave them out where I can see them, boys.’
Grinning foolishly, they spread their hands and thrust their hips forward. Juan said, ‘It’s her, bro, the lady I tol’ you about.’ To Trixie, he said, ‘You liked what you felt, huh, lady?’
For reply, Trixie took two steps closer and dropped back down to her knees. With one hand wrapped around Juan’s impressive shaft, she unbuttoned his shorts with the other and yanked them down to his calves. ‘See this?’ she asked, tapping the head of his cock on her lower lip. ‘It’s not a mouth. It’s a cunt. Do you know what you do with cunts, Juan?’
Carlos answered for him. ‘Y’ fuck ’em.’
‘Right.’ She moved Juan’s hands to the back of her head and parted her jaws as wide apart as they would stretch. The boy shuffled forward an inch. The great round dome of his cock nudged her lips. He paused as if unsure how to continue. Trixie wrapped her arms around his narrow hips and flattened her hands on the lean cheeks of his muscular rump. Dragging him closer and working her face from side to side, she forced her lips to stretch around the massive head of his young cock. He filled her mouth. Trixie sucked air through her nostrils. She paused to savour the sensations; the ache in the hinges of her jaws, the smooth heat of his cock, pressing her tongue down, the first taste of his seeping juices, like burnt spices, but liquid.
Juan was mumbling something in Spanish. It sounded like a prayer but she couldn’t make it out even though she knew a little gutter slang in the language. Perhaps he was giving thanks.
Carlos said, ‘Fuck her face, man! That’s what she wants!’
Trixie managed to grunt and hoped they’d understand it meant she agreed. Juan still didn’t move. Either he was awestruck or else nervous he’d hurt her. Trixie pried his clenched buttocks apart and felt for the tight knot of his sphincter. Merciless, she rammed the stiff index
finger of her right hand deep into his rectum. Juan jerked. His cock impaled her mouth, all the way to the back, forcing an obscene wet sound from her throat, ‘Golk!’
Trixie fought her gag-reflex. Her mouth flooded with saliva. She could feel it flow from the corners of her mouth to saturate the boy’s dangling balls.
Juan made a whimpering sound and reached behind himself to grab her wrist. Perhaps hers was the first finger to ever violate his young bottom. It felt tight and hot enough that it could be virgin. When he tried to pull her finger out, Trixie simply hooked it. He released her wrist but she kept her finger bent and dragged him back, moving his cock in her mouth until only its head was between her lips, when she thrust again.
At last, the lad learned. Guided by her push and pull, he slow-fucked her mouth at a rhythm she set, which wasn’t what she wanted. Hell, she’d put herself totally at the mercy of these crude youngsters. Didn’t they have the balls to give her a thorough ravishing? A line from a Victorian novel came back to her, ‘He bent her to his will.’ That’s what she craved – to be bent to their wills.
Carlos was fumbling with the buttons of her dress. It’d have been better if he’d just ripped it off her, but, she had to admit, that’d have made her return to her suite a bit awkward. That was her last coherent thought for a while. Carlos’s broad peasant hands closed on her breasts, mauling them, milking at them, heedless of the pain he inflicted. That was enough to send Trixie into what she thought of as her animal state. From there on, she was aware of everything the youngsters did to her but she didn’t process any of it. She felt Carlos’s one hand scoop under her bottom and lift her to her feet, bent at her hips to still take Juan’s thrusts into her mouth. His thick fingers dug into her sex.
‘Muy caliente! Tener furor uterino!’
Even in her erotic daze, Trixie understood the first phrase, ‘Very hot!’
His fingers worked her soft wet flesh mercilessly. His thumb – it was at the pucker of her anus – forced a brutal entry. Trixie’s insides churned. When a man gripped her that way, his fingers in her sex and his thumb jammed into her rectum, it was devastating. It was like he was holding her internal organs at his mercy.
