0 comments/ 58920 views/ 1 favorites At Trinity Beach By: Rocket Each New Year's Eve, I sit down with my diary and write out a list of things to look forward to over the next twelve months. I prefer not to call them resolutions. Mostly they are needs, which I turn into opportunities to look forward to. That way, even the shitty ones have a positive spin to them. And there can be a lot of shitty ones! I also look back at how I went during the year about to end. That's what I was doing this morning, when I reached the entry 'Amy- colleague or buddy?' Let me explain what this is about. I reckon there's a hierarchy that goes acquaintance, colleague, friend, partner and buddy that can be used to define relationships. Thinking like this serves me well because it creates a special place beyond partner for the things that can't be disclosed to a partner, or dealt with in that kind of relationship. Amy and I are colleagues - have been for four years now. We have little contact outside of work, so I wouldn't call her a friend. Yet, every now and then, we have these awkward moments: conversations and situations that would be better handled if we knew more about where each other stood. Another thing. Some days I think Amy is the most beautiful woman in the world. Other days, I think Christiane Paul might have the edge. Anyone who has read my submissions will know I have felt this way about other women too, like Bree and Bess. Hardly happy endings, you may recall. In Amy's case, I was determined not to make the same mistakes. Hence the entry 'Amy- colleague or buddy?' I found the answer at Trinity Beach. **************************** Two days before my trip to visit a native plant nursery at Trinity Beach, Amy's partner of three years proposed to her. I found out when she rang as planned to let me know if she was coming on the trip or not. . I'm not the kind of guy to say 'I'm happy for you.' So I didn't. This lack of excitement at the news prompted Amy to ask, "Am I still invited?" "Of course. Why would you ask?" "Well, given that I accepted his proposal, I thought you might want to change your mind." "Hey! We're going to a plant nursery- remember? That's all. Why should you miss out because you are getting married?" "I'm really relieved you feel that way," Amy replied. "And I do want your help with plants for my garden." "Good. But I also have a surprise or two in store for you." "Ooooh! I don't like the sound of that." "Trust me. I'm well aware what is NOT going to happen between us." "That's not what I was thinking. It's any other surprises you might have in mind I'm worried about." "Well don't be. You won't be put in a position to do anything you don't want to." "So why can't you tell me now?" "It wouldn't be the same." "What if I insist?" "How about a compromise? I'll tell you when I pick you up. So there is still time for you to say no," I offered. Amy took a while to reply. "Something tells me I should be saying no now. But I'll go along with it. As long as you remember it will be your fault if you end up leaving on your own." ****************************** I arrived right on nine to pick Amy up. She was glowing. She wore shorts and a sleeveless top, the kind that showed a bit of bra strap from time to time. This time it was showing 'peach'. "All packed?" I asked. "Ever the punctual!" she teased, mindful of my obsession with being on time. "Do I need to bring anything in particular?" "Just a dress you can wear in public with no underwear." "I don't do that!" "But if you did, what dress would it be?" "I don't like the sound of this already!" "Pack it anyway. I'll explain later." She did. ********************* I don't think people make enough of the time spent traveling. Amy is one of those girls who tuck their legs under them and sit facing you. Not the safest way to travel, I know, but it connects people. We chatted amicably all of the way. "If you could do your dream job, what would it be?" she asked. "A profiler." "Why a profiler?" "I like the idea of sorting things out; solving things. Not that I know anything about profiling. It just appeals to me." "That's you all right," Amy said. "Never satisfied unless you have analyzed everything to death." "Really? Just because I do those questionnaires from the Internet we get on e-mail at work- the one's you won't do." "I'm not telling everyone at work that kind of stuff!" Amy explained. "So does that make you a private person, or just plain boring?" "You'd be surprised," she joked. "Not if I was a profiler I wouldn't be. I'd already have you sorted out." "Oh yeah. Go on then. Pretend. Work me out." "I can't. I haven't got the information." "I usually get into trouble giving out information." 'Not from me, you don't." "Not from you, maybe. But you know my last trip to Brisbane with Tim? Well, we bumped into an old acquaintance of mine. I invited him to join us for a chat over coffee. Tim got really jealous and wanted to know how I knew the guy. I explained he was someone I had a fling with, but nothing happened." "Mmmm. Wrong explanation," I said to Amy. "Men aren't satisfied with that. In our minds something always happens. It's just a matter of what." "So how should I have answered?" "That depends on your relationship. He may have been thinking you were keeping something from him. So I'd put it back on him, by asking 'why do you want to know?' And keep asking why, until he is facing the truth about his motive for wanting to know. Then you can do something about it." "And what if I needed to tell him? What if it was important to me that I didn't have to lie or deny my past?" "Then you need him to be more than a partner and a friend. You need him to be a buddy too. A soul-mate." "Are you my buddy, Charlie?" "That's a strange question, at this moment." "Ever since you explained it to me, I've been wondering whether we were buddies or not." "Me too!" "Well?" "I don't think we can just declare it. Why don't we try to be buddies for this trip, and see how it goes? Which means whatever is said or done, stays with us." "I'm all for that." "Good! Now I need that information." "What for?" "Your profile. Remember?" The next half hour or so flew by as we joked and teased our way through a clumsy attempt to develop a profile of the kind of relationships Amy was most likely to have. We started with her having to disclose past details to work with. She declined, but said I could guess at a typical one. I suggested she was most likely to have an affair with a well educated man, two years her senior, with a better than average income or prospects. And they would have sex on the third date, on her initiative, after he missed the signals on their second date. "Not bad. Not too bad at all!" Amy complimented. "You've been talking to Tim. But it misses the mark for some things I've done." "So tell me about the one least likely!" "Mmmn. That would really be telling. Let's just say a lot younger, a lot sooner, and no prospects at all!" "A fling in other words?" "Alcohol and abstinence induced." "Makes sense to me." "It would. Even though you don't drink, you are the acclaimed expert on abstinence!" she joked, playfully slapping me hard on the arm. ********************** Eventually we arrived at the Trinity Beach village and checked into the resort hotel. Separate rooms. I dealt with the formalities while Amy wandered over to an impressive native garden beside an aviary. "They're connecting rooms. Is that all right?" the hired help at reception asked. "No worries!" I answered. I booked into room seventeen; Amy into eighteen. "By the way," he called as I was exiting the office, "that extra key is to the door between the rooms. It only opens from seventeen." When we got to our rooms, I offered seventeen to Amy. "You'd best take this one. It 's got the key to the dividing door." "Don't get your hopes up!" she laughed. "I won't be using it. Anyway, what are you doing about dinner?" "All taken care of," I replied. "Are you going to tell me?" 'Nuh! Except we are going out. How soon can you be ready?" "Depends where we are going," she countered. "You need that dress, some casual shoes, and your engagement ring. That's all!" "In your dreams, Charlie!" she laughed, closing the door. A moment later she called, "Give me fifteen minutes." Fifteen minutes and ten seconds later, I knocked on her door. "All set?" I asked. "As ready as I will ever be." That dress turned out to be a sleeveless number with tiny shoulder straps. Shortish, but not too short, with a deep plunging back and bold tropical pattern, it could have come from any of the beach front shops within walking distance. The look was finished off with flat court shoes, a big diamond ring, and a tiny choker that worked for some reason. Amy fairly skipped along the esplanade, often getting well ahead of me. When we reached the sand, she bent to remove her shoes. Her dress fell open, revealing her large unrestrained breasts. I stared a moment and got caught when she looked up. She pressed the top of her dress against her. "Ooops! I'll have to be careful with this dress," she giggled. Then she was off again, racing ahead; her dress hitched up to avoid the spray of the waves emptying onto the shore. We rounded the rocky point, and headed directly towards the last rays of the dying sun. It was as if the dress was instantly transparent, placing Amy's long legs on show. I could see no sign of panties. A G-string was a possibility. An unlikely one. We arrived at the open air beach-side restaurant where I had made the bookings for four. Jess, a colleague of ours who lives nearby, and her husband Les, were already there. Amy doesn't like Jess. She doesn't dislike her either. Not really. It's just that Jess isn't a girl's girl, if you know what I mean. At the first chance she got, Amy pulled me aside. "I can't believe you arranged this. You know what I think of her. She's going to be competing with me all night for attention!" "No chance of her winning though, is there?" I smiled. "Is that what the dress is about?" she queried. "What do you think?" "I don't know what to think." "Well, when you get a chance, take a bit of notice of what's going on. See who the guys are noticing. Jess will, that's for sure." Despite the hiccup at the start, dinner went well. Les is a nice enough guy, though his eyes wander quite a bit. More than once Jess caught him ogling Amy as she bounced down the stairs from the bar. Then again, such was the impression Amy had made on the patrons, Les would have been the odd man out if he hadn't been looking. Too quickly, the meals were over. "Guess it's time to move on," Amy said. "Lets find a good coffee shop." "I've got that part of the night sorted, " Jess replied. "Coffee and massages at my place." Amy looked more than a little perplexed. "Don't worry," I said. "Jess is a masseuse. A good one." I'm not entirely sure Amy wasn't secretly wishing Les was the one with the talented hands. ************************* Over coffee at Jess's, the girls finally started to hit it off. Maybe it was the security Jess felt being at home- in her own territory- or maybe it was the fact that Les's attempts to impress Amy had become almost comical as the drink took hold. Jess had obviously seen this before. "It's time you disappeared to the shed and spent some time with your fishing boat," Jess admonished. She'll be missing you." Like an obedient puppy he did, and I surmised it was a scenario played out more than once or twice before. With Les out of the way, Jess led Amy and me to the massage room. "Who's first?" Jess demanded. . "Ladies first," I proposed. "No- you go," offered Amy. "You've done this before." That was true. On a previous visit here, Jess had told me to strip down to my jeans, or jocks if I was comfortable with that, and had left the room until I was undressed and under the sheet. The thing I remembered most about that occasion was the way she placed herself really close, her slow controlled breaths caressing my skin. For a while, her fingers had slid under my jocks, working the soft tissue on my butt. Eventually she had rolled the jocks down a little. This time I wore none. I peeled off my shirt in front of the two women. I wasn't in bad shape for someone my age - 47 - though I 'd been better. In my mind, I had run this next bit over and over. My dick is not overly large, just seven inches, but it has this habit of still hanging down when semi-hard at a bit over five. That's the condition it was in now. Given I'm a little skinny fellow, a slack five seems even bigger. So it was not a difficult decision to peel off my jeans while in that state. To their credit, both women played it cool. "Not worrying about the jocks this time?" Jess commented. "Now I can give that fat butt of yours a decent going over!" I climbed onto the table. "Amy, what do you want to do?" Jess asked. "This will take half an hour or so." "I'll stay and see what I'm in for," Amy replied, then instantly realised her comment could have been taken differently. "Ooops! I mean see what the massage is like." "Yeah sure," Jess said, "We know what you really meant. Anyway, Charlie was so quick off the mark, I've still got to slip out for a moment and change." I lay on the table and felt Amy's eyes burning through the sheet. "Having a good time?" I asked her. "I am! You are full of surprises." "You mean no jocks?" "You know what I mean!" "Glad you approve. Wait 'til it's your turn. I'm looking forward to seeing Jess's face when you drop that dress." "Who says you are invited to stay around?" ************************** During my massage, Amy asked Jess a string of questions. "No, I don't do erotic massage, but occasionally girls ask me to help them get off," Jess explained. "Yes, so far I have restrained from providing the same service to men. No, Les never comes in. Not ever." No sooner had my massage ended, Jess was asking, "What are you going to do, Charlie, while it's Amy's turn?" "I'll leave you girls to it, and go and find Les." I swear I saw disappointment etched on Amy's face. "Please yourself," Amy interrupted, slipping the straps off her shoulders. She allowed the dress to fall to her waist, her breasts swaying. They were bigger than I had imagined, and sagged a little, both facts accentuated when she wiggled a little more than necessary to get the dress over her hips. The top of her bush came into full view- full and lush; the kind that would easily get out of hand. She had obviously recently shaved the bikini lines. Then the dress was on the floor, and she quickly climbed onto the table. She lay face down, her breasts squashed out to the sides. She pulled the sheet up to her waist and lay there, her face towards me. I left and headed for the shed. The lights inside were still on, though Les was nowhere to be found. I waited for a while, expecting him to return at any time. He didn't, so I wandered around the garden, where the sprinklers were noisily toiling away, soaking the orchids and palms with a refreshing mist. I found a garden bench, and settled there, until the mosquitoes found me and I retreated to the house. The sound of Les's snoring drifted from the main bedroom and I decided to return to the massage room. Jess was sitting on the lounge, quietly cleaning the oils from her hands. Amy lay on her side on the table, facing Jess. Before I could retreat, Amy spotted me, and smiled one of those contented smiles you see after sex. I bet she knew it was that kind too. ******************** On the walk back to the hotel, I could sense Amy and I had grown even closer. The scent of the aromatic oils cut the night air, adding to the atmosphere. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" she asked. "How do you mean?" "Getting married." "That's about the last question I'd expect tonight," I answered, hoping to divert her attention to the here and now. "Sorry," Amy whispered. "Did you have a good night?" I asked. "Mmmn. A few surprises- mostly pleasant." "I was hoping all of them were. Anyway thanks for wearing what you did," I added sincerely. "That's OK. I think when I get home, I'll tell my friends about you. How you can show a girl a good time. And I might even mention you have a nice dick!" "That would take some explaining if it got back to your fiance." "Oh yeah. I'd better skip that part." When we arrived at the hotel, the night club was in full swing. "Let's go," Amy called, grabbing my arm and dragging me before I had a chance to reply. "Cripes! Amy. Take it easy on me. I'm twice your age, don't forget." "You are not!" she argued. "Not quite. Come. I'll be happier if you are there. You know- to keep an eye out for me." "I wouldn't want to cramp your style." "You wouldn't be. I'm not about to play up." "You mightn't get much of a say in the matter, if you go dressed like that." "Hey, where's your sense of adventure all of a sudden? You of little faith!" "You are right," I conceded. "Look, you go ahead, and I'll catch up with you in a while." "Promise?" "Promise." ************************** By the time I caught up with Amy at the Club, she was by the bar, engaged in a conversation with a burly looking guy with a bald head. I could see by her glowing smile the alcohol was really starting to kick in. "Hey Charlie!" she called. "Over here." "This is Bill. He was just inviting me to join his group over at that table instead of drinking alone. I told him I was waiting for you." "No reason not to join them now," I managed to say. "I don't know," replied Amy. "Bill, is Charlie invited too?" "Of course he is!" Bill said, fairly convincingly. On the short walk over to his table, I noticed Bill put his hand on Amy's bare back, or maybe a little lower, to guide her. I also noticed she didn't flinch. That's when I had the fateful idea of livening things up for her. Any chance I could get. I figured the average age of the four guys fell just short of twenty. True to form, they were falling over each other to get Amy's attention. Which meant the same old lines were produced. "How come we haven't seen you here before?" the redheaded Bluey asked. "I'm not from around here," Amy explained. "Course she's not!" scolded Bill. "We would have spotted her long ago if she was." "So you are all from here then," I interrupted. "We heard that going commando is the norm up here!" "Sure is!" Bill confirmed with zest. "That and a lot of other traditions we're known for!" "Really?" teased Amy. "We didn't know about them." "Meaning?" "Meaning we couldn't do what we didn't know about." "I don't get it," one of them said. "Oh for Christ's sake!" I exclaimed. "Who is commando tonight?" Three of the guys put their hands up. So did Amy. I did too, not that anyone noticed. "Way to go, Amy!" the guys cheered. Then Bill asked, "But how do we know that it's true?" "You'll have to take my word for it," Amy said, forthrightly. "I don't think that's good enough." Up until then, the young dark bloke had barely spoken a word. His comment surprised us all, momentarily. Then Amy was on the front foot with him. "All right then. Who has got the biggest equipment?" "That'll be Gunner," three of them answered in unison. One of the three to answer was the young dark guy. I could see Amy's strategy at risk of falling apart. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Yep. Definitely Gunner," they replied. I have to say Gunner is not a handsome man. So I was taken back when Amy teased, "Well then, what am I doing here? I should be sitting next to him. Who knows, we might work out a way to prove these claims! With that she hopped to her feet, promptly causing a mini crisis as chairs were shuffled about, and Gunner tried to regain his composure. At Trinity Beach The night rolled on. As unlikely as it seemed - you would have to see Gunner to know what I mean - there were signs of movement under the table from Amy and Gunner. Sensing what Gunner might be up to, Bill finally had to ask, "Well, Gunner? Is it true?" "How would I know?" he countered. "You've been trying hard enough all night. C'mon, Amy, give him a break." All eyes stared at her expectantly. "Oh all right," Amy blushed. "If it will shut you all up. Gunner can feel up the outside of my leg. But that's all." I watched as his hand disappeared under the table. He leant towards her, then paused briefly. She moved ever so slightly in her chair. He leant further. They made eye contact. And kept it. No one spoke. A minute passed. Maybe less. Whatever it was, it's a long time to hold your breath. Finally, he straightened back up in his chair. "Well? Satisified?" the dark guy asked. "Very!" Gunner smirked. "There, I've done my bit," Amy challenged. "So how do we know that you aren't making false claims about -you know- the equipment?" "Trust us," they said. "It's true!" "I'll think about it," Amy teased. "But if I do decide to check him out, it'll mean nothing unless I compare it with the rest of you." The cockiness of youth strangely deserted them. "You wouldn't," Bluey eventually managed to say. "Would you?" ********************* A long time passed before I had a chance to catch up with Amy away from the guys. Actually, she caught up with me, throwing her arms around me from behind as I was wandering back from a trip to the gents. "Thanks for tonight!" she bubbled. "You seem to be happy, working those guy's minds over." "I am. Very!" "So did you and Gunner really sort out the evidence?" She grinned wickedly. "Mmmn! I didn't think I could go through with it, but you know what I'm like when there's a challenge on." "And did he behave?" "Of course not. The first thing he did was put his hand between my knees, and when I didn't react, he started to creep higher." "Is that when you stared him down?" I asked, even though I already knew what the answer would be. "Like I said, you know how competitive I can be." "And what about the other half of the deal. Are you going to check him out?" "Charlie!" "What?" "What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?" "And is he packing?" "Let's just say even if I wasn't getting married, he wouldn't be getting anywhere near me with that thing!" "That's what you are saying now, but what if the intrigue gets the better of you?" "It won't. I'm a good girl." "I'm not suggesting otherwise. But you are a smart girl too, who might see a final opportunity slipping by." "I don't even find him attractive." "Which means there would be no long term threat, unless you want more of the same." "Jeez, Charlie, it almost sounds like you want me to get laid!" "I'm just acknowledging that these thoughts might be bouncing around in your head- in case you aren't thinking too clearly later on. And in case his expectations are already different to yours." "Charlie, I've been in these situations before. And they never end differently to how I want them to. I'm sure Gunner knows no means no." I had to agree with her assessment of him. "You are right, of course," I told Amy. "I'm ready to pack it in. Do you want to finish up now too." "I'm thinking I'll stay on a bit longer. Are you OK with that?" "Sure. I'll see you in the morning." "Given up on me using that key to your room then, have you?" Amy taunted, before kissing me on the cheek. "Sweet dreams, buddy." ******************** Sweet dreams? Not a bloody chance. I lay awake battling feelings of jealousy I was not entitled to have. An hour passed; then half of the next. One more. By now the bed sheets were a crumpled mess, and I arose to strip them down and remake the bed. The sound of stifled laughter wafted in from the street. Opening the door, I wandered outside into a night lit only by the dull yellow glow of the courtesy lights along the front of the hotel. Then I heard footsteps approaching. Not wanting to be caught out wandering around, I ducked around the side of the car parked in front of the room the other side of hers. From there, I studied the two forms as they approached. Amy and Gunner. They stopped outside her door, and she began to rifle through her purse. The laughter from the street resumed, and I concluded the others were waiting for Gunner to see Amy home. Chivalry is alive and well in the deep north of Australia, I thought to myself. As Amy fumbled and giggled at her inability to find her keys, Gunner grabbed her around the waist from behind. "Heh you!" Amy scolded, without turning. "I knew it was a bad idea letting you walk me to the door." "Are you sure it's a bad idea?" he probed, showing no signs of releasing her. "Look! I've had a great night. An enlightening one. But I fear for how I'm going to feel in the morning if I let you in." "Who said anything about wanting to go inside. Out here is just fine. Especially if we stay like this." As he spoke he pushed closer up against her, still from behind. I could see the bulge in his pants flatten against her butt. His left hand - that's the side of him I could see clearly- disappeared inside the top of her dress, searching for those magnificent breasts. "Gunner! Someone might see us. Or hear uu....." Amy cried, before her words were cut short by his right hand closing over her mouth. "Sssh then, angel!" he whispered into her ear. I could just make out what he was saying and decided to get closer. The large potted plant in front of the car looked the ideal place, and I began to crawl towards it. Half way there, I remembered the other guys in the street. And froze. Hell! They might see me moving. I somehow slunk lower, my heart pounding, and inched my way forward, praying no one could hear the scuffing sound as I slid along the concrete floor. Somehow I made it. After a few deep breaths, I dared to crawl up to my knees to peer through the bush. They could have been frozen in time. Amy remained facing the door, her eyes closed, with Gunner behind her. His hands hadn't shifted either- the left inside the top of her dress, the right at her mouth except ....except now I could see his fat finger tracing her lips, extending, probing, and being accepted into her sweet pursed mouth. The door rattled. On any other occasion it would have been an innocuous sound, but I was able to catch a glimpse of the cause - Gunner slowly grinding his hard-on against Amy- before they were startled into complete stillness. 'Here's Amy's chance to conclude it,' I thought. I doubt that thought had time to cross her mind before he took over, shuffling them to the solid wall beside the door. A sigh escaped Amy's lips. Again he offered his hand to her mouth and again she accepted it. I could just make out Gunner sliding his left hand downward from her breasts, straight past her navel; lower, lower, stopping when the contact caused Amy to gasp aloud. "You are killing me, angel!" Gunner whispered into her ear. Amy turned sideways. Her hand appeared behind his head, drawing it to her in a tantalisingly slow motion; inviting his lips to join hers in a feather-touch kiss that lingered and lingered while his hand continue to probe. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, she clamped her mouth over his as a violent shudder coursed through her body. "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she groaned as the orgasm took over her senses. Gunner wrapped her in his arms, as if soothing a grieving soul, allowing her to bury her head against his neck. A long silence followed. Then she giggled timidly. "Well, I don't need you anymore. You can go now!" For a moment, Gunner appeared taken back. "What about my turn?" he asked, a little too loudly. The sound carried deep into the night. From the road, one of the others- Bluey I think- called out. "What's going on, Gunner? Are you coming or not?" "Go, Gunner!" Amy urged. "Go with your mates before it's too late." Gunner dismissed her suggestion. "It's already too late," he responded, reaching out for her hand and guiding it to the bulge in his jeans. "You again!" Amy muttered, more in exasperation than anything else- or so it seemed. Except she now began to carefully unzip his fly. I watched in surprise as her hand reached inside his jeans to release his straining cock. "Mmmmn! Aren't you all wet?" she commented, and began to jack him with long two-handed strokes. "This thing is leaking so much down here, it's too slippery to hold." "All the better to fuck you with!" Gunner replied authoritatively. "I can't." "Of course you can. All you have to do is open that door." "No! I really can't. I shouldn't." "Your pussy doesn't agree with you. Nor your tits! God! They're rock hard. Show me them. Please I want to see them; to feel them." "No. Let me jerk you off." "I want to fuck you. All night. And you want it too." "Gunner! Stop it. Please. Just come. Now. Just let me jerk you off." "Let's go inside." "No!" Amy bleated, the pace of her hands on his cock getting faster and faster. "Come for me. Please. Stop fighting it." "And you. You know you want to do more. Have your final fling. You are so close..!" "I mustn't. I'll suck you off," she urged, dropping to her knees. "It's not about me," he barked, grabbing her long dark hair roughly, and pulling her back to her feet. "So stop fucking about." Again a voice called from the street. "Gunner! We are coming down." "What's it to be, Amy? Are we heading inside, or do you want them to find us here?" The footsteps began to approach. I slunk further into the darkness, begging Amy to answer him before they spotted me. "Amy! What's it to be?" "I....I......" "Times nearly up, Amy." "Somewhere else. Not where Charlie's can hear us." "Somewhere else? What for? More of this crap?" "No." "What then?" Before she could answer, a voice called from near the back of the parked car that was keeping me out of view - temporarily. "We are going to walk home." "Wait up," Gunner ordered. "I'm ready." "What have you done with Amy? Is she coming too?" "It's her last night of freedom. Of course she is." *************************** I followed them for two blocks to a sprawling high-set Queenslander, the kind that often got converted in the seventies into accommodation for groups of single people. Now they are popular amongst retirees and yuppies devoted to renovating them to their former majesty. This place was straight from the seventies. The group remained downstairs, in a crude entertainment area near a small pool. It was a breeze to slither into the dense garden behind the timber security fence designed to keep misbehaving kids out of the pool, and misbehaving adults out of view. If anything sexual was brewing in the air, one would have been hard pressed to see the signs. Maybe it's the mateship of Aussie blokes. The conversations and antics went ahead as if Amy wasn't there, or was just one of the boys. "Anyone for a dip?" Bill asked. Before anyone could answer, he was out of his clothes, and leaping ingloriously into the cool water. Bluey followed suit. The dark guy shook his head, as if to disturb an alcoholic haze, and stayed put. "What about you, Gunner? Amy?" Bluey called. "I'm going to check this place out,'' Amy replied, with a sweep of her arm in the direction of the steep staircase. Gunner followed her to the bottom of the stairs. "You go first," he offered. She did, her dress hitched up to make the ascent easier. Halfway up, she stopped, turned and gave him a 'why aren't you following?' look. He responded by turning his head to the side, making out he was trying to peek under her dress, and gestured for her to continue. I watched Amy smile a smile I hadn't seen before, and glance towards the guys in the pool, before lifting her dress some more, and taking another couple of steps. Again he didn't move, and again she smiled, lifting the dress higher, over her butt this time, before an exaggerated swagger carried her to the top of the stairs. She turned to face him, her dark bush momentarily visible before she allowed the dress to drop back into position. 'Game over,' I thought. Defiantly, Amy looked down at him. Gunner raised his hands, palms up, signaling 'what next?' Amy pointed her finger directly at him, and with it hooked, beckoned him to join her. She slid away into the darkness even as he was starting to move. Game on, after all. *********************** Somehow I managed to get around to the other side of the house without being seen. I climbed the second set of steps and crept along the verandah, peering into the rooms; listening for clues as to where they might be. A faint light flickered in the room to my right and I made my way there. Amy was standing beside a pedestal lamp, just within reach of its dull light. I heard, rather than saw, Gunner open the heavy French door into the room. I waited until it closed, and sneaked up to it, peering through a small gap in the drapes that fortunately gave me a full view of the room. Gunner walked across my line of sight, and towards her. She put her fingers to her lips, signalling him to be silent, and stood there, unmoving, hands by her side. Eyes closed. A sacrifice. Gunner closed in on her. She didn't falter. He moved to her side, then to her back, circling her, like a hunter does the prey. Still Amy didn't flinch. Ever so lightly, he put his hands on her shoulders and flicked the tiny straps of her dress. It tried to fall, but didn't. He tugged at the hem and the dress slipped down, revealing her heaving breasts. She smiled a nervous smile. He eased away from her. As if mesmerised, her head turned and followed the movement. Her eyes remained closed. Then he was back, to squat in front of her, his hands starting at her waist and running down her legs, taking the gathered dress with them. Gently, he lifted her feet; first one, then the other, and came up with the dress in his hand. It looked so small. He folded it lengthwise, and again, and once more until it was little more than a strip which he held by each end. He drew his hands together, then snapped them apart, the cloth making a loud crack that startled Amy. She shuddered, clenched her fists by her side, but defied any urge to open her eyes. He smirked at her show of fortitude. Next he draped the strip of cloth over her shoulder while he walked around behind her, before picking it up again and placing it over her eyes like a blindfold. He paused for the moment she needed to nod her agreement, then tied it off at the back. I couldn't take my eyes off her; naked except for the engagement ring and the choker. And the dress- that dress- now a bizarre blindfold that symbolised the extent to which she had forfeited herself to him. Gunner unbuttoned his shirt and placed it over the lamp, dulling the light even further. Next the jeans came off, revealing his fat cock jutting straight out. He bent over and placed his jeans on her feet. The symbolism, if any, was lost on me. Then he walked away from her and sat on the sofa. Carefully, Amy moved towards the centre of the room. She tripped against a large rug, and stopped, as if to explore her recollection of the layout of the room, before turning to her left, where her hands bumped into the back of the sofa. She slid them along its length, and into the short stubble on Gunner's head. She ran her fingers over his face, tracing his features, before leaning over him, and cupping his cheeks with her hands in a display of gentle affection that seemed out of place with the words that followed. "I'm going to fuck you now." They say you can't even imagine what certain situations are like. I know this much: if I had any heart problems, I would have died then and there. And I was only the spectator. To Gunner's credit, he seemed calm enough, slouched in the sofa, gently stroking a massive erection that could have stood vertically without any assistance. The head of it looked like a small purple fist and I had this weird thought: 'Why shouldn't Amy get a piece of that, while she can?' She made her way to the end of the couch and around it, feeling along the front until she reached Gunner's legs. They must have been too far apart for what she had in mind, because she pulled them together, before running her hands along them, upwards, until they found his hard cock. Deliberately, she measured him off - starting at the base and climbing- one hand, then the other, the bottom hand on top again, and still the head protruded. She sighed, and climbed on to the sofa, her knees planted either side of him. Gunner reached out and grabbed her waist. Amy disapproved and grabbed his wrists, placing them against the top of the sofa and holding them there. Expertly she slid her pussy forward along the length of his cock, and beyond; smearing its underside with her juices. Then his cock reappeared, trapped against her beautiful arse and she slid back, bending it way over, threatening to crush his balls; soaking its topside this time. Gunner groaned when his cock finally sprung free; slapping first his stomach, then hers. Impossibly, it appeared to have grown even bigger. Amy repeated the treatment; sliding forward and back, forward and back, until his cock glistered with their combined juices. She paused briefly, before raising her hips a little, allowing his cock to stand taller, before she slid forward once more - an excruciatingly slow journey- the twin touches of her protruding lips lightly caressing the length of his shaft. They seemed to clasp his cock-head and hold it in place for what she had promised the last time she spoke. Then she descended; carefully, uncertainty evident as she squirmed and stopped, adjusted, resumed, gasped, and leaned way back until there was no more of him to accept. "Told you I would," she uttered. ******************** I have a beautiful image of illicit bliss - of that moment between Amy and Gunner- forever in my head. I should have left my vantage point then, for I can rationalise what happened up to that point. Not my own actions; rather the fact that Amy - soon to be married and irrefutably everyone's good girl - could consummate a fling with a particularly ugly, though well endowed man whose real name she probably didn't and wouldn't ever know. What happened next was downright dirty: hard, noisy, sweaty, physical fucking as though Amy was exorcising a remaining lifetime's quota of urges and desires. She rode him furiously; selfishly; contemptuously until he could stand no more and cried out so. She lifted off him and his reddened slimy cock took on a life of its own; twitching and jerking, spewing a rope of hot semen against her pussy. Ingloriously she squatted, her gaping hole consuming very inch of him in a single, urgent greedy move as if to ensure his second spurt and those that followed were delivered deeper inside her than any man had done before. I don't think she came. I don't think that mattered to her, for an orgasm was not something unique to this night. After all, orgasms as a dutiful and happy wife were ahead. With Gunner spent, and Amy slipping the dress back on even while his waning cock was still in her, I had no need or desire to risk getting caught by staying around any longer.. ********************** The first hint that the sun was about to rise was accompanied by the soft hiss of the shower in Amy's room. I don't know if it was the changing light, or the sound of the running water that woke me. I can't even be certain I had been asleep. The way I felt suggested I hadn't been. I rolled over, pulled a pillow over my head, and hoped like hell I could doze for a while. At Trinity Beach I couldn't, so listened instead to the waking world: the occasional bird call, a toilet flushing, the rhythmic beat of a jogger pounding along the street, and the rattle of a key in the door between Amy's room and mine. The door creaked open, and clunked shut. I ignored both sounds. Then the bed lurched as Amy slid in beside me, her still-wet hair wet hair brushing my neck. She threw an arm over me and snuggled in close to my naked back. I lay there wishing the satin pajamas I could feel against me didn't exist. "Hey! Charlie," she murmured. "Can I have a cuddle?" "I've kept one spare, just for you," I responded. Amy twisted and turned, and somehow got even closer. "I don't feel so good," she croaked. We lay like that, entwined, for a long time. "I think I need to throw up!" she groaned, before crawling out of bed and stumbling across the room to the ensuite. I listened to her retching and felt no sympathy. The bathroom sounds of earlier were repeated- toilet flushing, water running - before she was back in my bed. I managed to decipher the words 'thanks for the use of your toothbrush,' from amongst the moans and groans as she scrambled to get comfortable. "You really don't seem up to a day at the nursery?" I commented. "I've felt better," she agreed. "Big night, huh?" "Too big. At least I won't be doing that again." "I can go on my own," I offered. "I'll try to book a room for the rest of the day where you can sleep it off." "You'd do that for me, after last night?" "Why wouldn't I?" "There are some things you don't know about, that might change your mind." "Oh really. Well you had better not tell me then," I challenged. Amy went quiet for while, before asking, "What if I need to talk about them? You know, like you said on the way up here." "Well, if I'm any kind of buddy. I would listen." In the pause that followed, I made a mental note of where everything was. I lay on my back, my nakedness covered by a sheet pulled to my waist. Amy's hand was under there too, her fingers fidgeting with the strip of sparse hair just below my navel. I doubt she knew she was doing it. "I ended up sleeping with Gunner last night," Amy began nervously. I said nothing. "Say something, Charlie." "I'm here to listen." "God, Charlie, I hate you sometimes. Are you trying to make me say it again? Well all right. I slept with Gunner. And even though I'm not going to do anything like that again, I don't know if I'll get over it." "Oh come on, Amy. You know it will be all right. Just because he's got a horse dick...." "It's not that, Charlie," she interrupted. "Anyway, what is it with you men, and your obsession with size? Not that you have got anything to worry about! I could have a perfectly good time with this." Her hand slid down and grabbed my cock. "I suppose I haven't had any complaints," I replied, rather pathetically. "Not even from Jess?" she probed. "I'm not telling, with her being a buddy and all," I responded. Amy wasn't relenting. "Tell me this, then. Do buddies do it? Or is that against one of your rules?" For the first time on the trip, I sensed I was in with a chance, if I got my words right. That wasn't going to be a problem. I had rehearsed for this scene may times before. "Buddies have been know to spend some time joined at the hip," I explained. "Not moving, mind you, just joined. I've had some sweet times like that. It's not sex until someone decides to move." "I couldn't do that - not with you. We have to work together," Amy reasoned. "Anyway, what would be gained from it?" All of a sudden, my confidence had gone out of the window. I had to get this thing back on track, which meant getting her back thinking about the fucking she was party to the night before. "Not that much to gain, I suppose. Unless...." "Unless what, Charlie?" Amy seemed keen to know what I was thinking.. "Well, you know what they say about horses. If one throws you, get right back on another one." "Yeah, well I don't think it worked," Amy replied. She realised a moment too late what she had disclosed. ************************ We both went to the nursery after all. Somewhere between the Grevilleas and the ground covers, we almost collided with Bill chatting to some clients. "Get me out of here, Charlie," Amy pleaded. I did- into the car and down the highway towards home. Conversation dried up. I was too busy wondering if I wanted to know what else happened, and I guess Amy was trying to get her emotions sorted out before arriving home to her fiancé. Not far out of our home town, Amy sought reassurance that what happened up there would remain our secret. "I really need to hear you say that, Charlie," she begged. "I'll say it this once, Amy," I conceded, and did. Then I added, "From now on, it goes without saying what happens between buddies stays that way." Amy's expressions didn't suggest she was overcome with relief. So I may be making too much of her parting words: 'I think I'll need to talk with a buddy soon about what else happened up there.' I hope not. Making too much of her parting words, that is.