6 comments/ 60645 views/ 16 favorites Poppet By: BettyFloored When I was 19-20, I worked as a production assistant for a TV show which I won't name. It was not a huge deal. It was steadily successful in a small way, and is still on today. It was a fun job. Most PA jobs are not. You run shitty errands and never get appreciated. Usually the boss treats you like shit. This job was different. People were friendly. They were all geeks and counter-culture people who blew off the norms of Hollywood bull-crap. Several of them were British, and certainly, the star of the show was. And because this was a small show, he was generally considered the boss because he was also producing by that time. I had a crush on him, as most of the women who worked there (and an alarming number of the men) did. He was quirky, tall, handsome, and his accent was charming. He was smart, and funny. He treated us all remarkably well. We all hung out together often. That's unusual for a crew really. You see the cast and crew of TV shows constantly say in interviews that they are all great friends, but in reality, they usually don't get along that well off camera. The fact is, you put high profile people with artistic temperaments together for fourteen hour days and no, they don't want to go to dinner after work. Or ever. In our case, the show was done fairly quickly each evening, and we had time. So we often had sushi at a place down the street from the studio, and that evolved to hanging out at someone's house. Since the boss made the most money and had the nicest house (by far) it was often his place that became the hang out of choice. In the interest of privacy, I am going to call my former boss Ethan, though that is not even close to his real name. I just like that name. It works for this. Ethan, having been successful for quite a few years both in the UK and here in the states, had a very nice place. Nicer than the bohemian one bedroom apartments we all lived in. House in the hills, an old Hollywood bungalow from the silent film era. Swimming pool in the back. By Hollywood standards, it was modest, but he wasn't the type to have a useless waste of space even if he could afford it. I liked him for that. Our little bohemian group got pretty close. Most of the older people that worked on the show began to politely leave out little group when the flirting began, as it inevitably did, among the younger of us, and Ethan, who was in his forties. They had no problem with it, but they didn't want to be involved in case drama broke out. Understandable. That left about nine of us, including Ethan. The regulars, we called ourselves. I will change all the names, of course, but there was Nina, who was the prettiest of the girls. A half asian, half black girl of 25 with legs up to her neck. Andrew, who we just called "Drew" who was hilarious and cute, and gay. His boyfriend Danny, who was Irish. There were Melissa and Kate, who were quiet but in their off time that was not with us, they went to fetish clubs. They sometimes showed us custom made whips and floggers they made and sold at "scene" clubs. There was Mike, who was gorgeous, I mean, really gorgeous, and his girlfriend Kelly, who was not, and they were madly in love. And there was me. I'm five feet tall, maybe five foot one if I really stand up perfectly straight. I'm cute. Very cute. I have that sweet, large eyed face that gets taller women into movie roles. I'm not a ten, but I am easily an eight. Back then, my hair was longer. It is dark chestnut brown and curly, hanging halfway down my back. I have huge blue eyes. That's the kicker. That's what makes people tell me "you should be a model" before they realize my lack of height and then say "but you're pretty." But the thing that can stop traffic is my tits. I don't have 'breasts' or 'lovely pillows' or any nonsense like that. I have luscious, big, round, bouncy tits. At 20, though my tits are big, I did not need a bra. They sat up high on my chest, the nipples eternally perky and poking at whatever top I wore. My typical daily uniform was usually some combination of thrift store skirt (often in plaid), a tight tee shirt or tank top, and over the knee striped stockings which was sort of my trademark. With Chuck Taylors and my black framed glasses, a little dyed pink streak in my hair, I had a 'look' to me, I was told. But people usually just looked at my tits. My tits are a 10. At our gatherings, it was run of the mill for people to make out on the couch, or by the pool. More than once, I saw Mike and Kelly fuck in the pool when they thought no one was looking. Our attitude toward sex was liberal. One day when Melissa mentioned that she was thinking about getting breast implants, she lifted up her top and tucked down her bra. Melissa was small breasted, a small B cup maybe, but they were nice enough. She showed us and asked for honest opinions. We gave them, and none of us thought she should mutilate herself with implants. It was Ethan who tugged her by the belt of her jeans and sat her on his lap, her blouse still up, breasts revealed. He gave a nod, as if to ask "May I?" (ever polite, he was) and when she shrugged, he cupped a breast in hand. She gave a little surprised gasp, and then licked her lips. He had her on his lap for about ten minutes, playing with her tits, lightly pinching the nipples, bending to suck one into his mouth. We were all watching. No one was shocked really, not in a bad way. Surprised a bit, maybe. And turned on. I closed my legs tighter, feeling my pussy getting wet. He gave her a little smack on the ass as he stood her back up and tugged her shirt down, then a kiss on the cheek. Pure gentleman. "When you get those awful implants, you lose sensation in your breasts. If you liked that then why would you want to damage feeling that again, just to appease some fuckheads who think women are supposed to look like Barbie dolls?" See, that's why I liked him. "Well, I'd love to have ones that look like... like hers!" Melissa pointed at me. Feeling bold, I stood up and gave a "who, me?" look. Everyone giggled. I was known for my tits. 'Tits that make you want to bite them, they look so good.' Mike had said. This gathering was a week before my 20th birthday, and Ethan said, "Yes, you, poppet." Ethan sometimes called me that. Poppet. Totally inappropriate for work, I know, but I loved it. He patted his knee. "Let's have a look at you, yes?" Our little gang giggled and poured more wine as they watched me not only sit on his lap, but climb on and straddle him so that we were face to face, my legs wide apart over his lap. I smiled at him, daring him. I was a little drunk, but so was he. Still, we knew exactly what we were doing. That day I was wearing a short denim skirt, my usual striped socks up over my knees, and a little thrift store silk top that had tiny buttons. I even had my hair in pigtail french braids. No kidding. A walking hard on. He took my glasses off and set them down on the table next to us, and he smiled at me. The nod again, just to make sure, 'May I?' I responded to the silent request by giving him a kiss. His hands went to work on the tiny buttons, having trouble with the tiny pearl things. His hands were huge. He is a tall man, a very tall man, and his hand can cover my entire face. He finally just pulled the fabric apart, not ripping it but just separating the sides. No bra that day. Just bare tits, nipples rock hard. I was so turned on. He took a moment to admire them, and that I was not used to. I was not a virgin, but I had only had two previous boyfriends and both would just dive right in. There had been a couple of one night stands that were no different. They were my age. College boys who got excited. No finesse. No technique. This was different, aside from the fact that my best friends were watching. But I glanced to the side and saw that Mike and Kelly were making out, further than we had gone. But no one was watching Mike and Kelly, not even Mike and Kelly. They were watching us. Ethan cupped my tits in his hands, gently squeezed, caressed, pinched a little. When he pinched my nipple lightly, I arched my back and gasped. He smiled at that, and he said out loud, "You like the rougher stuff, then." It was half question, but it didn't need to be answered, because he could probably feel me getting wetter through my panties, onto his jeans. That's all it took, his accent, his huge hands, his sly look, and I would have unfastened his jeans, stuffed myself onto his cock and rode him shamelessly right then and there, but he was taking it slow. No hurry with him. Older men, I love them. By this point, my frat boy boyfriends would have already fucked me and finished. But not Ethan. Ethan was testing me. Looking at my face to figure out what I liked. A pinch, a flick of a fingernail over a nipple, a lick, sucking, biting. Feeling the need to participate, to return the favor, I reached for his cock, still under his pants, but he brushed my hands away. "Patience Grasshopper," he said, giving me a wink. "clasp your hands behind your back." I did so, but sloppily. A few more seconds and I was reaching for his cock, his shoulder, his anything. "Melissa," he said, almost sing-song. "will you please hold this bad little girl's hands behind her back for me?" More giggles, good natured, from the group. The sound of Melissa getting up and walking behind me. I felt her hands on mine, gathering my wrists and holding them there. With one hand she gathered my braids together and made a joke about 'handlebars.' I laughed and stopped immediately when I felt his mouth gather up my nipple, really as much of my breast as he could fit in his mouth, and begin to suck while flickering his tongue over the tip. I felt... fucking amazing. This was not tit-sucking 101 which was what I was used to. This was the work of an advanced player. He wasn't just sucking my tits, he was tugging, pulling at the peaks, gathering my tits with his hands, up and under if that makes sense. He scraped a fingernail over them, then stuck two of his fingertips in my mouth for me to suck on before returning to my tits and using the wet to slick one nipple as he sucked the other. I was grinding on him, shamelessly really. I was trying to make my pussy rub against his thigh, to get some kind of relief because I was aching for a cock. I heard whispers from the group but I could not make out the words. I heard Nina say I was beautiful. That made me blush. All this and I was blushing from a simple compliment. I heard Kate, one of the kinksters, say, "I've got my bag with me in the car. I can bring it in." Everyone knew what was in Kate's bag. The whips, paddles, floggers and other toys she made. She was a master leatherworker. "I don't wanna scare the little kitten." Ethan purred. Then he added, "Yet." When he called me Poppet, and Kitten it made me wetter. That never failed to get my panties wet, and now, with him biting and sucking at me, I was dripping, slowly fucking an invisible cock on his thigh. Somewhere in the back of my head, I was vaguely aware that this could cause some kind of rift in my friend circle, my trusted little crew. But no, they were fine. Sipping wine, half of them snuggled together anyway, and Mike and Kelly practically dry humping on the couch. I worried most about the gay boys, Drew and Danny, and suddenly, I said so. "Are you guys ok with this?" I asked in general, meaning the whole group, but really meaning two of them. I saw Ethan smile at that, and he mumbled something about 'cute'. There were totally laid back replies. Of course. And from Danny with his Irish accent, "We've seen pussy, sweetheart." Giggles from me, and the group. But when I giggled, Ethan said, grinning, "Good, because she's gonna get fucked." He took my braids in his hand. "Aren't you, Poppet?" It was like another person, much more whorish, replied from inside my body, "Oh God, yes, please." Me, already begging. That cracked everyone up, and I heard them make a toast, clinking wine glasses together. I heard Drew mock playfully, in a Dickensian orphan voice, "Please sir, can I have some more?" I picked up my blouse and tossed it at him, then was distracted again, by Ethan's hands moving over me, patiently exploring. My arms, even my wrists behind my back, stopping to trace circles on the pulse points. My stomach, flat and yet still soft. Hips, thighs, outside and in, and what felt ridiculously good was his stroking the backs of my knees. I sat up more to give him better access. He peeled down the socks and scraped that fingernail over the soft skin on the backs of my knees. I was really grinding like crazy. I told him, "You can fuck me now, I mean, I'm plenty wet." He grinned at that. At almost 20, I had never had a man take his time. I had got it into my head somehow that once I was wet, that was it, fuck me and be done with it. I had the idea that men, in general, wanted that, nothing more. "I'm in no hurry, Poppet. Be still." But I couldn't. I moved my hips again. He surprised me by giving me two little slaps on my face, my left cheek. Not hard, barely slaps really, but it turned me on so much I almost came immediately. "She likes that." I heard Melissa say. Melissa, who tied people up and down in the bedroom. He gripped my face in his hand, by my chin, roughly and held it there, tilting my head up. He was almost holding my throat. This was a test, clearly, to see if I might like him holding my throat, without scaring me. I did. My moans proved that. Now I was pinned. Melissa still kneeling behind me and gripping my wrists. Ethan holding my face. He released me a moment, brought me in for a kiss, soft and sweet this time. He brushed a stray curl away from my forehead and whispered, "You alright, luv?" I nodded and kissed him like I was starved. And I was. I had never come. Never. And I was so close now and he hadn't even touched my pussy. I had never been this turned on. My former lovers had not been skilled. I had not really minded, maybe because I didn't know any better. He pushed my kiss away by taking a hold of my throat. His large hands splayed around my neck, and simply held me there. It was not tight- he was careful, but it was thrilling. He rubbed his thumb over my pulse and I was arching my back, desperate for any contact. Touch my tits, my pussy, anything! Please! But he let me writhe that way for a while, and just watched me, which was weirdly even more of a turn on. I heard someone get up from one of the chairs and heels clicking in the hallway. Ethan slipped a hand between my legs and slid two fingers along my slit, over the drenched cotton of my panties, gathering up moisture. Pinned there by my neck, he teased me, gathering up the panel of my panties and pinching it into a thin strip like a rope between my legs. He tugged it up, then back and forth, teasing my clit with it. The fabric slid through my pussy lips and sopped up some of the wet. He snapped the elastic back onto my skin with a popping sound, and then pushed the panel to the side and copied the action with his long fingers. "You know, she hasn't come before, Ethan." Nina said. I had confided this to her a few weeks before. Ethan raised an eyebrow at me and then that sly, slightly crooked smile. "Well, in that case..." He took his hand from between my legs, now wet with my juices, and he gave me another slap, this one a little harder. "We're gonna play a game, my little wet kitten." he teased. "You're not gonna get to come until I give you permission. You can beg for it, if you beg sweetly." I protested, but I was half laughing, saying "that's mean!" But I nodded. Kate looked pleased. I added, still pinned by my throat, "What if I come without permission?" "Spankings, Poppet, spankings." "I think she wins either way." Melissa noted, to more giggles from the group. Game on, I thought. "Can I have spankings anyway?" I asked in my best British saucy tart voice. "Umph." He grunted and told Kate to go and grab that bag in the car after all. She sprinted up and out the door, much to the giggles of the now pleasantly drunk group. Drew came back and handed a condom to Ethan, met with a "thanks, mate." Ethan coxed me up off of the chair, still holding me by my neck. I struggled to find my steps without looking down. By my throat, he walked me to the coffee table, a polished oak thing that was big enough for two of me. He guided me to lay on my back on the table. Now I was in the center of the room, where I had an audience with a clear view. My heart raced. I felt fingers stroke my face and neck, tentatively, as if asking if this was ok. When I did not protest, the touches grew more confident. My friends were stroking my breasts, exploring me. Even Drew and Danny took turns at my breasts. I giggled, and said, "I thought gay guys didn't like boobs!" "Honey, EVERYBODY likes boobs." Drew gave me a grin. They were not interested beyond that, but they did watch. My skirt was being pulled down my legs, as well as my panties. My shoes, off, but my stockings stayed on. Kate returned with the bag which she was rifling through, and Ethan knelt at the end of the table, opening my legs wide. Hands gripped my ankles and knees, holding my legs open. Whose hands, I have no idea. I was gone. In my own space. Delirious, delicious space. No one had done this to me before. The past boyfriends thought it damaged their masculinity. My couple of one night stands showed no interest and I did not ask. I closed my eyes and felt him open my lips, his tongue flickering over the wet, pink flesh. The neat little thatch of hair I had there, he gripped and tugged at, the feeling surprisingly pleasant. Kate and Melissa bent to suck at my nipples, the sudden sensation shocking me. I felt Nina tracing her long nails over the backs of my legs. I writhed a little on the table, and Ethan pushed up with his fingers, gathering the tight, hidden flesh with his fingers and pulling a little on it. At least, that's what it felt like- like he had pushed down, gathered my clit and sort of push-pulled back up again. It brought my clit up and out more, and made it ache with sensitivity. This man did not fuck frat boy style. He held it that way, and I was ramrod still, feeling him softly lick at it, then increase the pressure and suck. He had a rhythm, alternating his licks and this soft sucking with little taps of his fingertip against the little nub, each time making me almost lose it. The sensation made me instinctually try to close my legs, to clamp down on his face, but hands held me tight. And again, "Steady, Poppet... no one said you can come yet." And fuck, that really sent me flying. I wanted to come. Needed to come. I didn't know what coming felt like, but I knew it was going to be fan-fucking-tastic. "Please, can I come?" I asked, breathless. "Not yet. Hold still." He reached out to get something from Kate, who handed him a leather riding crop, which made me moan at the sight of it. I heard Melissa cheer. Ethan held me by my pussy now, my clit and fleshy lips clamped in his fingers. With his free hand, he took the crop and aimed the little leather tab at the end to my swollen clit, and tapped it a few times. He built up a pressure, tapped harder, and kept tapping, until the tapping was a gentle whipping. I was losing what little control I had. A delicious heat welled up where he was snapping the leather against my slit, and my thighs began to spasm, then my inner lips. I made a noise from my throat that was not sexy at all, but sounded more like a dying horse, but I didn't care because my pussy was spasming and I could not control myself. But I clenched, trying to control it. Failing. "Oh, please, can I come? Oh God, please let me come!" "Come for me, Poppet." And fuck yes, I did. I had a nuclear fucking meltdown of an orgasm. A first orgasm, and it was spectacular. My head spun. I bucked against his hand and he held tight, smacking my clit with that devil riding crop. Poppet "That' a girl..." He said. "Let it all out. Goooood girl!" The explosion dimmed and he released me, now sweaty and out of breath. "C'mon, little Poppet, up now. You're getting spankings. You came before you asked." Yeah, I kinda did. I stumbled up on my feet and my friends assisted me, taking me to the arm of the sofa and bending me over it so that my feet hung a couple of inches off the floor. At barely five feet, I was just hanging there. Someone tucked my butt higher in the air. "Ten swats." Ethan warned me. "Count backwards." But I couldn't think. Swap! "One!" I said. Swap! "Two!" Swap! "Ah! Three!" Swap! "Four... alligator..." More giggles. I got to seven before Danny said, "Ethan, she's counting forwards." "Yes, good point. Useful homosexual." Giggles. "I can't think when I'm hard." "Are you hard?" Kate asked, teasing. "Can't see under all the clothes." "I could spin plates on it." I giggled, loud, and he swatted me with the crop, then told me to do it over, backwards this time. My ass was on fire, but I did it. Ten, nine, eight, seven... pussy dripping. When he was done, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, shirking out of it, and unfastened his jeans, pulling out an impressively large cock. In case you're wondering, it was eight and a half inches long, and I know because weeks later, I measured it. This was the biggest cock I had been with, by far. I waited there, bent over, and saw Nina kneeling down to suck Ethan's cock. Melissa pushed two of her fingers into my pussy, and declared, "She's fucking virgin tight, Ethan. You might kill her." An exaggeration, but yeah, it was gonna hurt. I'm little, body, and pussy. "Work her out a little." Ethan told Kate. Just hearing them talk this way, casually, like it was nothing, got me crazy excited again. Kate finger fucked me, adding more fingers and stretching me enough to better accommodate his size. When she was done, she held her sopping wet hand in front of my face and told me to lick it clean. To be honest, I was not exactly excited about licking up my own pussy juice. Some people might be, and I like that kind of thing now, but then, not so much. I did it anyway, and made a show of it. This was their fun too. Ethan's cock nudged my pussy, and slowly, he inched in. It was a little painful at first, but once he was all the way in, it was heavenly. I felt completely filled up. He began moving in me, slow at first, but when I bucked back onto his cock, he sped up, faster, and harder, until he was fucking me wildly. He only slowed down to reached under me and grip under my stomach to lift me up higher, so that the angle was different. And oh yes, it was a good angle. "Oh fuck, yes, he knows how to do it..." I said aloud, not really meaning to. Giggles again, but this time there was more tension. They were all turned on. And he was really fucking me hard now. So hard that the sofa was moving across the floor. And it hurt, but it felt wonderful. "See, with a little poppet, you can do THIS!" Ethan said, pulling me up from the sofa and wrapping my legs around him while he stood up. I am tiny. This was easy enough for him. He kept fucking me, his cock never outside of me. He just leaned back a little, braced himself on the wall with one shoulder, and bounced me on his cock. My arms wrapped around his neck, and I was coming, and laughing at the same time, an extraordinary feeling. It was an orgasm, my second one, and it was a different kind. Less of a violent explosion and more a rolling wave of pleasure. He fucked me for a while after that, putting me back on the floor, and he stood me up and bent me over. But he was so much taller than me, he reached under me and lifted me up, making me giggle again, and he let me brace myself on a bar counter before he fucked me like crazy again. He came with a sudden stillness, a couple of jerking motions, and a low groan. When it was done, he hugged me to him, sweetly, and whispered, "You're so sweet. Thank you, Poppet." I gave him a pecked kiss on the cheek quickly, then squeaked as I ran to the bathroom, sliding in my socks on the wooden floor on the way. I heard them all laugh. I had just been fucked, spanked on my clit and fondled by almost everyone in the group, and NOW I was shy! In the bathroom, I cleaned myself up with a very quick shower, and found his bathrobe hanging on the door hook. I put it on, having left my clothes in the front room. When I came back in, the whips and paddles were zipped up in the bag, the group looked much as they did on any other night, and Ethan was back in his clothes, though barefoot now, and his crop of dark hair, slightly salt and pepper at the sides, was now a mess. Kate handed me a glass of water with a sliced lemon in it. Normal. Someone was putting a Ramones CD in the stereo. Normal. Mike and Kelly had glasses of merlot, and raised them up, "THAT was the hottest thing I've ever seen." Kelly announced, breaking the silence. Nods all around, even Drew and Danny. "Thank you, Poppet, for letting us be part of that. It was a very generous gift." Kelly, eloquent, as usual. I smiled that she called me Poppet, as Ethan had. It was pretty much my name from that day forward. Ethan came forward and knelt in front of where I sat on the sofa, "And thank you, for obvious reasons." Everyone laughed, including me. "Ladies, Gents, discretion, please." Nods again, a chorus of 'of course.' It was amazing. There was no weirdness, no jealousy, no disapproval from anyone. We had other play sessions, I suppose you could call them that. That one was the first, and to me the most memorable. It never affected our friendship at all. I doubt many can say that if they did the same. Poppies I was returning home following a meeting with a prospective client. I am a freelance photographer and was feeling elated having secured the account, which was for the illustrations in his company's new catalogue. It was late July and very hot. The main road was very busy so I decided to use secondary roads and enjoy the fine weather. As the car climbed a slight hill and entered a long, sweeping bend, I noticed a splash of colour to my right. There was a grassy bank on my side, so I was able to pull off the road safely and walk back to investigate. One corner of a wheat field was ablaze with the red of poppies. At the very edge of the field was a steep bank, topped by a high wall which I presumed was the boundary of a large new house which had built on the top of what passes for a hill in this very flat part of England. The amateur photographer in me re-surfaced, I could never resist a good "chocolate box" shot. The land was no doubt private, but I would be doing no damage. I went back to the car for a camera and as I returned, I decided to seek permission from the house, just in case. There was no reply from the house and no sign of life, so I decided to risk trespassing. I had been clicking away for about half an hour, when I was startled by a very authoritative female voice. "What are you doing there?" I could not see the body which belonged to the voice, I imagine that there must have been some kind of spy-hole, through which I was being observed. I explained my presence and apologised for my trespass, adding that I had knocked at the house but received no reply. "Well, I suppose that it's alright." Very cut-glass. A head popped up above the fence, dark glasses and a wide brimmed hat denied any kind of recognition. "You look awfully hot, would you care for a cold drink?" I had not realised just how hot I was, my shirt was pasted to my body by sweat. I thanked her and accepted her offer. "There is a gate at the corner, she said, "give me two minutes." I found the gate, there was much clattering from inside and then the gate opened. "It's not often used. Hello, I'm Charlotte." She held out a tanned be-jewelled hand, I was not sure whether I should shake it or kiss it. I chose the former and introduced myself. Charlotte was tall, almost my height in her high heels. That was all the description I could muster, Apart from the hat and shades, she was covered, neck to ankles, by a white towelling robe. She led me across an immaculate lawn, past the edge of a large swimming pool to a terrace, behind which was the house. I was in the presence of real wealth, even back in those days, a pile like that would command seven figures. On the patio was a table with eight chairs and several of those poolside mattress things for sunbathing. Charlotte waved me to a chair, facing the house, back to the pool and in full sun. So much for cooling off. She sat opposite, I still could not see her face, dazzled as I was by the sun. I had the impression that I was being assessed. The offered drink was welcome though, I drank it quickly and gratefully accepted a refill. She sipped at hers. She said nothing, just watched me through the dark lenses. I began to sweat even more. I pulled out a handkerchief to mop my face. "You poor thing, she husked, "Would you like to swim?" I replied that I would love to, but pointed out that I had no costume. She studied me for several seconds the spoke again, this time softer and lower. "Then I shall avert my gaze." She did no such thing however, I knew that her unseen eyes were mocking. I stared back at my reflection in her glasses. A rivulet of sweat ran down my chest, causing me to twitch, she had won the stare-out. I stood and stripped, willing my cock not to betray my feigned indifference. I stood before her naked for several seconds, allowing her to inspect the goods, then turned and plunged into the pool. The sudden coldness surprised me at first, but as my body cooled I began to enjoy it. I completed the length and turned, returning breast-stroke, head out of the water so that I could watch my saviour/tormentor. She must have risen as I turned back, because as I emerged from the far turn to make my second return length, I was treated to an undraped view of her as she dived gracefully into the pool. Was she......? No, surely not. Her costume must be flesh coloured. As we passed in different directions, I could see that she was wearing a bathing cap, but a costume? She was swimming very fast, causing a great deal of turbulence. I turned again and increased my speed, thinking that I would catch up with her, but she swam just the two lengths and as I turned at the far end, she was hauling herself out of the water and yes, she was nude! Have you ever tried swimming with a hard-on? It's not easy. When I got back to the 'home' end, I stopped and watched her dry herself. I had a three-quarter rear view of her fine, tanned all-over body. The one breast in view was high, firm and full, in proportion with her tall slim figure. I watched, spellbound as she patted her lovely curves dry. She tossed the towel to the edge of the lounger, then sat, facing me, making no attempt to hide her considerable charms. I guessed that she was thirty-something. Her body was athletic looking, but not over-muscled. A dancer perhaps? She pulled away the bathing cap to reveal short blonde hair. Natural, because it matched the sparse, untrimmed growth on her mound. But the cleft which the hair is supposed to conceal, was anything but sparse, the long, pink outer lips of her slit protruding well beyond the pale wisps. She reached for her sun-tan oil, poured some into her cupped hand and began to anoint herself. She began by oiling each arm, progressing onto her shoulders and neck and eventually to those bounteous tits. On, down her body to her long legs, each part getting the same loving care as the rest. It was more than simply applying sun protection, it was an act of self-love, whole body masturbation. She was breathing faster, excited by her self massage. Her entire body seemed to glisten in the sunlight. She avoided touching the pouting lips of her cunt, but they gleamed anyway with the internal oil induced by her actions. My prick was trying to launch itself out of the water like a Polaris missile. She looked directly at me, challenging. Then held the bottle of oil towards me. "Do my back." She commanded. I hauled myself out of the pool and stood dripping, rather self-consciously because of my quivering erection. She tossed a spare towel at my feet and watched as I dried myself. At no time did my cock show any sign of softening. When I was dry, I dropped the towel and took the sun-oil, she slowly turned over, hiding her frontal charms but revealing an equally desirable rear view. I knelt alongside and uncapping the bottle, poured oil between her shoulder blades, then down along her spine to the little well at the top of the valley of her buttocks. She shuddered slightly. I dipped one finger into the well and drew it back along her spine to the nape of her neck, she was trembling in anticipation. Gently, just with my fingertips, I began to massage her shoulders, then increased pressure so that I could feel the firm flesh moving beneath my touch. I slowly worked downwards towards first prize, allowing my fingers to dwell on the soft side swell of her breasts, pushed out by her prone position. Soon my hands were cupping and squeezing her bum-cheeks. She parted her legs slightly, giving a little growl as she moved, revealing the tight pucker of her anus and the long gash of her vulva, oily and shining, even without the application of sun-lotion. She gasped as I pressed the ball of my thumb against her arse-hole and groaned as first one, then two fingers entered her sex cleft. She pushed back against my fingers, encouraging further exploration. I pressed deeper with my thumb so that it entered up to the knuckle and added a third finger to the two now deep inside her cunt. She pushed back further, rising onto her knees and spreading her legs as wide as the sun-lounger would allow. I slipped my left hand under her and quickly found the stiff bud of her clit. I strummed the oily bead as my fingers worked in and out of her cunt and my thumb buried itself deeper in her arse. She began to shake, close to climax, faster and faster I rubbed and she came violently, crying out her passion. My prick was pounding, the head of spunk built up my manipulation of this lovely woman, desperate for release. My foreskin had pulled right back, revealing my knob, the skin stretched and shining, it's eye dribbling in anticipation. I knelt between her parted thighs, both holes seemed to by inviting entry. For long seconds I considered plunging full length into her arse-hole. "Later." My brain told me, "Later." Instead I aligned my probe with her cunt, then sank in gratefully, stopping only when my balls reached the back of her thighs. There was no resistance to my invasion, only when I was fully engaged did her hole grip my shaft, denying release. Despite the ambient temperature, she felt hot around my cock, I savoured the heat and tightness of her sheath, it's muscles clutching me like a fist. I could not possibly last long, but why should I? She had had her come, now it was my turn. But supposing she did not want seconds? It would be nice to prolong the pleasure just in case. Experience has taught me that when I am highly aroused, although the gentlest friction can bring me off, violent movements can sometimes have the opposite effect. With this in mind I pulled almost out of her then rammed back hard. She gave a yelp of surprise, then responded in kind, pushing back hard against my thrusts as I pounded my meat into hers. The trick worked to some extent and I was able to fuck her hard for a short time, but nothing could stop the inevitable. I slowed my thrusts, making them deeper, ready to pour my tribute into her. As the juice rushed up my shaft, I rammed back hard into her. Whether by accident or design, Charlotte fell forward onto the mattress, disengaging me. My spurts sprang from me to land on her back, covering her from arse to neck with grey/white streaks. She lay convulsing under the shower of semen, she had had a second orgasm. I was so intent on taking my own pleasure that I had not noticed her rising climax, my final great thrust, combined with her delirious state, had unbalanced her. It had not been intended. Charlotte lay panting. She looked delicious, debauched but wonderful. There is no better sight than a beautiful woman soaked in spunk. My prick drooped to half-mast but I knew that it would be up for another round if challenged. Abigail half tuned to face me. "I do not remember consenting to that, she said softly, "that was rape." "No, I just gave you the good fucking you were begging for." I retaliated. She smiled, the first time I had seen her smile, it was more of a sly grin. "Didn't you just, but generally I prefer it on the inside. She nodded towards drooping Thomas. "Is there any more where all of that came from?" "Suck it and see." I replied in hope. She rose from the lounger and took me by the hand, leading me towards the house. Almost the entire side of the house was glass. As we approached, sliding panels hissed open, some kind of sensor perhaps? The doors slid closed behind us as we entered the house, it was blissfully cool, air-conditioned. We were in a large bedroom. She led me past the bed, through a well appointed dressing room and into a bathroom. Or rather a shower room, a wet-room in fact. The walls were black marble, veined with amber, the fittings were gold. There was no shower screen, the whole room was a shower. Charlotte touched a button in the wall and the shower jets, lots of them, pointing sideways and up, as well as a main overhead unit, began to hiss. She pulled on a shower cap and stepped into the spray pulling me with her. I was surprised by the power of the jets, they pulsed rather than just squirted, quite erotic actually. Charlotte went to controls, reduced the power and changed the pulses to a steady stream, I took the opportunity to reach round and take a tit in each hand, it was my first opportunity to hold them, feel their weight, cup them and enjoy the feel of the stiff nipples pushing back at my palms. She pushed back at me, my prick pressed against her bum cleavage. She turned her head and offered her mouth for a kiss, another first, my mouth fed on hers as my hands moulded the pliable mounds of her full breasts. Our coupling outside had been raw sex, brutal. No, not brutal, animal. We saw, we sniffed, we fucked. Even the position had been animal. Now was the time for subtlety. She pulled away and handed me a bar of soap, I delighted in washing her, my soapy fingertips lovingly caressed every millimetre of her faultless skin. The shower washed away the soap as I applied it and I followed my fingers with my lips, exploring every crevice. When I got to her cleft, I fed on it as I had her other mouth, she pulled my head into her, grinding her sex against my mouth until she came. I stood, she turned her back on me and pushed her arse out, I got the message and pushed my erection between her buttocks, she reached down and fed it into her. I began to thrust gently into her, I once again reached round to allow my hands free reign on her tits, she turned her head for kisses, then, leaning forward reached under to cup my balls in her hand, with the other she wanked herself off, coming quickly and fiercely. I could feel her spasms through my deeply embedded tool. When her climax subsided, she pushed me away from her, uncoupling. She quickly knelt before me and took my prick into her mouth, feeding it right back, tickling my knob with her tonsils. I was in heaven. She pulled back to start what is probably the most expert blow job of my life. Time and time again she took me to the brink, only to pull back when she sensed the impending cream mouthful. Just when I thought that I must come or burst, she stood up and tuned off the shower. "I want it inside me." She explained. Drying each other was another triumph of eroticism. When we were dry I picked her up and carried her to the bed. I was bursting to have her again. I lay on the bed, hoping that she would mount me, cowgirl style, but she straddled me, tete a queue and continued where she had left off with her fellation. She kissed and licked every bit of my genitals. One second she was licking my shaft, then the tip of her tongue was being forced into the tiny hole. She would suck hard on just my knob, controlling the suck with her hand, then she would engulf the whole throbbing length with her clever mouth, her nose against my balls. They were not neglected, each was treated to a lavish sucking, but it was her lips around my prick that caused most pleasure. I was desperate to come, flood her wanton mouth with my seed, but she had indicated her wish to have it pumped into the other place. That other place was right before my face, perhaps I could control my orgasm if I concentrated on tonguing her hole. I tried to forget what was happening at the other end of the bed and treated her to the best sucking I could manage, kiss, suck, lick, bite. I pulled her inner lips into my mouth, pushed my tongue up her as far as I could reach, gnawed at her clit with my teeth, covered her entire cuntal area with my mouth, sucking and blowing. Every part was treated to every trick, she was pouring juice which I lapped up like a kitten. I moved my mouth and pushed my tongue as far up her arse as I could. She let go of my cock and screamed as she came, writhing wildly on the bed. When she came off her peak she turned her self round and lay back on the bed. "Fuck me now." She demanded. Oh! How she was going to get her wish. Up to now she had been very much in charge. Now I was going to fuck her 'till she begged for mercy. She was positioned ready, legs apart, knees raised, the classic 'shag me' pose, her man-trap beckoning. I climbed between her thighs and she guided the beast into her cavern. It was like slipping into oiled silk. I raised myself off her and pinned her wrists above her head and began to pound at her without mercy. She wrapped her legs around me pulling me close as I stabbed at her. There was no way I could out-fuck this sex machine, she came again, I could feel her cunt-juice wetting my balls. I gave in, let myself go, firing volley after volley of my precious fluid up her insatiable hole. I was exhausted, I rolled off, my cock filleted and soft. I lay on my back panting. My rest was shattered by a deep, plummy male voice. "Has he made you nice and wet my dear?" I leapt from the bed, fearing a shotgun up my arse. Where the fuck had he come from? 'He' was standing on the far side of the large bed. He was in his 50's, quite tall, fit looking with greying hair at his temples and on his chest. He was bollock naked. Standing out from a bush of dark pubic hair was the biggest prick I have ever seen outside of the horse of the year show. It was fully erect and he was wanking it vigorously. Charlotte spoke, but not in the voice that I had been hearing, she was all girly, coo-ey. "Oh yes my darling, just look." She was pulling her cunt lips wide open, her well was brimming with my spunk, dribbling out into her arse-crack. "Come and put your big stick in me." He did just that, to my amazement Charlotte's well fucked cunt took all of the monster without hesitation. I swear that I could hear the squelch as the huge thing slid effortlessly home. I was rooted to the spot, I watched as his arse began to move rhythmically between Charlotte's wide spread thighs. Had he been watching the whole time? He was clearly one of those people who gets off on seeing their partner fucked by other men. He turned his head and addressed me. "If you wish, young man, you may bugger my arse." The young man did not wish. I bolted, quickly dressed and with Charlotte's orgasmic cries ringing in my ears, ran across the lawn, through the gate and to my car, which I drove like a maniac all the way home.