3 comments/ 31623 views/ 1 favorites Caribbean Tales: Emma's Initiation Pt. 03 By: AlwaysHungry I had come to Jamaica in May, hoping to find myself a cocoon of quiet solitude in which to write my symphony. In my native France, I was bogged down with business (and excessive romance.) My friend Sebastien had found for me what seemed to be the ideal solution, a sojourn to a little guest house hideaway in the back yard of his friend, Mrs. Hewitt. It was located in the Sherbourne Heights neighborhood of Stony Hill, a suburb of Kingston, surrounded by fruit trees and remote from everything else. But as I chronicled in Emma's Initiation, I soon got myself caught up in yet another liaison, with a sweet, virginal young violinist named Emma who lived in the house on the adjoining property. She apparently was receiving encouragement in her tryst with me from both Mrs. Hewitt and from Emma's young clarinetist colleague from the United States, Natalie. And things got even more complicated one night, when the adventurous Natalie somehow managed to join us in a menage a trois. And all this, when the completion of my symphony seemed within my grasp. These were some of the thoughts that teemed in my mind as I was waking up the next morning. Emma had been so innocent when I first met her, practicing her violin in her back yard, adjacent to Mrs. Hewitt's. She was preparing for an important audition that would determine whether she would be admitted to a conservatory in my homeland. We were both serious, disciplined musicians, and a friendship between us seemed like a natural and mutually beneficial step. Of course, things went rapidly out of control before long; when Emma expressed her desire for me, I couldn't resist, and Emma's innocence fell by the wayside. I was hoping that she was emotionally stable enough to handle her rapid introduction to the arts of love without it compromising her musical efforts. Her precocious friend Natalie, who evidently was quite worldly despite her own youthfulness, was spurring her onward. I hoped that Emma was not as distracted as I was. I crawled out of bed, dressed myself, and traipsed gingerly into the main room of the little guest house. We had consumed liberal amounts of rum the night before, and I was feeling the aftermath. It was still early morning, but the summer heat was already coming on, and looking out the window, I could see the tropical birds chasing one another from tree to tree. They were making quite an infernal racket as they did so, but after spending a month or more in Jamaica I was quite accustomed to it, I would probably only notice if it stopped. I stumbled into the little kitchenette and made myself some strong coffee. The finale of my symphony was spread out on the table where I had left it the previous day. I seated myself in front of it, and contemplated what I had written. After all the wild goings-on of the previous evening, it was a relief to apply myself to my work. I saw that some of what I had written was extraneous to the core ideas which I wished to present, and I set about to prune it away. Time passed; I don't know exactly how much, but the fact that I had not eaten began to dawn on me. I got up from the table and walked to the kitchen cupboard, but just then the door to the guest house opened and Mrs. Hewitt came in with my breakfast. Mrs. Hewitt's long gray hair had been released from its usual tight coil atop her head, and was hanging in a fluffy ponytail. She wore a colorful print blouse and a long skirt, and she presented me with a generous plate of ackee, saltfish and callaloo. On this particular morning, she invited herself to join me, taking a seat opposite to me at the little table and serving herself a modest portion. She flashed me a wry smile and began to eat without speaking. The notion suddenly blossomed in my mind that perhaps she knew what had transpired here on the previous evening. She often surprised me with how much she knew about the lives of the people around her, and from what she had told me in the occasional earlier discussion, she was clearly a woman of the world. But I certainly was not prepared to risk bringing it up. I smiled back as innocently as I could, and began to tackle my own saltfish. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hewitt was finishing hers. "Emma seems quite lively lately," she said with a smile. I tried to strike a balance between excessive caution and excessive enthusiasm. "Yes, she does." "How is your symphony coming along?" That was a safe topic. "I'm ironing some bugs out of the finale. When I'm done with that, it's finished." "That's wonderful," Mrs. Hewitt replied. "I shall miss you when you leave! You know, Emma's audition is coming next week." "Yes, I knew it was sometime soon. I hope she gets admitted to the conservatory." "I do, too. She's very talented, and it would be good for her to get out of Jamaica and see some of the world." Here Mrs. Hewitt rose and began to gather up the dishes. "I wish the best of luck to the both of you." Just then there came a gentle rapping at the door, and it opened just wide enough to allow Emma's dark face to peep inside. She greeted us both shyly, and then Mrs. Hewitt excused herself with what I thought might have been a hint of a smirk. Emma seemed ill at ease, but I could also see that she had taken special care in her appearance this morning. She had her hair done up in the familiar topknot, but with an elegant fuschia-colored brocade band holding it in place. She was wearing a tight lavender blouse that made her full breasts look especially delectable. I thought that she might be wearing eye shadow -- it was very subtle, and normally Emma wore no makeup. Her light blue denim shorts called attention to her lovely dark thighs. She looked at me hesitantly, and then embraced me. With her head against my chest, she spoke: "That was a pretty crazy night last night, wasn't it, Georges?" "Well, we did drink quite a bit of rum," I said, trying to sound reassuring. Emma squeezed me a little tighter. "Georges -- do you think I'm a lesbian?" "Well, I doubt it. Young people always experiment a little, especially when they are bourré. There's nothing wrong with being a lesbian or bisexual -- some men find it exciting. But I wouldn't worry." "Natalie says she is bisexual." "I think Natalie likes just about any kind of sexual." Emma gave me another fierce squeeze. "I do too! Except I wouldn't want to be a lesbian. In Jamaica we don't do that." I wrapped my arms around her to reassure her. That wasn't how she wanted to be reassured. She pushed her arms out to free herself, and then seized my wrist, placing my hand over the crotch of her shorts. With her other hand, she took my shoulder and pulled me down to kiss her. Emma was becoming a very good kisser. I savored the feel of her full, plump lips against mine, as she opened them wide to allow our tongues to dance. She rubbed her denim-clad crotch restlessly against my hand. She broke off the kiss to whisper urgently, "put your hand inside." I tried to slip my hand inside her jeans, but they were too tight. I used both hands to unsnap and unzip her shorts, pushing them down to her knees, and then I resumed kissing her as I stroked her cunt through her panties. She was finding this more to her liking, and I was quite aroused myself. I sucked her tongue, and slipped one finger under the elastic of her pantie crotch, running it along her pussy lips. They were thoroughly wet. She pushed her tongue further into my mouth, groaning her approval. I slid first one, and then two fingers inside her. Emma whispered to me, "yes, Georges, that's what I want." Then she pressed her mouth once again to mine, and we resumed our slow, wet, hot kiss, as my fingers swirled in the cauldron of her pussy juices. She whispered again, "Georges, I still have most of my clothes on... and you have all of yours. I think that's naughty and sexy, don't you?" "Yes," I hissed in response, as I pulled my juice-covered fingers out and used them to massage her clit. Emma moaned. "Georges, I want you to make me have an orgasm, just like this!" "You do?" I said teasingly, rubbing her clit a little more slowly. "Yes, yes, kiss me some more!" I did. Her kiss was more and more erotic, as I savored the feeling of her plump moist cunt against my fingers. My cock was rock hard and trapped within my pants, but the novelty of our being mostly dressed seemed to excite her. She began to make urgent noises deep in her throat as we kissed, and then I knew she was cumming. I let her catch her breath, and then I took it a step further. Still fully clothed myself, I pulled down Emma's shorts and panties. Then I lay on my back on a throw rug on the floor and pulled her toward me. She was confused for a moment, and then she grasped my intention. "Oh!" she cried, and then lowered her cunt to my mouth. With mounting excitement, I watched it approach. Her lips were swollen and fleshy and very dark, but I caught a glimpse of pink between them. Her big clit was wreathed in a forest of hair, and then I was sucking it, as Emma knelt above my face and voluptuously rubbed her cunt against it. The taste and texture of her cunt were thrilling, and from the sounds she made I could tell she was about to cum again. Suddenly she turned around and began frantically tugging at my belt buckle, struggling to get it undone, as I struggled with equal urgency to get her cunt back to my mouth, where I so badly wanted it. I groaned as I brought it back to my face and thrust my tongue inside her, just as she managed to undo my pants and push them down to my knees. I felt my cock spring from its confinement, and seconds later Emma began to devour it with her mouth. We sucked each other passionately, and within a minute it was clear that we were both about to cum. This time, I felt no hesitation; I knew that Emma wanted my cum in her mouth, which I found tremendously exciting. We continued our oral lovemaking with yet greater urgency, and then I felt myself erupting into Emma's mouth as she moaned and came into mine. After a moment or two, Emma rolled off me on to the rug. I turned myself 180 degrees so that I might lie beside her, and I said softly, "You know, Emma, I think that Jamaican polite society might frown on what we just did." She giggled, and replied, "Then it must be our little secret." Lying on the floor was now becoming uncomfortable, so we arose and put our pants back on. Emma suggested that we take a walk outside in Mrs. Hewitt's yard. The sun was now fully up and it was quite hot outside, although the breeze coming from the Caribbean provided some relief. As we walked among the fruit trees and admired the birds and the butterflies, Emma began to speak. "Georges, my audition is next week. I'm going to be very busy working with my teacher and practicing my violin. I need you to do me a big favor." "Certainly, Emma. What would you like me to do?" "I need you to pick a dress for me to wear." I was skeptical. "Emma, just because I'm from France doesn't mean I know much about ladies' fashion. How will I choose the right size and style?" "Natalie can go with you. She knows what I like, and she's the same size as me." Natalie had behaved toward me in a manner that was aggressively flirtatious. I thought that going off alone with her might be asking for trouble, but I didn't want to say so, because I knew Emma was devoted to her friend. "That might work," I said noncommittally. "Natalie could do it, but she doesn't know to drive. But you could drive her. You can use Mrs. Hewitt's car. She already told me it was all right." I knew it was important for Emma to have the right apparel for her big audition, and so I agreed, with some unspoken reservations. "Watch," said Emma. She pointed at the grass near where we were standing. I peered in the direction where she pointed, and saw a small, dark-colored snake, gliding cautiously through the grass. "That's a grass snake," said Emma. "He doesn't hurt anyone." "Maybe it's here to tempt us in the garden of Eden," I replied. Emma giggled. *** On Wednesday, Emma came by to inform me that the dress shopping trip was set up for Friday. Mrs. Hewitt was to bring me the car keys at breakfast time, and Natalie would come by some time later in the morning. Emma would not be seeing much of me in the days ahead, due to an intensive practice schedule and meetings with her violin instructor. Emma was seated on the couch, and I occupied one of the armchairs. I smiled and said, "You know, Emma, the last time we made love, I didn't get to see your breasts." Emma looked surprised, and then she detected the twinkle in my eye. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Do you want to see them now?" I smiled and nodded. Emma knew now that we would try something different. She smiled back at me, and her eyes had that slightly unfocused look that signified arousal. She began unbuttoning her blouse, slowly and provocatively. She took it off, folded it neatly, all the while looking at me and smiling. Then she reached lazily behind her back and unclasped her black lace brassiere. She took it off and casually placed it atop her folded blouse. Her breasts were big and round, and her charcoal-colored nipples were erect. "Would you like to pinch your nipples for me, Emma?" I asked. She tried it and closed her eyes, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation. Then she said to me, "But Georges, you kept your shirt on last time, too. Would you take it off?" I smiled and removed my shirt. She pinched some more. I thought I ought to escalate things. "Emma, would you like to see how men masturbate?" "Yes, I would, very much!" I unbuckled my belt and slid down my pants and briefs. When Emma saw my hard cock, I saw her suppress an impulse to come over and touch it. She understood the new game we were playing. I sat back down, parted my legs to give her a good view, and began to stroke myself. Emma's eyes were riveted on my cock. Her fingers moved restlessly on her nipples for a minute, and then, without further discussion, she rose and removed her jeans and panties. Mimicking my posture, she leaned back, spread her legs and began to rub her clit. Now it was my turn to restrain myself, because her pussy looked very appetizing indeed. I concentrated on watching her rub it, and on the lustful expression on her face, and I felt my own arousal intensify as I stroked myself. I put on a show for her, moving my hips, and she reciprocated. I was getting very hot. I knew my orgasm as coming. I rose to my feet, and cried out as I ejaculated forcefully across the room onto Emma's breasts and face. Her eyes widened as she saw my semen flying toward her, and seconds after impact she threw her head back and rubbed her pussy fiercely as her own orgasm hit her. Emma looked dazed for a moment or two. Then she scooped up a bit of my cum off her breast with her fingers, and tasted it. Slowly she rose and crossed the room to me, and kneeling before me, began to gently suck my cock until it was once more fully erect. Then we retired to the bedroom and fucked for hours. *** Friday came, and the day began according to plan. Mrs. Hewitt arrived in the morning with more callalloo and saltfish, and the keys to her old Suzuki Swift. I worked a little on my symphony, which was getting perilously close to completion, and then at quarter to 11 Natalie arrived. She was dressed in a classy peach-colored blouse and skirt, and she had left her outlandish hoop earrings at home. It looked like her afro had been trimmed. She could have passed for one of the young Jamaican professional gals I had seen working downtown at the banks and law firms. "Are we ready to shop?" she asked cheerily. Her English had a brash North American clang to it, unlike the more mellifluous Jamaican version. My own heavily accented English was something else altogether. "Yes, I believe so," I said while putting away my score. "Where is it that we are going?" "Do you know where Constant Spring Road is in Kingston?" "I know that one. But I don't know what to do after that." "No problem -- Emma wrote down directions. Shall we be off?" "Sure," I replied, and the two of us climbed up the hill from Mrs. Hewitt's back yard to the street, where her Swift was parked. We got in, the Swift rumbled to life, and I set off carefully down the rugged road, watching for potholes and reminding myself to drive on the left side. Before long, though, we turned onto Stony Hill Road, which was to take us to the Manor Park Plazas, one of the posh shopping areas in Kingston, and the Constant Spring shopping strip beyond them. Stony Hill Road was in better shape, and soon we were cruising down the hill through the verdant woods. "So Georges, how do you like Jamaica?" Natalie asked. "It's lovely," I replied, "but to be honest, I haven't seen very much of it. Just Mrs. Hewitt's place, and then I also drove to Ocho Rios." "Did you climb up the waterfall?" "Yes, it was nice." "I did that a couple of years ago with my dad. He fell down twice." "Ouch! Did he take you with him?" "No, he wasn't holding my hand. He was holding hands with some lady from Cincinnati that he met down here. They both went right down the chute! I was smart, I was hanging on to one of the guides." We continued at a good clip along the now-smooth road as it wended its way through the lush multi-hued trees. "Americans have the wrong idea about Jamaica," Natalie continued. "They think it's all bad young people, smoking weed and getting into fights. I think that the Jamaicans I have met are actually more cultured than most Americans. They read books and talk about ideas. I like the orchestra that I play in here. I think it's better than the one back home in Tampa." Listening to Natalie speak, I found myself impressed with her. She was bright and had a serious side to her, although I remained wary, because I knew that she had a propensity for doing or saying things that were, shall we say, inappropriately sexual. As if on cue, Natalie asked, "Georges, have you seen the movie called 'The Harder They Come'?" I glanced over at her, raised my eyebrows, and shook my head. Natalie burst into laughter. "No, Georges, it's not what it sounds like!" She dissolved once more into giggles before regaining her composure. "Have you ever heard the saying in English, 'the harder they come, the harder they fall'?" I had not. "I guess you might say that it means, if you have an opponent who is attacking you, and he's big and mean, then he's just going to hit the ground that much harder when you knock him down." "Oh," I said. "There was a movie that starred Jimmy Cliff. Have you heard of him?" I had. I knew him as a pop singer who had gained a degree of popularity in France. "In the movie he's a young ruffian who gets out of the Jamaican ghetto by selling weed and cutting other fellows with knives, and then he becomes a singing sensation. My friends all thought it was cool, but I didn't like it much. It doesn't show the real Jamaica." "It doesn't sound like it." We were on the flats now, passing neat rows of what looked like cultivated palms and bushes along the road. "Do you like to shop, Georges?" asked Natalie. "Well, I suppose I do, but perhaps not the way you ladies do." Natalie giggled. "And how do we ladies like to shop?" "Well, for you ladies it's more of a passion." I instantly regretted having put it that way. After a significant pause, Natalie giggled again. "Maybe so!" Then she was quiet for a while. I became aware of Natalie's eyes on me. I gave her a questioning look, whereupon she abruptly said, "I think Emma enjoyed eating my pussy." I tried my level best to suppress a look of shock on my face, but I know it must have appeared for an instant, because Natalie's smile was full of mischievous triumph. "I sure know I enjoyed it," she said. Caribbean Tales: Emma's Initiation Pt. 03 I looked away. "Can we change the subject, Natalie?" She replied brightly, "Sure, no problem!" I tried to concentrate on my driving. We were coming to the bottom of the hill. "Turn right here," she said, and we began to navigate our way through the busy Kingston streets. Before long we were in a downtown area where there were numerous shops for ladies' apparel. We found a parking spot with some difficulty, and then began walking down the street in the full heat of a summer day. We walked just over a block in silence, and then Natalie pointed at an establishment called "City Fashion," saying, "Let's try this place." Inside, it was tastefully appointed, with prints on the wall from Caribbean artists. There were numerous carousels with dresses, suits, blouses and skirts, arrayed at odd intervals around the room. A sleepy-looking saleslady murmured words of greeting from her position at the cash register, and then went back to reading her magazine. Her assistant was engrossed in sending someone a text message. I loitered near the entrance while Natalie efficiently examined the selection of dresses. After a few minutes, Natalie extracted an emerald-green dress from one of the carousels and took it to the dressing room in the back, closing the door behind her. After a few minutes more, I heard her voice calling "Georges, come back here -- I need your opinion!" I went back to the room and entered. Natalie was wearing the dress, and it looked great on her. The green color was fabulous with her bronze complexion; I wondered whether it would be as good with Emma's darker hue. Natalie played fashion model, turning this way and that. It became apparent to me that she had removed her brassiere so that the straps wouldn't show. Then she sat down in an armchair, smiled sweetly at me, and then lifted her right leg over one of the chair's arms, bunching the dress up around her waist and revealing that she also wore no panties. Still smiling, she placed a hand seductively upon her pussy and began to slowly rub her clit. I gasped. "Natalie, don't do that." "Why not?" she said. "You liked it when I did it at the dinner party last week." "Jesus, Natalie, I was drunk." "Well, why don't you give it a try when you're sober? You might still like it. And I love to touch myself." She dipped two fingers inside. "People tell me that I have a pretty pussy. Do you think my pussy is pretty?" "I'd rather not talk about that, Natalie," I said, but then I realized that I had not taken my eyes off her cunt. She grinned, indicating that she had realized the same thing. Her pussy was not as hairy as Emma's; it looked like she had trimmed it. Her lips were compact but plump, darker in color than the rest of her body, and gaping open somewhat. I forced myself to look up at her face, saying, "Is this the dress you want to buy?" She smiled, and closed her eyes with pleasure as she masturbated, but somehow answered me calmly, "It's nice, but I think we should try some other shops before making a decision." "Well, why don't we go do that, then?" "Can we wait just a few minutes? I think I'm going to cum pretty soon." I was still forcing myself not to look. With an exasperated tone, I said, "Come on, Natalie, we're supposed to be helping Emma." She smirked at me. "I know how I would like to help Emma. But all right. Let's go." She pouted. "You're certainly no fun." Then she let the dress straps slip over her shoulders so that it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it gracefully, clad in only her sandals and some bangles around her left wrist. Her breasts looked fantastic, smaller than Emma's but very firm and enticing. There were some faint tan lines, indicating that she preferred very small bikinis. She was looking at my crotch, where I realized that my cock was straining furiously against my trousers. "You look like you could use some help yourself. Could I give it a little kiss?" I turned away, and attempted without much success to adjust my pants so that my condition would be less obvious. "Spoilsport," she snorted, and then put her street clothes back on. We walked back to the front of the shop. Natalie handed the dress with its hanger to the salesgirl and said, "I like this one, but I want to check a few more shops before I buy." "Should I put it aside for you?" asked the salesgirl, hopefully. "We can give you a good discount." "Thank you, dear, that would be nice," said Natalie. "We'll have to come back this way." We then walked back out into the blinding midday sun. We crossed the street and went for another block before entering Christine's Fashion Spot. Compared to City Fashion, this place was more spacious, a little too well-lit, and had the air conditioning on "high." It also came equipped with another sleepy proprietor, an older lady in dreadlocks, presumably Christine. I dawdled by the door again while Natalie hunted efficiently among the racks, surfacing with a cherry-colored dress, with which she proceeded to the dressing room. Time passed. I didn't hear anything from Natalie. Finally I got tired of waiting, and went to knock on the door. "Is that you, Georges?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. "Come on in," she said. I entered the room and saw Natalie sitting in a chair, wearing only her blouse and sandals. Her left leg was propped up on another chair. The room smelled like pussy, and Natalie had a blissful smile on her face. "I feel much better now," she said. The cherry-colored dress was on its hanger; I gazed at it, and Natalie said, "I didn't like the dress." "For god's sake, Natalie, let's go," I said. Natalie's eyes flashed. "Georges, what exactly is it about me that you find so unattractive?" I glared back. "Natalie, I don't find you unattractive. I just don't want to hurt Emma. Now, can we discuss this somewhere else?" Natalie silently dressed herself, and we departed, walking out again into the onslaught of sunlight as we proceeded to the next shop. Natalie was well-behaved at the next ladies' emporium, which was located in a shopping mall. The mall appeared to be of recent vintage, freshly painted and ornamented all around with out-of-the-box palm trees. After a few minutes in the clothing store, Natalie pronounced it "boring" and suggested that we return to the first shop and purchase the green dress. I was relieved to have settled the matter. When we walked back into "City Fashion," the salesgirl was quite pleased to see us, and spoke in an animated way about the dress. She put it in a box for us and rang up the sale, which somehow, after the promised discount, cost just the same as it was originally marked. We didn't make a fuss. I let Natalie carry the box as we ventured back out into the hot afternoon. We made our way back to where the car was parked. The Swift had no air conditioner, but I looked forward to driving with the windows down to cool us off. We started off down the street, and Natalie said cheerily, "So, you don't find me unattractive!" Trying to remain patient, I said, "Natalie, Emma was a virgin. She's very inexperienced and vulnerable, and I don't want to hurt her." "I know. Emma and I talk about sex all the time. She's one of my best friends, I don't want to hurt her either. But if you and I were to play a little, she wouldn't have to know." "I just wouldn't feel comfortable being dishonest with her." "Who said anything about being dishonest? We just wouldn't tell her. She'll be super busy for the next week. But anyway, I'm only talking about today." From the corner of my eye, I saw her smile. She lifted her hand from her lap, then reached over and rubbed her fingers over my lips. The smell of her cunt was unmistakable. I kept silent and resisted the urge to suck her fingers into my mouth. "My pussy smells good, don't it?" said Natalie. She sensed her advantage, and her hand snaked between my thighs, feeling my hard cock through my trousers. I stifled a moan, but I could not bring myself to tell her to stop. Natalie knew that she was on a roll, and she quickly unzipped my fly and took my cock out. I was trying to concentrate on driving, and I also realized that I didn't recognize the road we were on. "Turn right here," said Natalie, and I did, as she ran the palms of both her hands slowly up and down my erect cock. We were headed up into the hills on a road that had seen better days. This was an unfamiliar route, but we seemed to be going in the right general direction. Meanwhile, Natalie had wrapped one of her hands around my cock and was slowly stroking it. "You have a nice cock, Georges. Do you like the way it feels when I stroke it like this?" I stubbornly refused to answer, but I thought to myself, yes, I do like the way it feels. This was not like Emma's sweet, innocent touching. This was a girl who had touched plenty of men, and knew how to make them desperate for more. We were driving up a winding road with very few houses, when we turned a corner and came to a dead end. There was a rusty guard rail and a canyon below. "Just stop here, Georges," said Natalie. "I know this place. Just let me have a little taste." Without waiting for my permission, she bent down and took my cock into her mouth. I watched Natalie's brown face swallowing my white cock, and I heard her make little grunts of excited satisfaction. My cock was very hard, and I knew that she could feel just how hard it was. As she sucked it, she twisted her torso so that she could push her skirt up and put a hand on her pussy. It was oppressively hot in the car, now that it had come to a stop. It was also very quiet. I could hear a wet, sloshing sound as Natalie worked her fingers in and out of her cunt. Then she took her mouth off my cock. I almost begged her to keep sucking it. She smiled up at me and said, "Georges, aren't you going to answer my question?" "Which question?" I gasped. "I asked you if you like the way my cunt smells." The summer sun was beating down on the roof, and there was no ventilation in the car. It felt like an oven, and the smell of her pussy was almost overpowering. My mouth was dry. I hesitated, and then I heard the words "I love it," coming out of my mouth. "I love the way your cunt smells." She moved her fingers again down there, making that sloshing sound, and then brought them up to her mouth. She sucked them slowly, and then grinned at me, saying, "And it tastes soooo good." I gasped again. Natalie was in control now. I waited. She lowered her head once more on to my cock, as my hips rose to meet her. I knew I would be cumming before long. Her hand was back at work between her legs. Then she stopped again. She sat up, pressed herself close to me, and gave me a very sensual kiss. I abandoned myself to it. Then I began to take the initiative. While kissing her, I unbuttoned her blouse, which was soaked in sweat. All our clothes were soaked in sweat. She held out her arms to allow me to remove the blouse and brassiere, still kissing me. Then she smiled lustfully at me and said, "Georges, are you having a good time?' "Yes," I said, and bent to take one of her slippery breasts in my mouth. I nibbled and sucked her nipple, listening to the little cries of arousal she made. Then she said, "Georges, I have an idea... would you like to suck my cunt?" "Yes," I exclaimed eagerly, "Yes, I would." "Well, there's no room for that in here. We'll have to get out of the car." I nodded. "Let's take off these clothes," she said. I looked outside. There was no one around. I helped her out of her skirt, and took the opportunity to run my finger along her wet slit. Then I removed my own shirt, sandals and trousers. Natalie gathered up all the clothes, got out of the car, and spread the clothes on the hood of the Swift. "That metal is too hot for bare skin," she explained. She put my trousers and her skirt across the hood, and my shirt and her blouse on the windshield so that she could recline against it. Then she parted her thighs, smiled lasciviously at me, and began once more to work her pussy with her fingers. The sun beat down upon us with a silent fury. There was only a wisp of a breeze to provide any relief. I approached Natalie and stroked her calves as she masturbated. Then I bent down and began to suck the toes on her right foot. "That's good, Georges, suck them," she said, her voice seeming loud in the silence of the hot afternoon, and I once again heard the sloshing of her fingers inside her cunt. "I love to masturbate, Georges, don't you?" I paused to say "Yes," and then went back to sucking her toes. She spoke again with tension in her voice, "I hope you're going to cum in my mouth, Georges. I want to drink your cum." The sloshing picked up speed. "I squirt when I cum, Georges. Would you like me to squirt on your face?" "Yes --" I replied, "-- please." "Come on, Georges," she gasped, "suck my cunt." I leaned onto the hood of the Swift and placed my hands under her buttocks, lifting her toward me. Her pussy was very wet, and I rubbed my face against it, adoringly, before slowly thrusting my tongue deep inside her. "Yes, Georges," she said, "suck my cunt... doesn't it taste good? I love the taste of cunt... Come on, eat me... I want to taste your cum after you taste mine..." She was moving her hips in a strong, determined rhythm, grinding her crotch against my lips and tongue. I somehow managed to say, "Yes, Natalie, I love the way your cunt tastes," and then began to suck her clit while swirling my tongue around it. "I'm going to squirt in your face, Georges... I love the way you suck my cunt...I... I'm gonna do it now! --" at which point a little geyser erupted out of her pussy onto my face. I pressed my mouth tightly to her cunt, as two more jets of her cum sprayed out of it. "Oh, I came so good!" she cried. Natalie clambered off the hood of the car. "Watch me, Georges," she said urgently, and then she squatted lewdly on the ground near the car, masturbating again. "I'm gonna cum again..." Her face was a mask of concentration. Two fingers of one hand were moving inside her, while she massaged her clit with the other hand. "Oh!" she cried, and another jet of her cum splashed on the ground in front of her. "Put your cock in my mouth, Georges," she demanded. I was a little amazed at how indefatigable she was. I stepped toward her and offered her my cock, jutting out an inch from her face. She moaned her satisfaction as she engulfed it with her mouth. I couldn't believe how good it felt. She was taking me all the way in, and her mouth felt so wet and hungry. "I'm going to cum in your mouth, Natalie," I said. She moaned with her mouth full, and her hand was a blur between her legs. I felt my orgasm approach, slowly and steadily, and the inevitability of it was thrilling. I knew it was going to be big, and I knew that Natalie wanted every drop of it. I kept promising her, "I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum," and then she began to cum first. I was only seconds behind her, and she swallowed like she was starving. Natalie paused now to catch her breath. "Oh, that was good!" She rose to her feet. "Come on, George, we've got to get you back into the car. That white skin of yours is going to catch sunburn!" She scooped our clothing up off the hood of the Swift and hurried to the passenger side. I got in on the driver's side and sat down, but Natalie made no move to offer me my trousers and shirt. "Natalie, aren't we getting dressed?" I asked. "Not yet, Georges. Just drive around the corner." I was too dazed to argue with her, so I started the Swift and began to drive, naked. We had only gone fifty yards or so when we turned around a bend where there was a driveway, and Natalie said, "Turn in here." I was puzzled, but I followed her instruction, asking "Where are we?" She smiled at me. "This is my father's place, and he won't be home until late tonight." "Why didn't we just come here in the first place?" Natalie laughed. "Because I didn't want to interrupt what we were doing, and I thought you might start arguing again. Besides, wasn't it nice out there in the sun?" I had to admit that it was. The car came to a stop at the end of the driveway. The house was small and secluded, a little rose-colored cottage surrounded by trees and perched high on a hill. We got out of the vehicle, Natalie still clutching the bundle of clothing, and went in the front door. It was a relief to be inside -- the house was relatively cool. She dumped our clothes unceremoniously on the floor, walked to me and embraced me seductively. "We're finished arguing, right?" My cock went rigid again. "Right," I replied. Natalie murmured "Good," and gave me a slow, passionate kiss, while rubbing her body against me. We took our time with the kiss, and with our hands gripping each others' asses, we held each other close. My cock was pressing against Natalie's belly. She spoke softly now to me: "Your cum tasted good, Georges." I felt her hand wrap around my cock and gently stroke it. "Let me show you my room." I followed her into a hallway, then through a door to the right. Her queen-sized bed took up almost all the space in the room. She directed me to lie on the bed, and then she got on top of me in the sixty-nine position. I was transported right back to paradise. Her cunt seemed like an endless fountain of pussy juice, and I lapped at it hungrily as she worked her magic on my cock. We both moved our hips slowly and deliberately, fucking each others' faces. After a long time I disengaged and sat on the edge of the bed. "Come straddle me," I said. Natalie smiled and said, "Yes." She knelt over my lap and then lowered herself onto my cock. It took her a minute or so to work it up inside her, as we both grunted with the effort and the anticipation, and then it finally slid all the way in. "Oh, I like this," she said as she wrapped her legs around my waist and we began to fuck. She held my shoulders firmly as I leaned forward to kiss her, and my fingers found her nipples. We settled into a lazy rhythm that soon began to pick up its tempo. Our bodies were still slippery with sweat; we held each other close and Natalie rubbed her tits against my chest as we fucked. I seized her ass and, supporting her weight, I stood up. She locked her calves behind my knees and we began to fuck in earnest, standing next to her bed. I loved the sensation of her wet body sliding against mine as I moved her ass up and down, guiding her cunt up and down the length of my cock. "That's right, Georges," she whispered into my ear, "I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna squirt on your cock." Then she began to cry out. I slowed our pace just a little to prolong her orgasm. I could feel her juices begin to run down my thighs. She reached her hand down, gathered some up on her fingers, and offered them to my mouth. I sucked them greedily. "Do you like it, Georges?" Natalie asked. "Yes," I croaked in response. "Do you want some more?" "Yes." She reached down and scooped up more of her cum, feeding it to me. "More?" "Yes, please." "Then you're going to have to let me taste more of your cum, too." I was ready to give Natalie anything at this point. "I promise," I said. "Lie on the bed," said Natalie. I lay on my back, and Natalie straddled my face, keeping her cunt tantalizingly out of reach of my mouth as she slowly rubbed her clit. "I'll gonna let you suck my cunt as much as you want, baby," she said, and then slowly lowered it to my face. Her pussy lips were more swollen and fleshy now because we had been fucking, and they felt divine in my mouth. She was as wet as ever. She did a little dance on my face, moving her crotch seductively up and down, and from side to side as I gorged myself on her cunt. After a minute or two her movements became more erratic, and she said, "Baby, I'm gonna cum in your mouth," and a few seconds later she did. Caribbean Tales: Emma's Initiation Pt. 03 Her orgasm seemed to last about ten seconds, leaving me thoroughly drenched. Then she said, "Now it's my turn," and with agility she spun herself around into the sixty-nine position. As she continued to feed me her cunt, she began giving me the most passionate blow job I had ever had. Once again I could feel my orgasm approach. I thought about calling out to tell her, but I could not bring myself to take my mouth off her cunt. When I began to cum, I kept ejaculating over and over, and each time Natalie moaned with pleasure. We were still for a few minutes. It seemed that Natalie was finally satisfied. She got up, and came back with my clothes and a piece of paper. "Here are the directions to Mrs. Hewitt's place," she said. "It's really very close." "What about the green dress?" "It's in the back seat of the car, in the box." "And what about..." Natalie knew what I was thinking. "Don't worry about Emma. I'm leaving tomorrow morning to go back to Florida. She knew that already, but I didn't tell you until now." She looked a bit sheepish. "I thought it might be hotter if you didn't know." I was momentarily stunned, but then I arose and affectionately embraced her. "Thanks, Natalie," I said. "I had a nice time shopping with you." Natalie grinned. "Best shopping trip ever. Give Emma my love, and tell her I hope the audition goes great and that she likes the dress."