0 comments/ 226337 views/ 19 favorites Read to Me Ch. 01 By: wetfille Read to me (pt. 1): Little Bulls (The first instalment of several. Natalie and Pierre continue to explore their deep and dark desires.) Natalie undid one more button. There. Her breasts were art, Pierre liked to say. Two soft pendulous balloons of flesh against the loose white cotton of her dress, nipples pointing. Classic. She leaned forward, balancing to put on her dark rose lipstick. She turned sideways to look in the full length mirror, lifting her knee to test how much thigh might show along the unbuttoned gap of her sundress. Little bulls. That’s how she thought of them, the young men: little bulls. To her little bulls, a flash of a woman’s tanned thigh was like a red cape. Their eyes would zero in on the soft flesh, the firm, yielding possibility of tanned female skin, and slit their eyes, snort, and seethe inarticulately under their bulging muscles. “That will be him,” she whispered to Pierre, leaning over to kiss his neck. He turned the page of his magazine. He watched her buttocks shifting under her sundress; just beyond her the Caribbean sparkled. He would get a full report later. Their lives had flowered richly since their first explorations in Mexico; the ripe fruit of those experiences had fed other explorations, sensual gratification, mutual delight and mutual trust. At the same time, the stock market had been generous to them, affording their trips to the Mediterranean, this property on the Caribbean, and their other exotic indulgences. It also allowed Pierre to focus on his life’s passion, photography, something he had never had the financial comfort to do before. She opened the door. “Robert, I presume?” Blond, shuffling his feet a little bit, his nearly twentyish body rippling under his shirt. Such a little bull. “Yes ma’am. About the job.” What did he think the job consisted of, she wondered? Odd jobs, lifting, mowing? It was always the reading bit that threw them at the start. “Let me take your arm,” she said. “Without my glasses I’m almost blind, you see, which is why I need a pair of strong, young eyes around. We’ll go out onto the deck. It’s around to the left, through the French doors.” She laid her hand on his arm, letting her fingers slide along it, feeling the tautness of his young muscles. She studied him carefully, hiding behind that wide-eyed blind woman’s stare she had perfected to convince them she could hardly see. If they ever caught her out and questioned her, she just explained she had her contacts in. Even if it wasn’t very convincing, it worked; if they wanted to believe it, then they did. The mind was a wonderful thing. On the deck, two chairs faced the southern sun and the Caribbean. She sat down, her fingers awkwardly finding the arms of the chair. So convincing. As she folded her legs, her dress gaped, parting along her thighs. She looked at Robert, who was engrossed in her exposed flesh. The little bull’s attention caught by the red cape of her skin, he blushed, then looked around sheepishly, until he had convinced himself that she really couldn’t make out where his eyes were looking, and let them settle again, this time on creamy curve of her tanned breast. “Now then Robert, I can see you’re blond, and tall, about 6 feet or so? But I can’t tell if you’re fit. Are you?” “Oh yes, ma’am, I play all kinds of sports.” She smiled. “You’re such a well-brought up boy, Robert. Do you always call older women ma’am? I like that. I would guess I am almost twenty years older than you are. How old are you?” “Nineteen, ma’am.” “Ah. Twice your age, then. And you are a good reader? Just finished your freshman year at college. In English?” “Yes, ma’am.” She stood up, feeling her way easily to the railing of the deck about five feet away. She put out her hand as he started to get up to help her. “I’m okay,” she said as she turned, letting him see the silhouette of her body with the sun at her back, lifting one knee to open the part of her dress along her thigh again. She could feel her hard nipples brush against the fabric. “Now then Robert, this job has some heavy lifting and yard work of course, watering the plants and so on. But the most important thing to me is the reading. I have to have someone to read to me.” “Well, ma’am, that should be absolutely no problem! I’ve always been a good reader.” “I like certain kinds of books.” She stared up, with that wide open blind stare, studying his response carefully. He leaned forward. “Oh well, ma’am! I’m pretty sure I can read anything.” She nodded smiling. “Good,” she said. “We’ll see.” Casually, she dragged her nails down between her breasts, scratching lightly. Her dark red nails complemented her dark red hair, falling in waves to her shoulders. Her ankles were crossed, criss-crossed with thin laces that held her sandals on. The slight breeze lifted the front of her dress across her thigh. He was trying to open the dress further, by an act of will. She showed him the grounds, an ample lawn, and the secluded pool in the backyard. “This is where Pierre, my husband, often shoots his photo spreads. Don’t worry: he won’t ask you to be in them! He only photographs girls. I suppose you like to look at girls in swimsuits, Robert?” She turned her blind stare at him again and he smiled at her. “Well?” “Oh sorry. Well, yes, I like girls. Women, that is. I mean… well… but it won’t distract me. If that’s what you mean.” “It won’t distract you? Do you have a girlfriend, Robert? Is that why you’re shy about saying you like girls?” He blushed a deeper red, grateful she probably couldn’t see. “Oh no ma’am. Not at the moment. I don’t know many of the girls around here. Being away at college and all that, and we just moved here last year.” “And your parents keep close tabs on you, do they? Scare the girls away?” He chuckled and smiled. “Oh no ma’am. In fact they’re gone for the whole summer. Up at our place in Vermont.” “It must be nice and quiet up there, Robert.” “Yeah. Too quiet. I’d rather be here.” “What time is it?” “Ten thirty, ma’am.” “Oh my. I have another boy to interview in a few minutes. You’ll have to excuse me.” She put her hand out for his arm, but missed, leaning into him, letting her breast press against his upper arm. She grabbed his other shoulder, her fingers gripping very hard, her nails digging in. She heard his intake of breath and a low grunt, but he smiled and helped her get her balance back. “You okay, ma’am?” She smiled brightly. “Oh yes, Robert. You are very quick. Thank you.” He led her to the door and stood there while she held on to his forearm. “Just a couple of other things, Robert. Our style is kind of European. We have guests that come from France sometimes. Do you speak any French?” He looked crestfallen. “No ma’am. I guess I could get a phrase book.” He was as eager as a lap-dog. She smiled inside. “Hmmm. It’s not that important. But I hope the French style doesn’t bother you.” He looked puzzled. “No ma’am, not at all. Why should it?” “Of course not. You’re a worldly boy, aren’t you?” “Sure,” he said, far from sure. “Okay then. Thanks for coming over. You can kiss my hand.” He looked at her flustered. “The French way, Robert.” He colored deeply, and bent clumsily as she turned her hand over and offered it to her lips. She felt his lips on the back of her hand, an earnest kiss. “Very good, Robert. You’re learning. Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow, once I’ve finished with the other candidates.” She watched him walk down the stairs, his tight young ass just waiting to be squeezed. There were no other candidates. She had chosen him on inspiration, seeing him next door, and knowing the Langleys were away for the summer. She did not call him the next day. She waited until the day after. “Robert, I’m having a hard time coming to a decision. Could you come over and we could have another chat?” When he arrived this time she was wearing dark sunglasses, and a bikini top, with a sarong tied around her waist. “You’ll have to excuse the sunglasses today, Robert. My eyes are so tired. Pierre is away for a couple of days and when he is away I don’t sleep well. I get quite frightened, actually. I know it’s irrational, but I just can’t feel secure without a man sleeping in the house. But thankfully this morning my friend Monique arrived from France. Come out by the pool. We are out there.” She put her hand out for his strong young arm, and let him lead her to the deck of the pool. Monique was stretched out on her stomach on a chaise lounge, a tiny bikini bottom over her tanned buttocks, and her bikini top lying on the concrete deck. Her skin glistened bronze, and there were no tan lines. Robert realized she was wearing no top, then made an effort to avert his eyes. “Monique, ma chere. This is Robert. Robert : Monique.” Monique lifted her head, then her shoulders, then her breasts off the chaise lounge languidly, making no effort to cover her breasts, which had dark, small hard nipples. Dark as chocolate. “Oh hello Robert. Very pleased to meet you. So you will be working for Natalie?” She had a French accent. Her English was good, but her French lilt was unmistakable. Robert looked at her breasts, then away at the pool. There was an involuntary swelling of his cock, barely controlled. “Well I hope so. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand without thinking, and started to retract it but Monique reached up to take it. Her breasts swayed as she moved, full and round. Natalie watched with a slight smirk, arranging herself on another lounge chair. Another red cape for the little bull. Natalie’s body was stunning; always had been. Her breasts were full and creamy, and the bikini top was skimpy. Under the red fabric, her nipples were hard. She pointed to the foot of her chair. “Just stand there, Robert. Let me get a book. Tell me first: is college these days as wild as the papers say? One long drunken party? Orgies in the dorms?” “Oh no ma’am, not at all! Or at least, not for me. I mean I like to go to parties, but the people I hang out with aren’t that wild.” “Not that wild? I hope you aren’t too boring either, Robert.” She unknotted her sarong and lay back in the chair, her legs stretching silkily in front of her. Her fingers slid under the edges of her bikini bottom to adjust it, drawing his attention to the movement of her nails under the edges of the fabric. “All right, Robert, let’s see how you read.” The title of the book was Surly Bonds. It had a picture of a black-haired woman in a corset on the cover, her bright red lips parted, her white teeth holding a rose. He began to read. It was a novel about a woman who preyed on other women. The woman was intense, predatory, and knew just how to push a girl’s uncertainty. He started to read where Natalie had indicated: As Veronique slowly dragged her nail along the girl’s shoulder and then down her breastbone, she could feel the girl’s breathing getting shallow. She could feel the temperature of girl’s skin rise. “Your nipples, Betsy.” Then the older woman dragged her nail over the younger woman’s taut nipple, flicking it. “Are sensitive, are they not?” The young woman smiled quickly and uncertainly, with a quick intake of breath, frozen in Veronique’s headlights. He paused and looked up. Natalie’s eyes met his. She adjusted her sunglasses. “Carry on, Robert.” He blushed. “Sure!” He lowered his head to start reading again. Monique, hearing Robert stop, turned her head and just lifted it slightly. “How’s my back?” she said. She lifted up some suntan oil and passed it to Natalie. “Would you mind? I just don’t want to move.” Natalie grimaced. “You know I hate that stuff on my hands. Robert, would you mind? I hate the feel of that stuff.” She just passed him the suntan oil, which he grabbed earnestly and helpfully. And then stopped, awkwardly. The silky glistening surface of Monique’s skin was a golden world. When he bent over, Natalie could see the outline of his hard cock. She stared at it. He looked at her face but she didn’t move her face; behind her glasses he really couldn’t tell. His cock was a stiff, arching shape under his shorts. As he applied the oil, Monique shifted on her lounge. “My legs, too,” she said, moving them apart, the thin band of material over her crotch capturing the shape of her vulva perfectly: bulging, pressing against the fabric. *** “I can’t wait for the work to start on the tennis court,” Natalie said, smiling over at Pierre as they sat with their glasses of wine watching the sun set over the Caribbean. Her lovely legs were stretched out onto the settee in front of her, her long, loose sundress unbuttoned almost all the way up her thighs. “Yes. Next week. It will be great to be able to hit balls whenever we want.” He sipped his Chablis and smiled over at his luxuriant wife. She turned to him with the beginnings of a smile. “And you think we might find the right girl during your next project?” Her smile broadened, and turned wicked. He angled his head and looked back at her. “Oh yes, I am nearly certain. I will just keep working until we find her.” *** Robert’s first day on the job she gave him his outfit. She insisted, Natalie said, since she didn’t want him ruining his clothes. And she had an idea of how people who worked for her should look, she said. Natalie had chosen it deliberately. They were loose cotton shorts, with two overlapping flaps in front that tied together. And in the pool, she explained, they followed the European habit of men wearing speedo type suits. In Europe, she commented, they believed the usual swimsuits worn in North America, the ones that resembled shorts, were unsanitary, since people wore them just about anywhere, sitting down in all kinds of places that might transfer god knows what impurity to the water of a pool. In the loose cotton shorts, his body underneath displayed the suggestions of all kinds of shapes: the hint of his flaccid cock, of his balls, of the crack of his ass. *** Pierre was busy with cameras, light umbrellas and reflectors around the pool. Four young women in swimsuits and beach wraps were arranged in artistic poses, leaning against each other, lying at the edge of the pool. Natalie sat on the veranda above the pool, in the sun. Robert arrived to read. He had concluded she could make out very little without her glasses. He had watched her stumbling into flower pots, railings, pieces of furniture. So he didn’t bother to hide his glances over the veranda railing, at the girls in their colourful patches of cloth. He was still reading Surly Bonds. As he read, his cock hardened. “Come here, Robert.” He walked over. “Sit in the chair here while you read.” He sat. While he read, she rose and walked behind him, rested her hands on his shoulders, looking down at his bare chest, his bare, flat, muscular stomach, the loose cotton shorts she made him wear. Her fingers went down his shoulder, over his upper arms and back up. “Keep reading,” she said. “I just want to feel your skin.” He kept reading. She felt him gulp. Looking down she could see the outline of his cock swelling. She just let it swell now, as he continued to read page after page of Surly Bonds, a passage about the heroine, Veronica, catching one of her girls watching a pornographic movie, and spanking her. *** After a few days, they settled into a pattern. Robert had completely convinced himself about her poor eyes. Every day he arrived around 9, usually when she was out doing some errands. Late in the morning she would bring some papers out by the pool, with her laptop, and her calculator and work away at the white table in a sunhat, sunglasses, and usually a bathing suit and a wrap. Sometimes the heat would be unbearable, and she had established with him that he could take a quick dip whenever he wanted, in order to cool down a bit. Monique, and other friends came to sunbathe, sometimes topless, sometimes entirely nude. They rarely spoke to him, but did stare occasionally at him, as if appraising something they might buy in a department store – a cocktail dress, or a fur coat. Something inanimate. Before long he grew to accept his place in their world – that he moved through their landscape, but was not really part of it, at least not part of it any more than an appliance, or a pet, or a gardener. He never quite lost his self-consciousness about his thin cotton shorts, or the skimpy bathing suits. But it was the “French way.” *** Tuesday morning she wasn’t working, just lounging out by the pool. The day was sunny once again, bearable – by midday they had to retreat to the shade. She lay back on the lounge, a book and a bottle of suntan lotion beside her. Monique was lying back, her bare breasts glistening bronze in the sun. “Ahhh I need to relax, Robert.” She picked up the suntan lotion and handed it to him. “Do my legs please. I just don’t feel like stretching.” He looked down at her elegant legs stretched out, her toes pointed, her muscles rippling just slightly as she parted her feet to allow him to move his hands between them. While he oiled her legs she undid her top and dropped it to the concrete surface of the deck. Through her sunglasses she could see his fingers working slowly up her legs, up her thighs and then back down. His cock was clearly erect inside his loose cotton shorts. “Do a complete job, now Robert. Thighs and calves. Inside and outside. All the way up.” She turned to Monique. “It’s so good to have an agreeable boy with sensitive fingers to do this. I never thought I would get out of having to put that oil on my fingers.” His fingers moved up her thighs, closer and closer to the edge of her bikini bottom. “Right to the edge of the fabric, Robert. I don’t want any burns.” At this she spread her legs so that he could reach right up inside her thighs. The fabric of her bikini bottom stretched taut across her pussy, the slight bulge of her lips was evident to him, just a couple of feet away. Finally he finished. It was time for him to skim the pool, she said, quickly before the leaves started clogging the filter. He jumped up with alacrity, grabbed the skimmer and walked away, trying to hide his erection by turning his back to the women. But she told him to start at the end, not right at this side. So he had to at least turn sideways to Monique and Natalie, the tip of his cock bouncing against the loose material until, eventually, it subsided. “You are so wicked,” said Monique, staring at him under the brim of her sunhat. “Yes, I am,” said Natalie. “This is going to be an enjoyable summer.” *** The next day she saw him masturbating for the first time. She had returned early from some errands. She entered the house quietly, and at the top of the stairs by her bedroom, looking through to the veranda off her bedroom, she saw him back in the shadows, looking down at Monique who was oiling herself up down below. He was staring, his cock out of his shorts, stroking his long, thick pink shaft. Drops were already flicking off the pink end, and his eyes were bulging. Before another minute had passed, he came, shooting his thick white streams of cum onto the stone deck, three or four long streams arching out onto the grey stone, staining it dark where they landed. She stepped back and retreated down the stairs. Then she called out. “Robert? Robert? Are you there? I’m on the stairs. Can you lend me a hand?” Seconds later he appeared, his face flushed, his cock still hard under his shorts, a small wet stain at the tip. “Hi ma’am. What can I do for you?” She held her hand out for him to take, then walked up the stairs, just brushing very gently against his front, against the protruding cock. “I just want to go out to the deck for a bit, Robert. Thanks.” Read to Me Ch. 01 He led her out, a look of some panic on his face, flustered and embarrassed. On the deck outside were long wet trails of dark wet stain where he had been standing. Natalie deliberately walked right over them, stopping and sliding her foot a little, as if she was surprised to find something slippery underfoot. She looked down at Monique, lying face up, baking in the sun. “A pretty sight, isn’t she?” Natalie said, looking at Robert with that blind stare. He blushed. “Oh. Yeah. She sure is.” *** Pierre smiled. “I have seen your wicked ways, teasing that poor boy. Exciting, isn’t it? I am enjoying every second.” Natalie simply smiled at him and nodded, languidly moving her hand to her breast, where she pinched her hard nipple through the fabric of her loose shirt. “And the girls?” she asked. “I’m not sure. There is one. She isn’t the most natural model, but she is lovely. She seems to enjoy showing herself off. And she steals glances. Constantly, looking at the other girls. And at Robert when he comes by. Sometimes, I think, even at me.” Natalie caressed her nipple some more then pinched it again, her lips parting. “Oh I can believe that. You exude sex, mon amour.” “Is that so, my delicious fuckgirl?” She moved her hand from her nipple and slid it down inside her shorts, finding her slit and moving her middle finger up and down it as he watched. “Oh yes, my love. Like right now. You make me want to be fucked. Really hard. Bent over the bed, your cock ramming into me, splitting me apart.” She paused and looked over at him. “Please,” she said again, with a low whimper. He stood up. “Follow me, my wanton girl.” *** “Robert, you know you should put some cream on yourself.” Natalie looked up at him, her thick sunglasses hiding her eyes. He was moving by the pool, skimming it again. She liked to watch him doing that. “Come over here. I’ll do it for you. Come. Come.” She clearly wasn’t going to brook contradiction. He walked over to her, standing nervously by her chaise. She patted the side of her chaise by her thigh, and he sat, his back to her. She poured some oil in her palm and then massaged it into his upper back. His young man’s body was golden, muscled. She could feel the ripples of his muscles under her expert fingers. She massaged the cream in with her fingertips, all the way down to the waistband of his shorts. Then she told him to stand up. He did as he was told. “You don’t mind me doing this, do you, Robert? It does give me pleasure. I just have to feel my way, that’s all.” He was enjoying it, it sent the blood raging through his veins. He was feeling that tingling lift in his crotch that was so much a part of his life these days. Every morning he came to work eager with anticipation, wondering what erotic scene he was going to come across. Every night he went home with something new – the languid look of Natalie or Monique oiling themselves up, or rolling over, or sunbathing completely nude on occasions when they thought he was not in the vicinity. And every night, these images were the core of his elaborately embroidered fantasies as he lay back in his bed, his thick cock in his hand, stroking it till the precum started to pour out, till he couldn’t hold back any longer and he shot his cum into the air, gasping loudly, the arcs of white cum luminescent in the low light of his bedroom. She told him to stand up. He felt her fingers on his calves, then moving up the backs of his thighs. It was the first time he had felt her hands on his body, other than when she held his forearm or his hand for support. Right from the start he had been surprised by the firmness of her grip, and once again now her fingers felt surprisingly firm, pressing deeper into his flesh than his surface skin. Her fingers rubbed in the cream along the back of his legs. He felt the tingling in his crotch, the slow thickening of his cock. The tip of his cock brushed against the material of the loose shorts that were his uniform; the sensitive length of his shaft felt the air moving around it, caressing it like the softest fingers. He let his hands move slowly together in front of his crotch and intertwined them. He felt her fingers pressing up the back of his thighs, up under his shorts, not hesitating at all but working into the base of his buttocks. His muscles there were firm and hard like the rest of him. He drew his breath, feeling the surge of her fingers right through his midsection, right at the base of his testicles. “Turn,” she said, patting the side of his buttock with her fingertips to get him to rotate. She looked at his folded hands, then up at his eyes, her eyes full of intent. “You can put your hands behind your back,” she said, her eyes firm, almost challenging. He froze, opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and his hands remained intertwined in front of his crotch. His cock was throbbing, pulsing. He could feel it. She reached over and put on her glasses. She then looked at him again. “Oh I see. You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?” she said. She smiled warmly. “No need to be. I’ve seen an aroused boy before, and so you can be sure it’s perfectly normal. Do it, please, your hands behind your back. No need to cover up something as natural as an erection.” His face flushed deeper. He obeyed. Some inner logic persuaded him that if his boss told him to do something, then he should do it. He gulped and parted his hands to put them behind his back. As soon as he moved his hands to fold them behind himself, an undeniable surge of arousal pulsed through his cock, and it twitched. He blushed deeper, but let it stand, pulsing there slightly against the front of his shorts, as she started to stare at it, smiling. Then she put her glasses down again. She said nothing, but squeezed some cream into her palm and rubbed it into the front of his shins, then his knees, then up his rock hard thighs. She gazed at his muscular thighs, bulging as her fingers massaged the cream into them. Fair, thickish blond hair covered his legs, but grew more sparse close to his crotch. He looked down, then away, breathing in raggedly as he felt her fingers move up his thighs, up under his shorts toward his hip, then down, then back up, each time getting closer to his cock and balls. He felt her nails dragging slightly as she drew her fingers down, then felt the pads of her fingertips pushing the skin up. There was no hiding the throbbing of his cock now, pulsing up and down as she moved her fingers closer to his balls. He felt her fingers then moving up into the crease of his thigh, into his thicker pubic hair, then back down. A couple of times, her fingertips brushed the side of his ballsac very slightly, and he breathed in suddenly, quickly. He was in an agony of arousal and dread and desire, almost glad he didn’t have to do anything but obey what she wanted. After all she was the boss, she was in charge. His deepest desire was for her to grab his cock and stroke it till he came. It was what he fantasized about every night. But it was not to be. She leaned back, screwed the top back on the suntan cream, and smiled up at him. “All right, Robert. I enjoyed that. Did you enjoy that? I suppose I don’t need to ask. But tell me anyway. You enjoyed it?” She said it more as a statement of fact, requiring confirmation, than as a question. She put on her sunglasses and her eyes peered up. “Yes,” he breathed out, hoarsely. “Very good, then, Robert. Whenever you are out here, from now on, I want you to come and I’ll oil up your skin for you. Understand? It’s part of your job. You like your job, don’t you, Robert? And we’re sort of becoming friends, aren’t we?” “Yes, Ma’am.” She chuckled. “ ‘Yes Ma’am’. I like that. You are always such a good boy.” *** When Robert arrived the next day, Pierre, whom he had met only on the day he started working, was already out with a group of girls around the pool, arranging them into photogenic poses. Robert was picking up the lounge chairs to wipe them down. Pierre smiled at him and walked over to Robert. “What do you think, Robert? A pretty attractive bunch, aren’t they?” Robert looked over at them and nodded. “They sure are.” Pierre looked down at the book Robert had started to read to Natalie. He picked it up, looked at the title, and nodded. “Ah yes. Surly Bonds. That was a good one. Natalie loves these little stories, doesn’t she, Robert? She loves being read to. But only if she is being read to by a literate young man. She thinks you do an excellent job.” Robert beamed with pride. “Thank you, sir! I do my best.” Pierre looked at him and handed the book back. “That’s very good, Robert. Natalie likes a boy who always does his best. I hope you don’t mind her little eccentricities. Her “French way” as she calls it. It doesn’t bother you?” “Oh no, sir. I am getting used to it. Enjoying it, really.” “Yes, she is a very enjoyable woman. I do hope you enjoy working with her, Robert. Sometimes she can be quite demanding.” “Oh I think I can handle it, sir.” “Ahhhh. Very good, Robert. She might keep you all summer, in that case. *** Later, when Natalie arrived home, she sent Robert up to scrub the deck outside her bedroom. Just the very end of the deck, where she had caught him masturbating, overlooked the pool. She and Monique were lazing, reading, and chatting idly. Both women took off their swimsuits entirely, lying completely nude, their bodies glistening. Natalie looked over at her tall, slender friend, and smiled very slightly. “Ooooh Monique,” she said in her low melodious voice. “I do ache. Would you mind?” Monique returned her smile, looking up and down her friend’s elegant body. “Of course not, cherie. Just lie back.” She reached over and ran her slender fingers down Natalie’s chest, down the flesh of her breast till the tips reached the bronze nipple, and flicked it casually up and down. Natalie emitted a short, happy sigh. Monique got up, took off her sunhat, and then sat at the foot of Natalie’s chair. Slowly, carefully, expertly, she ran her fingers up and down her friend’s body. Up one thigh, then down the other, then up over her tummy, and leaning forward, massaging her friend’s breast. The skin moved easily through her fingers, lubricated with the mix of sweat and suntan oil. “Mmmmmmm perfect,” said Natalie. “Perfect,” she repeated. “He’s having a good look.” Monique carried on with her soft manipulations. Natalie was sighing regularly now, emitting low moans as her friend massaged her breasts, tugged on her nipples, and ran her fingers down her tummy, over her mound, and down the inside of her thighs. Natalie spread her legs, revealing the smooth shaved pinkness there, topped by a small tuft of hair on her mound. Slowly Monique dragged a single finger up Natalie’s slit, collecting a thin accumulation of wetness as it did so. She repeated this several times, each time Natalie lifting her mound to try to press it against Monique’s finger. But Monique would have none of it. “Now, now, you wanton woman. Exercise a little bit of control, please.” “I don’t want to.” Natalie smiled and whispered softly. “He hasn’t moved; he is enjoying this.” Monique shifted herself and lay between her friend’s legs. Natalie spread her thighs a little wider, giving Monique easy access to her pussy, the livid labia now swollen, and visibly wet. She trailed a flicking path of kisses up the tanned skin, over her mound, in the crease of her thigh. Her tongue reached out and flicked over and over, finally in the skin next to her labia, licking up and down, then, finally, sinking into the base of her slit, and slowly upward, dividing the moist lips maddeningly slowly. When she touched and lifted Natalie’s clit Natalie gave a very pronounced jolt, and uttered an “ohhhh” much louder, then lay back, her hands gripping the side of the chaise. Monique’s mouth closed over Natalie’s mound, then, cupping it, sucking it in, her tongue working her friend’s clit around and around. “Yes baby yessssss,” Natalie hissed under her breath, “fuck me with your tongue. Fuck me with your fingers, yes, that feels soooooo fucking goooooooood.” She shifted her hips back and forth, fingers still gripping the sides of the chaise. Monique continued to lick and suck her friend’s clit, sliding her tongue up and down her slit and then massaging her clit fiercely. She took two slender fingers, and slid them along her pretty friend’s soaking pussy, then up inside her. Natalie bucked. She grunted. Animalistic, as her friend fucked her with her fingers. “Oh god yes yes yes yes!!! I’m going to cum. oh yes, any second!” And then she bit her lip, her body tensed, and she grabbed her friend’s head in her hand and pressed it down on her pussy as her orgasm coursed through her. She thrashed her head side to side and thrust her hips up and down. “God yes yes fuck yes yes!!!” By now she was talking louder, almost shouting. “God yes I’m cumming oh yessssss!!!!!” Her last words were transformed into a muffled, very audible wail as her body shuddered in orgasm, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her like an electric current. When she was finished, Monique looked up at her, grinning, her face glistening with Natalie’s juices. Her body was moving rhythmically also, her hips humping the end of the chaise. She was fingering herself with her free hand, her legs now spreading, her fingers moving faster and faster up and down her own slick cunt. Natalie watched and smiled, seeing what was happening before moving her own fingers to her pussy, stroking it, working herself up to another orgasm. Within minutes the two women were cumming, nearly together, and Monique lay with her head on the chaise between Natalie’s legs. A minute later she got up, smiling, leaned over, and kissed Natalie firmly and deliciously on the mouth. “A wonderful idea, baby. Did he stay for the entire performance?” Natalie nodded. “Yes, the planter was not really much cover. But he figures I can’t see anyway, so he is pretty careless. Let’s go up and see how he’s doing.” The two women simply put on their gauzy wraps and wended their way up to the bedroom, then out onto the deck, where Robert was innocently working away at the opposite end to the part that jutted out over the pool. The two slender women smiled at him, their bodies barely hidden under the filmy wraps, then they walked to the opposite end where, sure enough, there were a few telltale strings of wet stain on the stone. Natalie stood looking down at the pool, her arm linked through Monique’s, and then called Robert over. Looking at the two women, he had a clear view of the outlines of their bodies, Monique’s taller, more slender body, and Natalie’s slim but fuller shape: fuller breasts, shapelier calves. “Yes, Ma’am?” he said. “Robert, I was wondering if you had done this end of the deck, yet?” She pointed to the tiles, where the long wet stains were evident, beside a few leaves. “These leaves. They are leaves, aren’t they? I really can’t tell. They must be. They couldn’t have just dropped in the last few minutes.” Robert looked down, blushing. “Oh I’ll get them, and go over the tiles again.” He walked away, picked up his mop and broom and came back quickly as the two women walked back through the sliding doors and down into the house. *** Natalie was sitting on the deck looking down over the pool. Monique was in town, picking up some magazines. “Come and read to me, Robert,” she said. She had arranged the two chaises so that he would be stretched out beside her, her head about even with his chest, her arms level with his midsection. She gave him a new book, Dark Girl. It was a novel about a young university professor, a woman, who spent most of her classes singling out potential objects of her attentions. Her attentions subsequently turned dark, as the girls or boys were transformed into eager slaves to her own extreme tastes. “Let me put your cream on, Robert.” She flashed a smile up at him. He smiled back. He had become accustomed to the thrill of her fingers moving up and down his back, his buttocks, his thighs. He no longer grew embarrassed at her fingers as they probed near his cock, which always hardened as she applied the cream. “I enjoy this little ritual, Robert. I’m glad you do too.” She never asked him if he did enjoy it; she just told him he did. His cock only took a few seconds to start prodding against the loose cotton of his shorts. Such a little bull, seething in his pen. The same was true this time. She finished his back and asked him to stand up so she could do his legs, and by the time she had finished massaging the cream into the base of his buttocks and told him to turn around, there was a noticeable bulge where his cock pressed against the material, not quite fully hard. By the time her fingers had worked the cream into his thighs, her nails dragging down the front of his thighs and her finger tips pushing up under his shorts, his cock was pulsing, visibly beating in front of her face. He held his hands stoically folded behind his back. Her fingers moved up the insides of his thighs and brushed against his testicles, and he gave just the tiniest twitch. “All right?” she asked. Could she even see his erection, he wondered? “Yes,” he replied, as neutrally as possible. As if he were a recruit being tested. She removed her bikini top casually, her full, high breasts bouncing just slightly, then she applied her own suntan cream to the dark tanned skin, her fingers carefully working around her nipples while he stood looking down a few feet away. He was almost snorting with arousal, pawing the ground. “All right,” she said, patting the chaise right next to hers. “Start reading.” He sat down next to her, his body stretching out parallel with hers. As he sat there, his cock stuck up against the loose shorts. He let it be. He began reading. The opening scene of the novel was a hot, intense one. Robert had gotten used to Natalie’s taste in literature, and was learning to enjoy this shadowy world as much as she did. As he read, his cock showed no signs of subsiding. The sun beat down on both of them, while a delicious breeze came up from the Caribbean coast. Small, colourful sun umbrellas kept both their heads in the shade. Robert kept reading. Natalie turned her head his way. They were completely private up on the deck. “You have a lovely voice, Robert. I enjoy your reading.” Languidly, she moved her hand over to his thigh, letting her fingertips rest lightly on his muscled, warm skin. Blonde hairs showed against his tan. Every few seconds she idly brushed her fingers back and forth over his skin. As he read, she moved her fingers, first to his hip, then his thigh, then his stomach. She seemed to be in a sort of reverie, watching her fingers as they glided lightly over the firm, coltish flesh. When her fingers touched his stomach, it tensed up, muscles rippling before he relaxed again. There was a hitch in his voice, then he resumed. The shorts tied up at the waist, the material folding over a few inches instead of a fly. Her fingers toyed with the lace for a few minutes, then slowly tugged on it, undoing the bow that did up his shorts. He didn’t stop reading, but did glance down briefly. Once she had finished undoing his shorts she left them undone, and resumed gliding her fingers over his stomach, then his thigh, then his hip. She turned her face slightly sideways, although he was sitting too far back for her to actually see his face. “You just keep reading, now, Robert. Understand? That’s what you’re paid for, remember Robert. I am just going to make you comfortable. And so on. Keep reading.” He was in an agony of desire, an intense ache throbbing through his cock. He had never felt more aroused in his life. Every few minutes he cleared his throat. He stole the occasional glance over the top of the book as he read. The head of his cock was clearly outlined against the cotton of these shorts, and he watched its slight bounce as the blood visibly beat through it. He was in the habit, now that he had been working for her about ten days, of masturbating two or three times a day, between furtive moments of voyeurism around Natalie’s grounds, and his own private moments of fantasy in bed at home. Natalie had opened the top of his shorts, and her fingertips were now playing idly with the top of his bush of pubic hair, golden blond in the sunlight. He was finding it more and more difficult to control his breathing as he read. Natalie was enjoying his torment. He was desperate for her to touch his cock, to wrap her fingers around his shaft and make his cum erupt from inside him. The normal suburban rules of social behaviour clearly didn’t apply here, in this delicious Caribbean oasis. Read to Me Ch. 01 Her fingernails were painted a soft, metallic pink, a colour that shone beside the tan of her fingers. He felt them move in his blond pubic hair, the nails scratching down close to the root of his shaft, then down the side of his abdomen to the crease of his thigh, then back up and around the top again. She had parted the flaps of his shorts enough that the base of his cock was now visible. The head was straining against the cotton. A small dot of wet had appeared at the opening of his cock, and his breath was audible now. “Don’t stop reading, Robert. It’s a good story. Can you keep reading?” “Oh yes, ma’am, I can keep reading.” This became his logic now, his rationale for letting her do whatever she wanted. She made the rules. He worked for her, she wanted him to read, he would read. He accepted this logic. He moved his feet slightly further apart, pushed down on his buttocks and then let his hips rise slightly. As he did this, he kept reading, but couldn’t help interjecting a very slight grunt. She leaned, and put on her glasses. Then, pressing her left hand into his abdomen slightly for balance, she reached over with her right hand and lifted the flaps of his shorts right up off his cock, then let them lay down, his cock fully exposed, erect and pulsing, bobbing very slightly back and forth as his circulation ran through it. She simply gazed at it, continuing to trail her fingers through his bush of hair, up and down the skin of his thighs, then down around the base of his shaft and over his testicles. She gave no explanation of what she was doing, asked no permission, simply listened to him reading while he was raging inside, a volcano waiting to erupt. His cock was young, unblemished, thick and a dark pink, almost brown in places, almost white in others, crowned with a bright pink head. At the little hole on top, a bead of liquid shone in the sunlight. Very slowly, very deliberately, she let the fingernail of her index finger trace a line down the shaft from just below the crown, down to the base. He stopped reading momentarily, uttering a quick groan. “Don’t stop reading. Let’s see how well you can concentrate, Robert. Consider it a bit of a test. I do want you to pass this test, Robert.” She moved her fingers in the sunlight slowly, touching the shaft, tracing a line down the ridges, then along the underside, up the thick vein that pulsed with fluid. The drop that had been on top had now leaked down the side. She ran her fingertip through it, took her finger away ad then brought it to her mouth, licking it clean. He could see what she was doing, out of his peripheral vision, and it made his cock pulse quite suddenly, and a quick surge of fluid came out the little hole at the end of his cock, dripping down the shaft, glistening silver-clear in the bright sun. He kept reading. He needed to cum. God he wanted to cum. He wanted her to wrap her slender fingers around his cock and stroke it hard and fast – he would cum in about three seconds. But she didn’t. Instead she returned her fingertips to his cock, dragging her nails down the shaft, feeling all its ridges, its muscled pulsing, dragging through the trail of wetness that had pulsed from it, and which now pushed out about every ten or twenty seconds as she touched a different part of it. She had the broadest smile on her face, but he couldn’t see it. In fact his world was reduced to these words on the page that he was now reading through robotically, and the volcanic pressure building up in his cock. Her fingers, her nails, were like electric eels crawling up and down the shaft of his cock. He didn’t know it, because of his relative youth and inexperience, but his cock was above average both in length and girth, with a classic shape, a bulbous head, and delicious vivid pink colour. Her nails traced the outline of the thick vessel on the underside of his cock, up to the most sensitive spot on the underside of the head, then back down. Each time she slid her nail up the vessel a new surge of liquid pulsed out of the tiny hole. He was grunting, trying to control himself as she touched him. The sun was glaring down, they were completely secluded in this other world, and he could hardly stand the explosive pressure in his cock. He kept reading. She trailed her fingertip through the silky liquid seeping down the side of his ridged shaft. The head bobbed as the blood beat through it. She trailed her finger down to the base, over his tightened testicles, then back up, watching the surge of liquid seep from the tiny hole. He kept up his reading, although it was unsteady now. Each time she moved her fingers up and down he lost the rhythm of his words. Then she carefully, slowly wrapped her fingers around the hard shaft. Her slender fingers curled around it, her tanned skin darker than his shaft, her pink nails almost matching the pink of his bulging crown. But when she did this, he stopped reading. His body tensed, and he straightened his arms at his side. He squeezed his eyes shut. She released the pressure on his cock, but kept her fingers around it. He relaxed. She took the hand with the book in it and placed it again in front of him. “Read,” she said. He looked at her. “But… but… I’m going to…” “Read. You’re going to read, Robert. Anything else that happens doesn’t matter. You are being paid to read, aren’t you?” She was almost stern. “Yes, ma’am.” “Good. Now do what I tell you, Robert. I am in control. Understand?” “Yes, ma’am.” He picked up where he left off, haltingly at first. She squeezed his cock again, then released it. She played around the tip with her fingertips. By now his hips were moving with each touch, his legs opening and closing as she moved her fingers. She squeezed. Slowly she moved her wrapped fingers up and down his shaft once. The silky liquid ran out of his little slit, down the crown of his cock and over her fingers. She did it again. Another stream of clear silver. His hips were shifting. He was groaning through the words he was reading, odd words suddenly getting louder as she tormented him. His vessel up the underside of his cock was rock hard with cum. She repeated her stroking action very slowly again. And again. Then a sudden strong pulse rippled through his cock, and a small jet of cum lifted only about an inch from the slit at the tip and then ran down her fingers. She increased her pressure only slightly, and stroked a little harder. He shouted out the word he was reading then slammed the book down at the side of his chaise, his eyes wide with intensity. As her fingers stroked up his cock, a long white stream of cum shot into the air, two or three feet above his cock, landing on his thigh. Her next stroke brought another spurt of cum shooting out, high into the air in a looping silver arc, landing on his belly. Then another, and another. The spurts subsided and he lay there, catching his breath. Her fingers, covered in his cum, were now sliding gently up and down his shaft, just feeling the silkiness of the skin and the liquid. A couple of strands of cum glistened across her wrist and forearm. “Very nice, Robert. Just read a few more paragraphs.” He did so, his cock slowly throbbing to semi-hardness, lying over at a curve, the head touching his bush of blond hair, the shaft still curling. His cum glistened in the sun. She wiped her fingers on the towel, and studied his cock for a minute or two as he read. Then she lay back, her breasts warm in the sun, her nipples hard and tight. “Thanks, Robert, that’s enough.” “Yes, Ma’am.” “You can use the towel to clean yourself up.” He picked it up and wiped himself, blushing at the intimate act of cleaning himself in front of her. She stared through her sunglasses up at the sky, almost ignoring what he was doing. “I enjoyed that, Robert. You did too, didn’t you?” “Oh god yes, ma’am. It was incredible. It was awesome. You didn’t mind that I… that I … did that?” “That you came, Robert? That you couldn’t control your cock and that the cum came spurting all over the place?” His face flushed completely. “Well, yeah.” He paused. “But what about…? Isn’t there something…?” He stopped, not knowing exactly how to proceed. “Oh don’t worry about me, Robert. You enjoyed it, I enjoyed it. We’ll do it again, Robert. I will choose the moments, understand? You will enjoy it, Robert.” “Yes Ma’am.” His eagerness was palpable. It was a dream, a fantasy coming to life. He had no choice in the matter, he decided, if he wanted to keep his job. “And when the time comes, of course there will be things you can do for me.” She sat back now, her body to the sun, and closed her eyes, smiling. “Can you bring me some iced tea now, Robert? That would be very pleasant.” ** * “So what do you think?” Pierre passed Natalie several enlargements of a girl, one of his models, in a swimsuit, and a sundress. Natalie put her glass down and studied the pictures, pursing her lips and nodding. ”Oooh yes. Do you think she is as sultry as she looks?” Pierre took one of the pictures, showing the young woman in a white sundress with one strap falling down her arm, the top of the dress peeling away from her left breast, stopping just short of showing her nipple. “Exactly. Sultry. Those heated eyes. I’ve watched her while we are shooting. She is nice enough, friendly and business-like, but I have noticed all the furtive glances she gives the other girls, or men who are around. Me or Robert. It’s like she is imagining things, things she can’t talk about.” Natalie grinned at him. “She sounds promising. Shall I have a look at her? Pierre put the picture down and slid his hand under Natalie’s skirt, brushing his fingers over her mound and its tuft of dark hair. “Oh yes, my wanton girl. Definitely. And how is your boy doing?” She shifted her legs apart, inviting Pierre’s fingers to move down her slit. “Oh he is doing just fine. He is learning very well. Such a good boy. He cums like such a little bull. Spurting all over the place. Are you going to fuck me?” “I don’t think so, my fuckgirl. I want to watch you fuck yourself.” He removed his hand. She lifted her skirt up, and slowly ran her fingers down her slit. Parted her labia, which were lovely and pink, starting to glisten with moisture. “What a wonderful idea,” she said, and plunged two fingers inside herself. *** “Come here, Robert. I want to show Monique something.” He had been skimming the pool while they were sunning, reading magazines. His tanned body glistened as he walked toward her. After yesterday, each time he was near her his body hummed, his cock lost its softness, and he wondered when she would touch him next. He had gone home last night and stroked himself to orgasm again, going over the incident from the afternoon in detail. He had come to work today, full of hopes and fantasies. He wanted her to touch him the moment he arrived, and made sure he walked nearby often, to give her frequent opportunities. He approached slowly and steadily, looking down at the two women sunbathing topless around the luxurious pool. Natalie crooked her finger at him. He stood between their chairs. She smiled up at him, then over at Monique. “Come closer, you know I can’t see very well, Robert. He is a very good boy, Monique. Works hard…” she reached her hand out and found his his muscular thigh, causing a twitch in his crotch. She smiled over at Monique again, scratching her nails along his skin. “And he follows orders perfectly, don’t you, Robert?” He looked down at her, smiling nervously, his cock starting to grow, and twitch against these loose shorts she made him wear. “Oh yes, Ma’am.” “Good, Robert. Now put your hands behind your back. You can keep them there, can’t you?” As she finished this sentence she slid her hand up his thigh in one steady motion, till she was cupping his balls. He gasped and jerked, and started to move his hands, but she squeezed harder. “Now Robert. Keep your hands back.” As he moved his hands back she released his balls. By now, clearly, his cock was hard, throbbing against the front of his shorts. Monique stared at it and smiled. Robert blushed. Natalie might not see very well, but Monique’s eyes were perfect. “Robert is quite sensitive. Touch him, honey.” It was clear where she intended her friend to touch him, as she flicked her eyes at his throbbing cock. Robert was trembling, aching with anticipation. After yesterday afternoon, his readiness was accelerated, and as soon as Monique’s tanned hand slid up inside his shorts and touched his hard, thick shift, a small drop of precum seeped from the end of his cock. “Yes, very nice,” Monique said under her breath. She closed her hand around his cock, and he felt the surge of pleasure increase, and another pulse of precum seeped from the end of his cock, staining the front of his shorts. She was stroking it slowly, her fingers playing along its length under his shorts. He began to whimper and groan, unable to control the occasional movement of his hips. Natalie’s fingers were playing with his thighs, touching his balls, then sliding along the crack of his ass. Then suddenly Robert groaned, loud, and started to jerk. He was cumming. Monique was stroking him steadily, smiling, watching the spurts of cum spreading the wet stain on his shorts. Robert slowly stopped jerking, caught his breath and looked down sheepishly at the two women. “Robert.” Natalie said. “You certainly did a much poorer job of controlling yourself than you did yesterday.” She gave him a playful smack on the ass. “We’ll have to work on that, won’t we?” Monique was smiling, wiping her fingers on her towel, then she picked up her book and looked up at Robert before starting to read again. “Very nice, Robert, but that really wasn’t what I had planned.” Robert looked down, his face flushing. “Sorry, Ma’am. I… I couldn’t help it.” He was so dismayed. Monique looked up, her sunglasses reflecting the blushing boy. “That’s all right,” she said. “I prefer boys who can’t help it.” *** Robert was out in the garden, hauling some rocks to a new rock garden Natalie wanted built around the pool. He was sweating profusely, his loose shorts starting to cling to his body because of the sweat. Every time he brought a rock through, Monique and Natalie would simply watch him pass, his body rippling and muscled, glistening in the hot sun. They were both sunbathing topless, breasts round and glistening in the sunshine. “You must be dying for a swim, Robert. Go and change,” Natalie said. He smiled gratefully at her, and disappeared into the cabana to change, returning in the tight, skimpy speedo she required when he swam in the pool. The French way, she had reminded him, the first time. He dived in, swimming under the water and surfacing close to the opposite end. He did this a few times, diving and swimming lazily, dunking his head under the water and coming back up with a flick to his head that sprayed the water from the ends of his blond hair. He got out, grabbed a towel and wiped his face. “All right, Robert. Come and sit. Read to us. Don’t change.” Robert smiled and walked over, very aware that both women were looking at his cock and balls, whose obvious contours were bulging beneath the second skin of his swim suit. Their studious gazes made him shiver with anticipation, with nervous delight. He knew Natalie couldn’t really make out the detail of his body, unless she had her contacts in, but Monique was staring quite openly. Natalie patted the chaise next to her, and passed him the book. “Here Robert. You sit here, right here between us, while you read.” This book, Dark Lady of the Sonnets, was about a beautiful, mysterious woman who wrote poetry, and ensnared young, inexperienced men in her web of secret lust and desire. “Monique will put some lotion on you. So sit still.” Natalie passed the bottle to her friend, her soft lips forming a pouting smile. “Monique only has 4 more days before she has to go home, Robert. A pity, isn’t it?” “Geez that’s too bad.” Monique moved to the edge of his chaise, poured some lotion into her palm. He gulped as she spread the first wave of lotion over his muscular chest, her fingers kneading it into his pectorals, the delicious, firm muscular flesh. Natalie just looked over, watching. The bulge inside his tight swim suit was expanding, clearly straining against the material as his growing erection pushed sideways toward his hip. The two small rounds of his testicles under the royal blue suit were like some small, globular fruit, shifting as he squeezed and lifted his buttocks. Monique ran her hand up over his shoulders, and then slowly, in circles, down his stomach. Monique’s lovely breasts, with the small brown hard nipples, swayed at the edges of his vision, the round flesh occasionally brushing his arm as she moved. By the time her fingers smoothed another drop of lotion in the fine blond hair below his navel, his cock was at full length, throbbing under the thin nylon of his suit. Her fingertips pushed further into his skin, along the waist of the swim suit, millimetres from his throbbing cock, the helmet of his cockhead clearly visible, pulsing. He kept reading, his breath uneven. Monique moved to the foot of the chaise, kneeling on a towel. He gasped as she swept a handful of lotion up one shin past his knee, then repeated the action on his other leg. She slowly leaned forward with each stroke of her hand up and down his leg. Robert continued to read, and she continued to apply the lotion slowly, luxuriantly. Her fingers moved around his thighs, closer and closer to his crotch, kneading the lotion into his skin. As she moved up further, leaning toward him, her breasts occasionally touched his skin, a touch that electrified him. She pushed his feet apart, and started to run her fingers up the inside of his thighs, pushing her nails right up to his bulging testicles. His cock was now trying to lift away from his body, trapped in the tight material of his swim suit, a long, thick, bending shaft of agonizing anticipation. She moved up between his legs, partially lying on the chaise on her elbows between his parted, muscular thighs, pushing his legs further apart. Quite calmly, as if he had no choice in the matter, she traced one of her fingers along the pulsing shaft. He gave a small jerk. “Come now, Robert. Keep reading please.” Natalie laid her hand firmly on his upper arm. With her other hand she picked up her thick glasses. He gulped and continued to read as Monique toyed with the hard shaft, running her fingernail along the outlined ridges and veins, up over the head which had begun to leak slightly, and then down over his balls. He groaned and bit his lip, looking over at Natalie imploringly. “It hurts,” he said. “I can’t help it. Please.” Natalie raised her eyebrows and looked down at Monique. “Oh dear, sweetie pie, he says it hurts. I can see why. Can you do something about that, honey?” Natalie smiled darkly and watched as her friend slowly reached up between his legs with one hand and lifted the waist of his swim suit down slowly, agonizingly slowly over the length of his shaft, until finally it sprung free. Both women smiled, almost chuckling as it did spring free, bouncing, thick and hard, standing straight up, pink and brown and white in the sunshine. Robert emitted an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said, then continued to read. Monique stayed where she was, her forearms now resting on his spread thighs, her fingers of one hand adjusting the fabric of his suit, tugging it down until she had pulled it below his balls, which were then pushed up toward the base of his shaft by the elasticized nylon. Her fingers ran up and down the shaft, feathery touches that brought little drops to the slit at the top which then ran slowly down the shaft. She played with it like it was a toy. She moved her face closer and blew on it, blew on his balls then on his cock again. It felt to him like the softest of fingers caressing the skin, and caused a tremble in his core. He struggled to keep reading, knowing that this is what he must do, of course. It was what Natalie paid him for.