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A Summer with Gina

By: geronimo_appleby



Here's my entry for the Summer Lovin' contest. I hope it gives some enjoyment.

An aging bachelor is smitten by a much younger woman after a chance encounter in the local park. Gina is a language student from Russia: gorgeous, nineteen years old and already has a local boyfriend.

It seems Andrew, at close to fifty-nine, has no hope of experiencing the girl's lithe attentions.

Anyway, here's the piece. Feedback is good. I'd like to hear your comments -- the good and the not-so if you're that way inclined.

Thanks for reading.

GA -- Chester, England -- 4th of September 2014.

One

June

The nation held its collective breath. Everyone wanted good weather. Not necessarily a Mediterranean heatwave, just some sunshine, enough to get our knees brown, perhaps enjoy a few weekend barbecues.

It hadn't happened the first day I saw her. That morning had seen rain, a typical start to a British summer. But the afternoon was a brighter prospect.

We were in the park, with Buster making his usual forays into the undergrowth. The lazy drizzle had ceased, and the sun was making a valiant effort to break up the cloud. The dog sniffed and snuffled amongst the bushes while I stayed on the path and strolled along. There was no rush, I had nowhere to be, no meetings or appointments ruling my days. Workaday stress was a thing of the past. I'd made my money and retired early at fifty-five. I own the house outright and have money put away. I'm going to travel sometime, but, at the moment, the Border Terrier keeps me anchored to England.

Buster was behind me that afternoon, just a dog doing his thing as we made the gentle ascent towards the deserted play-park.

And that's when I noticed her coming towards me. The moment marking a significant change in my life.

****

The girl moved along at a fair clip, Cuban heels pocking against the pavement in a quick, metronomic beat. I had time to notice blue jeans, a red hooded top and long, straight, fair hair before she drew level with me. As she went past I glanced out of the corner of my eye and was immediately struck by how pretty she was, a very cute girl who ignored everything around her, her eyes set on the pavement.

It crossed my mind to say something, to greet her with a cheery "good afternoon" or some-such, but her eye-line remained fixed on the ground a couple of feet in front of her. Then she was beyond me, those heels marking her departure while I considered her disinclination towards eye contact.

My face warmed when it occurred to me that her complete avoidance might be a defence mechanism against pervy old men in parks, but I still turned to look, compelled to do so, drawn by the brisk peck-peck-peck of her boot heels and the lingering image of her face imprinted on my mind.

The time from me spotting the girl to her passing might only have been ten seconds or so, but she had affected me on a level I couldn't articulate.

My natural inclination was to turn and watch her walk -- a young woman with somewhere to be.

She was slim and agile, her gait purposeful, round buttocks packed into tight denim making a very pleasing sight as she hip-swayed away. The way she moved was almost hypnotic, and I could have stared at her taut posterior all day had propriety and distance not curtailed my lecherous inclinations.

Buster finished his exploration and trotted up to me, his return bringing my focus away from the girl. We walked on, homeward bound, with tight jeans and flowing hair lingering in my mind.

She remained in my thoughts for the rest of that afternoon, just a vague impression, oddly disturbing, dangerous, like a hint of smoke in the air with no visible fire.

****

The weather picked up over the next few days, turning warmer, with assurances from the chirpy presenter on television that it was set to get even better. We were in the park again, just approaching the playground, Buster running free around the bushes when I saw the girl for the second time.

I swear my heart fluttered, although there were other physiological effects too, carnal urges that I tried to supress because decency demanded it. Regardless of the effect she had on me, it seemed to me there was something slightly off about a man in his fifties lusting after a girl who could be no older than twenty.

I tried, I really did, but I couldn't get away from the fact she really was something special: a petite little thing, very slender, her long legs and willowy arms bare, scant clothing chosen perhaps in deference to the kinder weather. As she came on I saw she was wearing a skimpy top in pale yellow with bootlace straps, brief denim shorts and a pair of pink Skechers.

She looked wholesome and full of vitality. The way she moved gave me the immediate impression she was very agile, her slim body putting me in mind of an athlete, her slight frame perfectly formed for gymnastics or dancing. As before, when I'd first seen her, she wore her long hair loose, the fringe cut high in a style that put me in mind of Central and Eastern Europe.

Could she be foreign? The idea wasn't beyond the bounds of possibility.

My quick appraisal continued as she came towards me, my eyes flicking to her legs, the sight of such lean thighs and smooth, shapely calves tugging at me on a visceral level. It was no use, despite my attempts to quell my desires the attraction was immediate, near breath-taking. I was drawn to the girl by some primeval instinct, a dark urge stirring inside me. Yearning flared suddenly, a flash of heat in the pit of my stomach that spread outwards and left a void inside me; a hollow ache of impossible ambition, the need to possess her physically an infinite vacuum in some deep and indefinable place.

Then she was past me, her going turning my head.

"Oh, God," I moaned quietly, the sight of her swaying rump. The brisk flick of her hair only exacerbated my longing.

I stood and stared until the girl was out of sight, my slack-jawed appraisal of a young woman probably three decades or more younger than me earning a couple of disapproving looks from the mothers at the play-park.

Their pursed lips and mutterings between themselves set me walking again, with Buster following in his own good time as I fled from the coven's venomous verdict. 

The next day, at the same time, in almost the same spot -- thankfully with a different set of mothers and their noisy offspring in the playground -- I saw the girl again.

****

Another warm day saw her in a sleeveless blouse with a tiny red and white check pattern. The blouse was unbuttoned and tied in front to reveal the girl's navel, her modesty intact because of some cropped white vest she had on underneath.

She moved as quickly as ever, hair bouncing, hips swaying in tight three-quarter length leggings. When I turned to look I saw the high, tight globes of her buttocks clearly outlined, the stretchy fabric moulded to her backside.

It was obvious the girl was on a timetable. The timing and her purposeful stride made it clear she was on her way somewhere with an eye on the clock. So, of course, blessed with continuing sunshine, I was in the park at the same time the next day.

And there she was, right on cue. Even though I'd expected her, the girl's appearance still caused a brief surge of the same deep arousal, a need I had to satisfy with a masturbatory frenzy when I got home.

It went on like that for a day or two more. Then, one afternoon, Buster caught her attention.

****

As was becoming usual, while I walked along the path, with the playground busy again, the girl appeared. For unfathomable canine reasons Buster was close by that day, sniffing along the edge of the pavement, lost in the doggy world of fascinating scents and the instinctive cocking of a hind leg every few paces.

On her approach the girl saw my Border Terrier and grinned broadly, slowing her pace until she was level with the little dog.

When she spoke, her accent confirmed my theory regarding her origins: Russia as I would find out, the city of Omsk in Siberia of all places.

"What a wonderful little dog," she enthused. "Would he bite if I wanted to pat him?"

I looked into those huge brown eyes and fell dumb. God, she was striking. Every nerve tingled in her presence. I really did have it bad. 

Then I noticed her watching me, her expression wary. The look she gave me suggested she might be thinking I was a little deranged. Why was I just gawping at her?

"Oh," I spluttered, spurred into speech. "No, he won't bite. He's too lazy to be bothered." I chuckled at my own weak attempt at humour, wincing inside when the girl didn't respond.

"What is his name?" she asked, her diction deeply inflected.

"Buster," I replied before she squatted to scratch the dog's ear.

I had to look away when her short skirt rode high. There was only so much I could take, and I really feared for the girl's safety with so much of her lean thighs on display. If the hem of her skirt crept any higher I'd be able to see her underwear.

"He is very cute," she said, rising to her feet.

The skirt dropped an inch or two and I breathed again.

"What's your name?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't walk off.

"I am Gina," she told me, pausing before she offered her hand.

We shook, with her looking at me as though she expected more.

The penny dropped. "Oh, sorry, how rude of me," I blurted, embarrassed by the effect she had of turning my brain to mush. To my continuing chagrin, I felt the heat rise in my face when I added, "My name's Andrew."

A brief conversation ensued: she told me where she was from; that she was in England for the summer to improve her English; said she was living in a house with three other girls and a local woman who owned the place and let rooms to students.

She said she liked the United Kingdom, what little she'd seen, her experience limited to London and this town in the Home Counties.

I felt an illogical stab of jealousy when Gina informed me she had a boyfriend.

Of course she had, a gorgeous girl like her wouldn't avoid attention for long. It was only natural I suppose, and I had to accept that a beauty like Gina wouldn't go unnoticed. Some randy young stud would have swooped in soon enough. Still, I couldn't help but feel an intense dislike for the lucky dog who had claimed the cute Russian as his girlfriend.

"Well, I must go, Andrew," Gina said, flicking her hair away from her face. "Nice to meet you."

She dropped down again, squatting to rub Buster's furry head. "Bye-bye, Buster," she trilled, chuckling and waggling her fingers at the dog.

I wished her a pleasant afternoon and then watched the hem of her skirt flick against the backs of Gina's thighs as she walked away, my mind filled with her.

Nineteen. Jesus Christ, she's nineteen and so fucking lovely.

****

The weather grew chilly during one of those desperate weeks where temperatures fluctuate considerably day to day. When I looked out of the window that morning I could have groaned at the glowering clouds, disappointment curdling inside me when I thought I'd miss my Gina fix that day.

Thankfully, despite the threat from the sulky sky it didn't rain, and I muttered a prayer of thanks when my watch finally showed it was time for Buster's walk.

In deference to the lower temperature, Gina wore jeans, a short leather jacket and the same Cuban-heeled boots as the first time I'd seen her.

Joy rushed through me when I saw her approaching, her boot heels signalling her approach.

It seemed I wasn't the only one pleased to see her, with Buster trotting up to greet the girl, Gina going down to make a fuss.

"Hello, Andrew," she said when I walked up to them. "How are you today?"

I said I'd been concerned about the weather, holding back the impulse to tell Gina I'd have been disappointed if it had rained and the weather had kept her from pausing to chat. It didn't seem right to say such a thing. Not since I was basically a stranger to her, just a man in the park with a cute dog. If I came out with any crap like that it might give the young woman some concern about talking to me again.

We chatted and I noticed an edge to her. Gina seemed a little off, distracted about something.

The girl's slightly agitated air prompted me to enquire: "If you don't mind me asking, Gina, you seem a little glum, is everything okay?"

I don't know what I expected her to say, after all, she didn't know me from Adam. It was just a polite question, a way of making conversation and selfishly holding her attention so I could soak up her loveliness as much as concern for her welfare.

After hearing her speak the day before, when I got home, I'd settled Buster and then tugged myself to a grunting orgasm, my mind filled with the girl's voice and accent, imagining her tight buttocks bared for my appreciation. I'd yanked my dick and sprayed cum everywhere, a vehement outpouring that erupted with such force it could have come out of an eighteen year-old. I was rampant, so desperately aroused by Gina's allure that I managed to work another urgent climax out of myself a few hours later, which is why I greedily wanted her to stay and chat for as long as possible. The longer I spent in her company, the more detail I could store in the wank-bank.

But, after noticing she appeared a little down in the dumps and I'd asked her what was wrong, her candid reply left me feeling awkward and a more than a little embarrassed.

"It is my boyfriend," Gina told me, shrugging and looking down at her boots.

I had a fleeting idea that she was unhappy with him, that he'd done something to upset her, but Gina soon blew that idea away.

"He lives with his parents ... I live in a house with four other women. Someone is always around..."

She fixed her brown eyes on my face and said, very seriously, the epithet coming out of her so naturally I thought I'd misheard, "We can't go anywhere to fuck in private. He is very," Gina searched for the word, her cute face scrunching as she thought about it, "fussy about where we can fuck."

I was gobsmacked, standing there like a right pillock as I blinked at Gina, too taken aback with her casual delivery to reply straight away.

"Oh, well," I finally managed. "That's ... erm ... unfortunate."

Gina shrugged and waggled her fingers at the dog to get his attention. "Yes," she said, watching Buster as he ignored her entreaty, the dog too caught up by a fascinating scent some ten feet from us. "It is very, how you say ... frustrating. I would be happy to fuck outside," she shrugged again, "but he is worried about the police catching us."

I wondered, vaguely, if all Russians were as candid about sex. I found it most disconcerting, the way she simply came out with it. It wasn't what I was used to at all, and it was probably in an effort to stop the girl going on about such an intimate issue that I made the offer.

Before my brain registered what my mouth was about to put out there I'd blurted, "Well, Gina, I live alone. I've got a big house, and I don't suppose you'd need much room anyway," -- I think I chuckled idiotically at that point -- "but, if you like, you can use my place for ... uhm ... your romantic interludes."

It sounded ridiculous as soon as it came out, and my first thought was Gina would decline straight away. But, to my surprise, she pulled a face as if she was seriously considering my odd proposal.

"You would do this?" she asked, head tilted to one side while she studied my face.

Having made the offer, it went against the grain to retract it. Besides, at that moment, with my brain catching up with what I'd just said, there was a certain illicit appeal about having Gina in the house.

Okay, she might not be fucking me, but if I could grant her this favour it would mean there might be a chance of seeing her more often, and for a longer period. Not necessarily for any carnal purposes, I wasn't delusional, I was living in the real world and understood I had no hope of snagging Gina, but I think I was already half in love with the girl, even at that early stage of knowing her. And, if it wasn't love, I was most certainly besotted enough to make any offer that might earn me one of her bright smiles.

So, I reasoned quickly, if she accepted I might then have an opportunity to suggest we might meet for coffee, which would mean more time together.

At that moment my imagination began to spiral: she might even accept an invitation to dinner at the house, or a picnic in the garden...

"Well," I said in response to Gina's question, "like I said, I live alone ... except for Buster that is. It's a big house. If you give me some notice I could make sure I'm out. You can use the place for ... uh ... as long as you need."

She didn't need much time to consider the proposal.

Gina nodded and said, "Okay, why not? Thank you, Andrew. But I wonder, is it possible to have a look first?"

Two

The plan was simple: Gina would call my mobile and I would leave the house. When they had done what they had to do, and I didn't want to think about that too much, Gina would call again to let me know the coast was clear.

On the day I spent the morning in the garden. It was a perfect time to do some tidying up out there: a blue-sky day without a cloud in sight, temperature just south of sweaty, although the prediction was for some hotter air rolling in from Europe in the coming days. If I was going to get rid of the weeds which had sprouted up because of the rain, I had to get it done soon.

Gardening helped to pass the time. For some reason I was as nervous as a teenager on a driving test. Odd, considering all I was doing was lending the use of my house to a friend for a few hours. But that was the effect of Gina. It was a difficult admission, and one I constantly denied, but I also wanted her for myself, and the work outdoors went some way towards dispelling the simmering jealousy bubbling away inside me.

As I worked I considered how twisted the situation was, my mental state a growing concern.

How could I accept another man fucking that lovely girl in my house when I coveted her lithe form myself? What was I thinking of by inviting her in? There were years and years, decades between us -- What possible outcome could I hope for at best? What could I expect at worst?

I dug soil and pulled weeds and thought that I should have forgotten about Gina instead of obsessing over her. I vowed to put her from my mind, to end it. After all, what good would it do me in the end?

Okay, I'd said she could use the house and that was that. But when it was done I would give Gina a call and tell her it was a one-off and she couldn't use my place again.

Decision made, I checked my watch and was surprised to see the work and my internal reverie had distracted me for longer than I'd anticipated. It was almost time for Gina and her beau to arrive.

Calling to Buster, who had spent a less than energetic day laid on the patio, I went into the house, my intent being to clean myself up and be set to leave when Gina's call came in.

Then, while I was washing my hands it occurred to me that I had no idea what Gina's boyfriend was like, and did I really want to have a complete stranger of potentially dubious character in my home while I wasn't there.

That's why I made the decision to hide in my room instead of leaving them alone, a decision fated to have enormous impact as summer progressed.

The call came and, after telling Gina the place was hers, I took Buster upstairs. A few minutes later I had to place a calming hand on the dog's head when he heard the front door open, his more sensitive hearing picking up the sounds of entry. Not long afterwards, with the dog calmed by my touch, I was able to make out muffled voices coming to us from the floor below.

Buster settled, adopting his usual recumbent position -- that dog would sleep his life away if he had the chance.


A Summer with Gina



I sat on the end of the bed and listened, expecting to hear the couple come upstairs. Gina had taken a look around the house the previous afternoon, and much to my delight had lingered for a cup of tea afterwards. She knew where the room allocated for her tryst was located, just along the hall from my bedroom. She also knew my room was out of bounds, so I had little concern about discovery, unless her boyfriend had ideas of snooping about the place of course.

So I sat and waited, lurking in my own home, an interloper. But as the minutes passed and there were no sounds of anyone coming up the stairs I decided to risk a peep past the door.

I got up and walked to the door, pressing my ear close against the wood.

Nothing. The house was silent.

It was when I went to the window that I saw them, with Gina on her back on the lawn, legs spread while a muscular, tattooed young man got busy with his face between her thighs.

****

From the upstairs window I couldn't see much, and most of what I could see was the man's back and buttocks as he knelt between Gina's legs, his head moving while he went at her. However, from my elevated position I could see Gina's torso and face quite clearly, and the first thing to strike me was her tiny breasts, almost non-existent swellings, nothing more than slightly raised mounds tipped by small, pale coins and nubbin nipples.

There was no disappointment in the girl's bosom, Gina's petite frame wasn't designed for the big, heavy boobs I usually found appealing. In my eyes she was perfect as she was.

I heard a low moan coming out of my own mouth when I looked at Gina's face. It was obvious she was loving what that man was doing to her, and the sight of her face all slack with whatever pleasure it was she was feeling, her mouth an O of delight, eyes closed, head lolling loose with her long hair dangling behind her, sent a surge of intense desire through me.

She was so beautiful like that, the twist of her features telling me she was in absolute ecstasy. Seeing her enjoying herself as she was, witnessing Gina's love of physical pleasure, watching her writhe and squirm, her stomach tensing as she leaned on one elbow and reached for the man's head with her free hand had me tugging my erection before I realised what I was doing.

"Oh, Gina," I sighed, my eyes fixed on the couple as they kissed. "You're so fucking lovely."

By then the man had moved up, his body covering hers. Gina had the man between her legs, his dick pushing into her. She was still sitting upright, this time supporting herself with one straight arm, a hand flat on the lawn while she held her lover with her spare hand cupped to the back of his head, her eyes gazing into his as her body accepted his length.

Then she grinned at him, chewing on her bottom lip while her head lolled back. Gina's hips began to move in sharp jerks, her attention going to their conjunction.

The girl watched her body taking the man's length for a short while, and then I saw Gina's mouth move as she made some comment, most likely something about seeing that cock slide into her body. After that she really went for it, holding onto the man with both hands around his neck, her feet coming up off the ground, toes pointed like a dancer's, pelvis working fast.

It went on for a minute or so, the young people fucking away while I jacked at my cock.

During that time Gina alternated between slack-faced pleasure and smouldering looks of pure lust as she stared into her lover's face, interspersing each with urgent kisses, her tongue sliding everywhere as the young man took his own pleasure from that nubile girl.

I came while watching Gina kiss, wishing it my mouth her tongue was sliding into. It seemed to me that Gina put everything she had into making love. It looked to me that she invested all her emotion into the moment. Her kisses were so passionate, so hungry, her gaze so lovingly intent that, as I gaped at the lovers and jizm squirted out of me, the vehement burst of semen splashing against the wall below the window, I experienced yet another surge of near overwhelming feeling for her.

My cock leaked spunk, dollops of the goo plopping onto the carpet. I was mindless to the damage, unconcerned by the stains my outpouring would leave behind.

Dribbles of cum slid down the wall while I continued to watch the scene below.

The man was fucking into Gina from behind, his cock sheathed in a condom. He probed deep while Gina's petite and rounded rump was upthrust, presented to him as he held onto her hips and drilled the girl. Gina held herself open, one hand on her buttocks to splay the flesh while she grinned back at her lover.

They were talking to each other, their words inaudible, and I was just wondering what Gina was saying when I saw her head drop forward, hair brushing the close-clipped lawn as she dropped onto her elbows and shoved her posterior higher.

God but didn't he just go at her, his size exaggerated compared to Gina's petite frame. He hauled her around to suit his need, manhandling Gina and fucking into her from behind for a time before apparently deciding to show off. I continued to stare as he pulled out, stood up, dragged Gina to her feet and then had her clinging to him like a monkey, her buttocks cupped in his palms, her weight completely supported by the man's muscular arms.

In that position, with her arms around his neck, Gina could kiss to her heart's desire while her lover controlled her rise and fall, her body sliding up and down the length of his root. She stayed clamped to that boy's mouth for ages, his muscles bunching and flexing as they fucked, his fingers working at Gina's buttocks, her tiny body seemingly weightless.

On one occasion, as the young man shifted his feet, he swung Gina round with her back to the window. I stayed where I was, unfazed because I knew he wouldn't notice me looking out at them. He was far too engrossed in the lovely girl to take any interest in one of the upstairs windows overlooking the garden. Anyway, as far as he was concerned, the house was empty.

For a few seconds I could see Gina's body taking the girth of him, her cunt stretched around the shaft of that latex-coated dick. The breath moaned out of me, my flaccid cock twitching with renewed interest in response to such a lewd sight. It was either she looked so petite because of that huge cock, or Gina's build made him look bigger, either way I was surging with arousal watching it.

Then the young man wanted Gina up against the fence, her hands braced against the planks while he went into her from behind.

And that's how they ended, the man's hips thrusting hard a few times, his cock going deep until he held himself still, the cheeks of his arse flexing.

When I saw those bunching globes I realised he was filling the condom with his seed, pouring his pleasure into the sheath.

I was fully tumescent again, wondering if Gina could actually feel that man's girth swelling, his cock pumping semen.

They disengaged, with Gina turning to kiss the boy's mouth for several long moments. She was so soft and loving during that kiss that my chest swelled with emotion -- God, how I wanted her to kiss me that way. I hoped he appreciated just what it was he had with that girl. In my eyes he was the luckiest man alive.

Not long after that, with Gina laughing, naked and carefree, they collected their clothes and walked out of view beneath me towards the back of the house.

Ten minutes later, Gina called to say they had left.

****

The condom was in the kitchen bin. I found it when I went to tie the bag ready for collection the next day.

Seeing it lying there all dead and shrivelled called to mind what I'd witnessed from the bedroom window, and despite the arousal I'd experienced, a melancholy settled upon me in a heavy blanket of regret that my life was passing by. Seeing the limp, discarded johnny-bag brought it home to me: my chance of experiencing the pleasure a young, firm female body would now be denied to me. My time had been and gone.

It was a gut-wrenching realisation: I would never be the one to bring that slack-jawed look to Gina's face. She wouldn't ever gaze at me in adoration the way she had her young lover, her stomach tensing with the effort of it as her orgasm bloomed. Her tongue wouldn't slip and slide with mine in a serpentine dance of shared delight. Her body would never squeeze my girth. 

In the past I'd been ignorant of time's passage, too sure of the immortality of youth to truly savour the moment. Back then, in the decades gone past, girls were just a fuck. I'd pursued them with the single-mindedness of a hound. I was satisfying an urge, an instinct, nothing more. It was only then, that very afternoon, with June handing over to July that I truly began to understand the summer of my life was a season slipped past.

The autumnal years were on me.

Gina was nineteen while I was getting on towards fifty-nine. It was ridiculous to think about her in any romantic way. Not that romance was uppermost in my mind, my thoughts were carnal in the main, but I did hold the girl in high esteem, I could easily love her. Recalling the way Gina kissed her young man caused a ripple of some deep emotion, an aching lament at what had slipped away without me even noticing the loss until it was too late.

It was in the way she looked at him, the way she gazed at him when she'd clung to his neck and her tongue had explored his mouth, a celebration of being so alive and bursting with the energy of youth.

Gina was worth more than the brief, casual encounters I'd experienced in the 70s. To be inside her, joined with her while our bodies moved together, as she moaned and sighed and came, kissing her and hearing her murmur about love...

That would be the pinnacle, a sublime delight to treasure.

I sat out on the patio and sipped red wine while Buster sniffed at the fence line. Out there, shaded from the sun beneath the umbrella canopy, it occurred to me that I could have a tight-bodied girl again. It was easily within my means. I could arrange for a prostitute to visit. I could pay for the pleasure.

But, almost immediately the idea occurred to me I put it from my mind. The girl I hired wouldn't be Gina. I could purchase the physical element, a taut and flawless body, but not the emotional. The young woman might make the right noises and say the right things, but, ultimately, no matter how good an actor she might be, it would still be a cold, soulless act. The very thought of buying the pretence of desire made me feel ill.

I couldn't stop the idea of offering Gina herself cash for sex from rising, but as soon as it came to mind I dismissed that insanity as well. Thinking about Gina that way made me feel even worse. I couldn't insult the girl by offering her money in exchange for her body. No matter how much I wanted her, I couldn't countenance the idea. My own idiotic romantic leanings towards Gina made the whole idea repugnant.

So I went to my bed that night with little hope of peace, my thoughts tumbling in confusion, emotions swirling. Eventually, in the wee dark hours I slept fitfully, my dreams filled with Gina.

Drained, I kept away from the park the next day, determined to cut the girl off, only taking Buster for his run when I knew Gina would be busy with her English lesson. Somehow I held off from calling her, too. An immense struggle even if I did constantly find myself checking my mobile for incoming texts or calls.

Nothing came in. Not a word for two days.

The promised heatwave had arrived and laid a dense blanket of torpor over the town, the temperature cranking higher each day. Then, eventually, on Saturday, a day Gina didn't walk through the park because she had no lessons on the weekend, my phone rang.

Everything melted away, like ice-cream in a cone under the midday sun, all my resolve about denying her the house and putting her out of my mind liquefied when she asked if she and her friend could visit.

"It is the hot weather," Gina boldly informed me when I crumbled. "I like to fuck when it is so hot."

I gulped in response to the image her words put into my head, mumbling that she should call me before she arrived. That way I could be sure to be out of the house.

When it came to it I couldn't bring myself to leave.

I had to face it; I wanted to watch her again.

****

I hid in my room, ashamed at the depths to which I'd sunk, appalled by my weakness. 

When Buster looked at me I thought I saw reproach in his whiskery face.

"Sorry, mate," I mumbled, abashed.

His response was to rest his head on his paws and chuff a deep sigh, his eyes fixed on me for a few moments. Then Buster closed his eyes, shutting out the whole scene.

After that I expected the couple to appear in the garden again. It was a day for loving outdoors, but, to my surprise, despite the warmth, they didn't venture outside. Regardless of Gina's comments about loving the heat it seemed they decided it would be more comfortable inside the house, the pair making use of the bedroom.

At first I felt a slide of disappointment since the two of them inside the house meant I wouldn't be able to watch. I sat on the end of the bed and cursed. I was trapped there, a prisoner of my own scheme.

There was nothing to do but sit it out. An attempt to spy on them from inside the house seemed an extremely foolish idea, a notion fraught with risk, but five minutes or so after I heard them pass my door, Gina giggling as she went, I found the urge to creep along the corridor too strong to resist.

Fortunately, because I'd lived there for so long I knew just where to avoid putting my feet, thus ensuring no loose boards creaked beneath the carpet. Getting out of my own room was a little more problematic, and I had to be quick before Buster cottoned on to the fact I was up and away.

The dog looked up and sprung to his feet, but I was already closing the door by the time he'd made any move towards me.

I silently willed him not to bark in protest as I slipped along the hall. Not that he's very vocal, but you never knew. It would be just like Buster to give the game away with a disgruntled yip and thereby alert the lovers.

Thankfully, the dog kept quiet, and I muttered a word of thanks as I crept along the corridor. As I went I could hear the sounds coming from the spare room. I could hear voices but couldn't make out any detail. However, it sounded like they were already busy, for which I was grateful since it would be good cover for my approach.

I eased closer, inching towards the door, surprised yet delighted to find it ajar. I don't suppose they considered there would be any need to close it since the house was supposed to be empty.

When I drew level my heart was hammering, my palms were sweating and my legs felt weak.

I sucked in deep breaths, silent inhalations as I forced myself to be calm. Then I slowly moved my head towards the gap between door and jamb, as stealthy as a burglar, easing into a position where I could see into the room.

Even though I'd been expecting something like it, seeing Gina astride the young, her hips jerking and her pussy packed with cock was still a shock.

She was on top of him, her back towards me, pelvis busy.

I took it all in in an instant: her hair, her slender back and the sinuous movement of her body as she rose up and slammed back down on her lover's erection. The girl's buttocks barely rippled with the force, those taut globes flexing while moans of pleasure came out of her.

"Ah, fuck, Gina," I heard the man grunt, his hands on her waist, accent local. "Fuck, babe..."

Gina's head went down so she could kiss him, her delight obvious in her whimpers and groans.

I was hard as I watched their coupling, the fact I could hear everything adding an extra dimension to the eroticism of the moment. It was so much better than the picture with no sound experience of them in the garden.

While they fucked, as they muttered back and forth, I stroked my cock, mindful not to make any noise, my eyes locked on Gina's lithe body.

After a time they switched position, the man climbing between Gina's legs so he could fuck into her, pinning the girl to the bed with his dick while her legs folded at the knees and his balls bounced off the crease of her arse.

I didn't witness the climax because he wanted to take Gina from behind, making her kneel on the bed, sideways on to the door. It was too risky to watch with them positioned thus, so I had to be satisfied with standing a foot further down the corridor, my cock in my fist while the man grunted he was coming.

Gina moaned and sighed and mumbled something to him. Then she laughed, making a comment about the condom full of cum dangling off the end of his cock.

That was my cue to leave. If I loitered any longer I was bound to be caught, and I didn't feel like testing the muscular young man's response towards being observed.

I hid in my room, only just managing to keep Buster from escaping, pushing him back into the bedroom with my foot when I forced my way in.

The toilet flushed and then a short time later I heard movement past my bedroom door. Not a minute more went by before my mobile chirruped.

"We have just left, Andrew," Gina told me. "Thank you." There was a pause and then she asked, "Can we do it again tomorrow?"

I said yes, that she was welcome. Then we both wished each other farewell and I wanked myself to a hissing, teeth-clenching climax on the strength of having overheard Gina during sex, the image of her slim body, tight bottom and the recollection of her intense kissing getting me there quickly.

It was during their next visit that Gina caught me looking.

****

Buster didn't bother to look up when I opened the bedroom door and slipped soundlessly out into the corridor.

I quietly closed the door, remembering to test it was secure before doing the creeping walk to the spare room.

I'd given them ten minutes start, a time of great impatience that I willed myself to allot to the lovers. Hopefully, by that time they would be well into one another, too carried away with their mutual bliss to notice my furtive presence.

My throat worked as I swallowed heavily, heart thumping, the situation more than the warmth of the day the cause for my sweaty discomfort. I took a quick look around the door frame to check the scene, my balls tightening when I saw Gina astride the man. This time she was facing me, her torso angled backwards as she supported herself on two straight arms. The soles of her feet were flat against the bed, the man's cock visibly sliding in and out of the girl while she bridged over him.

Gina was frantic. She moaned and gasped and winced, eyes rolling. Gina thrust against him with great energy, really working at it, her body squirming sinuously, wriggling with a queer, liquid grace.

I watched the muscles in her abdomen tensing as her thighs worked hard, Gina's hair brushing over the man beneath her when she leaned back and craned her neck to look at him.

"Hold me tight," grunted Gina, her accent thick. "I am going to fuck hard. I feel so fucking hot. Hold on to me."

She slammed down and up, their flesh slapping rhythmically, each thwack accompanied by a loud bestial grunt from the girl.

They rutted for a time until Gina suddenly levered herself upright, urging her lover to hold on to her tighter, her buttocks tight against him while her body accommodated all of his length.

"Lift me," the girl gurgled, looking at the man once again. "Use your arms. Lift me up and down on it. Fuck me."

I vaguely wondered how much strength it would take to satisfy the girl's demand when the young man complied with Gina's instruction. Not much, probably; she was only tiny, and it seemed to be well within the boy's capabilities.




A Summer with Gina



He held Gina up, supporting her completely while her feet came off the bed. In that position her decent onto the man's cock was controlled wholly by him, the girl's entire weight supported by his arms, his erection acting as a plinth upon which she was impaled.

From where I was I could only gape at the sight: the mollusc of Gina's fat-lipped pussy taking that rigid length.

Then, in a synchronised effort, the man thrust up to meet Gina on the downstroke, his balls jumping with the impact before he lifted her up and repeated the process.

It went on for half-a-minute or so, their moans and grunts combining, their occasional blurts of pleasure reaching me.

I went for my cock, stroking myself while I kept my gaze locked the point where Gina's body accepted that cock, a wave of shock hitting me with breath-taking force when I glanced up to her face and saw the recognition in her expression.

Gina had seen me.

She knew I was there.

Time froze.

My hand stilled while the steel in my hard-on turned molten.

I stood there and gawped, stunned into immobility, my brain refusing to accept the fact I'd been caught, that she was, in fact, still looking right at me.

For me, time stopped at the moment of realisation; then it stretched, myriad scenarios playing out in my head during the two or three seconds Gina and I stared at one another.

On the bed, the action didn't cease. The man continued to fuck up into Gina. He grunted and gasped, oblivious to the voyeur at the door. I could still make out the thwack-thwack-thwack of flesh slapping flesh, although the sound came from so far away. Gina's hair swung, she held her feet off the bed with her toes pointed in her ballerina pose. Her mouth hung open, her expression delighted at being so vigorously shagged. But I could see the knowledge in her eyes. In another second or so she would react.

During that singularity, while reality stretched, I expected her to cry out in alarm. I thought she would slide sideways off her lover, yelling as his cock sprung out of her. I expected her pointing finger to precede the man's surprise, his outrage rising when he saw me.

Then I anticipated a hiding, a good working over by his fists.

Despair at the girl's anticipated anger and her inevitable condemnation for me being such a sneaky pervert was already sliding in the pit of my stomach. I was mortified, once more ashamed at how weak I'd been by succumbing to my base desires.

I thought about the grovelling apology I would have to make, could already see the disappointment, the hurt and disdain in the girl's eyes as the aftermath of this hideous moment played out in my mind.

Thoughts tumbled inside my head, none of them happy.

That period of elasticity could only have been a few heartbeats in duration, but I lived through a lot in that short space of time. 

Then reality snapped back and I awaited the chaos.

We continued looking at one another across the no-man's land between door and bed, with Gina letting out a low moan.

Here it comes, I thought.

But all the girl did was let that sound drone out of her before, to my gape-mouthed astonishment, she simply smirked at me.

I watched her face change, the O of pleasure replaced by a vulpine grin.

"Fuck me," the girl said, speaking to the man beneath her but keeping her eyes locked on my face. "Fuck my pussy with your big fucking cock."

My stomach flipped as a litany of filth poured out of the sly-faced young woman.

Gina groaned again, wincing and scrunching her nose at me.

"Shit, Gina," the young man hissed. "You're mad for it today. What's made you so horny?"

"I love to fuck," she replied, leaning forward to force herself down on his root, her hips corkscrewing. "And fucking your cock is so good," she added, her eyes never leaving mine.

It took an immense effort of will to move away from the door. I wanted to stay and watch them go at it until the conclusion. I wanted to watch it all, but common sense kicked in when the man grunted out he wanted Gina on her hands and knees.

I realised the young fellow might not take too kindly to me lurking and wanking. I somehow got the sense he'd be a little pissed off if he knew I'd been spying.

Under other circumstances he might have let me watch -- a chance crossing of paths if I'd been out in some woodland with the dog perhaps? He might have been willing to exhibit his prowess in such a situation, showing off while shagging a lovely young woman and a sad old bloke watched with envy in his expression.

But, most probably, catching me perving on him and Gina as I was, despite it being my house, well, that might just get me a beating.

So I did the wise thing and, with some reluctance, legged it as soon as they began to move towards Gina presenting herself to him on her hands and knees.

Half an hour later the front door closed.

And then my phone rang.

"Yes?" I warbled upon answering.

"I am in the house," Gina informed me. "Where are you?"

"Nearby," I said, very reluctant to reveal my true location. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"He is gone," she told me. "I said I needed to clean the place a little bit."

A pause.

"I think you need to come home and talk to me, Andrew."

Buster followed me along the hall to the landing, but when I hesitated he passed me.

I heard Gina greet the dog when he trotted into the kitchen.

With no alternative, concerned by Gina's reaction to my presence, I crept slowly down.

Another pause at the kitchen door. Before I entered I paused and took a deep breath, fingers clenching.

"Gina, I'm so sorry," I said.

****

The girl sat at the table, a long-stemmed goblet in front of her. When I saw she had poured herself a white wine I went to the fridge and took out a beer.

Buster lapped at the water in his bowl and then, after sniffing Gina's shoes and finding nothing to interest him, sauntered away towards the lounge.

I popped the tab on the beer can and, with embarrassment heating my cheeks, turned to face the girl.

She looked at me, her expression inscrutable, those big eyes gazing.

It got to be too much for me to handle. I couldn't stand the quiet; I couldn't take her looking at me that way.

"Oh, God, Gina ... I'm sorry," I said again. "I couldn't leave the house the first day you came round. I wasn't sure about your boyfriend, I thought he might..."

I hesitated, unsure about how to continue.

"Oh, I don't know," Gina," I added. "I was in the house when you were outside. I didn't mean to look ... But you were out there, in the garden, you looked so beautiful with him, and I ... I..."

That was where I stopped. I couldn't really explain it all. It didn't make much sense to me, so what chance did I have of making Gina understand how it felt? It had been a crazy time, madness, a kind of insanity brought on because I had grown foolishly besotted by an unattainable young woman. I cursed my own ridiculous emotions.

"Andrew," she murmured. "It doesn't matter. You do not have to feel bad. You do not have to worry, Andrew. Could you not see?" she asked. "When you were looking -- could you not see I liked it?

"I do not mind, Andrew. I liked it. I like to be watched."

Three

So I watched again, a few more times, Gina complicit, willing in fact. She was so eager, performing in front of me. There's no other description -- it was a performance, she put on a show for our mutual pleasure. Gina got as much of a thrill from being watched as I did as the voyeur. It was so much better than my earlier and more clandestine involvement.

I watched Gina suck the man's cock, with her making sure her lover was positioned to the best advantage for me to witness her lips being stretched. Of course the man could have turned to see me watching, but with her lips and tongue working at him I think his attention was pretty much assured to be focussed right where Gina intended.

I gaped open-mouthed at the sight of Gina grinning as she slurped and slobbered the man's long dick. When they fucked, as Gina grunted and moaned and gasped, her body writhing like smoke rising from a fire, she always ensured she gave me the best possible view.

"Gina, really?" the young man gasped one afternoon. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes," she replied, climbing off his cock, her desire dripping from her opening as she flung her leg over his body. "Do it all over me. I want you to come on my face."

"That's fucking filthy, Gina," he remarked, puling the johnny-bag off his dick. "You're the nastiest bitch ever."

I saw Gina smirk, and her eyes met mine in a brief, conspiratorial exchange. Watch this, I read in the look she gave me as she proceeded to crank the boy's dick, her fist working until, with a great bellow and a snort he let fly with a huge outpouring of ejaculate.

Gina flinched when the stuff spattered across her cheek. She yelped and giggled as a thick, glistening rope of jizm landed in her hair, more spurts of it corrupting her pretty face.

When it was over, just before I left the scene, I caught sight of Gina, her face plastered with viscous semen, strands of it in her hair as she slurped at the gloop oozing from the eye, teasing the man's cock-head with the tip of her tongue. She winked at me and then gommed the big purple dome, sucking her cheeks concave, her hand slowly jacking the shaft while her soft murmurs reached my ears.

Afterwards she made an excuse, telling her boyfriend she needed to shower before she could leave, convincing him to go and saying she'd catch up with him later.

Then, after the girl had cleaned herself up and we were drinking together in the kitchen, Gina introduced me to the idea of installing a camera in that bedroom.

I thought about it, dismissing the notion almost instantly, but it only popped back up later on. Like a pernicious weed in the garden the thought wouldn't die. It refused to succumb, which is why I found myself at a local computer shop a day later, an independent retailer who also dealt in home security.

I explained I wanted a system that I could hook up to my laptop, my needs including remote access from wherever I was. I explained I wanted sound and I wanted video as well as the ability to store the resultant footage.

The man in the shop thought it was a home security system I wanted, which suited me fine. He sold me everything I needed and offered to install it, too. An offer I declined -- five cameras in one room might lead to awkward questions.

There were a few problems due to my inexperience, but two days later I had all the cameras installed in the bedroom. I could watch Gina live from wherever I wanted, the images stored on an external hard drive so I could watch her again and again.

No more lurking at the doorway. The risk of the young man spotting me and exacting some kind of violent retribution was void.

Half a dozen more visits and I had twenty minutes worth of edited action. Lewd highlights of Gina in the throes of passion. When I told her about it she insisted she wanted to see.

I couldn't have dreamed of a better outcome.

****

We were in the lounge, the external hard drive plugged into the USB port in the side of the television. Gina sat on the sofa; she looked gorgeous in her rough-hemmed denim mini and tiny top. I held a cold beer and she had chilled white wine, with Gina engrossed in the action on-screen while I watched her reaction.

A knot tightened in my stomach. Tension thrummed inside me.

The footage was about halfway through when the girl looked at me.

Her stare twisted the knot tighter. "You like to watch, Andrew?"

I nodded, shrugging in an attempt to appear casual as I added a caveat: "It isn't something I've done before, Gina. The time I saw you in the garden," I tilted my head in the appropriate direction, "was the first time. But I like watching you, yes."

God, how I wanted to launch myself at her.

The girl blinked, nodding slowly. "Do you like it so much?" she purred, shifting to get more comfortable, legs tucked under her bottom.

Did I detect a catch in Gina's voice, or was it simply her accent? Croaking, I replied with, "I like it a lot, Gina. I can't tell you what it is really. I..." 

Hesitation. I was unsure about how much to divulge. Then, throwing caution to the wind, I said, "I like you, Gina." 

Sighing I shook my head and put the words together carefully.

"I know it's ridiculous, a middle-aged man's pathetic notion, but I was drawn to you from the first time I saw you. In the park, when I was out with Buster. I noticed you a couple of days before you stopped to stroke him."

I sighed again, futility a heavy weight against my chest.

In the silence, Gina blinked at me, lips slightly parted.

Then she murmured, "But you like watching me fuck?"

Yearning tugged at me as I croaked, "God, yes. Seeing you do it ... You look so ... so ... so free. You seem to get lost in it, Gina. I've never seen anyone's face show so much honest enjoyment.

"And when you kiss..." I paused, frowning when the thought occurred to me. "Do you love your boyfriend?" I asked.

The girl considered that for a second before pulling a face. Her bottom lip stuck out as she gazed at me wide-eyed. "Love him?" she pouted, eyelids lowering. "No, Andrew. I don't know him well enough to love him. He's okay..."

Gina shrugged and sipped wine, shaking her head while her eyes flicked to the screen.

"He's okay," she repeated, glancing at me. "But it is what it is. I could not see myself with him for anything but the sex. I like fucking and I am in England for some months. I needed a man for the sex. But that is all, Andrew. I will go home in September and forget about him."

We watched some more of the edited highlights while I pondered her remarks, the action on the screen depicting Gina on her knees with that man's thick cock between her lips.

Gina watched the scene, her emotions and thoughts a mystery to me.

I saw her nod vigorously when her video image took a load of semen against her face.

"I asked him to do it on my face because I knew the camera was there," Gina explained. "It makes me feel sexy to watch it when he comes. I have not seen it from this angle before."

A deep-rooted desire to create such carnage tightened in the pit of my stomach. In my mind's eye I saw Gina smiling at me while I unloaded all over her pretty face.

"Did you like it when he did that?" I asked her, the words barely a croak.

Gina looked directly at me. "I don't mind. It stings if it gets in my eyes, but it doesn't make me feel good or bad to have it on my skin. I wouldn't do it if I could not get clean afterwards. I like to watch it come out. For me that's good to see." Gina's chin nudged towards the television. "He likes it. He likes to come on my face. Look at him." Then she laughed and added, "But he won't kiss me after he has done it."

In a final aside, an afterthought as she stared at the television, semen clinging to her hair, the stuff sliding over her chin, Gina said, "Oh, it is also bad when that happens. If it dries in my hair..."

A few minutes passed before Gina spoke again. "Andrew?" she said quietly.

I looked at her and she continued with, "You say you like to watch me..."

There was a definite catch in her voice, the husky undertone adding extra starch to my erection.

"Yes," I croaked, sensing something portentous.

"I'm feeling very horny, Andrew." The girl squirmed and untucked her long legs. "Would you like to watch me now? I want to touch myself."

I boggled at her when she stood up and, in a shimmy, dropped her skirt to the carpet.

"Oops," Gina grinned, head tilting.

"Oh, Jesus," I groaned when confronted with her smooth pudendum.

"There is something else, Andrew," the minx murmured. "If you watch me touch myself, can I also watch you while you do it?"

The girl then slumped back into the settee, casually brought her feet up to rest on the cushion and let her thighs fall open. She slid a finger through her labia, splitting the folds to reveal her scarlet core. The other hand went up beneath her skimpy bootlace top, fingers squeezing her little breasts as she smirked at me, the crooked twist to her lips and the glint in her eyes a challenge.

"Show me," breathed Gina. "Show me what you do when you get excited by watching."

Four

July

I showed her, although it took me a few long seconds to recover from the blatant display on the settee. Seeing Gina do that, for real, exclusively for me, well, it took my breath away. I couldn't believe my eyes or my luck. It was unreal, a lottery win. It couldn't be happening.

But it was, Gina was right there on the sofa, legs wide while she looked at me and slid the middle and third fingers of one hand into her pussy.

"Don't be shy, Andrew," she gurgled, the words clotted -- Her accent always got heavier the more aroused Gina became.

The sound of her voice and her heavy-lidded gaze set me in motion.

I got busy while time did that weird stretchy thing again. I rose from my own chair and, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on Gina, unbuckled my belt.

My jeans went down to my knees.

"You are excited already," she commented, eyeing my cock.

I gulped and returned her stare, a hand stroking my length as I replied with, "I'm always excited when you're here, Gina."

The girl winced and grimaced as she slid her fingers around her vulva, rubbing her clit before dipping the same two digits into her opening again.

"Show me," she sighed, her stomach washboard tight.

Gina thrust her pelvis forward, jerking her hips while pushing her fingers into her body, eyes closing.

I sat in that chair and stroked my dick, sucking in every exquisite detail of the girl's lithe form as she performed for me.

It got to where I was tugging hard, gasping at the sensations while Gina knelt on the settee, buttocks thrust back, pelvis tilted. She reached back and held one cheek wide with her fingertips, exposing all of her intimate places to me.

"Oh, Gina," I moaned when her sticky labia peeled apart with gooey reluctance. I could see the dark smudge of her sphincter and, for a moment, wondered what she would taste of if I dared to probe that roundel with my tongue.

Gina grinned at me, craning round to look, her tight waist barely creased she was so slender.

"Are you going to come, Andrew?" she asked, winking.

I nodded and gasped. "Soon," I grunted.

She stood up and danced towards me, so light on her feet. Gina slipped her top over her head and, only a couple of feet away from me, close enough to touch if I leaned out to reach for her, ran a palm over her body.

Gina grasped the tiny mounds of her tits with one hand while using two fingers inside her opening. "Do it," the girl grunted, her eyelids lowering. She went at herself, squirming against her hand, bottom lip between her teeth. "I will come also if you come. Please, Andrew," she whined. "Make it come out. Show me how excited you are."

"Oh, I'm excited, Gina," I snarled, gritting my teeth while my hand cranked. "This is incredible. You're so fucking lovely..."

Since it all started, ever since I'd seen Gina in the garden I'd masturbate three or four times a day. I couldn't credit it; my libido was a snarling, ravenous, slavering monster, its appetite voracious.

I'd pull my dick in the morning, spray jizm everywhere, shower and then be ready to tug again a couple of hours later.

I wanked in the afternoon, in the evening after going to bed, and I'd even go at it in the middle of the night, waking up horny with images of Gina in my head to fuel my ardour.

"...I've been excited since I saw you in the park," I finished.

Gina got vocal, moaning and gasping, her hand moving rapidly as the sobs rose from her chest. She sat on the carpet in front of me and leaned back against one straight arm, feet coming up from the floor, hips jerking while her body squelched around those probing digits.




A Summer with Gina



The sight and sounds got me there: a supremely healthy young woman in the unselfconscious throes of her climax. It was a physical storm, a maelstrom of sight and sound. To me, bearing witness to it was the single most erotic experience of my life -- although events in the coming weeks would be equally stimulating.

As I watched the girl come I jacked at my cock, the surge coming from my toes.

"Gina!" I yelped. "Ah, fuck, I'm--"

And then the stuff pumped out of me in several quick bursts. Semen spat from the eye of my cock, spraying indiscriminately, spattering where it fell: against my shirtfront; the arm of the chair; over my forearm and wrist.

Cum oozed out of me as I lay slumped in my seat, chest heaving, the carnage glistening.

"Oh, Andrew," Gina breathed. She was up on her knees, fingers still languidly caressing her sex. "You are a fountain."

****

We settled into a routine, with Gina staying behind after each visit. She would come up to my bedroom and open the door and Buster would make his exit. Later, when Gina eventually left the house I would usually find the dog in the garden, lying in the sun without a care.

Meanwhile, while Buster sunbathed, aroused by Gina's performance, her antics becoming more lewd with each occasion, the girl and I would masturbate and watch one another.

Gina hitting her high note usually set me off as a result, jizm gushing forth in a wild spray.

Then one day, in the middle of the month, the visits ceased.

Four days went by without a word.

I hung around the park in the hope of seeing her. I knew Gina's tutor was on holiday for two weeks, her lessons in hiatus, so there was no reason for her to walk through the park. But I couldn't stop myself from loitering, just in case. I did consider phoning her but some weird sense of propriety held me back. It didn't seem correct to pursue her. The girl had her own reasons for not contacting me.

It went on and on, every waking moment a torment of wondering. I tied myself up in knots of anguish, somehow convincing myself I'd said or done something to cause the girl to cut me off. But, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what I might have done wrong.

I was in the park with Buster, my mood desultory, the warm spell apparently ended, with my temperament matching he bleak prospect of our summer being over for the year. It was a prospect I didn't welcome, not on top of the aching loss I was enduring as a result of Gina's continued silence.

Then, in a golden moment of hope, my mobile chirruped You're Beautiful by James Blunt, the tune added to Gina's name in the contacts list in a moment of extreme and very pathetic wretchedness some weeks before. Regardless of the pitiful sound coming from the phone my chest swelled, with the cage of my ribs suddenly too small to contain the emotion.

The joy when I heard her voice: "Andrew?" I'm at your house. Where are you?"

I was home in five minutes.

And everything changed.

****

The boyfriend was history. I heard all about it while sitting at the kitchen table. Gina told me the tale of the man's unbelievable stupidity.

"He's an idiot," I said when she finished.

Gina shrugged. "If he had asked about my friend instead of fucking with her behind my back..." 

She pouted and flicked long hair away from her face.

"...maybe I would have shared him with her. Instead he sneaks around with her for sex."

Staggered at the image of the girl and an undoubtedly pretty friend in a three-way I managed to stammer, "Where did they go? If he lives with his parents...?"

"They do it in her car. They drive away somewhere quiet and fuck. It is nothing really," Gina added, "but I cannot let him cheat. It is an insult. But I miss the sex." Then she scoffed, "And he was the one who didn't want to fuck outside! He thought we might get caught, yet then he fucks her ... What an insult!"

Following that rant she looked at me, a sly cast to her expression.

I sat opposite Gina, my throat working, oddly affected by the girl's look.

"I am very horny," she informed me. And I think I might have whined when I heard her add, "Perhaps we could have our fun together, Andrew?"

I was speechless. Did she really mean it? 

It took several seconds for me to recover sufficiently to gasp, "Gina ... Duh-do you really want to?"

She gave that casual half shrug again. "Sure."

Excitement churned in the pit of my stomach, I was thrilled, jubilant.

And then her next sentence poured cold water all over the flames of my ardour.

"It isn't like we have not done it before, Andrew," Gina said, eyes fixed on my face. "I would like to watch you do it again. You make so much cum. I love to watch it spitting out. I missed doing it with you. Playing alone is not much fun."

It wasn't going to be sex after all. Well, not full-on penetrative sex at least. I wasn't going to experience the pleasure of that lovely girl first hand. What I'd thought was going to be a total romp was simply more of what we'd already done together.

The disappointment didn't last long, however -- How could it when I was still going to see Gina naked? I was going to watch her masturbate and come. I would wank my dick, too. I should be counting my blessings, I thought to myself, she was still a dream come true.

So we went upstairs and, at Gina's suggestion, made our way to the bordello room.

"Turn on the cameras," she said, grinning at me. "Go on, Andrew."

I did as I was told, leaving Gina alone while I went to my own room to find the laptop. I lingered, the task taking me five minutes because I had to wait for the computer to boot up.

When I returned to the bedroom Gina was already on her way.

"I'm so hot, Andrew," the girl whimpered, lying on the bed, legs wide. Gina's fingers were busy at the apex of her slit. She rubbed herself close to her clit, craning to lift her head as she watched me, eyes like slits, teeth clenched. "Hurry," added the girl, the urgency apparent in her tone, "I want to watch."

I stripped quickly, any inhibitions about being naked in front of Gina long dissipated. I was used to the scene by then, keen to show her my enthusiasm.

Bounding onto the bed, cameras forgotten, I knelt close to Gina and began to tug my dick.

She eyed the length of me, gasping and groaning and writhing on the bed while she pleasured her sex.

"I am going to come," Gina informed me, the speed of her climax taking me by surprise. "Oh, Andrew," she grunted, legs coming up off the bed, toes pointed in her habitual style. Then Gina snarled her next word: "Fuck!

"Oh ... Oh, fuck," she groaned. "That is so good."

I watched her go, yanking at my cock while Gina rocked side-to-side, thighs clamped against her wrist as she rolled onto her front, buttocks bouncing, pelvis thrusting. From where I knelt, in that superior position above her, I could see Gina's fingers working at her pussy, two digits inside her opening.

Next, in a moment that will remain etched on my memory, gasping and blinking as she rose up onto her knees, Gina pushed my hand away from my cock. 

Her fingers closed around me, her body pressing close. "Let me do it," the girl said, her eyes glistening while her chest heaved with the force of her climax.

And then she kissed me.

Five

Gina moved around behind me, her little breasts up against my back as she reached around to take me in hand. I boggled at my cock in her fist while Gina jacked my length.

"You are very hard," the girl breathed, her mouth close to my ear.

I swivelled my head to face her, her grin only an inch or two away.

"Gina," I gasped, "I don't believe it."

She nodded and looked serious for a second or two. "It is real, Andrew. Do you like it?"

I gulped, my reply coming out all mangled. "God, yes, Gina. You doing this to me ... Oh, God, it's divine."

Gina kissed me again, her tongue insistent.

Having her in my mouth was sublime. I'd watched her kissing her boyfriend so many times and wished it was me she was being so intimate with -- and now it was.

"I've wanted to kiss you for so long, Gina," I breathed when she pulled back.

"I like to kiss," she told me, nodding again. "I am strange," added Gina, her hand still working at me. "If I am horny I can fuck a man I do not like very much, but I will not kiss him." She leaned in and offered me her mouth again. "But you are very nice, Andrew," Gina continued. She shrugged against me, saying, "So I think to myself I would like to use my hand on your cock. I also think I would like to kiss you."

Which is what we were doing when I let fly with a vehement burst. We were kissing when the stuff shot out of me, the sensation of having that lovely girl's tongue sliding with mine sending me into the abyss.

Spunk squirted and splashed down onto the bedding in a heavy rain. "You always make a lot of cum," Gina commented, jizm dripping from her fingers.

Holding my stare with her eyes she then astounded me by licking the goo off her hand.

And when Gina leaned in to kiss me again, I didn't care about the fact she'd tasted my ejaculate.

****

The next day the weather again matched my mood: bright sunshine and, of course, I was ebullient at what had happened, bursting with joy because the lovely girl had kissed me, more affected by that intimacy than by having her tug me to orgasm.

We met in the park. I saw her approaching and experienced a frisson of arousal. She was delectable, barely dressed in a tiny tartan kilt that showed off her legs, midriff bare, braless under a filmy top with the usual bootlace straps.

I felt a near overwhelming urge to kiss her shoulders.

"I will come to your house after my lesson?" Gina said in a melding of question and statement.

I nodded eagerly in response. All my Christmases had arrived at once. "I'll look forward to it, Gina. Shall I turn on the cameras?"

Gina's brow furrowed beneath her high, straight fringe.

She pouted at me and said, "I don't think so." Then, when she saw my disappointment she added, "But we will still have our enjoyment, Andrew."

She squatted to rub Buster's furry head, flashing her bare pudendum in the process. When she finished flashing at me and cooing at the dog, Gina rose to her feet. She turned and, as she walked away, waggled her fingers, a smirk twisting her lips before she said, "I promise, Andrew, it will be fun. Bye-bye, Buster. See you both soon."

And she was off down the path, the hem of the kilt flicking just below the undercurve of her bottom.

****

"I want to do it in the garden," Gina said. "It is a wonderful afternoon." She tugged me by the arm, almost yanking me out onto the patio. "So warm," the girl enthused, already out of her kilt.

Despite knowing the garden wasn't overlooked, I still felt awkward about parading around in the nude. But Gina's zeal and pert bottom weren't to be ignored, so I followed her example, any concerns I had vanishing when I saw Gina's lissom body completely bare.

"Kiss me," whispered Gina when I too was eventually naked.

I went to her and we kissed, her fist closing around my erection while our tongues slithered and writhed.

"You will kiss my pussy?" she asked, grinning. Gina stepped back two paces and canted her head sideways, expression mischievous. "I want you to."

I gawped at Gina as she turned and walked onto the lawn, hips swaying with that typically feminine swing, the effect narcotic.

"Kiss it," she called to me, sitting on the grass, fingers splaying her labia. "Lick me, Andrew." Gina pointed to her scarlet core. "Right here," she said.

It was another moment of confusion and disbelief. The girl had caught me out yet again. But I was becoming accustomed to being wrong-footed by Gina and moved across the patio, the hard flagstones giving way to soft grass beneath my feet. 

There was still that sense of unreality, the usual feeling when Gina pulled one of her surprises. It felt unreal to me, as though it was someone else inhabiting my body. I was walking towards Gina, my limbs working of their own accord while I was still trying to figure the reality of the situation.

As before, when Gina had first kissed me and then tugged my cock, I thought it simply couldn't be happening. It was a dream, unreal, there was no way Gina had invited me to taste her.

Then I was down there between her legs, the flesh slick against my tongue.

It became real when the girl groaned and bucked against me and I tasted her for the first time. She was wet, her opening siping her desire, with Gina holding my head so she could smear her sex over my face.

I lapped at her, drinking her essence, my hand on my cock while Gina grunted and moaned.

"Put your fingers inside me," Gina gasped, hauling me up to kiss my mouth. "Please, Andrew, use your fingers."

It went on for some time, me licking Gina for a minute or two before she gasped at me to kiss her, imploring me to fuck her with two fingers while she grunted into my mouth.

"I need to fuck," I heard Gina whine. "You must fuck me, Andrew," she said.

So, incredible as it was to me, that's what happened.

****

Gina rolled around and got up onto her hands and knees. Then she offered her rump to me, looking over one shoulder while saying, "Put it in, Andrew Put your cock inside my pussy."

The out-of-body experience returned: I was a corporeal shell while my mind struggled to comprehend just what was happening. There I was, behind her, on my knees, the knob-head of my cock nudging that place it had no business to be.

Gina's eyes were fixed on me as she craned around, a hand on one cheek of her arse while she held herself open to accommodate me.

"What about a condom?" I heard myself blurt, but it was already too late.

"I trust you," Gina replied, my cock sliding into the molten embrace. She groaned when it went in, facing forwards, head lolling so her hair swung down in a curtain against the lawn. "You do not have any disease and I do not have any disease ... So we do not need condom."

And then she was thrusting back onto me, finding purchase with her elbows.

Reality reasserted itself when I grabbed hold of Gina's hips, her body in my hands as the sound of her enjoyment reached my ears.

"You're beautiful," I murmured, leaning in low over her back. "Really lovely, Gina. I can't believe we're doing this. It doesn't seem real, you're so young and I'm an old man."

"It is real, Andrew," the girl assured me.

She writhed and moaned when I nuzzled the nape of her neck, one of my arms hooked around her brisket to hold her close.

"Fuck me," Gina sighed, heaving upright so she could twist round and offer her mouth for a kiss.

We carried on in that position for a little while, both knelt upright with me moulded to her back until Gina lunged forward, my cock slipping out of her.

"More," she mewled, rolling onto her back, legs falling open, boneless as the girl offered herself. "Hard, Andrew. Fuck my pussy and kiss me."

I poured my seed into her as we kissed, my cock embedded to the hilt.

I moaned a warning a few seconds before the inevitable tide flooded out of me, a groan that brought a gasp from Gina. "Leave it inside me," she breathed, holding me to her with her legs when I attempted to withdraw, the flow finally easing.

Vaguely aware my cock was unsheathed, I had been about to wank myself to completion, most likely spraying Gina's stomach and tiny tits with the hot stuff instead of flooding her insides. But but she told me to let it go, one hand clamping around my upper arm.

"Come, Andrew," Gina had moaned, eyes imploring. "Let me feel it. Let me watch your face."

****

It was a languid time afterwards. We laid out there on the grass, naked, the sun warm on our skin. I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at Gina while she lay on her back, eyes closed, the fingers of one hand slowly slipping through the sodden folds of her sex.

When Gina opened her eyes and saw me gazing at her she smiled and reached up to pull me in for another kiss.

We took it nice and easy, tongues dancing, the fire reigniting, with Gina eventually moving down to take my newly rejuvenated erection between her lips.

She went at me with her mouth and hand, caressing me with a glide of one fist and tickling the big domed tip with her tongue. Gina came up to offer me her mouth, her hand speeding up.

"You said you were an old man, Andrew," Gina teased, winking at me before she glanced at my cock. "But you have a young man's stamina."

"That's because you're so gorgeous, Gina," I replied. "I'm mad for you."

She yelped and then laughed when I pushed her back onto the grass, with me moving between her legs.

"Can I...?" I began, gulping as I paused and then asked, "Can we do it again? Now?"

Suddenly serious, Gina looked up at me. "Yes. Please, Andrew. Do it with me again."

I saw Gina's smile when I slid inside her. Her bottom lip went between her teeth, the girl's hips moving slowly. She pulled me down to kiss me, holding me there for a long time, her mouth hot and hungry.

For me, those next few minutes weren't about satisfying some carnal urge. We weren't rutting mindlessly. It wasn't fevered or desperate. As far as I was concerned we were making love. Genuine emotion swelled my chest when I watched Gina's face contort into agonised ecstasy.

"Move with me, Andrew," Gina gasped, blinking as though surprised. She had a hand on herself, fingers diddling her clit while she stared at me and squeezed one bee-sting breast with her other hand. "I am going to come," she whined, forcing her pubis hard against me, her buttocks coming up off the grass.

Things got a little frantic after that. Gina mewled and gasped, apparently desperate to take as much of me into her body as deep as I could manage.

I was up on straight arms, marvelling at being inside Gina, her body clenching around my dick while she got there.

We were moving together, her enthusiasm infectious, the slow, languid coupling turning into a race.

To my surprise and distress Gina abruptly pushed me off her. "I need it deep," she snarled, standing up. Then, looming over me, her quick fingers circling through her vulva, Gina gestured at me to get up as well. "Quickly, Andrew," she urged. "Stand up. Hurry."

Gina danced from one foot to another when, after gawping at her in confusion for a second or two I finally rose to my feet.

"Pick me up," the girl told me.

I blinked and stared at her. "What?"

She came to me, arms looping around my neck.

"Pick me up," Gina squeaked as she lifted one foot off the lawn.

She hopped up and down as though about to mount a horse, one foot in a stirrup before she flung her leg over the saddle.

"Oh, right," I said, her intent eventually filtering through.

A few seconds later we were kissing again, Gina's bottom cupped in my palms while she clung to me like a monkey, legs around my hips, her torso tight against my front.

When I gave the girl a very cautious and experimental bounce, lifting her almost clear of my cock before gravity and Gina's own fervour sent her plunging onto me again, she gasped and moaned and jammed her tongue deeper into my mouth.

It took a little time for me to get used to supporting an agile young woman in such a way. Gina was squirming and constantly shifting her rump to take my length to her satisfaction, her body never still.

Fortunately she was so slightly built that it was no real effort to take her weight, and while her constant wriggling threatened to unbalance us both, I held on tight and managed to manoeuvre us closer to the fence.

After that, with Gina holding onto me with one arm still curled around my neck, her other hand clutching the wooden horizontal support on the fence, I could then concentrate on keeping the pair of us upright while savouring the exquisite moment.




A Summer with Gina



Impressions struck me, fleeting snapshots of clarity that will stay with me forever. I took in the look on Gina's face; the sounds coming out of her; the reality of actually being inside her body. I felt the sun on my shoulders while sweat began to run down my back.

With Gina's skin getting more and more slippery against my hands I had to constantly refresh my grip on her backside, her squirming around not helping the cause while Gina leaked my earlier deposit, her own desire mixing with that goo making our conjunction a greasy slide.

It was all going on, my head full of the experience while the physicality was there around my dick, Gina's body in my palms. She kissed me again and again, the intensity of Gina's attention telling me she was so close.

"I needed to fuck, Andrew," she groaned, grinning at me, her eyes glistening.

"I'm glad you did," I panted back at her. "It's amazing, Gina -- You're amazing."

"I can't come like this," I was informed. "I am so near but I can't get it." Gina eased off me, staggering until she turned and braced her hands against the fence, pelvis angled to offer her rear to me. "From behind," she moaned, squirming again.

And that was how she got there, standing on tiptoe so I didn't have to crouch too low, mewling and thrusting back against me, both of us coming together.

Six

August

Gina might as well have moved in. She became a near permanent fixture, even taking Buster out for a run in the evenings. The dog loved her, and I suppose I did too, which made it all the more difficult when I realised Gina would be leaving in the not too distant future.

In an attempt to stave off melancholy whenever I thought about her going I arranged a weekend in Brighton. Gina was thrilled when I told her, clapping her hands and bouncing her bottom off the settee while I simply hoped for decent weather.

We took the train on Friday afternoon, as soon as Gina's English lesson had finished. Buster stayed at my sister's, not that he wouldn't have enjoyed himself coming with us, but I didn't want to leave him alone in a strange place when Gina and I went out in the evening.

Gina loved the guesthouse, a boutique hotel in Hove, one of those tall terraced places with an imposing Regency façade converted into small yet plush accommodation for weekenders. We checked in, showered together and then took a walk along the length of the promenade, all the way to the pier.

I'd gone for boots, jeans and a blue shirt while Gina wore her pink Skechers, a denim mini and one of her signature flimsy tops with bootlace straps. We were just going past the picture postcard beach huts, the doors painted in a glorious celebration of pastel colours especially for summer, when I noticed we were getting a few looks. It was the first time Gina and I had been out together properly, and I couldn't work out if the glances we received from passers-by were envious, disapproving, or both.

I found the attention disconcerting and, sensing my discomfit, Gina cuddled in close, her arm hooked through mine as we walked.

"Don't worry, Andrew," she reassured me, squeezing my arm. "They think I am too young for you." Gina shrugged and clicked her tongue.

I glanced at her and saw her roll her eyes.

"I am almost twenty," the girl said. "I can make up my own mind. If they don't like it, that is their problem. I am happy. You make me feel good."

We walked past the old West Pier, the skeletal ruin a little more depleted than the last time I'd seen it, a few more struts lost to the tides. I wondered how long it would be before it finally broke up, the physical reminder of time's passage dampening my mood a little. Despite Gina's encouraging words, and regardless of the jolly summer atmosphere, I couldn't help but feel the gloomy slide of Gina's departure dampening my mood.

"Hey, you want fish and chips?" I asked in an attempt to buoy my spirits. "We can eat them on the beach."

A few minutes later we were sat on the pebbles, open paper wrappers of cod and deep-fried potato in hand, trying not to burn our mouths on hot chips that were slathered in vinegar and dusted in salt.

"This is very good," Gina mumbled through a mouthful, her mouth dangling open like a pelican's pouch as she tried to cool the food.

I had to agree. In fact, recovered from my earlier wobble, I thought the afternoon-cum-evening was shaping up well. Damn near perfect: fish and chips in a paper wrapper; the tang of vinegar wafting up with the steam as they cooled; a beautiful girl and the ocean whispering over the pebbles.

How much better could it get?

Then I jumped when I heard Gina shriek.

"You bastard!" the girl called after an opportunist seagull swooped in and snatched the battered fish from her fingers.

"You fucking bastard!" the girl yelped again, incensed.

All I could do was laugh.

"Got you," I said, offering Gina a piece of fish. "Here we can share. Just don't wave any food around."

"I cannot believe what that bird did," Gina replied, incredulous at the cheek of it.

After the picnic I took Gina along St James Street, the occasional local oddity causing her great delight.

"The people are so ... colourful," she said, also enthused by a New Age shop with an interesting window display.

"It all goes on here, Gina," I informed her. "Wait 'til I show you The Lanes."

"It is wonderful," Gina responded, squeezing my arm again.

I liked it too. The atmosphere was so relaxed, much more live and let live than home. Up in that part of town, all along St James Street, I didn't feel such an old letch.

We were outside the Ranelagh pub. "Fancy a drink?" I asked.

Gina did, so we went inside, a John Hiatt blues riff hitting us when we entered. The feeling of contentment spread through me. There I was with a gorgeous companion, enjoying a balmy evening with a pint of real ale on the table in front of me. It was a fulfilling prospect to consider we had two more days of it.

I put Gina's departure out of my mind. After all, it was still six weeks away. An age.

Sitting there for that half an hour was a magical time, an endearing and enduring memory. Gina sat with her one leg crossed over the other while she sipped red wine and alternated between chattering away to me and looking through the railings towards the street.

Pub patrons came and went, the clientele ranging from weekend tourists like us to more flamboyant locals. Gina watched them passing by, folk of all shapes and sizes, ages, modes of dress and sexual orientation.

"This is fun," she beamed at me as I drained the last of my beer. "I like it here." Then Gina heaved a huge sigh of satisfaction. 

"No," she replied when I asked her if she wanted another drink. "Take me somewhere else. I want to see everything."

By the time we crossed Old Steine and walked up through Pavillion Gardens it was getting busy. We paused for a few minutes while Gina commented on the onion domes of the Pavilion itself, marvelling at the incongruous architecture in such a setting as an English seaside town.

Next stop was a drink in the Mash Tun pub, its blue fascia bringing another comment from Gina before we crossed the road to the Waggon and Horses.

Life was all around us: street music; touts and tramps; people making the most of the balmy evening and drinking al fresco.

We were outside at one of the big picnic style tables when the woman approached.

I looked up to see a dark-haired beauty, a mid-thirties lady with gypsy eyes and sticky red lipstick smiling at us, her attention mainly fixed on Gina.

"Hi," the woman said while I quickly surveyed her generous bosom, superb breasts barely contained by a thin jacket made of black leather. It turned out, as I'd discover later, that leather jacket was all she was wearing on top, her breasts bubbling through the gap of a zipper unfastened almost to her navel.

The woman's greeting brought Gina's attention away from the crowd. 

"May I?" the gypsy asked, nudging her chin at the bench.

****

I could tell from the off that Claire Reynolds had her eye on Gina. She sat down and immediately launched into a potted life history, offering to buy the next round.

She fetched the drinks and continued with her spiel, directing her comments to the younger woman and throwing an occasional glance my way.

"So, you're together?" Claire asked, grinding the stub of her cigarette into the pavement beneath the sole of her shoe.

I didn't pick up disapproval in Claire's tone, but certainly caught the hungry way she gazed at Gina.

"Yes," Gina replied, nodding as she reached for my hand to give it a squeeze.

I saw Claire clock the gesture, and I was grateful to Gina for the outward show of affection.

"You lucky bugger," Claire said to me, the twist to her mouth conveying envy at my luck rather than any resentment. She heaved a sigh and drained the remaining cider in her glass. "I don't suppose you'd share her?" she asked, apparently in jest.

I think Claire had been joking. She certainly looked as surprised as I felt when Gina caught us both off guard and said, "I don't mind if we share. What do you think, Andrew?"

It was a question that had a complex answer, not that I could do much in the way of clear thinking in the aftermath of Gina's causal delivery. 

I was still processing the fact a threesome may have just dropped into my lap when Claire blurted, "Really?"

Gina was nodding and looking from me to Claire and back again. "Yes, the three of us together. I wouldn't mind it."

"But," I spluttered, unable to articulate the mix of emotions that jumbled inside me at that moment.

On one hand the prospect thrilled me -- After all, two attractive ladies and me? One dark, one fair, both absolutely gorgeous, was a fantasy come true. But I was also torn by the feelings I had for Gina. Somehow it didn't seem right. I thought I was in love with the girl, and if you love someone, you don't share -- No?

Then, being the perennial introspective that I am, I also considered Claire -- Why would she fancy me? She possessed sex appeal in spades. She was stunning, so ripe and voluptuous; a dark-eyed Bohemian beauty any man would drool over. Not only did Claire have it all going on -- she dressed to emphasise her sexuality: tight leather skirt with a high hem, her boobs bursting out of her jacket -- she could choose a lover from a number of offers if the mood struck. Besides, it was Gina she was after, not the girl's late middle-aged boyfriend.

Gina leaned into me, smirking. I could see her excitement in the glint of her eyes, her taut rump squirming against the wooden bench.

"It would be fun," she breathed, questioning me with raised eyebrows. "What do you think, Claire?" Gina added, turning to face the woman on the other side of the table.

"Well," I felt Claire's eyes on me, "he's not bad looking..."

"I would like you to watch him fuck me," Gina informed us. The older woman's jaw dropped at such candour. "I would enjoy watching you two together, also."

I saw Claire's throat work. She gulped and looked at me. "Oh, God," she murmured, her next words making my stomach flip. "Let's go."

****

I sat in the front seat of the taxi, the women in the rear.

When the driver glanced at me I saw something like amusement in his face, the reason becoming apparent when I turned to look over my shoulder to find Gina and Claire kissing, their ardour giving rise to an uncomfortable erection.

"Have a good night, mate," the taxi driver said when we arrived in front of a large semi-detached place near the Greyhound track. He dropped an eyelid onto one cheek in a lascivious wink and added, "Half your luck." Next he cast a covetous eye at Gina, nodding to himself when his eyes then slid to the unfastened zip of Claire's leather jacket, her big breasts unfettered and swaying as she moved.

Without comment I handed over a twenty and closed the door, leaving the cabbie loitering at the kerb as I followed Gina and Claire through the gate and up the drive.

"Another drink? Coffee?" Claire offered when the front door closed behind us.

"No," Gina replied, apparently on my behalf as well as her own. "I want to fuck."

****

To me it was a strange dynamic: Claire was obviously more interested in Gina than me, and although the younger woman paid Claire a lot of attention, she still directed the lion's share of her focus to me.

Of course I was still reeling from the unexpected twist the seaside visit had taken, and not only that but I was also dealing with mixed emotions, with my personal moral code balking in the face of being involved with a third party while I had such strong feelings for Gina.

Still, I reconciled within myself, it was what Gina wanted. So I decided to let events run their course. I could sift through the embers of sentiment in the morning and figure out how I felt.

We were in the bedroom after a quick scramble up the stairs. I watched Claire undress, a simple matter of shrugging out of the leather jacket and hiking her skirt up around her waist.

"You're breasts are so big," Gina enthused, weighing those pillows in her palms. "So beautiful."

"And you're lovely," Claire replied, leaning in to kiss Gina's mouth.

I stood there gawping, completely entranced by the gentle way the girls loved one another. There were gasps and low moans as their tongues entwined, their palms sliding over bare skin.

"Let's get you out of these clothes," Claire sighed, slipping one bootlace over Gina's shoulder. "Oh, God," she whined, "you're exquisite, Gina."

The girl stepped out of her skirt, abandoning it in the middle of the carpet as she threw a look at me. She eased away from Claire, the gypsy-eyed woman watching Gina's rump, her expression avid.

"You must undress," Gina said to me with a peck of her lips against my cheek. "Come on, Andrew, take off your clothes. We will help you."

She directed the last to Claire, who took the hint. Gina's fingers were at my belt and zip, her tongue in my mouth while, at the girl's direction, Claire unlaced my boots.

"You two kiss," breathed Gina, one fist working my erection. She had just disengaged from Claire when she issued the instruction, jacking my dick while urging Claire and me to make contact. "Go on," she sighed, reaching for Claire's large breasts, "I want to see you two kissing."

Claire moved in close, blinking as she approached. She offered me an odd kind of smirk and a shrug of one shoulder.

"Well, Andrew," she murmured. "What about it?"

During that first kiss I heard Gina mutter something indistinct. Then my jeans were around my ankles, a warm mouth closing around my cock. A moment later, after pulling her mouth away from mine, Claire was down there too.

It was yet another surreal moment, seeing the two of them working at me with their lips and tongues and hands. I curled my fingers through Gina's hair, groaning while the two of them concentrated on each other for a few seconds, the girl's fist continuing to stroke my length.

They eased away from me, giving me the chance to remove my shirt and kick my jeans free of my feet.

When I pulled off my socks Claire was busy with her tongue at Gina's vulva, the girl mewling at me to put my dick in her mouth.

So it went on, Gina including me while Claire concentrated her efforts on the lithe, writhing form of the younger woman. I wasn't complaining, not since Gina did a lot of moaning and grunting around a mouthful of my cock. Even my reticence at involving myself with Claire had faded. That threesome stuff was fun!

A few minutes passed and then Gina levered herself up onto one elbow, rolling onto her side. "I want you two to fuck," she gasped, wide-eyed and breathless, a hand sloshing through her vulva, her sex smeared with desire.

Not only had I fully accepted the new arrangement, but it seemed my earlier assessment about Claire's potential reluctance to involve me was unfounded. She was all fired up and ready to agree to whatever Gina suggested, with me soon finding myself on my back with a condom rolled over my cock while Gina held me upright and Claire straddled me.

The voluptuous wench bounced eagerly, tits swinging and swaying, her generous rump slapping against my skin as Gina shared her time between the pair of us, moaning on about seeing people fucking and how she loved to watch.

For me it was a matter of recovering from the jolt of the unexpected, the surprises just kept on coming with Gina. I ran my hands over the unfamiliar contours of Claire's body, her bottom fleshy in my palms, the feminine softness of her as my fingers moved over her waist and up to her breasts just as arousing as the younger woman's tight packaging.

"You like her?" a voice whispered.

I opened my eyes and saw Gina's face hovering over mine. "She's lovely," I groaned, meaning it. "Really sexy, Gina."

"Good," the girl grinned. She planted a kiss on my lips and then rose to offer her hungry mouth to Claire.

Claire grunted and rode me harder while Gina massaged those heavy tits. She gasped and groaned, whining at Gina to suck nipples distended with lust.

"My clit," Claire squeaked, her palms sliding over Gina's body. "Rub my clitty, Gina. Please, baby, rub me."

It got to be quite urgent. Claire was grinding her pubis against me while Gina concentrated her attention on the excited woman's clitoris. I had one hand mauling Claire's breasts while I searched blindly for Gina's opening with the other, my fingers finding her sodden.

My efforts brought a gasp and a cry of delight from the girl. I rubbed at her, my fingers alternating between probing her insides and working her nub.

Gina moaned, Claire groaned, the bed protested, and the surge threatened to fill the condom.

"Fuck," I heard Claire hiss. "I can't do it. I'm so close," she gasped, "but I can't get there."

She dismounted, throwing a leg over me before collapsing onto the bed. Claire's fingers were at her sex, circling wildly, sobs bursting out of her as she fought towards a climax.

"Let me help," Gina said, scrambling round, quickly moving between Claire's legs.

Claire's eyes opened and the distracted expression vanished. Her eyes focussed on Gina. "God, yes," she squeaked, shifting her rump and forcing her thighs wider. "You do that, Gina. Good girl. Lick me, darling. Yes, oh yes..."

When Claire reached for me I rolled into her sudden need, kissing her mouth as I went up onto my knees.

"Your girlfriend's gorgeous," she grunted at me. She seemed manic to me, wild with what was going on, her fingers clamped around my forearm, eyes gleaming, her stare fixed on my face. "She's fantastic," the woman added with a gurgle. Then Claire craned to look down over her body, chin on chest as she gazed at Gina and chewed on her lower lip.

Eyes glinting with mischief and a devilish smirk on her face, Gina disengaged briefly. She crawled up the bed over Claire's body and slipped her tongue into the other woman's mouth, kissing her with great passion before returning to continue lapping at Claire's sex.

On the way back down Gina looked at me. She pointed behind herself, wriggling her rear-end to emphasise her meaning.

"You go back there and fuck me," Gina murmured. "I want to feel you inside me, Andrew. You know what to do."

I yanked the johnny off my cock and clambered behind Gina, sliding into her molten embrace with a long sigh coming out of me.

It ended with me crying out in delight, semen pumping into Gina while Claire clawed at the bed and bellowed she was coming as well. It felt like the stuff would never stop pouring out, my orgasm rocking me while Gina mumbled and babbled about everything she was experiencing in that moment.

That climax saw my involvement over for the time being. The two ladies carried on while all I could do was sit there, cock drooping and oozing cum, transfixed by the sight of Claire fingering Gina's gloopy opening.