College Retreat The Gardening Crew
- 2 years ago
- 38
- 0
College Retreat: Plumbing free porn video
Bernard was so relaxed on Thursday morning; he actually had a smoke with breakfast.
Erica commented it was a disgusting habit. Bethany was indifferent and Chastity of course shared a few puffs.
It was a stress free breakfast, who knew what ribald entertainment was on the agenda for the late afternoon.
Mornings were always a roaring fire, porridge, coffee, except for Erica and her fruit juice. Bernard’s highlight probably just beating the intoxication of the morning drag ritual was the scanty pj parade. The beauty of meagre, insufficient girly coverings and loose chemise. The joy of youth too, how their cute tits didn’t freeze in the early frost of the last days of autumn. Bethany and Chastity per usual ,nudged and sidled up to each other with feline stealth and slink, craving and creating opportunities for indecent ‘accidental’ touch.
Bernard was about to pander to a relaxed whim and have that second fag, when the phone rang. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. The girls noticed Monsignor’s demeanour change. His posture and manner were suddenly fully serious, yet his eyes indicated compassion. He informed the girls directly and devoid of emotion, though his eyes held it, there had been a serious accident at the local sawmill and trauma counsellors were required immediately. He would be absent till evening. He was in Jesuit mode; as he designated; Erica was left in charge, they needed to complete their assignments before lunch, engage in preparation for events next week, including sport and language competitions and only then, have a break together.
Erica assured him they would be okay. The girls saw Bernard leave down the driveway in the Diocese Range Rover.
They were cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang again, just after eight. It was Mrs Roberts; she had forgotten to tell Monsignor that Saul Mathews, the local plumber would be at the Retreat about nine, to replace the shower head in the fourth bathroom. The only technically off limits area to the present guests, as it contained the Cardinal’s annex of the Retreat. His bedroom, en-suite and private study.
Chastity had taken the call and informed Mrs Roberts, the plumber would be taken care of. With a broad grin she informed Bethany and Erica: “Girls we have hot bod male company in one hour…let’s shave those legs, apply the makeup, do our hair and get undressed.”
It’s surprising how much femscaping can occur in under an hour. They say women; especially young women take forever to get ready. There is nothing like inducement, to spur preparation when lust is involved. Bethany braided Erica’s dark locks, while Chastity plucked two stray feral follicles blighting Beth’s cute eyebrows. Chastity ran some gel through her hair and it was saucily, salaciously ready. They did as a trio slow down with the shaving. They didn’t want any unsightly nicks or impatient roughness to leave a rash or even worse a few stray stubbly bits; especially around their own or their friend’s narcissistic, self absorbed preeny pampered girly bits.
Bethany took a long time applying the lather to Chastity’s compelling coochie region and fingering her labia; she was in a delicious rapture as she pushed Chas’s flaps to the side, shaving away tiny emerging red spot fire pubes from her best friend’s lovely lust hole. She was so, so careful trimming the little red forest remaining above Chastity’s itty clitty.
She asked to kiss around her companion’s sweet mound and rub her cheek over the puffy labial zone to confirm her talented silky smooth shaving routine. Chastity gave her blessing for some brief mushy touching. Mmm, cheek to pussy is delicious.
It was Chastity who had the dexterity and the skill to shave around Erica’s pleats, perineum and anus. Well you never knew with Erica what she was going to present, close-up to a male, how far she was going to spread or what hole would receive a treat in the heat of an unguarded sexual moment. Christ, thought Chastity, a woman had to get two fucking holes looking their best.
Erica was Ms Gillette on all their legs: so fucking fast, so fuckingly awesomely precise with her sweeps, to produce sensational sleek smoothness. Moisturiser was later applied over liberally to each other’s breasts and tenderly around pouty over excited labia. Then the fem-sprays went into over pressurisation, in the confidence of creating a smell to attract. There was a brief overpowering heady mist of Tropical Rain and Paradise Splash in Chastity’s room.
Geez they were focused, they had fifteen minutes still for a confirming lingerie selection: presented to each other’s critical eye; lacey knickers and camisoles being flung out for appraisal from the depths of their travel bags....the briefer the better....
Saul wasn’t in a hurry. This was his only booked job for today and it wasn’t looking overly complex. The biggest hurdle was Mrs Roberts, the gossip, the proffered second scone and another bloody cup of tea. He was twenty five and single. Worse than that… no regular girlfriend and a rural township devoid of eligible women, nearly empty of eligible females to be precise. He had a good business, his dad’s since his retirement, but he’d tried dating agencies but couldn’t get a city girl to the country. His dad kept suggesting one of the Watson sisters. Seriously they were built like brick outhouses, rectangular and rough. True they were twenty and twenty two, respectively, but they were often mistaken by out of towners as butch lesbians. Rumour was and gossips always true in a small place, the Brown brothers at the local sawmill, built like tanks and packing it in their trousers, at least according to their own drunken bar talk were dogging the Watson’s regularly by the riverbank. Well according to old Clarey, who fished the river, with a boat load of beer.
Saul hadn’t even scored a yummy mummy on a call out, what always happens to plumbers, in the odd silly plumbing porn scene he’d laughed over. Fuck this community was either religiously closed widows or the Watson girls open country road show, though he hadn’t been there. He had some standards but wished they would slip.
He found himself momentarily, coming up the long drive of framing gums to the Retreat, thinking shit was he destined to dog poor old widowed Mrs Roberts in the kitchen, he left that thought fully undeveloped…a hot young nun…no such thing…Christ Sister Margret was the youngest he’d seen around here and she was the better side of forty…still a virgin no doubt…some wayward randy thoughts are actually a sexual turn off, not a turn on...he left it…parked and knocked on the kitchen door. Tradesman’s entrance, expecting Mrs Roberts in her apron, varicose veined legs, rolled half stockings and hair net. Lovely sweet caring woman, the model grandmother, not the ideal young man’s desperate shag.
The door opened, Saul said “Fuck me.”
Chastity said: “Yes…Fuck me and fuck this and backdoor this.”
He was in the lounge room. In front of a roaring open fire. He had dropped his tool bag way back in the kitchen; but his own private tool was upstanding already because greeting his unbelieving eyes through the doorway had been, yes: he counted them, one, two, and three; jaw dropping, cock raising, stunningly beautiful young women, his cock registered they were not nuns, well before his brain did. They were drop dead gorgeous and he may have fainted in blissful delight, if they hadn’t pressed around him and kept him moving inside.
It’s amazing how much your eye and brain and cock process together. The brunette was tall, at eye level; she was ravishing, waiting to be ravished. White camisole and white lace panties, shit the athletic tone, toned for screwing, was all that passed through Saul’s mind.
The strawberry blonde was slightly shorter, blue eyes under a fringe and ponytail. So innocent, shyly smiling like a virgin before her first fuck: well the thought crossed Saul’s mind, though he’d never fucked a virgin, surely this was one. Dumpling breasts looking to escape her pink 'cammie' and he was sure irresistible folds of flesh behind her equally rose coloured skimpy undies.
But it was the redhead, bodacious and brassy, flashy and exuding brazen immediate opportunity, a sex brat who had to be fucked, a flood of crass thoughts crowded Saul’s mind: he had to fuck the redhead. There is something about black lace and wrangers; pocket sized skinny females at five-two: and Saul was about to find out the pleasurable truth of this fact.
They had Saul seated on the red leather curving lounge between them. Erica wanted his cock inside her before his pants were even off. Bethany wanted both cock and pussy and breast action and everything she couldn’t yet think of. Only Chastity knew it had to slow down before the poor guy lost his gravy meant for sharing, inside his pants.
Chastity allocated his body. Introducing Erica to his expectant mouth. Bethany to his surprised chest. Leaving his hopeful penis all to herself… for a short while.
Valhalla came to mind as Erica’s tongue caught his in full passion. He caught her name in his ear but her tongue was then darting furiously with eroticized slippery pleasure through his mouth, across his lips, under his own tongue, across his cheeks, then waited for reciprocity, he gave her back what she had given. He felt her delight, as she came again with her tongue , speedily but controlled, she had to be a fucking athlete; tempo and dash combined in his mouth, the juicily lingering, tip to tongue tip, a French kiss seared into memory, hot lips, hot body, hot minded girl. Valhalla, first impression was spot on, she was a Valkyrie and he wanted more. Their mouths became joint suctioning apparatus, she sucked his tongue like it was his penis, and he treated her tongue tip like he would her clit. He moved on to her neck. She nibbled his ear. Then it was frenzied tongues in mutual mouths all over again.
Saul’s chest at the same time was in virginal territory and seemingly under virginal touch. The sweet nubile had whispered in his other ear, as he caught the name Erica, that this one was Bethany. His mind was processing three erogenous experiences at the same time equally. His chest, his mouth, his happy sac. His firmness and patch of chest hair was being pampered by two soft cheeks and a sliding, gliding wet tongue. His nipples were scratched by sexily unbearably long nails. It’s the goddamn moment when beauty and the b**st is really true; hardness defined by softness, body hair contrasting with smoothness, maleness and femaleness, blended in their oppositeness together. His hand held Bethany’s cheek for a sensed moment, as she paused too, to hear his beating heart. Sensual sensitivity for two, caught between fleshly locked lips and the carnality of genital petting.
Chastity was playing with Saul’s scrotal happy sac. Nibbling on his nut pouch. Checking out his family jewel box. She had sufficient to work with and was never disappointed, all penises had potential. She was licking his dangling pouched duo, watching occasionally as they tightened upwards. Saul was blissfully aware of the satin touch on silky scrotum flesh, balls and tongue joined in delight. When Chastity started taking head, he couldn’t focus on the blurs of pleasure that were localised in his mouth and across his chest. He was male; his penis stole all pleasure focus into its greedy head.
Bethany and Erica gave up. They sat and watched the Chastity head show. She took penis shallow, just holding the tip with her lips. She knew the pleasure point, the spot under the tip giving trills of building delight like her clit. She licked her tongue around and under his head. Beth and Erica saw Saul’s eyes dilate, and then close with unbearable pleasure and the deep male groan escape his tense lips. The redhead's fingers were teasing his soft sac, then she cupped her hand for the lightest sensually uplifting squeeze. Then stroking his shaft, while she teased… teased his so sensitive thickened head. Chastity knew when penis just had to have pussy; fingers, hands, tongue and lips left as foreplay. Only pussy can release the throb of pure sustained maleness. Or Erica’s butt.
What happened next stayed with Saul for his whole life. The girls sat next to each other on the lounge and invited Saul to remove their underclothes. Nothing else. Then they spread their legs: legs up, legs high, legs split by pussy. Saul nearly hesitated: was this right, his cock wasn’t getting moral. It went right in, right to pussy, shaved delight, right in front of it. Bethany was in the middle. Saul’s flute split the musician legs. Her fairy winged labia currently defining his understanding of skin and sex. His candy man got her sweetest treat. Beth moaned. Saul groaned. He took in his cock pumping into her holding cavity. Shit, the other two girls were playing with themselves watching him pump their friend.
Excitement builds from the fully unexpected in sex. He pumped the cute faced blonde rapidly. Till Chastity was up; momentarily redirecting his stud muscle into the spread glistening pleats of Erica. Christ he had gone from cock bliss to cock heaven. This was stiff meets snug. Boy was she tight but wet. His stiffy went harder; well it felt it had hardened to a veined crimson headed crowbar. Saul was caught, trapped in an overpowering mind centred possessiveness of repeated pleasured penis strokes of delight.
Erica didn’t want to share, but she was a true team player. The willpower of the girl. She gave Saul to Chastity. The redheaded siren was holding her petite shard of rigid hardness between her fingers.
“Lick it please”
Saul was licking and flicking her nub. He could feel her tense with pleasure. He just had to lap and suck her one extraordinary large passion flap, a lip unusually wide, the other angling off in its own direction…they were he realised quickly… double suckers…he had them both between his lips... then he couldn’t wait…his dick needed to be in here….he gave Chastity his ramming fuck stick. She felt the pleasure of his fuck rod. She felt cock with lewd delight, as she knew it had so very recently visited her two friend’s cute smooth freshly shaved coochies.
Saul wasn’t sure whether he was meant to stay and spray in the fire-crotch or revisit the pleats or lick the fairy wings. Chastity got him back to her impatient clit. She held his head down. He understood, shit he could lick them all to a fucking orgasm. The thought of this intensified his tongue action harder and firmer onto Chastity’s super sensitive little bead. She came with splintering shattering spasms of pleasure. Her highly spread legs wriggling, then collapsing.
He was pausing to take in her replete eyes but Beth already had him diving between her thighs. He covered her whole pussy and sucked, sucked hard, like trying to suck her pussy off. Bethany was delirious with thigh shaking joy. Then Saul pressed his tongue into her cute slit, pushing into her, like his tongue was searching for a permanent home.
He knew he had her on cloud nine as she moaned: “Suck my pussy…suck me harder.”
Well if a girl asks, she gets it. The next three minutes were a closed world for two. Pleasure creation and pleasure correlated. Saul licked like he was pelting down a water-slide; she was so slickly wet where his saliva had pooled with her flow of glistening cum. It was a knee trembler for Beth. Her full climax coincidence with a strange new genitalia surprise, a gush of warm fem liquid seeping onto the couch.
“Oh beautiful “said Chastity, who gathered in on two fingers, then gave, well fed it back into Bethany who marvelled at her own body and its capacity for new wondrous happiness in sex. Erica collected the dregs and gave Saul his first taste of fem-liquid.
Ah so patient Erica. The girl who wanted it all. Her clit teased. Cock spurting rapidly in her gob. Her pleats separated by heated meat. But her arse won. She knew she should be fairer to her aching pussy. But her arse craved more. Saul saw the glistening tightly flexing sphincter first. Her eyes said fuck my arse. He took in her whole gorgeous rump, a caboose framing her cute poop shoot. It was flexed and ready. Just where had this girl’s fingers played while he was busy between Chas’s and Beth’s legs. There was the hesitation. He had never been here. Never been invited. Shit this was the prefect invitation. He was worried about hurting her. How were you gentle with this? How did you take a bit of the ring? Fuck he was a generational bona fide tradesman; he always came through the backdoor. The backdoor was open, he went in.
She flexed, he was in, well in, the tightness, the sheer delicious tightness kept hitting home. Fuck his cock felt great. It was 'bum-delicious', a grip tighter than his best double wrench. Saul wanted to cum in her arse, his cock needed to cum in her arse; he believed he was about to cum in Erica’s arse.
Chastity had his pulsating pecker in hand. Just holding it for a second or two. What?
She was waiting for Erica to turn around. Hell, three college girls all on their knees ready to receive a spray of cum, their communion of the hour, from a now ragingly erect but usually unseen trouser god.
Chastity worked the shaft till its involuntary flex. Then directed its spray. Jizz straight across Erica’s stretched waiting tongue. A gob of cum on cute Beth’s cheek but close enough for her tongue to stretch and snatch it in. Then Chastity took the rest for herself across her two marshmallow chest bunnies. She milked the last dregs in her soft mouth. Whilst Erica licked his nut bag and Beth, being Beth, well had to rim his appealing arsehole. Then lick the cum off her best friends breasts.
A few kisses here and there; all over Saul Then a collapsed pile of flesh fanning embers of post coital smouldering warmth in group relaxation. The youthful assemblage glowing warmer than the softly burning lounge room fire.
“Fuck...its eleven” realised Chastity, “Okay… everyone clean up….and get to work…that includes you Saul…lunch is at one everyone.”
Saul worked busily. Tradesmen’s focus. Replacing, adjusting, and checking fixtures. Surprised by no interruptions. He just had to know what the hell was going on. He fantasised: a nympho lesbian shower party. About twelve he had a sneak around the house. Unbelievable, three girls: separate…writing, reading, focused on study. It was going to be one hell of a world they dominated.
Lunch was relaxed. Light and flirty, like the club sandwiches and bottled water provided by Chef Erica, the morning had to be make believe, a driveway fantasy of Saul’s. Yet here they all were. Innocent still in this moment’s current appeal, accountable already only in memory’s knowledge, the combinations of life in the instance and what we truly know about others when we really know them, when we engage with them sexually.
The three French kisses affectionately and honestly given but indicating 'find your own next fuck' were a nice parting unexpected treat for Saul…as he left through the backdoor.
Just where the fuck was his next fuck coming from, he mused, as he headed off down the driveway. He didn’t know it yet… but it was actually only a couple of days away and he would always have his dog, Charlie, to thank for its occurrence. A dog that was never sick; yet suddenly was and a new female vet in town. The mysteries of life-long couples created anywhere.
The girls had serious work to do and got it done. There was a world of males to conqueror and they would need sharp minds, fit bodies and tight pussies to do it. There was also genuine comradeship and concern as they prepared dinner all together for Bernard and themselves. He phoned at five, he would be back by six.
It wasn’t melancholic like they all anticipated. The Jesuit could compartmentalise. He relaxed with a couple of wines and so did the girls. He held them mentally captive… engaging them with quirky humorous human stories from his vast global experiences. He knew what was needed for this evening. It was fellowship, not sex. He kissed each girl on the cheek once and they actually just went to bed.
Bernard thought …the trio… they just might find balance in the world, more equilibrium than himself, he hoped so.
He took several long drags of his last fag before bed… but couldn’t erase the stump of bandages at a man’s wrist…a man that he had comforted in hospital… that had had the day before his hand, it was now mangled… beyond reattachment.
He drew the last puff from the stub of his durry …and wondered were we right to live life only for and in the moment….as it was impossible to see divine reason in his day…hopefully, he reflected; the girls day had been less random.
Erica commented it was a disgusting habit. Bethany was indifferent and Chastity of course shared a few puffs.
It was a stress free breakfast, who knew what ribald entertainment was on the agenda for the late afternoon.
Mornings were always a roaring fire, porridge, coffee, except for Erica and her fruit juice. Bernard’s highlight probably just beating the intoxication of the morning drag ritual was the scanty pj parade. The beauty of meagre, insufficient girly coverings and loose chemise. The joy of youth too, how their cute tits didn’t freeze in the early frost of the last days of autumn. Bethany and Chastity per usual ,nudged and sidled up to each other with feline stealth and slink, craving and creating opportunities for indecent ‘accidental’ touch.
Bernard was about to pander to a relaxed whim and have that second fag, when the phone rang. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. The girls noticed Monsignor’s demeanour change. His posture and manner were suddenly fully serious, yet his eyes indicated compassion. He informed the girls directly and devoid of emotion, though his eyes held it, there had been a serious accident at the local sawmill and trauma counsellors were required immediately. He would be absent till evening. He was in Jesuit mode; as he designated; Erica was left in charge, they needed to complete their assignments before lunch, engage in preparation for events next week, including sport and language competitions and only then, have a break together.
Erica assured him they would be okay. The girls saw Bernard leave down the driveway in the Diocese Range Rover.
They were cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang again, just after eight. It was Mrs Roberts; she had forgotten to tell Monsignor that Saul Mathews, the local plumber would be at the Retreat about nine, to replace the shower head in the fourth bathroom. The only technically off limits area to the present guests, as it contained the Cardinal’s annex of the Retreat. His bedroom, en-suite and private study.
Chastity had taken the call and informed Mrs Roberts, the plumber would be taken care of. With a broad grin she informed Bethany and Erica: “Girls we have hot bod male company in one hour…let’s shave those legs, apply the makeup, do our hair and get undressed.”
It’s surprising how much femscaping can occur in under an hour. They say women; especially young women take forever to get ready. There is nothing like inducement, to spur preparation when lust is involved. Bethany braided Erica’s dark locks, while Chastity plucked two stray feral follicles blighting Beth’s cute eyebrows. Chastity ran some gel through her hair and it was saucily, salaciously ready. They did as a trio slow down with the shaving. They didn’t want any unsightly nicks or impatient roughness to leave a rash or even worse a few stray stubbly bits; especially around their own or their friend’s narcissistic, self absorbed preeny pampered girly bits.
Bethany took a long time applying the lather to Chastity’s compelling coochie region and fingering her labia; she was in a delicious rapture as she pushed Chas’s flaps to the side, shaving away tiny emerging red spot fire pubes from her best friend’s lovely lust hole. She was so, so careful trimming the little red forest remaining above Chastity’s itty clitty.
She asked to kiss around her companion’s sweet mound and rub her cheek over the puffy labial zone to confirm her talented silky smooth shaving routine. Chastity gave her blessing for some brief mushy touching. Mmm, cheek to pussy is delicious.
It was Chastity who had the dexterity and the skill to shave around Erica’s pleats, perineum and anus. Well you never knew with Erica what she was going to present, close-up to a male, how far she was going to spread or what hole would receive a treat in the heat of an unguarded sexual moment. Christ, thought Chastity, a woman had to get two fucking holes looking their best.
Erica was Ms Gillette on all their legs: so fucking fast, so fuckingly awesomely precise with her sweeps, to produce sensational sleek smoothness. Moisturiser was later applied over liberally to each other’s breasts and tenderly around pouty over excited labia. Then the fem-sprays went into over pressurisation, in the confidence of creating a smell to attract. There was a brief overpowering heady mist of Tropical Rain and Paradise Splash in Chastity’s room.
Geez they were focused, they had fifteen minutes still for a confirming lingerie selection: presented to each other’s critical eye; lacey knickers and camisoles being flung out for appraisal from the depths of their travel bags....the briefer the better....
Saul wasn’t in a hurry. This was his only booked job for today and it wasn’t looking overly complex. The biggest hurdle was Mrs Roberts, the gossip, the proffered second scone and another bloody cup of tea. He was twenty five and single. Worse than that… no regular girlfriend and a rural township devoid of eligible women, nearly empty of eligible females to be precise. He had a good business, his dad’s since his retirement, but he’d tried dating agencies but couldn’t get a city girl to the country. His dad kept suggesting one of the Watson sisters. Seriously they were built like brick outhouses, rectangular and rough. True they were twenty and twenty two, respectively, but they were often mistaken by out of towners as butch lesbians. Rumour was and gossips always true in a small place, the Brown brothers at the local sawmill, built like tanks and packing it in their trousers, at least according to their own drunken bar talk were dogging the Watson’s regularly by the riverbank. Well according to old Clarey, who fished the river, with a boat load of beer.
Saul hadn’t even scored a yummy mummy on a call out, what always happens to plumbers, in the odd silly plumbing porn scene he’d laughed over. Fuck this community was either religiously closed widows or the Watson girls open country road show, though he hadn’t been there. He had some standards but wished they would slip.
He found himself momentarily, coming up the long drive of framing gums to the Retreat, thinking shit was he destined to dog poor old widowed Mrs Roberts in the kitchen, he left that thought fully undeveloped…a hot young nun…no such thing…Christ Sister Margret was the youngest he’d seen around here and she was the better side of forty…still a virgin no doubt…some wayward randy thoughts are actually a sexual turn off, not a turn on...he left it…parked and knocked on the kitchen door. Tradesman’s entrance, expecting Mrs Roberts in her apron, varicose veined legs, rolled half stockings and hair net. Lovely sweet caring woman, the model grandmother, not the ideal young man’s desperate shag.
The door opened, Saul said “Fuck me.”
Chastity said: “Yes…Fuck me and fuck this and backdoor this.”
He was in the lounge room. In front of a roaring open fire. He had dropped his tool bag way back in the kitchen; but his own private tool was upstanding already because greeting his unbelieving eyes through the doorway had been, yes: he counted them, one, two, and three; jaw dropping, cock raising, stunningly beautiful young women, his cock registered they were not nuns, well before his brain did. They were drop dead gorgeous and he may have fainted in blissful delight, if they hadn’t pressed around him and kept him moving inside.
It’s amazing how much your eye and brain and cock process together. The brunette was tall, at eye level; she was ravishing, waiting to be ravished. White camisole and white lace panties, shit the athletic tone, toned for screwing, was all that passed through Saul’s mind.
The strawberry blonde was slightly shorter, blue eyes under a fringe and ponytail. So innocent, shyly smiling like a virgin before her first fuck: well the thought crossed Saul’s mind, though he’d never fucked a virgin, surely this was one. Dumpling breasts looking to escape her pink 'cammie' and he was sure irresistible folds of flesh behind her equally rose coloured skimpy undies.
But it was the redhead, bodacious and brassy, flashy and exuding brazen immediate opportunity, a sex brat who had to be fucked, a flood of crass thoughts crowded Saul’s mind: he had to fuck the redhead. There is something about black lace and wrangers; pocket sized skinny females at five-two: and Saul was about to find out the pleasurable truth of this fact.
They had Saul seated on the red leather curving lounge between them. Erica wanted his cock inside her before his pants were even off. Bethany wanted both cock and pussy and breast action and everything she couldn’t yet think of. Only Chastity knew it had to slow down before the poor guy lost his gravy meant for sharing, inside his pants.
Chastity allocated his body. Introducing Erica to his expectant mouth. Bethany to his surprised chest. Leaving his hopeful penis all to herself… for a short while.
Valhalla came to mind as Erica’s tongue caught his in full passion. He caught her name in his ear but her tongue was then darting furiously with eroticized slippery pleasure through his mouth, across his lips, under his own tongue, across his cheeks, then waited for reciprocity, he gave her back what she had given. He felt her delight, as she came again with her tongue , speedily but controlled, she had to be a fucking athlete; tempo and dash combined in his mouth, the juicily lingering, tip to tongue tip, a French kiss seared into memory, hot lips, hot body, hot minded girl. Valhalla, first impression was spot on, she was a Valkyrie and he wanted more. Their mouths became joint suctioning apparatus, she sucked his tongue like it was his penis, and he treated her tongue tip like he would her clit. He moved on to her neck. She nibbled his ear. Then it was frenzied tongues in mutual mouths all over again.
Saul’s chest at the same time was in virginal territory and seemingly under virginal touch. The sweet nubile had whispered in his other ear, as he caught the name Erica, that this one was Bethany. His mind was processing three erogenous experiences at the same time equally. His chest, his mouth, his happy sac. His firmness and patch of chest hair was being pampered by two soft cheeks and a sliding, gliding wet tongue. His nipples were scratched by sexily unbearably long nails. It’s the goddamn moment when beauty and the b**st is really true; hardness defined by softness, body hair contrasting with smoothness, maleness and femaleness, blended in their oppositeness together. His hand held Bethany’s cheek for a sensed moment, as she paused too, to hear his beating heart. Sensual sensitivity for two, caught between fleshly locked lips and the carnality of genital petting.
Chastity was playing with Saul’s scrotal happy sac. Nibbling on his nut pouch. Checking out his family jewel box. She had sufficient to work with and was never disappointed, all penises had potential. She was licking his dangling pouched duo, watching occasionally as they tightened upwards. Saul was blissfully aware of the satin touch on silky scrotum flesh, balls and tongue joined in delight. When Chastity started taking head, he couldn’t focus on the blurs of pleasure that were localised in his mouth and across his chest. He was male; his penis stole all pleasure focus into its greedy head.
Bethany and Erica gave up. They sat and watched the Chastity head show. She took penis shallow, just holding the tip with her lips. She knew the pleasure point, the spot under the tip giving trills of building delight like her clit. She licked her tongue around and under his head. Beth and Erica saw Saul’s eyes dilate, and then close with unbearable pleasure and the deep male groan escape his tense lips. The redhead's fingers were teasing his soft sac, then she cupped her hand for the lightest sensually uplifting squeeze. Then stroking his shaft, while she teased… teased his so sensitive thickened head. Chastity knew when penis just had to have pussy; fingers, hands, tongue and lips left as foreplay. Only pussy can release the throb of pure sustained maleness. Or Erica’s butt.
What happened next stayed with Saul for his whole life. The girls sat next to each other on the lounge and invited Saul to remove their underclothes. Nothing else. Then they spread their legs: legs up, legs high, legs split by pussy. Saul nearly hesitated: was this right, his cock wasn’t getting moral. It went right in, right to pussy, shaved delight, right in front of it. Bethany was in the middle. Saul’s flute split the musician legs. Her fairy winged labia currently defining his understanding of skin and sex. His candy man got her sweetest treat. Beth moaned. Saul groaned. He took in his cock pumping into her holding cavity. Shit, the other two girls were playing with themselves watching him pump their friend.
Excitement builds from the fully unexpected in sex. He pumped the cute faced blonde rapidly. Till Chastity was up; momentarily redirecting his stud muscle into the spread glistening pleats of Erica. Christ he had gone from cock bliss to cock heaven. This was stiff meets snug. Boy was she tight but wet. His stiffy went harder; well it felt it had hardened to a veined crimson headed crowbar. Saul was caught, trapped in an overpowering mind centred possessiveness of repeated pleasured penis strokes of delight.
Erica didn’t want to share, but she was a true team player. The willpower of the girl. She gave Saul to Chastity. The redheaded siren was holding her petite shard of rigid hardness between her fingers.
“Lick it please”
Saul was licking and flicking her nub. He could feel her tense with pleasure. He just had to lap and suck her one extraordinary large passion flap, a lip unusually wide, the other angling off in its own direction…they were he realised quickly… double suckers…he had them both between his lips... then he couldn’t wait…his dick needed to be in here….he gave Chastity his ramming fuck stick. She felt the pleasure of his fuck rod. She felt cock with lewd delight, as she knew it had so very recently visited her two friend’s cute smooth freshly shaved coochies.
Saul wasn’t sure whether he was meant to stay and spray in the fire-crotch or revisit the pleats or lick the fairy wings. Chastity got him back to her impatient clit. She held his head down. He understood, shit he could lick them all to a fucking orgasm. The thought of this intensified his tongue action harder and firmer onto Chastity’s super sensitive little bead. She came with splintering shattering spasms of pleasure. Her highly spread legs wriggling, then collapsing.
He was pausing to take in her replete eyes but Beth already had him diving between her thighs. He covered her whole pussy and sucked, sucked hard, like trying to suck her pussy off. Bethany was delirious with thigh shaking joy. Then Saul pressed his tongue into her cute slit, pushing into her, like his tongue was searching for a permanent home.
He knew he had her on cloud nine as she moaned: “Suck my pussy…suck me harder.”
Well if a girl asks, she gets it. The next three minutes were a closed world for two. Pleasure creation and pleasure correlated. Saul licked like he was pelting down a water-slide; she was so slickly wet where his saliva had pooled with her flow of glistening cum. It was a knee trembler for Beth. Her full climax coincidence with a strange new genitalia surprise, a gush of warm fem liquid seeping onto the couch.
“Oh beautiful “said Chastity, who gathered in on two fingers, then gave, well fed it back into Bethany who marvelled at her own body and its capacity for new wondrous happiness in sex. Erica collected the dregs and gave Saul his first taste of fem-liquid.
Ah so patient Erica. The girl who wanted it all. Her clit teased. Cock spurting rapidly in her gob. Her pleats separated by heated meat. But her arse won. She knew she should be fairer to her aching pussy. But her arse craved more. Saul saw the glistening tightly flexing sphincter first. Her eyes said fuck my arse. He took in her whole gorgeous rump, a caboose framing her cute poop shoot. It was flexed and ready. Just where had this girl’s fingers played while he was busy between Chas’s and Beth’s legs. There was the hesitation. He had never been here. Never been invited. Shit this was the prefect invitation. He was worried about hurting her. How were you gentle with this? How did you take a bit of the ring? Fuck he was a generational bona fide tradesman; he always came through the backdoor. The backdoor was open, he went in.
She flexed, he was in, well in, the tightness, the sheer delicious tightness kept hitting home. Fuck his cock felt great. It was 'bum-delicious', a grip tighter than his best double wrench. Saul wanted to cum in her arse, his cock needed to cum in her arse; he believed he was about to cum in Erica’s arse.
Chastity had his pulsating pecker in hand. Just holding it for a second or two. What?
She was waiting for Erica to turn around. Hell, three college girls all on their knees ready to receive a spray of cum, their communion of the hour, from a now ragingly erect but usually unseen trouser god.
Chastity worked the shaft till its involuntary flex. Then directed its spray. Jizz straight across Erica’s stretched waiting tongue. A gob of cum on cute Beth’s cheek but close enough for her tongue to stretch and snatch it in. Then Chastity took the rest for herself across her two marshmallow chest bunnies. She milked the last dregs in her soft mouth. Whilst Erica licked his nut bag and Beth, being Beth, well had to rim his appealing arsehole. Then lick the cum off her best friends breasts.
A few kisses here and there; all over Saul Then a collapsed pile of flesh fanning embers of post coital smouldering warmth in group relaxation. The youthful assemblage glowing warmer than the softly burning lounge room fire.
“Fuck...its eleven” realised Chastity, “Okay… everyone clean up….and get to work…that includes you Saul…lunch is at one everyone.”
Saul worked busily. Tradesmen’s focus. Replacing, adjusting, and checking fixtures. Surprised by no interruptions. He just had to know what the hell was going on. He fantasised: a nympho lesbian shower party. About twelve he had a sneak around the house. Unbelievable, three girls: separate…writing, reading, focused on study. It was going to be one hell of a world they dominated.
Lunch was relaxed. Light and flirty, like the club sandwiches and bottled water provided by Chef Erica, the morning had to be make believe, a driveway fantasy of Saul’s. Yet here they all were. Innocent still in this moment’s current appeal, accountable already only in memory’s knowledge, the combinations of life in the instance and what we truly know about others when we really know them, when we engage with them sexually.
The three French kisses affectionately and honestly given but indicating 'find your own next fuck' were a nice parting unexpected treat for Saul…as he left through the backdoor.
Just where the fuck was his next fuck coming from, he mused, as he headed off down the driveway. He didn’t know it yet… but it was actually only a couple of days away and he would always have his dog, Charlie, to thank for its occurrence. A dog that was never sick; yet suddenly was and a new female vet in town. The mysteries of life-long couples created anywhere.
The girls had serious work to do and got it done. There was a world of males to conqueror and they would need sharp minds, fit bodies and tight pussies to do it. There was also genuine comradeship and concern as they prepared dinner all together for Bernard and themselves. He phoned at five, he would be back by six.
It wasn’t melancholic like they all anticipated. The Jesuit could compartmentalise. He relaxed with a couple of wines and so did the girls. He held them mentally captive… engaging them with quirky humorous human stories from his vast global experiences. He knew what was needed for this evening. It was fellowship, not sex. He kissed each girl on the cheek once and they actually just went to bed.
Bernard thought …the trio… they just might find balance in the world, more equilibrium than himself, he hoped so.
He took several long drags of his last fag before bed… but couldn’t erase the stump of bandages at a man’s wrist…a man that he had comforted in hospital… that had had the day before his hand, it was now mangled… beyond reattachment.
He drew the last puff from the stub of his durry …and wondered were we right to live life only for and in the moment….as it was impossible to see divine reason in his day…hopefully, he reflected; the girls day had been less random.
Dottie
- 23.07.2020
- 29
- 0
