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A CRACK ON THE BEACH PART 3 -- All About The Bum C free porn video
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CHAPTER THREE
The next day as we lounged on the beach and as Shy took a swim nearby, I looked over at Cee.
“I hate saying this, “I began, “but I don’t know if we can carry on getting her drunk like this every night.”
Cee nodded. “I know.”
We watched Shy in the waves.
“But I haven’t finished yet,” Cee suddenly murmured.
My stomach flipped. My God, what was going on in this woman’s brain?
“Maybe we don’t have to get her that drunk,” Cee suggested. “Maybe she’s not as inhibited as you think she is...”
Before I could retaliate and tell her that this was my wife, whose sexual needs I knew well, we were discussing, Shy started walking toward us, her wet bikini glued to her breasts and between her thighs.
“It would be so sad not to see that flesh again, wouldn’t it?” Cee whispered beside me refer-ring to Shy as she neared.
“What are you two talking about?” Shy asked as she started towelling herself down.
“Skinny dipping,” Cee suddenly said and stood up.
What? We were!? I sat up, blinking beneath my sunglasses. Now what was she doing?
“Oh, that’s i*****l on the beach,” Shy naively commented. “It says so in the brochure.”
Cee stood alongside Shy and looked at me.”I know, but not up at the chalet. I mean, it is very private, isn’t it?” She put her arm over her step-sister’s shoulders. “I think it could be fun and a good way to get rid of the sand. Anyone want to join me in a gin and tonic?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Shy responded and Cee walked off, that bum of hers swinging seduc-tively. Gin and tonics? That was a new one. And now skinny dipping? I was in a haze, realis-ing that Cee had lured Shy into something real, something that she was acutely aware of; something she could, or not, participate in.
“How did that conversation start? About skinny dipping,” Shy asked, running the towel down her legs.
“Oh, I don’t know. I just said that this beach was so secluded it would make a perfect nudist beach,” I lied and took sanctuary in my first cold beer of the day.
“Cee seems quite excited by the idea,” Shy said, watching me.
“Cee does? I doubt it!” I was wriggling like a worm here.
“Oh, don’t be so sure,” Shy replied and sat on the edge of the lounger. “With a few drinks inside her, who knows what she thinks.”
This was like déjà-vu; an echo of a recent conversation with Cee, but now my own wife was participating! I began feeling that warmth in my belly, that tingling of anticipation.
“And what do you think?”
“You mean about skinny dipping?” Shy asked and shrugged. “I’ve seen you naked enough my husband!”
I don’t know why I said it. It just came out of my mouth before I had considered the reper-cussions. “Ah, but you haven’t seen her naked,” I told her. During the pause my mind boggled at what I had just said; I envisaged quick retribution and hours of debate and accusation. I awaited my demise. “Not, umm, recently I suppose,” I added, hoping to defuse the bomb.
Instead Shy bit down on her lower lip, exactly in the same manner as I had witnessed Cee do so often over the last two nights. Shy ran a hand briefly across her stomach. “Mmm,” she replied. “That’s true. That’s very true,” she added, with a quick, distant smile.
Cee arrived with the first of many gin and tonics and I basked in the sun wondering if there was something in the island’s drinking water: some natural additive that had a way of tossing inhibition aside, of turning fantasy into reality?
We returned a few hours before midnight to the chalet from dinner. Both Cee and Shy had the giggles. They were tipsy, but not drunk; not as inebriated as usual and I presumed this was because they had stayed on the gin and not mixed. We settled on the patio and the first bottle of wine was opened. It was a warm, breezeless night. We chatted and laughed and all seemed, well, normal, other than for Cee on more than one occasion, touching Shy’s knee or hand. But maybe that was me imagining things.
“I think,” Cee announced suddenly, “it is time for your hubby to take a swim.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” giggled Shy. “Do you hear that, hubby of mine?”
I had already decided, of course, to go ahead without whatever Cee was in the process of conjuring. My only reservation was as how Shy was going to react, if at all. And both women had seen me naked, not that Shy was aware of that equation, either.
“What about you two?”
“You first,” Cee ordered.
“Yes, you first,” Shy echoed, a slight slur to her words. That wine was starting to kick in.
“Not fair. I’m happy to go first, but how do I know you both won’t chicken out?”
Cee glanced at Shy. “We could meet him halfway and take our tops off?” she suggested.
I saw Shy take a good swig of her wine and, dare I think it, tighten her crossed legs. “You do, do you?” she asked Cee, ignoring me.
“Mmmm. Nobody will see you. I’ll go first if you like?” Cee replied, focusing on my wife and I now knew only too well what that focused look of hers meant. The spider, as they say, was beginning to weave its web.
There was definitely now a change in the atmosphere – a hint of tension, of nervousness; like the minutes before a storm. I was, momentarily, forgotten as Shy and Cee played out their teenage-like scenario.
“Nobody can see us,” Cee repeated. “Anyway, who cares if they do?”
Shy didn’t glance my way. With her free hand she adjusted the neckline of her loose, linen dress in what I construed to be a nervous gesture, or was it a pre-emptive one?
“Okay. You go first,” Shy said and sipped from her glass, her eyes not leaving Cee’s face as she did so. This little duel was beginning to titillate and frustrate.
Cee unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, revealing the swell of her bosom entrapped in the confinements of a lacy brassiere. Had she prepared herself for this? I watched Shy for her reaction and it was small, but there. Her eyes dropped briefly toward her step-sister’s mounds and she took a little nip of her lower lip.
“Do you want to help me?” Cee asked Shy.
Shy nodded and Cee turned her back to my wife for her to unclasp her bra. What I did not want to do was to be hard when it was my turn to undress (I wanted, for some odd reason, to be nonchalant) and I battled trying to think of anything else (Hiroshima, the bank balance) other than what was being played out in front of me.
Shy unclipped Cee’s bra and Cee turned back to my wife clasping the unhitched garment to her boobs. Then she discarded it, revealing those breasts, those nipples that I knew where more than her pride and joy. They were the centre of her sexual gratification.
“Oh,” said Shy and reached out for her glass of wine, BUT her eyes had not wavered and Cee knew this because I saw that glimmer, that shadow of victory pass over her face. Cee leant forward a little to reach for her own glass and this allowed her breasts to swing pale against her tan lines, the nipples half-erect and wanting attention: a need I’m sure my wife was aware of.
“Now it is your turn and I’ll help you if you want?”
I remained on the perimeter, thankfully forgotten as Shy moved her hands to untie the thread that held the top of her dress over her chest. “Are you sure?” she asked Cee.
“Of course and it feels wonderful and cool. Go for it.”
Shy took another gulp of wine and reached up to begin untying the thread. Cee leant back and, consciously I believe, swept her hand across her breasts, drawing attention to them, as Shy revealed her own under her bra.
“Turn around,” Cee told Shy and her tone of voice sent a quick shiver through me – she was gaining control, she was finding “that” place.
My wife presented her back to Cee, and Cee slipped forward on her chair to unhinge the bra; she slipped forward just enough so that her nipples caressed Shy’s bare back. She unclipped the brassiere. “Now turn around,” Cee said softly.
Shy turned so that she was facing Cee and was profile to me. Cee reached out and removed my wife’s unclasped bra, allowing my wife’s breasts to drop naturally close to her hands and if there is one aspect I know about my wife’s nipples it is that I know when they are aroused, and from my position, her nipples were well stimulated; they were erect, pert, like fruity pencil stubs, almost painfully so; enlarged and gorged. I saw, in a flash, the similar resemblance to Cee’s nipples, the same ability to almost penetrate, to be teased and pinched. A family trait I wondered?
Cee was in control and she remained collected as she calmly took in the sight of Shy’s erect teats and the rounded swell of her mature breasts. “You’ve got some sand,” Cee whispered.
Shy was almost nipple to nipple with Cee. “I do?”
“Huh huh, right there,” Cee whispered and she ran her full hand over the curve of her step-sister’s left breast and over that stout protrusion so that it bounced back as her hand left it. “There, I got it.”
“Oh,” whispered Shy. “Thanks.”
Cee turned on her chair. “Your turn hubby,” she said. “Isn’t that so, Shy?”
The mood shifted, turned to me. Shy regained her composure and seemed to forget that she was now semi-nude as she topped up her glass of wine, the swing of her boobs alluring. “Absolutely.”
Cee adjusted her chair so it was more front on to me and closer to Shy, almost shoulder to shoulder, their nakedness as one.
I stood up. How I remained at half-mast I don’t know, but it is what I wanted. If I was going to get hard I wanted to do so at the right time, if and when it arrived. “Okay, okay, you win,” I said trying to keep the mood light and I pulled off my T-shirt and went for the button at the waistband of my shorts. There was no use in messing about so I removed my shorts and underpants in one motion and dropped them, kicked them aside. The night’s air felt good on my semi-erect member.
“That’s a nice hubby; a very nice hubby indeed.”
“Mmm, I know,” Shy smiled with the glass of wine to her lips.
“Perverts,” I joked and headed for the small, patio pool. As I stood on the steps I glanced in the direction of the two semi-nude women. They were watching so I touched myself once, casually, and then descended the steps. Though the size of the pool was minimal, it had a good depth so I submerged and did a few laps underwater. When I surfaced, Shy and Dee were standing at the edge of the pool, wine glasses in hand.
Shy was only wearing her panties having lost her dress on the way over and Cee was still wearing a short, loose skirt. I stood in the centre of the pool, my cock almost visible. “Are you coming in?” I asked them both, letting my hand float across my midriff, drawing attention to my penis.
“Let me hold your glass. It’s your turn to go first,” Cee told Shy.
Shy hesitated for a beat. “Oh, what the Hell,” she finally said and handed her glass to Cee. She lowered her panties and stepped out of them, her bush dark and enticing in the patio lights. “That’s a bit fresh,” she giggled.
Cee turned her back on Shy. “Undo me,” she told my wife as she held both glasses of wine in her hands.
I went and sat on the edge of the pool, my feet still in the water and watched Shy as she stepped behind Cee and unzipped her dress. Cee gave a little wiggle of that arse I was be-coming to know well and the garment fell to her ankles.
“Oh,” said Shy. “No panties?”
“Too hot,” Cee responded, facing Shy. There they stood, as naked as the day they were born. Shy was a little inhibited, holding a hand to her left breast as they approached the pool. Cee gave me the two wine glasses to take care of and I put them beside me. The two women entered the pool and I let my cock do its own thing as they swam. Their tan lines were magnified in the water, as was the paleness of their bums, the darkness of their cracks and the pinkness of their areola. I became comfortable erect.
Shy swam up to me and come close to the edge and reached for her glass of wine. She looked at my rigid cock. “Having fun are we?” she asked, sipping away, a touch mischie-vous.
I grinned, shrugged, trying to play it calm. “And you?”
“A bit chilly, but it’s nice.”
Cee approached from the centre of the pool, the water waste deep, and those projectile nip-ples of her were, well, armed and proud. Instead of coming to stand beside Shy, she came up behind her and kept back a foot or so.
“Mmm, Hubby is looking good,” she teased. “Does he play with it a lot?”
I watched Shy for her response. “Always, even when he thinks I don’t know,” she responded, a slight slur to her speech now. “He likes doing it.”
“All men jerk off,” I tried to argue.
“That’s nice,” interrupted Cee. “I wish my hubby would for me.”
Then Cee stepped forward and put her naked body up against Shy as she reached over her step-step-sister’s shoulder and picked up her glass of wine off the edge of the pool. The in-stant I saw the bodily contact, I glanced at Shy to see her reaction and, at first, as quick as a flash of lightening, her eyes widened, then she bit down on her lower lip and didn’t move.
“Oh, your bum’s cold,” Cee told Shy, her mouth close to her ear, her neck.
“No it isn’t!” Shy tried to argue, but her voice was strained, conflicting with the sensations pulsing through her naked body.
“It is.”
“No it’s not!” Here, again, was that teenage banter, like a tennis match with no referee.
“Here, give me your hand,” Cee ordered in that tone of voice I was becoming accustomed to. Before Shy could move or complain further, Cee took hold of Shy’s free hand, the one that was not welded to her wine glass, and brought it around so it was between her and Shy and, from my position, sitting on the edge of the pool, I could just make out the action as Cee physically “attached” my wife’s hand to a cheek of her bum.
And then Cee moved even closer, entrapping my wife’s hand against her own arse with her groin, her thighs, her swinging breasts now against Shy’s naked back. Cee had not lost grip of Shy’s hand and she had full control of it as she pressed herself against my wife’s now slightly bent body. Cee had, in retrospect, manhandled Shy into a buggering position with one hand behind her back.
And there I sat like a seal on display at a local aquarium, my cock so hard I believed a heart attack imminent. I was throbbing. Cee was in command. My wife was being physically ma-nipulated and before I could think about intervening, I saw in Shy’s face an expression that was anything but one of revulsion or of disagreement – instead, she was biting her lower lip, her focus way beyond me, the pool or the locale. Her eyes had glazed over; she was enjoy-ing this. I had seen that expression many times before, when I had entered or licked her.
“You see? A cold bum – am I right?
“Yes,” Shy agreed. Her voice was low and distant.
“Let me warm it up.”
Cee’s body was now hard pressed against Shy, her pale buttocks tense under the water as she applied pressure, pushed against the hand she had snared. My visibility was limited – it was all reflection, shadow and water, but I could detect physical movement. Cee rotated her hips against Shy’s backside, gyrating, not humping and all the time keeping hold of Shy’s hand but what she was doing with it, I could not see.
Shy stared ahead, her eyes slightly hooded, her breasts mashed against the edge of the pool as Cee applied further pressure with her hips. I stroked myself intermittingly, Shy’s hooded eyes glancing only once at me but only as if I was a distraction.
Then Cee, abruptly, stood back. “Time for me to go to bed,” she whispered, her teats promi-nent.
“Oh,” Shy managed to say, her breath tight in her chest.
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CHAPTER THREE
The next day as we lounged on the beach and as Shy took a swim nearby, I looked over at Cee.
“I hate saying this, “I began, “but I don’t know if we can carry on getting her drunk like this every night.”
Cee nodded. “I know.”
We watched Shy in the waves.
“But I haven’t finished yet,” Cee suddenly murmured.
My stomach flipped. My God, what was going on in this woman’s brain?
“Maybe we don’t have to get her that drunk,” Cee suggested. “Maybe she’s not as inhibited as you think she is...”
Before I could retaliate and tell her that this was my wife, whose sexual needs I knew well, we were discussing, Shy started walking toward us, her wet bikini glued to her breasts and between her thighs.
“It would be so sad not to see that flesh again, wouldn’t it?” Cee whispered beside me refer-ring to Shy as she neared.
“What are you two talking about?” Shy asked as she started towelling herself down.
“Skinny dipping,” Cee suddenly said and stood up.
What? We were!? I sat up, blinking beneath my sunglasses. Now what was she doing?
“Oh, that’s i*****l on the beach,” Shy naively commented. “It says so in the brochure.”
Cee stood alongside Shy and looked at me.”I know, but not up at the chalet. I mean, it is very private, isn’t it?” She put her arm over her step-sister’s shoulders. “I think it could be fun and a good way to get rid of the sand. Anyone want to join me in a gin and tonic?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Shy responded and Cee walked off, that bum of hers swinging seduc-tively. Gin and tonics? That was a new one. And now skinny dipping? I was in a haze, realis-ing that Cee had lured Shy into something real, something that she was acutely aware of; something she could, or not, participate in.
“How did that conversation start? About skinny dipping,” Shy asked, running the towel down her legs.
“Oh, I don’t know. I just said that this beach was so secluded it would make a perfect nudist beach,” I lied and took sanctuary in my first cold beer of the day.
“Cee seems quite excited by the idea,” Shy said, watching me.
“Cee does? I doubt it!” I was wriggling like a worm here.
“Oh, don’t be so sure,” Shy replied and sat on the edge of the lounger. “With a few drinks inside her, who knows what she thinks.”
This was like déjà-vu; an echo of a recent conversation with Cee, but now my own wife was participating! I began feeling that warmth in my belly, that tingling of anticipation.
“And what do you think?”
“You mean about skinny dipping?” Shy asked and shrugged. “I’ve seen you naked enough my husband!”
I don’t know why I said it. It just came out of my mouth before I had considered the reper-cussions. “Ah, but you haven’t seen her naked,” I told her. During the pause my mind boggled at what I had just said; I envisaged quick retribution and hours of debate and accusation. I awaited my demise. “Not, umm, recently I suppose,” I added, hoping to defuse the bomb.
Instead Shy bit down on her lower lip, exactly in the same manner as I had witnessed Cee do so often over the last two nights. Shy ran a hand briefly across her stomach. “Mmm,” she replied. “That’s true. That’s very true,” she added, with a quick, distant smile.
Cee arrived with the first of many gin and tonics and I basked in the sun wondering if there was something in the island’s drinking water: some natural additive that had a way of tossing inhibition aside, of turning fantasy into reality?
We returned a few hours before midnight to the chalet from dinner. Both Cee and Shy had the giggles. They were tipsy, but not drunk; not as inebriated as usual and I presumed this was because they had stayed on the gin and not mixed. We settled on the patio and the first bottle of wine was opened. It was a warm, breezeless night. We chatted and laughed and all seemed, well, normal, other than for Cee on more than one occasion, touching Shy’s knee or hand. But maybe that was me imagining things.
“I think,” Cee announced suddenly, “it is time for your hubby to take a swim.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” giggled Shy. “Do you hear that, hubby of mine?”
I had already decided, of course, to go ahead without whatever Cee was in the process of conjuring. My only reservation was as how Shy was going to react, if at all. And both women had seen me naked, not that Shy was aware of that equation, either.
“What about you two?”
“You first,” Cee ordered.
“Yes, you first,” Shy echoed, a slight slur to her words. That wine was starting to kick in.
“Not fair. I’m happy to go first, but how do I know you both won’t chicken out?”
Cee glanced at Shy. “We could meet him halfway and take our tops off?” she suggested.
I saw Shy take a good swig of her wine and, dare I think it, tighten her crossed legs. “You do, do you?” she asked Cee, ignoring me.
“Mmmm. Nobody will see you. I’ll go first if you like?” Cee replied, focusing on my wife and I now knew only too well what that focused look of hers meant. The spider, as they say, was beginning to weave its web.
There was definitely now a change in the atmosphere – a hint of tension, of nervousness; like the minutes before a storm. I was, momentarily, forgotten as Shy and Cee played out their teenage-like scenario.
“Nobody can see us,” Cee repeated. “Anyway, who cares if they do?”
Shy didn’t glance my way. With her free hand she adjusted the neckline of her loose, linen dress in what I construed to be a nervous gesture, or was it a pre-emptive one?
“Okay. You go first,” Shy said and sipped from her glass, her eyes not leaving Cee’s face as she did so. This little duel was beginning to titillate and frustrate.
Cee unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, revealing the swell of her bosom entrapped in the confinements of a lacy brassiere. Had she prepared herself for this? I watched Shy for her reaction and it was small, but there. Her eyes dropped briefly toward her step-sister’s mounds and she took a little nip of her lower lip.
“Do you want to help me?” Cee asked Shy.
Shy nodded and Cee turned her back to my wife for her to unclasp her bra. What I did not want to do was to be hard when it was my turn to undress (I wanted, for some odd reason, to be nonchalant) and I battled trying to think of anything else (Hiroshima, the bank balance) other than what was being played out in front of me.
Shy unclipped Cee’s bra and Cee turned back to my wife clasping the unhitched garment to her boobs. Then she discarded it, revealing those breasts, those nipples that I knew where more than her pride and joy. They were the centre of her sexual gratification.
“Oh,” said Shy and reached out for her glass of wine, BUT her eyes had not wavered and Cee knew this because I saw that glimmer, that shadow of victory pass over her face. Cee leant forward a little to reach for her own glass and this allowed her breasts to swing pale against her tan lines, the nipples half-erect and wanting attention: a need I’m sure my wife was aware of.
“Now it is your turn and I’ll help you if you want?”
I remained on the perimeter, thankfully forgotten as Shy moved her hands to untie the thread that held the top of her dress over her chest. “Are you sure?” she asked Cee.
“Of course and it feels wonderful and cool. Go for it.”
Shy took another gulp of wine and reached up to begin untying the thread. Cee leant back and, consciously I believe, swept her hand across her breasts, drawing attention to them, as Shy revealed her own under her bra.
“Turn around,” Cee told Shy and her tone of voice sent a quick shiver through me – she was gaining control, she was finding “that” place.
My wife presented her back to Cee, and Cee slipped forward on her chair to unhinge the bra; she slipped forward just enough so that her nipples caressed Shy’s bare back. She unclipped the brassiere. “Now turn around,” Cee said softly.
Shy turned so that she was facing Cee and was profile to me. Cee reached out and removed my wife’s unclasped bra, allowing my wife’s breasts to drop naturally close to her hands and if there is one aspect I know about my wife’s nipples it is that I know when they are aroused, and from my position, her nipples were well stimulated; they were erect, pert, like fruity pencil stubs, almost painfully so; enlarged and gorged. I saw, in a flash, the similar resemblance to Cee’s nipples, the same ability to almost penetrate, to be teased and pinched. A family trait I wondered?
Cee was in control and she remained collected as she calmly took in the sight of Shy’s erect teats and the rounded swell of her mature breasts. “You’ve got some sand,” Cee whispered.
Shy was almost nipple to nipple with Cee. “I do?”
“Huh huh, right there,” Cee whispered and she ran her full hand over the curve of her step-sister’s left breast and over that stout protrusion so that it bounced back as her hand left it. “There, I got it.”
“Oh,” whispered Shy. “Thanks.”
Cee turned on her chair. “Your turn hubby,” she said. “Isn’t that so, Shy?”
The mood shifted, turned to me. Shy regained her composure and seemed to forget that she was now semi-nude as she topped up her glass of wine, the swing of her boobs alluring. “Absolutely.”
Cee adjusted her chair so it was more front on to me and closer to Shy, almost shoulder to shoulder, their nakedness as one.
I stood up. How I remained at half-mast I don’t know, but it is what I wanted. If I was going to get hard I wanted to do so at the right time, if and when it arrived. “Okay, okay, you win,” I said trying to keep the mood light and I pulled off my T-shirt and went for the button at the waistband of my shorts. There was no use in messing about so I removed my shorts and underpants in one motion and dropped them, kicked them aside. The night’s air felt good on my semi-erect member.
“That’s a nice hubby; a very nice hubby indeed.”
“Mmm, I know,” Shy smiled with the glass of wine to her lips.
“Perverts,” I joked and headed for the small, patio pool. As I stood on the steps I glanced in the direction of the two semi-nude women. They were watching so I touched myself once, casually, and then descended the steps. Though the size of the pool was minimal, it had a good depth so I submerged and did a few laps underwater. When I surfaced, Shy and Dee were standing at the edge of the pool, wine glasses in hand.
Shy was only wearing her panties having lost her dress on the way over and Cee was still wearing a short, loose skirt. I stood in the centre of the pool, my cock almost visible. “Are you coming in?” I asked them both, letting my hand float across my midriff, drawing attention to my penis.
“Let me hold your glass. It’s your turn to go first,” Cee told Shy.
Shy hesitated for a beat. “Oh, what the Hell,” she finally said and handed her glass to Cee. She lowered her panties and stepped out of them, her bush dark and enticing in the patio lights. “That’s a bit fresh,” she giggled.
Cee turned her back on Shy. “Undo me,” she told my wife as she held both glasses of wine in her hands.
I went and sat on the edge of the pool, my feet still in the water and watched Shy as she stepped behind Cee and unzipped her dress. Cee gave a little wiggle of that arse I was be-coming to know well and the garment fell to her ankles.
“Oh,” said Shy. “No panties?”
“Too hot,” Cee responded, facing Shy. There they stood, as naked as the day they were born. Shy was a little inhibited, holding a hand to her left breast as they approached the pool. Cee gave me the two wine glasses to take care of and I put them beside me. The two women entered the pool and I let my cock do its own thing as they swam. Their tan lines were magnified in the water, as was the paleness of their bums, the darkness of their cracks and the pinkness of their areola. I became comfortable erect.
Shy swam up to me and come close to the edge and reached for her glass of wine. She looked at my rigid cock. “Having fun are we?” she asked, sipping away, a touch mischie-vous.
I grinned, shrugged, trying to play it calm. “And you?”
“A bit chilly, but it’s nice.”
Cee approached from the centre of the pool, the water waste deep, and those projectile nip-ples of her were, well, armed and proud. Instead of coming to stand beside Shy, she came up behind her and kept back a foot or so.
“Mmm, Hubby is looking good,” she teased. “Does he play with it a lot?”
I watched Shy for her response. “Always, even when he thinks I don’t know,” she responded, a slight slur to her speech now. “He likes doing it.”
“All men jerk off,” I tried to argue.
“That’s nice,” interrupted Cee. “I wish my hubby would for me.”
Then Cee stepped forward and put her naked body up against Shy as she reached over her step-step-sister’s shoulder and picked up her glass of wine off the edge of the pool. The in-stant I saw the bodily contact, I glanced at Shy to see her reaction and, at first, as quick as a flash of lightening, her eyes widened, then she bit down on her lower lip and didn’t move.
“Oh, your bum’s cold,” Cee told Shy, her mouth close to her ear, her neck.
“No it isn’t!” Shy tried to argue, but her voice was strained, conflicting with the sensations pulsing through her naked body.
“It is.”
“No it’s not!” Here, again, was that teenage banter, like a tennis match with no referee.
“Here, give me your hand,” Cee ordered in that tone of voice I was becoming accustomed to. Before Shy could move or complain further, Cee took hold of Shy’s free hand, the one that was not welded to her wine glass, and brought it around so it was between her and Shy and, from my position, sitting on the edge of the pool, I could just make out the action as Cee physically “attached” my wife’s hand to a cheek of her bum.
And then Cee moved even closer, entrapping my wife’s hand against her own arse with her groin, her thighs, her swinging breasts now against Shy’s naked back. Cee had not lost grip of Shy’s hand and she had full control of it as she pressed herself against my wife’s now slightly bent body. Cee had, in retrospect, manhandled Shy into a buggering position with one hand behind her back.
And there I sat like a seal on display at a local aquarium, my cock so hard I believed a heart attack imminent. I was throbbing. Cee was in command. My wife was being physically ma-nipulated and before I could think about intervening, I saw in Shy’s face an expression that was anything but one of revulsion or of disagreement – instead, she was biting her lower lip, her focus way beyond me, the pool or the locale. Her eyes had glazed over; she was enjoy-ing this. I had seen that expression many times before, when I had entered or licked her.
“You see? A cold bum – am I right?
“Yes,” Shy agreed. Her voice was low and distant.
“Let me warm it up.”
Cee’s body was now hard pressed against Shy, her pale buttocks tense under the water as she applied pressure, pushed against the hand she had snared. My visibility was limited – it was all reflection, shadow and water, but I could detect physical movement. Cee rotated her hips against Shy’s backside, gyrating, not humping and all the time keeping hold of Shy’s hand but what she was doing with it, I could not see.
Shy stared ahead, her eyes slightly hooded, her breasts mashed against the edge of the pool as Cee applied further pressure with her hips. I stroked myself intermittingly, Shy’s hooded eyes glancing only once at me but only as if I was a distraction.
Then Cee, abruptly, stood back. “Time for me to go to bed,” she whispered, her teats promi-nent.
“Oh,” Shy managed to say, her breath tight in her chest.
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