Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
- Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 2
*
Why did my life take the improbable turn that it did? I can tell you the answer to that: it was fancy. Begotten in the eyes, Shakespeare said. In my case, I’d say it was a different part of the anatomy. Her anatomy. Her — I’m trying to be quite honest here — big, mature arse. Now you’re thinking I’m crude, to be referring to her in these terms; and maybe I am. But I loved her. Still do. Get that straight. So if you’re maybe thinking this is going to be one of those stories by a nasty-minded tosser, obsessing and gloating about how he could order a woman around sexually — well, that’s not it at all. On the other hand, it wasn’t what you’d call a normal boy-meets-girl scenario either. Far from normal. Some people, I suppose, still find it perverted. I just want you to understand that when fancy strikes you, everything can change. And fancy doesn’t follow any rules.
* * *
My name is Derek. I grew up in a working-class neighbourhood in Sheffield. My dad was a skilled machinist in a steel mill. My mum was my mum. That’s what most women were back then, at least in our part of Sheffield, at least if they had a husband working. Given my background, the only things I can point to that were unusual about me, as I was growing up, was that I did well in school (most of my schoolmates never cracked a book if a teacher didn’t force them to), and that I was an only child (my mates’ families all seemed to have four-plus). My ears stuck out a bit — still do — and I was self-conscious about them. But you see, I didn’t have hair on my palms, nor a three-foot prick, nor did my parents shut me in a dark room for years. That is, I was essentially normal, I think — whatever that means. I liked cricket. I liked making model aeroplanes. I read voraciously.
Mrs Ponsonby, Ellen — I still think of her then as Mrs Ponsonby — lived next door. Which is to say, she occupied a room on the top floor of our neighbours’, the Hendersons’, place. It used to be her place: the Hendersons moved in when I was about five, and Mrs Ponsonby moved upstairs. My mum always referred to her as a widow, but I knew that her husband, Frank the Crank, had left her for some woman in Leeds, which is why Ellen couldn’t afford the house by herself, and had to take in the Hendersons. No children of her own. She was in her mid-thirties then. Short and round of build, bright eyes, a round face, button nose and a slight overbite, light-brown hair which she kept in an unfashionable bun. Not dazzlingly beautiful, to a lad’s eye, but genuinely warm. My early memories of her were … of an old-fashioned coat she used to wear, with padded shoulders and brocade trim, the material straining against her plump figure. Her body was comfortingly soft when she hugged me, and she always smelled nice, of lavender water. She didn’t smoke, though she worked in a tobacconist’s shop down the street. I bought my sweeties there, along with dad’s weekly tin of pipe tobacco. When mum and dad went out of an evening, she’d have me up to her room for cocoa, and read to me from her poetry books. When she recited Browning’s monologues, I was spellbound. Beyond that, well, she was just a fixture of the neighbourhood. She was Mrs Ponsonby. The poor old dear, as my mum would always add.
I ate my porridge, I drank my tea, I sat my exams, I grew taller, my voice deepened, I delivered groceries, I fumbled around with the sister of one of my mates. And then I was off to Oxford, to read literature. I had won a ‘place’.
I stuck it out for a year at Oxford. I did well enough academically. But class lines were sharply drawn in England then. Me with my broad Yorkshire accent — the dons always acted surprised when I said or wrote anything halfway intelligent, as though I were a talking dog or something. I also had an intense, gut-wrenching affair with Susan, a young Trotskyite from a middle-class background. She was my first real experience of sex, and I was enthralled. But Susan, I think, had taken me up merely as a symbol of the working class, and dropped me when the novelty wore off. And then my mum took sick of leukemia.
Humiliated and heart-sick, I switched to the University of Sheffield, and moved back home. My mum died just a month after I came back. I channelled my grief, my sense of isolation and confusion, into my writing. I became involved in the local theatre scene. At the age of twenty-four, I finished university, and a short story of mine was published in Beacon. I dated a few girls in my theatre circle, but these relationships never went anywhere. A radio play appeared on the BBC. A volume of my Susan poems was published, with a foreword by Ted Hughes. I wrote a screenplay for BBC television. I contributed some reviews, of films and books, to the Manchester Guardian. I might have gone on like this, being a regional man of letters, for the rest of my life: not very happy, but successful in a mediocre sort of way. But for fancy. A strange fancy.
* * *
I saw her nearly every day, of course. Sitting behind the counter at the tobacconists: Morning Mrs Ponsonby. Morning young Derek. A Manchester Guardian then? Yes, please. How’s the new play? Coming along … coming along. Ta then.
One October evening, after a seeing a play in Liverpool I was to review, I was returning home from the train station, when it began pissing down rain. As I was about to step into a cab, I saw, trudging up the pavement, Mrs Ponsonby, blocks from home, struggling with her umbrella in the gusting wind. I immediately pulled her into the cab with me.
“Why, thank you, young Derek. I was just over here visiting me niece Julia, and wondering how I was to get home without drowning, when along you come like a knight in shining armour.”
I tut-tutted of course. But when we pulled up in front of her door, she invited me up to her room “for cocoa, just like old times, and a grown-up slug of whiskey in it to take the chill off,” and I must admit it sounded appealing. After we ascended the stairs, flicked on the light, and shed our wet coats and hats, I sank down in her armchair, tired and chilled, while she bustled about, lighting the electric fire, finding a pot for the cocoa. Her face had a healthy glow, after coming in from the cold and wet. Her grey hair had slipped, alluringly, out of its bun. She was, what, in her mid fifties now? A good thirty years older than me. As warm and vivacious as ever, though. A cozy woman. I noticed a copy of my Susan poems on the shelf beside her bed, and was flattered that she had read them.
Unbidden, the memory of hugging Mrs Ponsonby surged into my consciousness: the soft warmth of her body, her delicate lavender smell. I looked at her, for the first time in years. She was heavier now, perhaps seven or eight stone, with a deep bosom, full belly, and … well, to put it crudely, an arse that started early and ended late. As she puttered about the cooker, reaching down into the fridge for the milk, bending over, I could see the voluminous contours of it, jiggling, encased in the faint outline of her knickers, beneath her cotton frock.
And suddenly, I wanted Mrs Ponsonby, like I’d never wanted any woman in my life. I wanted to bury my face in that soft, fat arse and hibernate there all winter.
“There you go, dear. Now drink up.”
I was startled from my embarassing reverie as she handed me my cocoa. As she sat down opposite me, my eyes were drawn to her heavy bosom. Christ, so much woman. I had to stop these thoughts. I hoped to God she didn’t notice the throbbing erection I had in my trousers. I forced my eyes down to the floor, and asked perfunctorily after her niece Julia.
“Just finished a degree in anthropology at University of Liverpool, though she’s no idea what to do with it. She’s about your age, actually, Derek. A bit quiet, is Julia, but very bright. You might like to meet her.”
“I’m not really … interested … in girls … my own age right now, Mrs Ponsonby.” Bloody hell! Now why did I say that?
“Poor lad, still stuck on that Susan, then?”
“Er, perhaps… A bit.” It wasn’t true, but it seemed the only way out of the conversational minefield I had just stepped into.
“If you’ll excuse a meddlesome old woman’s opinion,” she said, with unexpected heat, “that bitch, pardon my French, wasn’t worth your little finger, Derek. You deserve much better than her.”
I looked up into her bright brown eyes, and saw such tenderness. l saw loneliness. I could smell her faint lavender scent. And I wanted her even more.
Abruptly, I made my excuses, gathered up my things (still endeavouring to hide the tent pole in my trousers), and headed downstairs.
* * *
I ran into her on the street the next day, as she was closing up the tobacconists. It was a fine afternoon, neither of us had had our tea yet, as it happened, so I took her to new tea shop a few blocks away. The day after that, she invited me up to her room again for cocoa, and we read together from a new play I was working on. Next evening, I took her to a performance of The Glass Menagerie put on by some mates of mine. Then I had her over to supper with my dad and me. And so it continued, for over a month.
In retrospect, I can see that I was behaving exactly like a love-smitten suitor. If it had been a girl my own age, I would have had no trouble saying straight out that I ‘fancied’ her. More than fancied her. At the time, though, I had scores of reasons why this couldn’t really be happening. I told myself that I was still just the neighbours’ boy to her. It would shock and repulse her if she knew … I mean, I even tried to convince myself that I wasn’t attracted to her at all, I just couldn’t be. The sharp pangs of lust I felt for this older woman’s body, and the frequent erections they caused, were … well … something else … some Freudian ‘complex’ perhaps (psychoanalytical jargon was very popular at the time). But I never once considered not seeing her anymore. The idea of breaking off these … meetings, these times together, was unthinkable. Meanwhile, the more reasons I thought of for why I ought to find her aging body unattractive — the more I noticed the light wrinkles round her eyes, her grey hair, her double chin, her pendulous breasts, her voluminous bottom — the more fiercely I wanted her.
And then an offer came from the Liverpool Gazette. They had a regular job for me, as film, book, and theatre critic, if I’d move to Liverpool immediately. It meant a steady income, plus expenses. It meant I’d be moving away from Ellen.
I told them no.
* * *
That night, over our cocoa, she seemed distant, even a bit irritable.
When I asked if anything was wrong, she said wearily, “Your dad told me you’ve a job, in Liverpool. Weren’t you even going to tell me, Derek?”
“I turned it down.”
Her eyes widened. “Wh-why?”
“I suppose I’m just not ready to leave Sheffield,” I shrugged.
She smiled shyly at me, her lip trembling slightly, and then leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. We sat there for a moment, coyly gazing at each other. I squeezed her hand, reluctant to let it go. “Well. G’night then, Ellen. Thanks for the cocoa.” I stood.
She sighed and looked away. “I suppose cocoa’s all I’m good for,” she muttered, anger and sadness flashing across her downturned face.
“Ellen, I’m sorry, did I say sommat wrong?” I understood damn well, but was too cowardly to acknowledge it.
“I’m sorry, Derek. Never you mind me.” She wiped her eyes with her lace handkerchief. “It’s me anniversary tonight. The anniversary of when Frank left me. This time of year’s always a bit rough on me.”
“Do you still miss him then?” I asked, with a touch of jealousy.
“Miss him? After twenty years? No. I miss … I miss having someone in me life. I miss having sommat more to look forward to than a Women’s Institute meeting every Wednesday night. More than a … a bloody cup of cocoa. I was so frightened you were going to tell me you’d be moving away. You must do, eventually. There’s nowt for you here in Sheffield. Ach, listen to me going on. I’m a lonely old woman, is all.”
I slipped in beside her on the settee, and squeezed her hand. She looked up at me, her bright eyes vulnerable. My lips grazed her cheek. My heart was pounding. And then, so help me Christ, in spite of fifty million reasons why this couldn’t be happening, I kissed her mouth, lightly. Stunned by the softness of her lips, I kissed her again, deeply. Her arms went round my neck, drawing me to her. Her mouth opened to my tongue. I felt the softness of her big breasts against my chest and arms. My arms reached round her and I held her tighter. Christ, even her back and shoulders felt soft. Her clean lavender smell filled my brain. Abruptly, she pulled back, panting.
“Derek. You don’t have to do this. You feel sorry for me, I know that, sweet lad. But you can’t be wanting to … to do this with an old woman,” she winced.
But I’d gone too far to go back to pretending we were just friendly neighbours. “Ellen, listen to me, please listen to me. I love you. I want you. Christ, I want you, every inch of you. Ellen, darling … ” I kissed her again, guiding her hand down to my trouser-covered erection. Her eyes flashed wide as she took it in her hand.
“Oh my. Do you really … want me … that way? Well, it certainly feels like you do,” she chuckled, sniffing back her tears, rubbing my penis through the fabric. “Is it really for me?” I began unbuttoning her sweater, as I kissed her face and neck. Then she guided my hand to her knees, so I could feel the creamy warm flesh above her stocking tops. My hand tried to burrow to her knickers, but her frock was too tight about her thighs, and she couldn’t part them enough. I could smell her womanly arrousal, though, mingling with her lavender scent.
“I think we’d be more comfortable if we continued this in bed,” she said.
Standing up, I tore off my turtleneck, my trousers, my singlet. Kicking off my boots and socks, I let drop my pants.
“Oh my,” she gasped, looking up at me. “You’re exquisite, Derek.” I came over to her, unloosened her bun, kissed the back of her neck, unzipped the back of her frock, and began sliding it from her shoulders. She hesitated. “I’m not beautiful like you, Derek. You’ve got to turn your back for a moment whilst I put on me nightie.”
“Ellen! I’ve waited so long to see you naked. Please?” I continued sliding the frock off her shoulders. It caught round her waist, but she wiggled out of it and let it drop to her ankles. I unclasped her bra, and slid that too from her shoulders. And then she turned, uncertainly, to face me, with the two most magnificent breasts in creation, big as pudding bowls, hanging to her waist, capped with erect, thick pink nipples, and a faint network of blue veins. The skin of her cleavage and belly was slightly wrinkled, but so soft and warm. I pulled her down to the bed with me, taking a soft, full tit in my hands, gasping my delight, lifting it to my mouth, fastening onto the warm nipple and sucking like a baby.
“Ungh! Oh sweet God. Oh, Derek.” She bit her pillow to keep from crying out.
After a few minutes of this, I turned my attention to the other nipple. Meanwhile, without further help from me, my wonderful Ellen wriggled out of her knickers, garter belt and stockings. So much for nighties.
“I love your breasts, Ellen. I love your belly,” I murmured excitedly, kissing my way down, rubbing my face in the vast, jiggling softness of it, nuzzling the rolls of flesh, licking her navel, licking under her breasts. Her body was like a giant pink marshmallow — a warm, living marshmallow. Lifting her belly, I uncovered her thick mat of silky, light-brown pubic hair. The smell of her was driving me into a frenzy of lust. My fingers stroked her inner thighs, her ‘mud flaps’. She shuddered, parting them for me. I whispered, “My God, I love your cunt.” She squealed with shock as I dove into her wetness with my lips, my tongue, my nose, my chin. I rooted in her with my tongue, filling my mouth with her juice. I sucked on her inner lips.
“Oh, Derek, I’m, ungh, I’m, I’m …” she whispered hoarsely. And she clamped her thighs round my head for several seconds, blocking out all light and sound, as her wetness flooded my face and neck; then she gently released me.
“I read the Kinsey Report,” she panted at lasted, “but I never really thought that was possible. I mean, that a man would do that for me.” She giggled like a teenager.
“I loved it, Ellen. I’ve never done that before, but I could kiss your cunt for hours. It’s beautiful.” I sat up, wiping my face on my singlet.
“You mean, you don’t want to do it the, er, normal way? We … er, needn’t take any precautions: I’ve been through the change.”
“Of course I do. Any and every way that pleases you.” I snuggled in beside her. “God, your body feels good.” I stroked her belly with my hand.
“I still can’t believe this is happening. With my darling little Derek.” Her hand fastened on my engorged penis. “Not so little any more,” she chuckled. As I rolled between her thighs, she lifted her belly out of the way, guiding my cock into her wet cleft. I sank into her in one slow, smooth thrust, like a hot knife into butter. We both groaned, and she grabbed at my buttocks. I slid out, and sank slowly in again, and again, picking up speed, till her oceanic belly and breasts were rippling at my thrusts. My mouth fastened on her nipple. Ellen whispered her cries of pleasure, rocking her giant arse beneath me, quickly reaching another climax, and suddenly, I came too, spurting my load deep inside her.
Ah, to fall back into her bed then, to be enfolded, cradled against her abundant softness, in the afterglow of sex, as she kissed my neck, my shoulders, my chest.
“Your body’s so perfect, Derek. So smooth and strong.” She sighed. “I’m bracing meself for the part where I wake up from the dream. This has got to be a dream, doesn’t it. I suppose it can’t ever happen again.”
“Why ever not?”
“Derek. This was … wonderful. But I’m near old enough to be your grandmother, love. I’m not even … attractive at all. I’m fat. I’ve got varicose veins in me legs. This just doesn’t happen.”
I had been telling myself the same thing in the previous days, over and over again; but hearing it now from her, it hurt. It felt unfair. “Do you suppose I’m the only man in the world who’s ever fallen for an older woman? There’s no law against it. And dammit, you ARE attractive, to me. More than attractive. You’re … luscious. You’re delightful. I’m in love with you Ellen.” And just like that, I knew it was true, and had to be. “And I want you again.”
A big smile crept over her face, all the way to her eyes, banishing the self-doubt that had been there a second before. “What, now again, already?”
“Yes, now again, already,” I grinned back.
She took my cock in her hand. “It’s awake again, so soon, is it? Ooh, it is.” She kissed it several times, and began running her tongue over it. She look up at me. “I love you too Derek. You know that, don’t you? And I love me little admirer here. Does he really admire me? Let’s see.” She took it in her mouth, bobbing her lips over the shaft. She paused and grinned at me. “I read about this in the Kinsey report as well. Does he like it?”
“Oh yes,” I gasped, “but, but I want to come inside you again.”
“Oh, very well,” she grunted, with mock resignation, sitting up. “I, er, well … this is a bit embarrassing to ask, but … I think you could go in a bit deeper, into me, you know, if you go in from behind. Me belly doesn’t get in the way as much. If you don’t find that position … distasteful.” I guess she could tell from the way my eyes lit up that I didn’t find it distasteful. Not in the least.
“Ooh, yeah. I’m stretching to fit you. You’re right at…you feel that?” she asked, beaming as she wiggled her saddle down around me. “Hold still! You’re at my cervix! Lemme relax an’… take… you…in!” she said with closed eyes, her face knit in concentration. Deep within her I felt her cervical ring stretch around my corona and palpitate with her heartbeat. Then she ground further onto me, completely absorbing my length, issuing a deep, satisfied sigh. “I’ve thought about this since I was in high school…wanting to feel you shoot your cream into me…into my womb. I’ve been crazy about you for the longest time!” she gushed. I encircled her small, firm waist almost completely with both hands, pulling and pushing her hips slightly so my crown would move in her uterus. She gritted her teeth and shook her head rapidly, gasping a breathy whine, and I moved one thumb downward to softly brush her clit, which was red and peeking out from under its swollen hood. “Ohhh…Gawwwd…Nick…yes! Oh, yes! Right…there!” she bleated, throwing back her head in ecstasy. Her hands flew to her breasts and she kneaded their sumptuous flesh roughly, tweaking – almost clawing – at her erect, stone-hard nipples as her excitement mounted.
“You gonna cum?” I asked, almost too coolly since I knew full well she was a hair’s breadth away from a climax.
“Ohhh…ohhh…ohhh…Nic…I…I’m…so…”, she mewled, and sped up her grinding motions on my embedded prick. Finally she was there and I removed my thumb from her clit. She responded by collapsing onto my chest and taking a hundred full, rapid strokes onto me, from tip to balls, and milking my probe as if it were feeding her life blood. She screamed through her orgasm for what must have been a full minute into my mouth, muffling her wild cries. I held her perfect dancer’s body tightly and fucked up into her until she lapsed into moans, then…silence. Minutes went by as our breathing returned to normal. “Jeezus Kuh-rist, Nicky! You’re amazing in bed!” she groaned, nearly slipping off me because of our mingled sweat. “But you didn’t cu-u-um,” she lamented, making the word sound like it had three syllables.
“And I won’t for a while,” I responded as I flipped us over. “For that, I want to be on top.” Kneeling, I started to move both of her ankles upward to spread her completely open.
“Wait, please, Nicky. Could you pull out?” I did so, puzzled. “I want to taste myself on you first,” she said, rising and licking her juice off my pubic hair, cock and balls and swallowing it. “It’s so sexy to taste a woman’s juices off a man,” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling up at me. I thought nothing of her assertion. I wanted only to be back inside her, which took about five seconds.
“Nnngh, yeah, baby,” I grunted, “it’s good this way,” as I set up an easy rhythm while resting on my elbows. She was right with me, grinning ecstatically, and mewling “mmmmm” as she pulled me to her kissing mouth, alive with her pungent wet tongue. After a minute or so she placed one firm hand on each of my buttocks, pressing down on them each time I drilled between her upraised thighs. We fucked that way for a long time, muttering meaningless sounds of pleasure to one another as our organs once again worked toward a climactic peak.
I then remembered Carolyn’s clitoral – or at least masturbatory – fixation. I slowed and brought her legs down to the bed and, still embedded in her, clamped my thighs on the outside of hers so that the top of my cock would abrade her little love button. After thirty seconds of such stimulation she began clawing at my back and crying my name. Finally she screamed, “Hold still!” and hammered up and down at me until she froze in a monumental orgasm, once again screaming my name over and over. When she was finished she begged, “Cum, please cum,” her beautiful eyes pleading with me.
And so I did. I pulled from her still-palpitating vagina and knee-walked up to her face, holding the base of my prick in a tight grip so as not to ejaculate too soon, laid the dark red crown on her lower lip that was curled outward to accept me, and relaxed my hand while growling like an 800 pound gorilla. She’d raised her head and opened her luscious lips widely, so the target was perfect. Jet after jet of cum shot into her mouth, all of which she accepted with a joyous hum in her throat. Halfway through my ejaculation her hands were stroking me from balls forward, pumping the remainder of my semen into her gullet to be swallowed, and only a thin freshet of seed appeared on her bow-like upper lip when I was spent. As I collapsed back onto the bed, groaning, I thanked the gods for bringing me to Grenoble. Moreover, I thanked them for having Lindy out of town on this day, just before Carolyn and I dozed off for a nap, locked in one another’s arms.
It must have been around midnight when we awoke, jarred out of a sound sleep by the door opening and the overhead light being switched on. For some reason I wasn’t at all surprised to see Lindy standing in the doorway, immobile at the sight of us.
“Lindy! I thought you weren’t coming back ’til tomorrow!” cried Carolyn.
“That’s rather obvious, Care! Couldn’t wait, could you? You slut!”
“Aww, Lindy, that’s pretty strong language,” I mumbled.
“Bullshit, Nick! I knew her in high school! Every minute that she’s out of class now she’s back here, masturbating with that dildo of hers! Now she’s screwed you, and she “knows” how special you are to me!” she whined, on the brink of tears.
“It’s my fault!” I said, getting up and pulling Carolyn along with me to comfort the girl, who’d started weeping. We both hugged her closely in a three person embrace. “Didn’t mean to hurt you. We just kinda lost control…”.
“Yeah…well, you both stink…like you’ve been fucking all day!” she said, snorting disgustedly as the tears gradually waned, “and, Care…you have dried cum on your mouth.”
Anxious to defuse the situation, I said, “Carolyn, why don’t you take a quick shower. I’ll put out some eats, then I’ll clean up. Lindy looks tired and hungry.”
Still naked and smelly, I stood in the kitchen cutting up a “baguette”. Lindy leaned over the table on her elbows and asked, hesitatingly, “Was she good? Was my roommate good?” It’s almost as if the words came from her mother’s mouth. I could imagine Maureen asking in reference to her daughter if I’d found her pleasing. These thoughts made me uneasy, since the recent days with Maureen had filled an empty emotional chasm in me. I looked over at Lindy, who by that time was regarding my drooping cock with more than casual interest, and her face seemed to merge with that of her mother in my imagination. A spasm of excitement occurred in my groin and gouts of blood immediately followed it.
“Lindy, honey, it’s all good. You know that,” I said quietly, hoping to forestall further such questions as we both sat at the table and began to nibble on bread and “pate”.
“Uh-huh. Well, I forget that you’re a young guy in Europe but…I’ve waited for you…and worried about you for weeks. One little taste of you in Paris wasn’t enough. How long can you stay with us?”
“Until you see your mom off, I guess; maybe through the weekend.” I finished my response just as Carolyn emerged from the bathroom, clean and smelling fresh as a baby, in one of her thin cotton, long tee shirt-type dresses. She laid her hand possessively on my bare shoulder, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lindy. “I understand there’s a party tomorrow night,” I said to them both.
“Yeah…with all the usual suspects…but right now I don’t even want to think about it. I’m so “tired”!” Lindy grinned wanly, filling her wineglass to the brim and making a large sandwich for herself. She got up and pronounced, “I’m going to bed now…in the other room. You can do what you want. If you join me, Nick, whatever you do, don’t shower! I love the way you stink…you animal.” Then she was gone. I was shocked at these words coming from an 18-year-old. Though I wasn’t at all surprised that they’d come from one of Maureen’s daughters.
A few quiet assurances with Carolyn settled matters. She’d sleep on the living room bed. I kissed her and she breathlessly promised great things in the next few days, as I doused the lights and made for Lindy’s bedroom.
She’d finished her sandwich, and half a glass of wine, and was leaning against the headboard, completely nude. She’d undone her ponytail so that her blonde hair caressed her shoulders, and was perched, relaxed, with one leg bent up at the knee. A single candle lit the room dimly and bathed her fair skin in a golden hue. Her firm breasts called out to be suckled, and my tongue seemed to grow hard as I contemplated savoring her sweet feminine tastes. Somewhere deep in my emotional memory I felt the ungovernable pangs of being with her mother…of “wanting” to be with her again. These impulses were telegraphed immediately to my groin, causing my cock to rise. “Need some company?” I asked, nonchalantly.
“Get in here, you big stud!” she growled, comically, and flopped down onto her back, extending her arms to me. Our bodies met with hurried, youthful, abandon, yet we intertwined like graceful, mating dolphins. She whimpered as my hands kneaded gently at her flesh, and I groaned with a certain longing, imagining her firm body to be that of her mother, which it resembled so much. She held my head and rained kisses all over my face as she wrapped her legs around my waist, straining to capture my penis within her. “Gawd, I’ve forgotten how good you feel! Jeezus, Nick, don’t tease me! I need you now! Yessss…aaaanngh!” she almost yelled as I guided my probe to her drooling pussy, then, “Oohhhhhhhhh! Oohhhhhhhh!” she moaned, as I slipped to my balls into her marvelous hot gash.
I stirred into Lindy slowly, trying to stretch every muscle inside, and she seemed grateful. She’d drawn her legs vertically to first admit me, then pulled on the back of her knees to allow deeper penetration. As her vagina yielded to me and our movements grew faster in tempo, I placed her lovely calves over my shoulders and sped my fucking. “Good?” I asked breathlessly, “Is it good?” and hurried my plunges even more to her senseless mewling cries. Finally, I slipped her legs off my shoulders and she bent them backward so that her knees rested on the mattress, with her ankles in the air on either side of her head. Her luscious pink pussy now pointed upward to the ceiling, and I adjusted my body so that my rampant cock drove directly downward into her cunt, which now was making liquid farting noises each time my balls hit her opening. Those squishy noises were matched by a buzzing sound in my ears that seemed to permeate the apartment. In addition to that, Lindy’s passionate cries seemed to be echoing from the living room, until I realized that those noises were being voiced by Carolyn.
But Lindy was much louder. “Ohh…Gawd…Nicky…yessss. You’re such a…good fuck! Don’t stop now…please. Hard, yeah…fast, yeeaahhh…oh, yeeaaahhhh…oh, Nicky, I’m…gonna…Nicky!…Nicky!…I’m…oh, Nicholas! Fu…!” at which point Lindy started a series of galvanic, eruptive seizures. With a minimum of noise and movement, I finally let go and sprayed her insides with a huge load, grasping her in an embrace until she quieted down, at least to the point where we were both only hyperventilating. As we slipped into an afterglow, my cock was still hard inside her and pulsating, though I hardly noticed it. What I “did” notice in the dusky light was Carolyn, leaning against the open doorframe, absently licking what looked like a white, plastic dildo.
“You two are something to watch,” she said, as my dick slowly slipped out of Lindy.
“And you’re a pervert,” muttered Lindy, still out of breath. “But that’s okay, Care. You’ve always been a freak. The invitation’s a little late, but c’mere an’ share my favorite hometown guy,” she offered, rather generously, as if I had nothing to say about it.
Carolyn was there in a second, her lips wrapped around my softening cock. After she’d bathed my groin completely with her tongue she looked at both Lindy and me, then quickly explained, “I love the taste of a woman on a man.” What she’d told me two hours before hadn’t changed.
“Mmmm…too weird,” muttered Lindy, who’d sprawled onto her stomach drowsily. I lay down next to her and stroked her silken back and butt lovingly, causing her to moan. Without asking, Carolyn snuggled closely behind me, her moist pubic bush rubbing my buttocks. Laying on my back, I smiled to myself as the candle flickered out, wondering if I were the only guy in France that night with the hands of two 18-year-old American beauties holding his cock.
It hardly mattered, since I’d awakened and responded before daylight to the feel of Lindy’s butt nestling closer to my rising prick. With both of us half asleep I slipped between her legs from behind and slid easily through to split her puffy labia, still drooling my cum, which had taken on a decidedly fishy odor. In the darkness I felt her hand trying to position me at the entrance to her vagina. “Turn over, baby,” I whispered, “I wanna watch us come together.” She moaned into her pillow at the prurience of my remark, and wiggled her butt at me as she flipped over. I pulled her to the foot of the bed, so that I could stand on the floor and lift her up by her hips to meet my stiff dong. When I slipped into her buttery pussy, both she and Carolyn emitted a sharp whine, since her roommate, clearly awake beside us, had put her dildo to use between her widespread legs. I looked over at her and said, “Gimme some pillows and turn it on.”
Carolyn was way ahead of me. She tossed three pillows to me and rose to her hands and knees, switching on the device, with one hand manipulating it obscenely into her cunt. With the other hand she braced herself, moving her head over Lindy’s vulva, not three inches away from where I was tapping her. “Oooh, Gawd, Nicky, I love this!” she cooed. “You’re so dirty! An’ you, Lindy, Jeezus…you smell like you’ve been at it all night!”
I slid the pillows under Lindy’s butt, which was now at a perfect height for me to drill her while I stood. Then it was tease time. As Lindy moaned and her roommate panted, I withdrew, laying my cock in the girl’s labial furrow, shiny with her juices, and moved it fore and back across her clit. “Taste her, Care,” I encouraged, my swollen member dripping with feminine nectar. And of course she did, jamming her mouth onto me even as Lindy’s hips still jerked upward – crying out in frustration – in anticipation of more repeated thrusts. “Back in now, Care,” I whispered, and Carolyn groaned disappointedly as she reinserted me into her roommate’s pussy. “Now lick the top of me, Care,” I grunted, as Lindy produced even more vaginal syrup.
Carolyn needed no coaching. Her mouth and flicking tongue were by now laving my dick as it entered her roommate, and Lindy was yelping like a baby seal as I thrust deeply and Care’s tongue lapped at her clit. As we humped away, the dildo that Carolyn had been using fell harmlessly to the bedspread, buzzing away like some persistent, irritating insect at a picnic. “Ooohhhh, Gawwwd, Care,” Lindy moaned, sounding ashamed at the pleasure she was receiving. “Nooo, it’s not…ooohhh, Gawd…Care…” she repeated, reaching down to the back of Carolyn’s head to encourage more cunnilingus, which she urged by spreading her lovely knees back to her armpits.
I reached down in mid-stroke, picked up the vibrating dildo, and turned it off. Lindy watched me, then reached for the instrument, which I handed her. She looked to her left, where Carolyn’s butt was elevated as she leaned forward to lick at where her roommate and I were joined, then slowly inserted it into her roommate’s pussy. She looked up at me through glazed eyes as she switched it on, causing a surprised mewl from Carolyn, then began fucking her with it, as if to show me that she wasn’t going to be left out of our wanton threesome. “Ooooh, Lindyyyy, that feels so goood!” cooed her friend, “An’ you tas’ so good on Nicky’s cock!”
But I wanted more. More sex, more of their young flesh, more of their willingness to share dirty bedroom tricks with me. I pulled slowly out of Lindy and let Carolyn clean her juices from my cock, then walked around to Lindy’s side as Carolyn completely covered her roommate’s gaping pussy with her mouth. With minimum effort I moved Carolyn’s knees to straddle Lindy’s head in the “69″ position, then lined myself up behind them. Pulling the dildo out of Carolyn and switching it off, I quickly sank myself deeply into her tight vagina. “Lick us, Lindy!” I said hoarsely. “Lick us like Care was doing before!”
Soon we were just a pile of flesh undulating at one another’s touches. Lindy’s quick little tongue lapped at my balls and the underside of my cock until I almost came inside Carolyn, causing me to withdraw and pinch my cock to forestall orgasm. But she seized the opportunity to stretch her neck back and take me into her mouth, vacuuming me until she gagged, at which point I once again re-entered her roommate’s clasping pussy. We repeated this cycle a half-dozen times until Carolyn grabbed her dildo and slipped it into Lindy’s cunt, which set all of us off.
Lindy was the first to cum, climaxing from Care’s tonguing and dildo-ing, as she screamed into my scrotum. I pulled out of Carolyn and began fucking Lindy’s mouth, which soon emitted nothing but wet, slobbery gurgles. Carolyn followed suit, writhing serpentine-like through her orgasm as I’d reached under her to diddle her clit. And finally, I bellowed like a bison while blowing my entire load onto Care’s pussy and Lindy’s open, grinning mouth. All three of us shuddered for a couple of minutes, then untangled ourselves as the first rays of the morning sun lit up the sweaty, cum-soaked carnage of the double bed.
I looked at Lindy and her lovely face was covered with my thick seed and Carolyn’s discharge. Carolyn was sweating as if she’d been through a strenuous, marathon ballet. I felt dehydrated, leached of all vital fluids, and smelled as if I’d taken on a dozen unwashed whores from Tangiers. Nevertheless, I so wished that each and every morning could begin this way.
*Part 3*
After a short nap and a shower I walked to a nearby “patisserie” for some “croissants” for breakfast with the girls. It felt good to be out by myself, briefly free from the clutches of the two horny young women. For a brief moment I thought of the upcoming week. Perhaps I’d catch a train to Italy early – maybe tomorrow – knowing that I’d be antsy after Lindy’s party that was planned for the coming evening.
Back at the apartment Lindy was on the phone with her mother. When I walked in she said, “Nick’s back! I’ll put him on!” handing me the phone while grabbing my crotch. “It’s Mom. She wants to come see us.”
Maureen was brusque and direct over the phone. “Nick, I’ve decided to stay a bit longer. I’ve turned in my boat ticket, and may catch a ship or plane out of Rome or Lisbon. I’ve got an early train out of Paris tomorrow morning and have reserved a suite at the “Hotel de Ville” in Grenoble. I want you to move your stuff from Lindy’s to the youth hostel in town, but I want you to stay with me. I know Lindy may be listening, so, if you agree, just say yes.”
“Uhhh…yes,” I said, grudgingly. “There’s a party here tonight, you know.” As I said this, Lindy knelt in front of me, unzipped my fly and pulled out my flaccid dick, licking at it teasingly.
“Lindy’s told me. But don’t enjoy yourself too much, darling. You’ll need all the energy you can muster when you see me,” she said, with a hint of humor in her voice.
“I’ve gotta stay at the youth hostel,” I told the girls when I hung up, after Lindy had brought me to a mind-bending orgasm as Carolyn watched, masturbating across the room.