The Joy of Windsurfing 2

Bastard.  I hadn’t even wanted to try windsurfing but he said I must.  He’d bought me the wetsuit.  Very black and very expensive, he said; with ‘convenience zips’, he said.  Convenient for what, I asked, and I believe he almost blushed!  

So here I am, changed, cold, ready to go and now a text message.  He can’t come.  No apology, no explanation, just ‘Susan and Paul will take care of you’.

A tall, striking woman walks towards me.  The few other women here are wearing multi-coloured suits but not her.  Hers is shiny black, emphasising the severity of her short blond hair but also highlighting muscles that look as if they have been sculpted out of ebony.  My head barely reaches her shoulder and I find her physical presence faintly intimidating.

‘You must be Emily; I’m Susan.  Paul is already on the water, gesturing towards a fast moving figure on the lake’.  No other words of welcome, no smile, no handshake, just ‘Let’s get started’.

I can’t go on.  I’m tired, I’m cold and my back and arms ache.  Finally, she relents and her attitude seems to mellow a little.  She sits down, back against a tree and tells me to sit between her outspread legs.

‘Here, I’ll warm you’, she says, as I settle back against her chest, her arms folding around me, her strong legs either side of me.  I nestle back in the warmth of her body, glad of the protection from the wind.

‘I taped you – see?  You did better than you think’.  I watch the tape of me repeatedly falling in and feeding on her words of encouragement – so welcome after her harsher criticism at the time.  Then the scene on the small screen changes, replaced by two men in a shower room, one helping the other out of his wetsuit. 

‘Oh, I’d forgotten this was still on the disk.  Still, I think you’ll find it amusing, maybe even stimulating’.

I watch, now knowing that the smaller man is Alan, the other presumably Paul.  It is clear that both are highly aroused.

‘Not amusing’, I say, ‘just disgusting’.  But I cannot take my eyes from the screen.

Susan is watching me, focused entirely on my face.  ‘Let us just say fascinating then’.

Susan appears on screen and eases Alan’s cock from his wetsuit.  He appears to beg, to plead, but Susan ignores him.  Paul’s large cock is now free and juts obscenely towards Alan.  I become aware of my breathing becoming slower, of warmth spreading from my groin and through my body.

I really do want to see Alan fucked.  I want to see Paul’s large phallus buried deep inside him and I want to see Paul’s cum dripping from his stretched ass hole.  And as these thoughts become concrete in my mind, I feel Susan’s strong hands running over my breasts and then one sliding over my stomach down to my crotch.  On screen I watch her ease her fingers into Alan’s ass, while feeling the heel of her hand pressing on my pelvic bone, her fingers starting a rhythmic, pulsing movement against my crotch.

Her mouth is beside my ear.  ‘You’ll enjoy the next bit, Emily.  Alan did’.

As I watch, her hands ease Alan’s ass cheeks apart and Paul’s cock forces in.  Without having to be told, I ease open the zip in the crotch of my wetsuit.  Susan’s hand slides inside, her strong probing fingers exploring my cunt, seemingly more familiar with it than my own have ever been.  I press up against her fingers, trying to force her whole hand inside me, increasingly desperate to be filled.

Susan shifts her position and uses her knees to prise my legs up and apart.  And looking up, there is Paul, his wetsuit still dripping, his erect cock moving forward to impale me.  The cock that is now pumping into Alan’s ass on the screen enters me, hard and deep.  

I feel his weight on top of me.  With one hand I dig my nails into the rubber covering his muscular chest, alternately trying to stop him from crushing me and then preventing his escape. The other hand reaches back and finds Susan’s hand and desperately I clench it.  Her breath is hot on my ear, nibbling my ear lobe, and with her free hand she crushes my breast through the fabric of my wetsuit.

Paul’s pace increases.  I try to match each thrust with an upward push but the effort is beyond me.  As I feel my orgasm building Susan’s mouth moves to the back of my neck and she starts to bite me.  Her hand finds my throat and as Paul’s penetrates ever deeper, so the hand clutching my throat tightens.  My orgasm sweeps over me – my back arched and body rigid.  I clench Paul’s cock in my cunt with all my strength but eventually I must relax and slump trembling back on top of Susan.

He starts to withdraw – I try to protest but no words come out.  A tear forms at the corner of my eye but Susan softly kisses it away.  Her fingernails gently follow the curve of my lips and slip past them into my mouth.  Hungrily I suck on her fingers.

‘Open your eyes, Emily’.  Paul is now standing over me, his cock hovering close to my mouth. 

‘Take him, Emily.  Tease him’.  Sitting up, I kneel in front of him.  With increasing confidence I delight in his reaction to my slightest touch.  The tensing of his body as my teeth nip the thick gland on his cock; the swelling of his balls as I suck them into my mouth; the clenching of his bum muscles as the tip of my tongue breaches his asshole.

‘Enough.  Now spit on his shaft and lie next to me’.

My head on her breast, her arm around me, my leg thrown over hers – our wetsuits appearing to mould us together.  I watch my saliva dribble along his cock.

‘Milk yourself Paul’.

His large fist bunches around his cock, moving slowly up and down.  Now faster, his eyes close.

‘Open your eyes and look at me’.  He obeys, the strain now showing on his face – fear that he will ejaculate too soon; despair that Susan will not permit him to come at all.  He pumps harder.  I admire his control.  No, that’s wrong.  I admire Susan’s control, her strength and her dominance.

I sense Susan’s breathing becoming slower, through her wetsuit her heart beating harder.  Then with a husky voice, ‘You may come now Paul’.
 
His fluid arcs through the air, some splashing against my eye, on my cheek, in my hair, but most lands on Susan’s chest.  Brilliant white, it streams down her wetsuit, from her breasts into the hollow of her stomach and from there trickling over her belly and between her thighs.

Her arm holds me tight and her body shudders against me.  Drained, Paul leans forward placing his hand on her shoulder.  A sharp look from Susan and he quickly removes it.

‘Leave us Paul’.

On the screen Alan is kneeling before Susan, licking his cum from her feet while a thin white stream dribbles from his ass.  Susan looks at me and I know what is required of me.

Getting up, I move between her legs and bury my face between her thighs.  My senses are flooded by the smell of her wetsuit, by the faint musky odour of her sex and the taste of the semen.  My tongue slowly traces the drying silvery trails back across her belly to the hollow of her stomach.

Looking down at me, her hand holds the back of my head and presses my face into the pool of glistening cum.  I sip, lick and swallow – my tongue cleaning her suit and then, gazing into her eyes, I slowly move my face up across the rise and fall of her breast.

Under her wetsuit I can see the shape of her nipple.  My mouth opens and I bite hard and greedily down on the rubber, to be rewarded by her gasp and then a moan.  I place my cheek on her breast and contentedly close my eyes.  I’m home.
 
 
 
 
 

20.11.05