A single flickering tallow illuminated our sparsely furnished parlour, as a savage wind howled at the rotted eaves of our humble abode and twisted tree limbs clawed at the shutters as if seeking entry. ‘Her beauty is the stuff of the great artists Grigorescu and Luchian,’ my father intoned. ‘Men cannot resist her, and women detest her. It is legend that on a night many, many centuries ago, when the evening star Venus was at its zenith, the lust-crazed Countess succeeded in seducing one of her stable hands, a virginal boy of eighteen who had only that morning become betrothed to a poor peasant girl whom he had courted for years. And just as the Countess was teetering on the very edge of ecstasy, the young man’s fiance rushed into the room, saw what was happening, and in a fit of jealous rage seized a sabre from the wall and plunged it deep into the Countess, piercing her wicked heart, killing the beautiful temptress before she could attain sexual release.

‘And from that night onward, whenever the planet Venus is in its ascension, the Countess walks the earth, stalks this province’s virginal sons recently turned eighteen, seeking the ecstasy in death she was denied in life. And by taking her fiendish vengeance, temporarily satiating her unquenchable, ages-old lust, she also takes the life of the young man whom she violates. He becomes a part of her army of the damned, to be used and abused by her for all of eternity.’

I stared into my father’s watery blue eyes, at his trembling blue lips, and a cold shiver travelled the length of my spine. ‘How can I avoid such a fate, father?’ I queried, my voice breaking, my hands shaking.

‘By remaining safely indoors when Venus is the brightest star in the sky; by never setting foot outside when the Countess is on the prowl,’ he replied, grasping my hands with his bony claws. ‘Promise me this, my son!’

I earnestly promised to abide by the old man’s superstitious wishes, seeking to reassure him. ‘And where is Venus now, Father?’ I inquired.

‘In its ascension!’ he cried, staring out the dusty window at the darkening sky.

I would have been wise to have heeded my father’s warning, but I was young and foolish and daring, and dubious of my father’s many tall tales and handed-down myths. More importantly, my gorgeous girlfriend, Daria, had promised me a special treat for my birthday, and what come-of-age man can resist such a titillating promise as that? So, once my father had retired to bed, was deep in his slumber, out into the windswept night I ventured.

Daria and I rendezvoused at our usual spot, on the mossy green banks of a thin trickle of a cold, clear stream that flowed past an abandoned mill. The long shadows of dusk had been usurped by the inky blackness of night, and I kindled a small fire, admiring my Daria in its glow.

‘You are truly beautiful,’ I told her truthfully, my eyes roaming all over her voluptuous body, which had only recently ripened into full womanhood. She was scantily covered by a thin white summer dress and her chestnut-coloured hair cascaded long and thick over her bare, buff shoulders. Her large brown eyes reflected the dancing flames from the fire, and her pretty face shone like a princess’s.

‘Thank you, Gregor,’ she responded in a soft, shy voice, gazing bashfully into the fire for a moment, and then back up at me. ‘I told you I had a special treat for your birthday.. .and here it is.’ She slowly unfastened the buttons on the front of her dress, her sparkling eyes never leaving mine, and the almost-sheer garment slid down her body with barely a whisper and puddled at her feet, leaving her breathtakingly, stunningly naked!

‘Daria!’ I breathed, staring in awe at her lush, creamy-white body.

Her breasts were huge and heavy-looking, round and ivory, capped by twin kitten-pink nipples that jutted out from her dewy tit-flesh fairly half an inch or more (and were growing still longer and harder in the cooling night air). Between her smooth, slim legs lay a neatly-trimmed triangle of downy, brown fur, and when she shifted her lithe legs even wider apart, I could see her pink pussy lips, glistening with moisture, anticipation

‘Dana!’ I repeated, overwhelmed, rushing around the fire and into her open arms. I mashed my lips against her soft, pouty lips, her enormous tits pressing hotly against my chest, my nimble hands gripping and squeezing her plump, rounded butt cheeks.

She responded with equal passion, sliding her slippery tongue into my mouth and swirling it around, the two of us fiercely trenching for what seemed for ever. When I at last broke mouth and tongue contact with the pretty peasant girl, whom I had lusted after for so many years, I began kissing and licking and biting my way down her long, slender neck, all the way down to the awesome chest that was the spectacular heritage of all of the women in her blessed family.

I cupped her immense jugs in my covetous hands, revelling in the solid weight and silky, superheated texture of her burgeoning boobs, and then I bent my head down and licked at one of her rigid nipples, teasing the pebbled underside of it with my flicking tongue. She cried out with pleasure, clutched at my straw-coloured hair with her long, sharp-tipped fingers, and I took the fully-flowered nipple into my mouth and sucked on it, tugged hungrily on it.

‘God, yes, Gregor, suck my tits!’ she groaned, her amber eyes closed, her head lolling back on her shoulders, her mountainous tits and rubbery nubs quite obviously supersensitive to the touch.

I suckled her swollen tit-cap like a hungry baby, and then mouthed as much of her tremendous right breast as I could. I pulled on her fleshy, fiery tit with my mouth, scoured the firm underside of it with my whipping tongue, before eventually disgorging its dripping, snowy-white mass and attacking Daria’s other breast. I licked and sucked on it as I had her other tit, and then pushed her wicked knockers together and flailed my tongue back and forth across both of her stiffened buds at once, tongue-lashing her rock-hard nipples.

‘Make me come, Gregor!’ she hissed. ‘Make me come!’

I took it by this that the writhing girl with the spit-slickened jugs wanted me to make love to her pussy as I’d made love to her tits, and my thoughts were confirmed when she anxiously pushed my head down. I fell to my knees and grasped her plump, trembling butt cheeks, stared at her glistening sex momentarily, breathing in the damp, musky scent of her want. Then I held my breath and plunged my nose into her springy pubes, my tongue into her slit.

‘Yes!’ she screamed, clutching her mammoth mams and savagely kneading them, twisting and pulling her rosy nipples in a frenzy.

My head spun with the intoxicating smell of her sex, but I resolutely tongued her twat, dragging my rough tongue over her sticky lips from butt-hole to clitoris, over and over again, lapping at her labes with an earnestness I was sure would be rewarded and reciprocated. Then I formed my thick tongue into a hardened spear and drove it deep into my girl’s cunt.

‘I’m coming!’ Daria squealed, her flame-licked, undulating body misty with perspiration, her giant jugs jouncing up and down in her small hands as she was rocked repeatedly by orgasm, as I vigorously stabbed her gash with my tongue.

And when the darling girl with the lust-inducing body finally calmed down again, I withdrew my tongue from her dripping twat, licked my slimy lips, and climbed to my feet. I quickly shrugged off my suspenders and pulled down my pants, and my swollen cock sprang out into the cool evening air, twitching for attention. ‘Don’t forget to blow out my birthday candle, Daria,’ I quipped, grinning wolfishly at the lovely, nude young woman.

She looked down at my straining manhood, as it billowed out to its full seven inch glory, then up into my face, then over my shoulder, and suddenly her brown eyes flooded with a terror more than that of a nervous, barely legal babe about to devour her very first cock. ‘Ohmigod! Run, Gregor, run!’ she wailed, twirling around and rushing off into the bushes, leaving her clothes and my raging hard-on behind.

I stood there, confused and frustrated, and then I heard a soft, rustling sound behind me, like that of a bat landing and folding its wings, and I spun around – and beheld an exquisitely beautiful woman who I instinctively knew was the Countess Sabrina Coinaneci, the evil, erotic blood and soul-sucker my father had warned me about.

She was small in stature, vertically, but so much, much larger horizontally, where it counted, and she was completely and utterly naked save for a black satin cape with blood-red lining that hung about her shoulders, tied at the neck. Her breasts were absolutely gargantuan, translucent, blue-veined spheres that hung heavily from her chest like ivory melons. Her face was a perfect, porcelain oval, her hair long and black, and both her face and her hair shone and shimmered in the light shed by the crackling fire, by the giant, glowing orb in the sky known as the planet Venus.

The Countess spread her arms, her cape, and hissed at me, baring a pair of long, lethal-looking fangs. ‘You are ready forme, mortal!’ she shrilled, in a voice as sweet as the honeysuckle and deep as the grave, her black eyes glittering as they ogled my penis.

I looked where she was looking, and was astounded to see that I was still steel-hard, in fact, amazingly, longer and harder and thicker than any time previously. The wicked lady’s uninhibited, almost tangible, lust engulfed my ready and willing body, and I felt compelled by some unknown, primal force to grip the instrument of her desire (and my release), and urgently stroke it.

‘You will satisfy me tonight, and I will satisfy you for all time!’ the Countess shrieked, grasping her massive mammaries and fondling them, her demon eyes rolling back in her head and her crimson mouth falling open.

And then, before I could even react, she swooped down upon me, pushed me to the ground with the strength often women, and mounted my upthrust stake, impaling herself on my wood. She let out a primeval scream that shattered the night for miles around, started bouncing up and down on my cock, pumping her ass, her moist, musty pussy easily swallowing up my entire granite length. She leaned forward, and her colossal tits bounced rhythmically across my face, her spike-like nipples slapping my hips as she rocked back and forth on my prong.

The unearthly eroticism of that sexy she-beast rendered my mind incapable of thought, my muscles incapable of action. Some sort of resistance may have been possible, I suppose, but after the agonizing frustration with Daria, both this night and many nights before, I only too eagerly embraced the prospect of all-out relief that the Countess provided me with. An eternity of damnation be damned, I was going to get laid that night.

‘Beelzebub, yes!’ the Countess cried, as I stuck out my tongue and licked at her blood-red nipples flicking across my hps, as she plunged my super-hardened cock in and out of her gripping pussy.

She kissed me on the mouth with a pair of cold, scarlet lips, but her chill breath did nothing to bank the raging fire in my loins. She savagely bit into my erect nipples, then sealed her lips around first one punctured protuberance and then the other, sucking long and hard and deeply, before finally lifting her head and smacking her plasma-smeared lips.

She bucked up and down on my calcified cock, faster and faster, fienziedly riding my tool, building and building her towering pleasure to a cataclysmic conclusion, whereupon her tombstone-white body rippled with orgasmic fulfilment. Her pale twin globes shimmied with ecstasy, and her jutting nubs spouted curdled milk, as she was jolted again and again by brutal orgasm. The satanic siren gushed slime out of her crimson gash, slathering my rock-hard member with her ferocious joy, and I could only lie there, dreamy-eyed and defenceless, and take it, unwilling and unable to stop the hellish carnality.

The Countess tilted her face up to the heavens and howled at the planet Venus, before collapsing on top of me and whimpering like a wounded animal. The Earth literally had moved, getting ready to swallow me up. The sexy lady vampire licked her pap off my face in long, slow, satisfied tongue-strokes, then snaked her tongue into my mouth and down my throat, almost choking me with her gratitude. She gorged herself on my mouth, kissing and trenching me, licking my lips, before finally setting her sights a little lower and sliding down my sweat-slick chest to get face-to-phallus with my stiffened dong.

She slithered in between my legs and grasped my glistening cock in one of her talons, began licking up and down my swollen shaft with a forked, velvet-sandpaper tongue. She slobbered all over my painfully-erect dick, swirling her wanton tongue all around my mushroomed, purple cock-top, my yawning slit, eagerly lapping up and swallowing down my oozing pre-cum. She greedily sucked my bloated hood into her slavering mouth, tugged on it for awhile, her cheeks billowing in and out,  and then she dropped her beautiful head down and easily inhaled the entire length of my pulsing dong.

‘Jesus!’ I groaned ironically, my body weak with her witchery, my cock strong. The whole of my meat was lodged in her devilish mouth and throat, packed hot and tight and wet.

She stared up at me as I stared down at her, her ebony eyes glittering, depthless pools reflecting my own uncontrollable desire. Her tongue, incredibly, glided out of her crammed-full mouth and licked at my furry pouch, juggled my balls around, cool, damp breath steaming out of her flared nostrils and onto my rippling abdomen. Then, just as the semen in my sack was about to go to full-boil, blow up my shaft and into her mouth, she reared her head back and disgorged my slathered, supercharged cock.

The Countess grinned evilly at me, her razor-sharp fangs gleaming, growing, getting ready to…

Well, suffice it to say that I sprayed more than sperm that glorious night – although I did spray plenty of that. My ecstasy went on and on and on, she insatiably milking my dick with her mouth and throat, me plaintively, pushing my hips off the ground to feed my mistress’s eternal hunger, till, finally, the cold light of dawn broke, sending us scuttling for shelter. Down into a dark, dusty, centuries-old crypt we journeyed, home of the Countess Sabrina Comaneci and her many manly followers; my home.

A breath of air tickles my slightly parted fanny. I open my legs a little more. I grope about in the sand to find my oil, but I can’t find it. My hand flops back onto my sexy bare stomach and the touch electrifies me. I move my fingertips down to the hairless groove running along the top of my thigh and that makes me jump, too. The skin is the largest organ of the human body, and boy is it the most sensitive.
There’s another place, though. So sensitive it could make me come with a butterfly kiss. My hand wanders back up to my breast, just brushes the top, avoiding the nipples. They swell out luxuriantly. My stomach flutters.

I drop my hands. Is it possible to tease yourself? The sun rests on my eyelids while my hand drags back to my stomach. I move it in circles, frantic messages puckering up my nipples. My stomach tightens. My thighs fidget on the towel, open up wider. I fan my fingers, catching at a hardening nipple, and sidle the other hand downwards to the warm nest of hair. My fingers tangle in the wet curls, pulling strands, feeling each hair tug on the tender skin.

My middle finger extends down the crack and I half gasp, half giggle at the moist blood-heat warmth just inside the lips. That’s not just damp from the sea although I wonder what it would taste like now. I wiggle my finger, feeling the sliver of sensitive flesh. I shock it into tingling response. I moan softly, sure that the sound is only in my ears.

A shadow crosses my face and I swear, thinking a cloud is obscuring the sun. But it’s too solid for that. There’s a tall shape a couple of feet away. Surely not the others, come to spy on me from the cottage? I raise myself up on my elbow, ready to give them hell. My breast bounces against my arm. I raise one knee to get myself upright and a droplet of juice runs out of my pussy and across my thigh.

It’s not my fiiends. It’s one of the surfers. His short wetsuit is rolled down his torso and he has his back to the sea. He can see me clearly, but I’m half blinded by the glare. I raise one hand to shield my eyes and take a good look at him. Sex on legs. Like something out of a beer advert. He’s lithe and tanned. His face is young. So young. Tiny gold prickles of barely shaved stubble speckle his brown cheeks. Hectic flushes of blood are just visible under the skin. Is he blushing?

I try to remember myself at his age. It wasn’t so long ago, for God’s sake. He’s eighteen. Maybe nineteen. Definitely a boy and yet his sexy body has been worked on. Hard. No ounce of puppy fat. His arms are big with muscle.

I let my eyes flutter back to his face. I open my mouth to speak, but he’s not about to make small talk. His bright blue eyes are fixed on my big breasts, hanging there in the sunshine. I must look like some kind of nude sculpture there on the towel. I suppose I could always pretend I’m one of those naturists.
But the nudists always claim there’s nothing sexual about nakedness, don’t they? What bollocks. I reckon this boy’s nakedness would be a blatant invitation to a shag-fest. His eyes are burning on me and my nipples harden as if agreeing with my assessment. They shrink into tight little arrowheads. Pointing directly at my young stranger.

The young man/boy swallows, getting the message. He scuffles his bare feet in the sand. Shit. He’s trying to get away. I want to stretch out and stop him. But no. He’s just planting them more firmly in that kind of swaggering stance young men have. Through his tight wet suit I can see his groin bulging against the black cloth. I want to rip it off here and now. I want to know what’s going on underneath.

‘Surf up today?’ I suddenly ask into the sizzling silence. I can imagine my mates up at the cottage giggling at my lousy attempt at surf-speak. ‘I thought there were two of you out there.’ He nods, and tosses his head back towards the waves. His hair is beginning to dry into bleached strands.

‘My brother’s still out there. I got a cramp.’
‘I can see that.’

The fluttering in my stomach is back with a vengeance. No, forget fluttering. Nothing lady-like about this sensation. It’s twisting and tightening with total lust. I can’t believe I’m still sprawled here like some kind of centrefold. Usually I would have lifted the towel by now to cover myself up. I’d have made some shy, dismissive remark to send him on his way, but right now his glowing stare and his unmistakable hard-on and erected penis are just too good to waste. I’m not letting this opportunity pass. Apart from anything else, I intend to dine out on it tonight. The others will never believe me.

‘Want some lemonade?’ God, I sound like his aunt.

‘My dad says you should never accept drinks from strangers,’ he croaks with a lopsided grin, and I laugh. How sexy is that grin? How sexy is it that we’re strangers? I take the bottle from the cool bag and wave it at him.

‘I say you’re big enough to look after yourself I’m still laughing. I pat the towel beside me. He steps closer. I’m making him feel safe. He leans across me, and swigs from the bottle. ‘So,’ I go on, my voice husky with laughter and desire. ‘Do you know this part of Devon?’
‘No. It’s my first time.’
Colour floods his cheeks even more as he says it, and this time I rein in my dirty chuckle. I quietly take the lemonade from him, keeping my green eyes calmly on his burning blue ones, and without wiping his spittle off the neck of the bottle I flick my tongue round the wet rim before tilting my head back to take a deep swallow. Now his eyes are on my throat as the cold liquid swishes down. This is like something out of a movie.

‘I mean, it’s the first time we’ve been down to this coast,’ he stammers. ‘Dad’s rented a place for the summer. He insisted we come here this year. Normally we go to Constantine Bay, in Cornwall. The surfs miles better over there. So’s the surfing crowd. I mean, it’s just dead round here, isn’t it?’

‘That depends what you’re after,’ I remark lazily. The bottle is still hovering above my open mouth as if I’m about to give it head. I lick it again, turning myself on with the suggestive swipe of my tongue. Then I wrap my lips round the long cool shape and swallow a little more. His Adam’s apple jumps. I screw the top back on. On an impulse I put the bottle not back in the cool bag but between my legs, resting it up against my pussy. I can’t stifle a gasp as the cold plastic meets the sensitive, warm flesh. I lean back, letting it rest there, restraining myself from grabbing it and rubbing it up and down my hot slit like a sex toy. The urge won’t go away. But then, nor will the boy. My voice comes out in a low moan. ‘There’s plenty to entertain you if you know where to look.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that’

Without the bottle the boy doesn’t know what to do with his hands. So he starts rolling the wetsuit back up his stomach.

‘It’s too nice out here today to cover yourself up. It may not be the Med, but this lovely weather has got to be a record for Devon. Sit down for a moment. Like you said, there’s nothing to do round here. So there’s no rush, is there?’

‘No rush,’ he echoes, and his young voice dips violently into a deep manly timbre, at odds with his adolescent face. My wet cunt gives a couple of uncontrollably cheeky twitches, practically nudging the bottle away as I watch him wrestle with the twin urges to come and sit near me or to stand there and remain cool.

Time to be a little less obvious. I relent and draw my legs up, so that my pussy is temporarily hidden from his confused, hungry gaze, but the movement brings the bottle harder against me, its long shape pushing between my sex lips and nudging the tiny bud of my clit. I grip it with my legs and feel the droplets of condensation mingling with my own sweat and moisture.

I’m getting breathless again, as if I was still swimming. I want to show the boy what I can do with the bottle, but it’s too soon. I hitch myself up the towel, pulling my shoulders back in an effort to look more sophisticated, but that just thrusts my breasts out so that his baby-blue eyes, which are still struggling to remain politely focused on my face, swivel back to watch the tightening of my red nipples.

‘It may be a bit quiet, but where else can you get quite so close to nature, after the city smoke? I expect that’s what your dad was after,’ I whisper, trying not to giggle out loud with delight. Something is still warning me to act very calm, sit very still so as not to alarm him. ‘That’s why I’m stretched out here, starkers. Never do that in London, do you? Hope you don’t mind me being topless like this?’

He shakes his head violently, like a little boy trying not to tell a lie, and at last, like an animal tempted in from the wild, he squats down, just by my feet. He rubs the salty strands of yellow hair off his hot face.
‘So. You here on holiday, or what?’

He’s giving in. He can’t take his eyes off my tits, even though he’s attempting to make conversation. I know my nipples are harder and darker now and impossible to ignore. Neither of us really wants to talk, do we? It’s as if he’s in a sweet shop with no pocket money. His tongue slides across his white teeth and he gulps. I keep my smile faint but encouraging.

‘It’s a mixture,’ I answer. ‘Work, and play.’
‘So which is this bit? Work, or play?’

A soft wind comes off the sea and ruffles his hair. He swipes it impatiently out of his eyes. My own hair tickles my face, and the wind caresses my bare skin like delicate fingers.

‘Oh, that’s easy. Play,’ I whisper, not sure if he can hear. ‘This bit is definitely play.’

I tilt forwards on to my knees, the bottle still clamped there. I pause for a moment as he blinks, focusing on the big tits bouncing right there in front of him as if they were ice creams on offer. Then I pick up one of his large hands from where it’s digging frantically about in the sand. I lift it like it’s a warm animal and place it on one swollen breast. My nipple spikes against his palm. His mouth drops open. My head falls back as his fingers close harder, making it ache. I spread my knees a little to balance more comfortably in front of him, dislodging the bottle. I lean back on the towel so that my spine is arched and my breasts are pushing at him, jumping up with each heartbeat.

The dry grass rustles in the slight breeze, and far away the waves curl with a collective sigh onto the beach. Both the boy and me are panting. My tits disappear into his hesitant fingers. His blue eyes blaze with a crazy request. Christ, it’s enough to make me melt. Of course you have permission, my precious. I’m practically begging you’

My head feels heavy. The only energy is fizzing between my legs. I’m ready to let him take and thrust and pummel. I want to make him into a man. I have privacy, sunshine, a boy with the body of a god waiting for me to show him the way. And all the time in the world.

Lust is eating me up. His fingers dig into my breasts, wander across them and squeeze them, push them together, letting them fall, playing with them, staring at the rigid raspberry nipples. Then I kneel up and place my hands on his shoulders and push my tits into his eager face. I want him to nuzzle in, I want him to lick, suck, bite. Yes. I can tell he’s never seen anyone as luscious as me. A real woman. I want this to be what he’ll write home about, remember for ever. I want to smother him. He buries his face between my breasts, pressing them into his cheeks. Then he draws back. I cup one breast and offer it. I rub its taut dark nipple across his mouth. His tongue flicks out tentatively. My knees wobble and I clutch more firmly to his shoulders. My tit is angled right into his mouth.

He licks the nipple again, and his hands squeeze my breasts until they sing with dehcious pain. Hands that a few minutes ago had been wrestling with a surfboard. Then his soft lips nibble up the little nub of the nipple, the tongue laps round it. He draws the burning bud into his mouth, pulling hard on it, and begins to suck. I cradle his bleached blond head, the salt water dried in granules and flecked white across his cheek bones. I could stay like this forever. His sucking makes my whole body ripple with desire.
I look away over his head, across the dunes and over the ocean, distancing myself, seeing us like a movie or a photograph, but his mouth, his teeth, keep pulling at the aching nipple and pulling me back. Electrical currents streak from my nipples to my empty, waiting cunt.

He has the other breast up by his face now. He’s turning from one to the other, lapping and sucking, snuffling through his nose to breathe, groaning, biting and kneading harder and harder as if he owns my breasts. It’s never enough to suck just one. They both have to be stimulated, and, boy, is he getting the hang of it. God, it’s going to be earth-shattering when I get him inside me.

He’s rougher, more ferocious, already more confident. I grind against him, daring him, searching for more pain to communicate more pleasure. I plant my knees on either side of his so that I’m straddling him, and still have his head crushed between my tits. I push him backwards so that, still sucking on my nipples, he’s lowered onto the sand. Now I’m on top of him, my tits dangling down like heavy fruit dented by his brown fingers. I tilt my pussy towards his groin and rub against his wet suit. The rough material is glorious, grating on my skin.

And I can feel the length of his dick. Still pushing my tits in his face, don’t ever want him to stop, I grab at the wet suit and start to roll it off him like a second skin. He raises his hips obligingly. So sweet. He does that so eagerly and readily. Does he realise how big his fucking gorgeous erection is? I yank everything down and his cock thumps, juddering out from the rough tangle of blond curls, pulsating golden brown like the rest of him. God, it’s a work of art. Its surface is smooth like velvet, the mauve plum emerging from the soft foreskin which wrinkles back to show itself all gleaming. This gorgeous cock thumps into my hand. Now it’s my turn to fold my fingers round something, and as I do it he bites my nipple so hard that I scream out with delight. I lean over him.

‘Just take a little break. Try something new,’ I whisper, both to myself and to him. I start to wriggle back down his body so that his head follows for a moment, still attached to my nipples. Then he falls back as I slither down towards his groin and he can only grab at my wet hair. I reach his dick, standing up like a beacon. The tip is already beading in anticipation. A fresh stick of rock.

I open my mouth and draw his cock into it, using my teeth as well as my tongue, draw it all in until the boy’s knob knocks at the back of my throat.

He makes a sound, exquisitely shocked, because he never got a blowjob before. His buttocks clench as I suck on him, nibbling down to the base of his shaft and licking and sucking the sweet length of it. He starts to buck about, groaning in amazement. I wonder if any of his pert little girlfriends give head like this. I doubt it. After all, I didn’t have much of a clue at this age. I want him to think he’s died and gone to heaven. Any minute now I’m going to heaven, too.

As I suck, I rub my tits and pussy up and down his legs. He pulls at my hair. I have to slow myself down, because we’ll both come too soon. I don’t want to waste this golden moment by coming all over his shinbone. My pussy is clenching frantically now. I’m leaving slicks of juice all over him.

I give his dick one last, long suck, pulling it towards my throat and nipping it with my teeth, then I let it slide along my tongue, out through my nipping teeth. Greedily I clamber back on top of him as he struggles up, seeking out my tits. I press him down on his back, tilting myself over him. We’ve moved some way from the towel now.

‘See how beautiful it is,’ I croon at him, showing him the length of his shaft encircled by my fingers. ‘See how well it’s going to fit.’

I smile as I raise myself on my knees and aim the tip of his cock towards the warm hole hidden in my soft bush. I let it rest there, at the opening, just like I did with the lemonade bottle, just nudging it past my wet sex lips. I wait. I smile again, lowering myself a little more, gasping as each inch goes in. I reach under him to cup his balls in one hand and he groans again.

This tension is ecstasy, but I can’t hold on to it for much longer, and slowly, luxuriously, I let the boy’s knob slide up inside, all the way to the hilt. It’s so tempting to ram it, let our hips start jerking, but once it’s right in I force myself to pull away again. He frowns, perhaps thinking I’m rejecting him, but I just ease myself down again, moaning and tossing my head back, and the next time I do that he’s with me, learning fast, pulling his own hips back, waiting when I wait.

I sigh out with the joy of being fucked by something so big and hard after months of sitting on the sidelines. As I bend over to let my tits swing across his mouth again, his eyes flip sideways and his face freezes. His hands jam onto my hips and hold me still. I don’t move. I don’t want to. But I see another shadow falling across his face.

‘Oh, piss off, guys!’ I shout, without looking round. ‘Go back to your poker game!’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it! This looks like a hell of a lot more fun than poker!’

A male voice, very similar to my boy’s, speaks from somewhere above and behind us. I go hot and cold. I try to read the boy’s expression. Then there’s the unzipping sound of another wet suit, and the boy’s eyes widen. First he shakes his head furiously, and then a filthy grin spreads across his face. Not a grin I’ve seen before. He looks at me in a different way. Kind of domineering. I’m thrown off balance. Already he’s learning. Glancing at the newcomer, the boy knocks my breasts from side to side.

‘My older brother,’ he croaks. ‘Back from the surf

He pulls me forwards, jamming my tits into his mouth again, and now my backside is up in the air. I want to protest but I can’t move. My butt is all exposed, bouncing in front of his brother, but so gorgeous is the feel of my boy’s almost aggressive mouth sucking on my sore nipples that I can’t stop him. As first one nipple then the other grinds into his mouth I automatically start up the rhythm again. I’m acutely aware of my new audience. It’s unutterably sexy to be watched.

I slide up and down his cock, showing off now. My muscles tighten each time to grab hold and keep him inside, and his cock is hardening even more with each thrust. I’m just poised to ram down onto him harder than ever when my butt cheeks are pulled apart and another male body presses up against my back.

‘Can’t let you have all the fun, bruv,’ says the voice. ‘Reckon I wantage’
‘You’ve got some catching up to do, mate. Bloody well wait your turn.’
The first boy pulls me harder down on top of him, ramming me right up inside.
‘You don’t mind me watching, do you?’ his brother murmurs in my ear, still fondling my buttocks.
‘No,’ I puff, barely able to speak. ‘Don’t mind.’

There’s something else going on here, too. I can recognize sibling rivalry when I see it, or rather sense it. It’s not that different from the ‘friendly’ rivalry between me and my mates up at the cottage. Our parlour games are never going to be the same after this.

I’m dizzy now, knowing I’m being watched. Who knows? Maybe the crowd up at the cottage will be down any minute, join the audience. See me in a whole new light. I gyrate as if dancing on the boy’s pole, flinging myself wildly about. The urge for satisfaction and the loss of control starts to overwhelm me.

The invisible brother is right behind me, touching me everywhere. I fall onto the rigid cock inside me and the orgasm is gathering. My moans are snatched into the sea air as I rock frantically. My boy can’t hold back and it’s spurting out of him and I’m bucking in my own orgasm.

‘Can’t let you corrupt my little brother and get away with it,’ the older brother says, pulling us apart. ‘Reckon you need teaching, too.’

He parts my legs, gets his own cock out. I try not to smile too greedily as we all lie on the sand while the tide encroaches up the beach and the seagulls wonder what the fuck these tourists are up to.