AUTHOR = Maxtoby Bluette
E-MAIL = maxtoby@hotmail.com
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AUTHOR's NOTE - I must thank Ms. E. Arsan from whom I stole for the style and rhythm of this story, although please don't judge me by her high standards. It should be considered as a work of fiction intended for consenting adults only. It is not intended for sale, and posting on pay sites is expressly forbidden without my consent. Otherwise feel free to pass it round if you think it worthy so long as this header is included.
(Like most writers, feedback and encouragement is gratefully received. Uncritical adoration is great but constructive criticism is better. Send to maxtoby@dial.pipex.com) |
It was young Emma's first time abroad and the first time she had made any journey beyond her hometown without at least one of her parents for company.
Now she felt jet-lagged and quite unsure of herself, although the excitement of the adventure still tingled in her mind. She had flown into New York, changed planes in Paris, caught a bus at Istanbul airport and was now boarding the boat for the last stage of her journey.
It was hot and sticky and she was worn out by the traveling. Over 30 hours since she had slept in a proper bed. She had managed to take advantage of a shower at the airport about an hour ago but her body had already forgotten. She could see a few beads of perspiration on the upper swell of her breasts.
Only a few more hours until she was reunited with Beil, her boyfriend. She was traveling to an island off the coast of Turkey where Beil's family lived. Beil had returned home for the summer to work with his father -- learn the business and all that. She would spend the summer working as his father's secretary so she could earn some money and become fluent in Greek, which was her major at University. Oh, and maybe, just maybe, she could get Beil to fall in love with her.
He had confessed his love for her but she knew she had to keep him beyond the length of his lust for his love to be proved real. For that reason she had only let him taste her body once over the spring. After that first time she had had a struggle not succumbing to her body's desires such was Beil's charms. But was it true love? He was a catch; handsome but clever too and his father was rich -- stinky rich. Rich enough to have his own island. Getting away from the horrors of life with her parents was another blessing.
She had decided this was going to be her perfect holiday. A whole summer on a Mediterranean island away from her usual inhibitions. She could feel herself relax as the inhibitions instilled by her parents slowly slipped away the further she got from home.
She had been daydreaming throughout the journey -- imagining her perfect holiday. She imagined the hot sun on her back and Beil's lips on hers. Yes, maybe she would give herself to him over the summer. Away from her parents she would let him win her over and then they could make love all summer. He would come to truly love her and maybe they would get married.
Bliss.
He was a good lover. Once had shown her that. It was in his Mediterranean blood. She remembered what he was like inside her. On the plane she had pulled a blanket over her and tried to relieve that tension -- her hand rubbing her clitoris. But the children in the next seat woke up and she only succeeded in increasing the desire, which ran through her limbs.
Beil had arranged her tickets and, at the harbour, she had been expecting a commercial ferry of some sort. What she found was a private cruiser -- a Gin Palace -- she thought and a little vulgar -- but the hostess who greeted her at the gangplank was professional enough, apart from her rather skimpy attire. She learnt that there was no regular ferry to the island so Mr. Vycanos (Beil's dad), had sent his boat for her. The stewardess took her to a small lounge, which felt quiet cozy, and it was to one of the four chairs that the young and pretty stewardess led the spaced out Emma.
"You're very young to be traveling alone."
Emma was actually 20 but looked a lot younger and, feeling piqued, told the stewardess her age.
"I'm sorry, it's just that you look so beautiful. I hope you have a pleasant journey. I'll bring you an anti-sickness tablet, which will also help you sleep. We will arrive at about 5 in the morning."
"OK, thanks."
They communicated no more after this apart from an exchange of smiles. Emma, in her tiredness, just wanted to collapse.
The lounge and chair were smoothly enveloping and gave a feeling of privacy. She sank into the depth of her chair while the stewardess stowed her luggage in an overhead locker. As she reached up, standing right in front of her, Emma could not help but notice her long slender legs and silky thighs as they disappeared under her short skirt. Her short blouse had ridden up showing her flat tanned stomach and, looking up, Emma saw the under swelling of the stewardess' naked breasts which were unconstrained beneath her blouse. Emma could clearly see their shape and the nipples where they strained against the material.
Shortly afterwards, the stewardess returned with the medicine dissolved in some water and once again Emma was slightly shocked by the movement of her breasts. She swallowed the medicine without thinking as she watched the gentle motion of nipples through cotton. "Doesn't she mind that everyone can see?" she wondered. "Or maybe she is unaware how thin her blouse really is. Cotton can be deceptive sometimes."
Despite the evening, it was hot, and for some reason the image of the stewardess' breasts would not leave her. The luscious, generous bounce as she walked, and her smooth curves demonstrating the firmness of her flesh. The protrusion of her nipples through the thin cotton remained a powerful image within Emma's mind, which confused and distracted her. Emma envied the stewardess' freedom and decided to go to the toilet and remove her own bra for the night. The freedom would be wonderful after such a hot day.
Her blouse was also fine and translucent but it wouldn't matter, as she was about to settle down for the night and would cover herself with a blanket. She was so taken by the images turning in her sleepy mind that it was some time before she stood to go to the ladies room. It was only then she realized how spacey she felt. It reminded her a little of the one time she had tried some marijuana.
Whilst taking her time in the toilet she felt the engines start and with much shouting and clattering the boat eased away from the wharf. When she left the ladies room, her bra shoved into her toilet bag, the harbour looked small astern. The door to another lounge was open and she saw a couple of guys being served drinks by the stewardess. They wore shorts and tight sleeveless t-shirts showing off their tanned muscular physique.
One was blonde and the other had long dark hair and to her they seemed like statues of Apollo -- only in flesh and blood. They were talking to the stewardess but immediately turned their attention to Emma as she walked past. She could hear their comments and quickly turned away embarrassed. She felt their eyes on her young body as she ducked into her own lounge and shut the door.
Some minutes later the stewardess came back, and muttering an apology stood right in front of her again to reach into the overhead locker. Her skirt rose higher up her soft skinned thighs until Emma feared she would expose her underwear. Her blouse rose leaving a bare expanse of narrow waist, and her full breasts pressed against the cotton revealed their perfection to Emma's gaze. The breasts seem to hang there, right in front of her for ages so she could take in every curve and every luscious bounce.
She got the urge to touch them and she had to hold her hands down to stop herself. She wanted to unbutton the blouse so the breasts would tumble out. She would cup them with her hands and move the nipples to her lips so she could kiss them. "They're like my breasts," thought Emma and even leant forwards ever so slightly as if to make her fantasy real, but the stewardess had moved away -- her breasts bouncing gently against her slim body.
Emma lay back in her seat and tried to rest. Oh, she was tired, but her mind would not let her sleep. Slowly the images of the stewardess and two men rose in her mind. She recalled the men's lean torsos and imagined them sitting there casually naked. They were two Apollos she decided. Greek Apollos. She saw their penises draped softly over their muscular thighs.
She played with the image and then introduced the stewardess, leaning over the blonde one to adjust his seat. The top few buttons of her blouse were undone and he could see down the smooth flesh of her cleavage. The breasts were so wonderful the naked Apollo could not stop himself from softly undoing a few more buttons.
The image delighted Emma so much she played with the scene in her mind. The stewardess was leaning forward and her breasts accidentally brushed the man's cheek. The nipple was already erect and he could not hold back. He let his lips rub against the nipple. Then his hands moved smoothly and in one unhurried movement her blouse was undone and her breasts bounced free. He held them tenderly and brought them to his lips.
At first the stewardess could not do anything because she was leaning so far over. She was about to shout in anger and outrage but the touch of his lips on her breasts - so tender yet full of passion -- took her breath away and she paused to savior the moment.
Her firm orbs hung heavy as he kissed them -- his hands lifting the weight -- and she stifled a moan. Trembling, she tried to push herself away but he was holding her hands and forced her to kneel between his knees.
He gently pulled her blouse down over her shoulders and returned his attention to her breasts which were now aching with desire. Her hands grabbed his legs for support and only then did she realize he was naked and his penis was quickly swelling in front of her. Soon it was proudly erect and he was big.
She could not stop herself from grasping it in both hands where it seemed to throb and pulsate against her palms. She was so absorbed by its weight and strength that she did not feel the long haired Apollo get up until she felt him undoing her skirt.
At this point in her reverie, Emma reflected that it was her nipples that were aching, her quim that was damp, and her flesh which was dying to be caressed. So in her dream she smoothly swapped places with the stewardess. So now it was she who had her blouse open and she who was having her breasts caressed by the blonde Apollo.
She was standing up, leaning over him, with her hands holding the back of his chair. He was kissing her aching breasts and she was arching her body to press them against him. The moment went on forever, as the sensations flew over her body and she swooned uncontrollably. His hands went to her hips and pulled her closer towards him.
She was right over him now and his hands slipped easily under her skirt and suddenly he was stroking her quim though her knickers. She moaned out loud and her knees gave way but the man held her to stop her falling. She was still recovering from the overwhelming sensations when his hands went to the waistband of her knickers and started to pull them down.
In a moment they had been pulled down over her buttocks and were halfway down her thighs. Such were the tremors and passions running through her she was unable to respond. The Apollo would have his way. Then her blouse was lifted off her body and her skirt removed. It was the second Apollo who removed her clothing and now she was naked before them. They were both naked, their erections large and obvious.
Emma paused again to reflect on her dream. She wondered about involving the longhaired Apollo in her fantasy. She would never let anything so wanton happen in real life -- but in her dream? If she were out of control, her arousal being all-consuming, then would she be able to prevent a second man from participating as well? Would its forbidden nature stir more arousal in her?
She returned to her fantasy.
When she imagined the man freeing her breasts she gasped and felt the sensation as if it were real. As he pulled her knickers down it was as if she felt them stick on the curve of her buttocks and his hand had to slip around to lift the waistband off. And as she imagined him starting to caress her sex she felt as if it were not a dream at all, such was the intensity of her feeling.
Suddenly, the man was Beil and it was his friend removing her skirt. She tried to whirl around but Beil pulled her onto his lap, pinning her arms to her sides and feeling her hot naked breasts from behind. The second man bent, removed her knickers from the floor, and then gently parted her legs.
Her boyfriend's naked cock felt hard beneath her. Now pressing, flesh on flesh. Oh my God, he was moving so his cock pressed against her sex. He lifted her a fraction and he was slipping inside her. Emma cried out. At the same time she knew something was wrong. It wasn't right that this most treasured of acts be witnessed. She had to stop it.
She opened her eyes and, coming out of her dream, was surprised to see a man looking down at her. Who was he? Was he real? How had he entered the lounge so silently? Her legs were parted, and with her short skirt he was seeing all of her long legs and golden thighs.
"Excuse me." His voice was gentle but had strength. "It seems we are to be traveling companions. My seat is next to yours."
She sat up slowly, in a daze. "It must be the anti-sickness tablets," she thought. It felt like she was still in her dream. She was looking at the man through a haze. He wore a T-shirt under his smart linen jacket. With a Panama on his head he looked quite a dashing middle-aged gent.
"Welcome aboard," she giggled at her humor. "I'm afraid I'm a bit spaced out. Sleeping tablets, you see."
His clothing was Italian although he looked vaguely Greek and his voice, when he spoke, was clear American with a slight Manhattan twang. "Sure. You go ahead and sleep. What's your name, pretty girl?"
"I'm Emma. How do you do."
To Emma he seemed a strong reassuring presence. Maybe it was his American accent -- a sense of shared nationality so far from home. Somehow he tapped into something deep within Emma's core and she found herself quickly relaxed to his presence. He chatted for a while but she couldn't listen, her body was worn out even if her mind was racing. She closed her eyes while the man settled down next to her.
She could feel him looking her up and down. Her legs, thighs, flat stomach and firm breasts. She knew he would notice the shape of her breasts through the blouse which would be highlighted by her erect nipples. Somehow she didn't seem to mind even though she knew she should cover up. "What the heck, it's a hot night," she thought -- if she thought anything that clearly. She guessed he was imagining her totally naked and wondered if he had an erection. She started imagining his erection but pushed her fantasies back down and eventually slipped into a restless sleep full of sex and lust... And sleep.
* * * * *
Emma's brain was playing with abstract images in tune with her heavenly vibrations. The images were disconnected at first but enough to moisten her sex and gently arch her back. Slowly, wave after wave of pulsing sensation rose through her body. It caressed her skin and slowly brought her to a state of arousal.
The heavenly vibrations merged with waves of sensation that slowly transmuted into phantasms which assailed her ripe body. Slowly, they caressed her breasts until they swelled and the nipples rubbed like bullets against her blouse. Her lips became more lustrous and her whole skin cried out to be touched. The phantasms assailed her thighs making her sex moist. At first she kept her legs pressed together but then gave in and relaxed as the phantasms parted her thighs slightly.
Suddenly, Emma realized she had moaned aloud and opened her eyes. The lights were dimmed and it was night. The man sat still and quiet next to her, his Panama down over is head and putting his eyes in shadow. The steady hum and vibration coming up through her seat was the engine's steady beat. She felt the heat in her body and, somehow reassured, she closed her eyes again.
Quickly, her mind was enveloped again by her fantasies. Now they seemed much stronger and bolder. They pinned her to her seat and she couldn't move against their onslaught. Her thighs were parted wider until her knee rested against something. She couldn't open her eyes and the phantasms forced her legs to stay apart as they thrust their way to her sex which they parted and entered. She felt the thrusts inside her, pumping gently and rhythmically into the depth of her body.
Again she was torn from her fantasies. This time by the man next to her, who rose to get a light blanket which he spread over her aroused body. She wondered if he knew what phantasms assailed her but was grateful for the blanket and kindness. The man was clearly taking it upon himself to look after her because next he gently lowered the back of her seat into the sleeping position and removed her shoes before settling himself down for the long night ahead.
Emma had abandoned herself to his care without opening her eyes. The complications of interaction while he assisted her were too difficult and she was grateful for his confident attention. She felt him settle down, and through her closed eyelids she felt the cabin lights dim.
Slowly, slowly, the phantasms invaded her dreams again. She tried to control them but having been let in they softly took control of her body until she was helpless to their whims. It was clear that orgasm was the only way to release herself from their grip. She opened her eyes a fraction to check that the man in the next seat was asleep and it was dark.
Despite that reassurance she told herself it was madness to masturbate so close to a stranger. But her body demanded it and her exhausted spaced-out mind had no ability to think. She just responded to her needs. She let her fingers inch over her belly and slowly -- trying not to draw attention to it -- she slid her hand towards her pubis.
The thin blanket undulated above her hand as she pulled up the hem of her short skirt and pressed her fingers against her sex bud through her knickers. Her bud was swollen and it was only with some effort that she stifled a moan. She pressed gently with her middle finger in a soft motion, which would bring her to orgasm, but it was not enough. Her phantasms were demanding direct contact. She paused for a while then slipped her hand inside her knickers so her fingers could feel the intimate detail of her sex. A fine tremor went though her as she pressed against her clitoris. She felt ready now -- ready to relax into a sexual bliss where she would tease herself and making the final release so much greater.
Suddenly, she felt movement and the man's hand came down softly but firmly on hers. Oh my. She stopped breathing. Was it real? Her fantasies did not collapse but merely froze as if on a video, waiting to be set going again.
Nothing happened. She forced herself to breath slowly as if still asleep.
Maybe he would remove his hand. Maybe the hand was another part of her fantasy. Was the hand real? He was not assaulting her. Was he waiting? If so, what for? His hand felt confident and strong but was it dream or reality? What? What!
"Oh..." she gasped.
Her phantasms were pressing her again. She desperately controlled her trembling fingers. She knew that the slightest touch would arouse her. She became aware that his other hand was lifting the blanket and drawing it to one side. He took hold of her knee and caressed it, exploring its hollows and curves, while gently pulling it towards him -- thus opening her thighs wider.
His hand started slowly along her thigh, gently touching this most tender and delicate part. His hand rose higher, up under her skirt, and approached her own fingers which still pressed against her sex by the weight of his left hand. The illicit touch of his hand, gentle and tender against the upper reaches of her thigh, was so powerful that she lost the power to do anything.
He held her hand through the blanket, lifted it away from her sex and swiftly replaced it with his own. As he touched her there, drawing his fingers along her moist sex and pressing the cotton of her knickers against her, she moaned aloud and the phantasms took over her body and parted her legs to afford him better access.
Was it her body that pushed itself onto his caress? Or was this rape? But although she might have asked the question her brain was in no shape to answer as his fingers teased her clitoris through the cotton of her knickers.
She moaned, dimly aware that her body was giving him consent to continue. It felt as if her mind was relegated to the sidelines. His hands withdrew and she was both relieved and disappointed. But his hands had only paused to reach for the waistband of her knickers. Deftly, he eased them over her rump, and in one motion pulled them down her thighs and discarded them at her feet.
Immediately he pressed the palm of one hand against the smoothness of her flat belly while the other pushed her knees aside. His leg was between hers so that as he pushed one knee her thighs opened exposing her now naked sex. The confidence of his touch seemed to pin her down and in some way gave a message that she should not struggle.
His fingers were slipping inside her. She was wet and his fingers entered easily. She gasped and moaned as her hips thrust upwards. His fingers slid smoothly backwards and forwards as she raced towards orgasm. But then he slowed and his other hand went to her blouse. He was undoing the buttons. The cotton fabric slid away and his hand cupped her swollen breast.
A dim recess of Emma's mind realized she had to stop this assault on her body. With her breasts and cunt naked to the world she instinctively covered her breasts with her arms and closed her thighs on the man's hand as he continued his slow thrusts inside her.
"No, stop. Please..." she whispered, uncertain of her right to make such a demand.
She was somewhat surprised when almost at once he withdrew his fingers from her hot cunt. Then, holding her hands, he was pulling her from the chair. Only now did she open her eyes but reality hardly penetrated her dazed eyes. She stood uncertainly, swayed on her feet and let the man pull her towards a door off to one side. She hugged her blouse back around her.
Gently, he guided her through the door. It was a bedroom with a double bed taking up most of the space. She might have asked how he knew this room was there and why he was leading her to the bed, but her mind was too dazed.
The front of her legs touched the bed and she felt him slip her open blouse over her shoulders. Her skirt swiftly followed and she was naked. Instinctively, she curled up on the bed hoping he would leave her to sleep. Then, when she was alone, she could relieve her desire and sleep. But it was not to be.
She felt his weight on the bed and a hand run over her body.
"You're very beautiful, my dear."
"No, stop. Please leave me," she pleaded, but as she said the words she knew the only sound leaving her lips was a soft moan.
She felt him undressing and kneel beside her on the bed. She found her voice, soft and hesitant like a naughty schoolchild.
"Please, sir, what's going on?"
The stranger didn't answer but ran his hands over her body which was answer enough. She knew what he wanted and she had no energy to stop him. Indeed, her body was desperate for release and even now responded to his touch.
He explored her body. Softly and slowly. Running his hands up her thighs. Caressing her hair, face, breasts, and buttocks. His skin against hers. She gasped the first time his hardness pressed against her. Then it was his mouth, lips, tongue on her. When he found her swollen breasts she cried out and when he nibbled her nipples she bunched the sheets in her fist -- because she was on her back now, her body laid out for him.
His swollen member brushed her face. Briefly, she opened her eyes confirming it was what she thought. A fucking hard erect cock. She gasped at its size, fat and bloated. The bulbous end poking at her. She closed her eyes quickly as it brushed her lips. She knew what he wanted and moved her mouth away.
Then fear invaded her as she wondered what he would do if she refused him. She felt so helpless. So she held his hard cock with her hand and kissed it. Her fingers barely halfway around his girth.
"That's a good girl," he praised. For some reason Emma felt ridiculously pleased by his praise and kissed him again. "That's good. Now open your mouth."
Emma felt him part her thighs so her sex was exposed and bare before him. Then his tongue was at her clitoris and she was writhing on the bed as he pressed his cock at her open lips.
Her hips were writhing uncontrollably as he attacked her clit with his tongue. She could feel her orgasm build quickly. She cried out as the first orgasmic waves hit her and felt him plug her open mouth with his swollen cock. She nearly choked and tried to open her mouth wider to breathe but it just meant his cock slid further and deeper into her mouth. And all the while her body was buffeted by her orgasm. His tongue still at her clit and her mouth stretched so wide by his cock that it hurt.
Then it was all over and he pulled away, his cock sliding from her mouth and his head lifting from between her thighs. She wanted to curl up and recover as the aftershocks of her orgasm ran through her but the man was only turning around. He spread her knees far apart and knelt between them.
"No. No more. Please," she pleaded.
"Oh yes. I'm going to fuck you now. And it'll be worse for you if you fight me. So just enjoy it."
There was something in his voice. She knew it really would be worse if she resisted so she stopped trying to close her thighs and just covered her breasts with her arms.
"No. Hands above your head, please."
Hesitantly, she obeyed and his hand went to her breasts, pressing and rolling them, this way and that, as he took his pleasure.
His cock rested on her mound of hair. He slid it back and down to her hot open cunt. Pushed. Pushed harder, the bulbous end feeling like it would split her in two. Pushed harder again and she wailed as she felt him slip inside her. She gripped the bed as he thrust slowly deeper in. Never ending until she felt his balls and it seemed his cock was in her womb.
He started thrusting. Slowly at first, then faster. Despite herself, Emma could feel her body responding. She knew he was a good lover. He was building up, taking his time. Taking his pleasure. Then she knew she was going to cum again and he was pounding hard into her. He groaned and his thrusts went berserk as they both came. His cum pumping out into the depth of her cunt.
* * * * *
When she woke he was gone. She lay on the bed for some time remembering.
It was dark. She could hear muffled voices and banging. She realized the engines had stopped. She woke again with a start some time later when there was a knocking at the door. The stewardess from last night poked her face into the room.
"Oh good, you're awake. Here, I've got you a glass of orange juice and there's a message for you."
It was from Beil.
Dearest Emma,
Sorry I can't be there to meet you. Dad has sent me off to visit one of his factories. Back in a few days. Dad will send someone to pick you up from the harbour in the Jeep. It's the only yellow car on the island so you can't miss it. Please make sure you obey Dad to the letter. He is rather strict but I hope you learn to love him. See you in a few days.
Love Beil
Emma was stuck by his choice of words, learning to love his dad! Did she need to get on with his dad in order for Beil to propose? She searched the letter for clues but her head still felt rather dazed. Looking for her clothes, Emma could only find her skirt and blouse. No bra or knickers, or even shoes. Dressing as best she could she found the stewardess and asked for her luggage.
"Oh, that's gone. It's waiting for you in the car."
Sudden panic. She shouldn't keep the car waiting, but what about her underwear. And what should she do about the man from last night? Should she report him to the police? She needed time to think. But had none.
Up on deck the sunlight dazzled her, but yes, there was a yellow Jeep under the shade of a tree. The driver waved at her impatiently and before she knew it they were bouncing along a dusty track while he garbled in some Greek dialect. She could only understand one word in ten. He kept turning to stare at her breasts. In the harsh sunlight they were clearly visible through the thin cotton of her blouse. She could feel them bouncing. She knew what he was seeing. She pulled her skirt tight around her. So conscious of her naked cunt beneath.
A walled villa appeared and they swept through the gates to pull up outside a side entrance. Without a pause the driver whisked her into the house, along a deep-carpeted corridor and brought her to a large wooden door.
"I knock, you go in," the driver instructed in slow, barely understandable English. "The master is waiting. You kneel on both knees in front of his desk. OK?"
"What? Kneel down?"
"Yes, you must kneel or he get mad."
Emma struggled to make sense of this demand but before she could retort he knocked and opened the door. Then he pushed her into the room.
She stumbled into the room which was brightly lit by the morning sun bouncing off a swimming pool just outside the far wall which was all glass. The views over the pool to the sea were stunning but she was brought up by a voice behind her.
"This way please, my dear."
She turned and gasped. There, sitting in a deep armchair, flanked by the two men she had seen on the boat the previous night, was on older man she vaguely recognized. Then she got it -- he was the man who had fucked her last night. Then her shock deepened -- he was caressing what looked like a large dildo.
"Welcome to my island," he said, his voice silky smooth. "I'm looking forward to our summer together, aren't you?"
THE END
