Alice Takes a Cruise Ch. 02

Again prepared for disappointment I half-expected him to put them back on, but he didn’t bother. Perhaps he realised they’d soon be taken off again – or perhaps he had been merely playing hard to get. Like the dark-haired one he was also tanned all over, his blond pubic hair standing out against his skin like gold. Evidently he was no more a stranger to nude sunbathing than his friend.

They walked back to their spot on the sand and lay down, perhaps thirty yards from me, their feet pointing towards the water, their bodies at an angle to me so that, though I couldn’t really see their faces, I could see the rest of them. In particular I could see their flaccid penises lolling on their thighs – though naturally I told myself not to concentrate exclusively on that area.

The blond handed the older one a bottle of sun cream and rolled over on his front. Obligingly his friend squeezed a line of the cream down his back and proceeded to rub it in, using long circular strokes that gradually worked their way down his body. When they reached the blond’s buttocks I assumed he would stop, which indeed he did, but only for a moment. He got up on his knees and straddled the blond’s legs, then, pouring a liberal amount of cream onto each buttock – the coldness causing the blond to shiver and twist against the restraint of the older one’s legs – used the same firm strokes to rub it in as he had on the blond’s back.

By this time, of course, an inner voice was telling me I was intruding on something private. These two thought they were alone. At the very least I should cough. But at the same time a louder voice was telling me that I had already kept my presence hidden for too long, that I should keep quite, that I should simply enjoy what was happening. An even louder voice was coming from a region between my legs, though I tried to ignore it. I was becoming aroused by the sight of these two naked men, though there was nothing overtly sexual in the act of one rubbing sun cream into the buttocks of the other.

The dark-haired one finished and resumed his position on his back. Was it my imagination or had his penis grown slightly? As if privy to my thoughts, his hand drfited to it, gave it a couple of casual caresses, then lay by his side. The men started talking. Only this time not the laddish shouting and laughter that had accompanied their arrival and their chase; just quiet almost sleepy meandering talk which I could barely hear, let alone make out. It was somehow soothing, yet frustrating at the same time. Absurdly I wanted to crawl closer so that I could eavesdrop properly, though I knew that effectively I was trapped in my hiding place until they decided to leave.

The dark one’s hand drifted to his cock again, this time stroking it more regularly, but also playing with it, teasing it, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, then running his fingers around beneath the crown. I knew that I shouldn’t have been watching, that they thought they were alone, that it was a private thing he was doing – furthermore that I was a lone woman on a remote beach with two strange men. What might happen to me?

But I didn’t move. I knew I should have ignored the sensations coming from between my legs, gone back to my book and pretended it wasn’t happening, but I was transfixed. Within a few minutes the object of the man’s caresses had grown beautifully erect, long enough for him to hold it upright with one hand and stroke the tip with the other. I wondered if his friend had noticed. Would he baulk at the sight of him playing with himself? Or was this the kind of thing that men often did together when they were alone?

My own hand had not been idle. At the sight of the swollen penis the voice between my legs had risen to such a pitch that I had to silence it. I squeezed my legs together, but that brought only a little relief. I ground my pelvis into the dusty earth beneath me, but that merely hurt. I needed my fingers.

Keeping my eyes on the men so as to be aware should they hear me – though I knew I was too far away and there was enough noise from the sea and cicadas to cover any I should make – I slid my hand beneath me and over the already damp patch on the crotch of my bikini bottom. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it silenced that voice.

While the low murmur of their talk drifted over to me, the dark-haired man continued to stroke himself, slowly, utterly unhurried, varying the positions of his hands, now concentrating on the glistening crown, now only on the thick dark shaft, as if he had all the time in the world. Surely, I thought, his friend must be aware of what he was doing by now. And at that moment, as if in answer, the blond propped himself on his elbows and looked down his friend’s body to watch. The older one neither stopped nor changed his pace. They merely exchanged encouraging smiles.

The blond sat up so that he could watch his friend more easily. Obligingly the older one occasionally stopped his stroking and held the tall thick cock upright so that they could both admire it. He murmured something to the blond, who took the sun cream in his hand then knelt astride the other’s legs, in much the same way as the other had knelt astride him, only this time so that they were facing each other. He then dribbled a line down the older man’s chest and abdomen. This time it was the latter’s turn to give an involuntary shiver at the sudden coldness. The blond smeared it over his body, starting at his shoulders and chest and gradually working his way down towards the man’s cock.

Though the dark-haired man had released the object of his pleasure the easier for his friend to apply the sun cream, I had certainly not released mine. The crotch of my bikini was now sopping, drenched with the lubrication pouring from me. I knew from experience that caressing myself through cotton or lycra produced indescribable sensations – and this was certainly one of those times – but that it rarely produced an orgasm. I needed to feel my fingers on my flesh. But I wanted to prolong this new experience for as long as possible. I knew it was ridiculous the moment I had the thought, but I didn’t want to climax before one of them did.

Though he had by now reached his friend’s erect cock, the blond teasingly massaged all around it first: abdomen, hips, inner thighs. Closing his eyes in frustration, the older man thrust his hips upwards, urging the blond to to take the cock in his hands. Finally, the blond relented. Dribbling another small line of sun cream down the length of the cock, he grasped it with both hands and started to gently massage the cream in, holding the base with one hand, using the other to slide gently up and down the crown, occasionally gripping a little harder just below the head and moving ever so slightly, a technique that seemed to cause the dark-haired man an exquisite agony, judging by the expression on his face.

I meanwhile had had to turn on my side, the better to get at my throbbing clitoris. Hardly caring whether they might see it, I bent my right leg up so that I could move my fingers over my sopping cleft. But their touch served only to heighten my need. Almost desperate now, I slipped them under my bikini bottom so that I could touch myself directly. Oh God.

The blond was now moving his hands more rapidly, looking intently at his friend’s engorged and glistening member as he slid them up and down its length. The dark-haired one was also watching it, almost as if it was a third entity, separate from both of them. And now I could hear clearly what he was saying, lost in the pleasure of his approaching orgasm.

‘Oh yeah! Stroke it! Stroke it! Look how hard you’re making it. Make it come! Make it come!’

Plainly needing no urging, his friend continued – and I kept pace, hardly knowing I was doing so, but unable to stop myself. My middle finger was inside me, slipping deep among all my wetness, then out and up to touch my burning clitoris. Again and again and again.

‘Oh, yeah! I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!’

He threw his head back with his eyes tightly closed, as if in agony, then evidently not wanting to miss any of the show, looked down again at his now pulsating cock. The blond paused momentarily, then drew both hands to the base of the cock, pulling the foreskin down from the head – which suddenly produced thicks gobbets of milky cream. (Not quite the white streamers of my imagination, but far more arousing in reality.)

‘Oh Jesus! Yeah! I’m coming! I’m coming! Don’t stop!’

The command was unnecessary. The blond seemed to know exactly what to do. He resumed his stroking, but at a more gentle pace, using the added lubrication of his friend’s semen to aid the smooth sliding of his hands up and down the full length of the shaft, which still jerking, sent two or three more spurts of cream into the air, to land softly on his friend’s abdomen.

Exciting, thrilling, arousing – and forbidden – as it was, it was as much as I could do to keep my own eyes on the scene before me. My own climax was at the point of no return. My fingers were now pressing my clitoris exclusively, which was so awash with the juices pouring from me that I could barely maintain a purchase. And as the first of those flamingoes started to lift into the air I couldn’t stop an involuntary moan escaping from somewhere deep in my throat.

‘Ooooohh Goddd!’

They might have heard it, but I doubt it. They were far too engrossed. In any case I was so far gone at that moment I wouldn’t have cared if half of Greece had heard me. The birds took off and whirled through my body, but this time they seemed to take so much longer than usual. I wondered if my orgasm was ever going to stop. I couldn’t bear to take my fingers from my still quivering clitoris, but neither could I bear to leave them there. Wave after wave of intense pleasure swept up through my body. The quivering between my legs seemed gradually to infect my arms, my legs, my torso – until I seemed to be shaking from head to toe. Another cry escaped me.

‘Aaaaahhh!’

Until finally with a supreme effort I dragged my hand out from under my bikini. I pressed my legs together to try to calm the sensations. Gradually my body subsided. I glanced over at the men on the sand, but they were still oblivious of my presence, still engrossed only in each other, or rather the thick red object between them – which was now beginning to noticeably shrink.

I lay on my back, closed my eyes and waited for the beating of my heart to slow down to a safer rate.

The shy and proper part of me now thrust itself forward. What had I just done? What kind of person was I? I had just spied on two men, who had assumed they were alone and had performed an act of masturbation. And watching them I had masturbated too. I should be ashamed. And not just for my act – which was morally reprehensible enough – but for watching them in theirs. They were probably, I now realised, a gay couple, perhaps deeply in love, no doubt expressing that love in one of the ways gay couples did. What right had I to witness it, to use it as the fuel for my own sexual activities?

On the other hand, there was no doubting the fact I had had perhaps the most intense and prolonged orgasm of my lif as a result. Why punish myself over it? What harm had I done? They were doubtless finished now. They would climb into their boat and leave, none the wiser. Then I would leave. We would never see each other again. And even if they did see me now, I reasoned, I would simply pretend to have been asleep.

Pleased with myself for having settled the matter to my satisfaction I rolled over on my front and glanced at the men. Unfortunately any expectation I might have had that things were over was quickly dispelled.

The blond was standing facing his friend, who was now kneeling before him, his previously erect member limp and lying quietly between his legs. But the blond’s cock was now in its turn stiff and erect, thick and dark, its swollen glistening head only inches from the dark-haired man’s face. Almost immediately my heart started beating wildly and the sensations between my legs that I had thought safely locked away began to tingle through me again. A part of me knew what was going to happen next, but perversely wanted it to and yet wanted it not to, all at the same time. I almost opened my mouth to shout ‘No!’ but luckily had no time even to utter that small word.

As I watched, the man on his knees leaned forward and kissed the tip of the blond’s cock, as lovingly as if it had been the toe of the Madonna. Fully erect it was even bigger than the older man’s, though perhaps that was the angle at which I was viewing it – almost full on. With a groan I felt the tingling at the top of my thighs demand to be dealt with. Again I slipped my fingers beneath the waistband of my bikini, but this time not simply to touch myself, but to get rid of the restriction completely. Impatiently I slid it down my legs and off. The sudden feeling of air and sun on that secret part of me felt thrilling and naughty.

The kneeling man put both his hands on the cock in front of him and stroked it up and down a few times. I could hear the blond’s groan of pleasure clearly. Then he guided the throbbing organ towards the waiting lips. Involuntarily I opened my own mouth, as if it had been my lips about to envelope the thick glistening organ. As it happened, my other lips were busy enveloping their own intruders – my fingers. Now caring little about whether or not I could be seen, I was lying with my legs wide apart, my knees bent, one hand holding myself open, while the other tried to insert as many fingers inside me as I could accommodate. I wanted them to feel as large as I imagined the blond’s cock would feel.

Which was now almost completely inside his friend’s mouth. Intense pleasure written clearly on his face, he was watching it disappear and reappear, maybe three or four inches at each stroke, the shaft held steady by the older man’s hand.

‘Suck it, yeah! Suck it!’ he urged, though his friend seemed to be gaining at least as much pleasure, judging by the way his previously limp cock was now gradually resuming its full size. Fascinated, I watched as the blond’s thick cock bulged against the side of the man’s cheeks as he sucked it in. How could he do that without gagging?

Sadly it seemed to reach a climax very quickly. Perhaps the blond was too young, too eager, inexperienced in holding himself back. (Here was I, thinking myself an expert!) All too soon, his hips started to jerk as if in spasm, thrusting his cock rapidly in and out of the older man’s eager mouth. But the older man held on, never losing his grip or his rhythm.

‘Aaah! Oh Jesus!’ the blond cried. ‘Yeah, I’m coming! I’m coming! Suck it!’

And he thrust hard, drew back, then thrust hard again, then again, a little less hard, then again, slower, then again. And all the time the older man kept his lips closed around his cock, still lovingly sucking.

There was no evidence of the blond having ejaculated, though I knew from his actions that he must have done. There was a little dribble of white at the corner of the older man’s mouth, but that was all. Somehow the knowledge that all the blond’s thick milky cream must have gone into his friend’s mouth and that he must even now be swallowing it was enough to push me over the edge. All four fingers of one hand were inside me. I could feel my knuckles pushing hard against my opening while my thumb was busy at my clitoris.

‘Aaaaahhhh!’

Horror! Was that me who cried out? My imminent orgasm instantly forgotten I was ready for flight. Suddenly terrified, I looked at the men. They must have heard it.

They had. They sprang apart, as startled as me. But they didn’t look in my direction. Instead they turned towards the far end of the beach, away from me.

I followed their gaze but could see nothing.

‘Ooooohhhh God!’

The cry came again. This time I could tell it came from where they were looking. It was a woman’s voice and it didn’t take much imagination to guess what had caused her to cry out. Goodness knows I had enough experience of female masturbation. After ten years of nothing but, I was probably the world’s expert.

So the exhibition put on by the two men hadn’t been observed – nor enjoyed – by me alone.

It was a conclusion the men evidently came to as quickly as I did. With a mischievous smile at each other, they set off at a fast run down the beach. Within a few seconds they were a hundred yards away. It was, I realised, my opportunity. I was near the path. They could no longer have seen me, even had they been looking in my direction. I could have been away and gone before they even returned. It was the prudent thing to do.

That was the trouble. Part of me had had enough of being prudent. Part of me wanted to know what was going to happen next. Part of me wanted the day not to end quite yet. And part of me had an orgasm owing.

In less than a minute the men reappeared, still naked, walking back down the sand towards their snorkelling gear. Only now there was a girl of about twenty between them, wearing a black one-piece halter-neck swimsuit. Her shoulder-length hair was dark against her rather sunburnt skin – or was it a flush of anger? Although she was walking between them, it was plain she was doing so reluctantly.

Each man was holding one of her wrists firmly – because she was struggling furiously to free herself, like a wild horse on the end of a rope.