Trilogy Part 2

Suddenly she grabbed the pipe, rolled him onto his back, straddling him, and pushed the pipe down his jeans. His crotch soaked, the dark stain growing as he struggled to free the pipe. When he did, he sprayed her liberally with it, pinning her to the ground, muffling her cries with his lips. In a mad instant of frenzy, and before they knew what they were doing, she was naked under him. His shirt was off, and she clawed at his jeans, ripping the buttons open. He stood, sliding out of the tight jeans, checking that no one was in either garden to each side, and laid, naked, on her. They didn't make a sound, the sprinkling hose abandoned at the side of them, as he entered her, swiftly, smoothly, in one easy strike. She gasped, and pulled him hard onto her, her fingers raking his back. The light from the kitchen spilled onto the patio but didn't reach them. They made love on the grass, her back covered in cuttings, stains of soil patching her like camouflage, so when she rolled him again to straddle and fuck him, she was invisible from the back. Gliding up and down his shaft, in the open air, in the warmth of the evening, she felt freer, more liberated than she ever had before.

Somewhere a window closed, someone coughed, a car drove past in the street, but she didn't care. Someone could have stood right in front of him or her, but she wouldn't have stopped now. She was approaching an orgasm, and his hands rubbed her breasts, the nipples sensitive and burning in his fingers. She dropped to his chest, clutching at him and gasping for air as she convulsed, shaking with the effort of keeping quiet as she came. His hands slipped from her and held her to him, his lips seeking hers, and kissing the cold tightness of her mouth. She shivered, suddenly feeling the chill of the air as they lay there. Her back was covering in little goosebumps, though his heat flowed up into her from below.

He was still hard inside her, unsated, and she knelt up, lifting herself from him. He smiled, knowing that he would come again in her tonight. Now was not the time, he could wait. Janet had learnt how to milk him dry yet still bewitch him with her body so that he could stay hard, for her as well as for him. She was always so careful not to dry his tenderness with friction. The sweet elixir of her juices always saw to that anyway.

Gathering their clothes, she strode to the back door, her body silhouetted against the yellow light burning in the kitchen. He threw the hosepipe onto the garden, before running up behind her, turning the tap off outside the back door. In the kitchen, he laughed at her as he closed the door behind him. She was covered in grass and mud, her hair dishevelled and unkempt.

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her up the stairs and into the shower. She stood, kissing him, little butterfly flickers on his face, her eyes closed, as his large hands gently washed her, and wiped away all traces of the garden. Her body trembled, as she felt a fire inside her that wanted to be quenched, and soon. The presence of his body, and his cock, semi-erect, nudging into her at every movement, seemed to heighten her needs. She reached down, to run her hand along it, feel the heat and the power in that one piece of flesh she desired. She knew every ridge and bump along it, as well as it knew her every innermost secret and place of her body. She shuddered with anticipation as she imagined it inside her again. And it would be.

"Next time, we'll have to take the blanket with us won't we" he chided, running his fingers through her hair.

Their eyes met, and they stood, body to body, skin to skin, under the cleansing pulse of the water. Their eyes never left each other's, as they washed their bodies clean, his strong arms encompassing her in the shower. Once, just once, he kissed her, hard and deep. The water from the shower jet flowed over them both, warming and rinsing them, as his hands cupped the cheeks of her arse. She could feel the river down her back trickling through the chasm he held open, till it reached her shaven minge, where it cascaded down between her legs and splashing her thighs. Her hand, on the back of his neck, pulled him harder onto her as she let herself be swallowed by the moment.

They both stepped from the shower together, and with the large white fluffy bath towels, dried each other carefully, tenderly, paying special attention to their erogenous zones, but not forcing the moment or the heat of desire within them, that would come later. And anyway, John smiled sweetly at her as he thought of a surprise for her later when they were downstairs.

VIII

John slipped downstairs to open the saved bottle of wine from the hamper while she tidied the bathroom. When she came down the stairs, naked and glowing, he was in the living room. The curtains were drawn to the front window, but the French windows to the garden were open, to spill the cooling evening air into the room. She took the glass of wine and sprawled on one of the large sofas, enjoying the bite of the juice, as her body lay warm and inviting. Idly, John flicked the TV on, and Janet moaned inwardly.

God, if he was going to watch sport now, she might as well read a book. Moving as if to rise, she glanced at the screen, the sound was turned down. Where she expected to see footballers running up and down, she froze.

There she was, on the screen, in living colour, spread and tied to the table in their kitchen. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart skipped a beat. There, looking every inch as if she was a porn star, she had John's cock in her mouth.

She was stretched on the table, his body folding over hers, and the cucumber being eased in and out of her slowly by his hand. Thank god he had turned the sound down. Janet sat back in the settee, her nerves feeling every inch of both invasions, and then gasped when she remembered the third intruder in her anus, and John's hand mercilessly moved behind her, lifting her dildo and slowly inserting the tip into her on the screen.

The sight before her eyes transfixed her. They had watched little of the tape since that night, and not as far as this (this must be near the end, she hoped). John had transferred the cassettes from the camera onto one videotape. "I bet he watched it all" she thought, her eyes still glued to the screen as she felt and heard him move next to her, his weight and warmth feeling close, so warm, so comforting.

The screen froze, puzzled she looked at him. He had paused the tape. Just as she was about to ask him why, she looked at his face, and followed his gaze down to her body. Her nipples stood hard and proud, her bosom was heaving as she fought to breathe. She had been so engrossed in the TV she hadn't realised the effect it was having on her.

She pressed the "Play" button on the remote in his hand, and then knelt on the floor, exposing her sex to him as she dropped to all fours. In front of her, the flickering image of her being filled in every hole dominated the screen, and filled her mind.

She felt him, behind her now, nudging at the wet entrance to her vagina, her labia fully opened. She rocked back onto his length, driving him into her. He stayed stock still, watching the screen too. And she rode him, rocking backwards and forwards, evenly, drivingly, while on the screen she was fucked in every way.

She came, time after time after time, all the while pacing the movement of her body round his cock to give her what she wanted yet prevent him from coming. She watched open mouthed as on the screen he untied her, she felt every whisper of the binds on her skin, then watched as he stepped behind her, holding her, laying his body on hers.

As he entered her on the screen, she saw herself mouthing the words "Fuck me" over and over, and raised the tempo of her moving into unison with his on the screen. His hands gripped her waist from behind, and she heard him grunting, as he took over. She felt him in her, while on the screen he was fucking her. It was like watching herself in a dream-like state, being made love to.

A voyeur on her own coupling, her body seemed to sob and ripple with each thrust, and she came again, this time more powerfully than before, and she sprawled forward on the floor on her belly, gasping for air, her mind spinning.

Rolling onto her back, she looked him in the eye, seeing his reddened face from the exertions and from almost coming. Gripping her ankles steadily, she pulled her legs back and wide, presenting a perfect "V" shape, and a clear view of her sex and her arse to his eyes. His hard cock twitched, shaking free a small dab of pre-cum from the tip of it.

"Take me John, take me hard" she whispered, her eyes dazzling with lust, "Take me, there".

She nodded her head and smiled as he looked at her questioningly before lowering himself between her legs. She pulled back on her ankles, lifting her bum from the floor, the cool air from the open doors wafting onto her lower back as the tip of his cock nudged and played around her backside. She relaxed every muscle she could, and he glided into her, sweetly, smoothly.

Beginning with short pushes, he was soon rolling the full length of his cock slowly in and out of her. The juices from her cunt dribbled down to lubricate his shaft, and he kissed her on the mouth, their lips tingling and cold from the orgasmic pulsing they both felt.

Twisting her legs, she locked them around his back when he was deep inside her, and clasped her arms around his broad shoulders. He lifted, just a fraction, and she was swinging from him, impaled on his cock, buried deep in her arse, hanging onto him. She felt her head spinning (not the wine surely!) and wailed as she felt herself coming. She could almost slip into unconsciousness with the ecstasy of the feeling, the penetration, the rolling peals of thunder in her ears. But she hung on, digging her nails into his back, egging him on, watching the strain in his face, and, when the time was right, kissing him. Suspended in mid-air, she felt him coming deep inside her, and she was falling, falling.

She let her head back, and he lowered them both onto the carpet, but she would not relinquish her hold on him. She dug in with her heels into his back, trapping him inside her as he began to soften.

Above and behind her the screen flickered with further images of them both, but she closed her eyes and her mind to that, as she felt his warmth, felt his spill inside her, and his softening. Waiting till he fell from her, she held him, feeling his heart beat against her breast.

When they were uncoupled, she rolled him onto his side, facing him, stroking him, kissing him, licking his face, touching his belly, squeezing his manhood. Turning off the TV, his arm held her by the waist, and they both drifted to sleep, with just the sounds of the cool night air to serenade them.

IX

The cool breeze from the open doors had woken her. She glanced across at John, curled and touching her body with his where they had fallen asleep. Glancing at the clock on the wall, and seeing it was three in the morning, she silently rose, padding across to the open doorway.

Although it was cool, and the hours before dawn when everything chilled, see stood there, gazing across the lawn, to the night sky, and the full moon, hanging like an orb of decadent sorrow. She looked down at her skin, seeing the eerie ethereal glow imparted to her body from the heavens. Her nipples stood proud, and she drew her breath in to make them stand firm and proud.

Behind her, John had stirred, though without saying anything, he too joined her at the door. Words, right now, would have spoiled the moment, each lost in their own world of freelance imagination and caverns of expectancy. Not turning, not looking at him, she closed her eyes, feeling for him with her senses. Vibrancy between their sated bodies spoke with empathy.

He slipped away, quiet as a whisper, to return seconds later with a freshly poured glass of the forgotten wine. The aura of his arm curved around her, tingles of electricity flowed between them though they did not touch. Senses heightened to a point of almost pain, she opened her lips as the glass touched them, and sipped of the wine, the liquid carving a clear path through her mouth, down her throat to her belly. Almost sensually, fingers of warmth began to expand within her as she held on to the frame and sipped some more.

The glass moved away, and she held some of the wine in her mouth. She heard John take a drink, then put the glass down on the side, stepping back towards her. Almost provocatively, she parted her moist lips, and running her tongue around them, knowing he could see, she let trickles of wine teasingly slide from her mouth.

The cascade held on her chin, fractionally, before dropping and dripping to her chest. He glided, almost wraith like, under her arm as she posed in the frame, bathed in the moon's glow. As soon as she sensed him through and past, she placed her feet against the frame, from behind – a silhouetted "X" against the silvery light.

The course of the wine continued to meander down her body, past her nipples, over the soft under-skin of her breasts, across her trembling belly, and towards her thighs, spread wide, and her mound. His fingers began to trail her, from her fingertips, along her arms, to her neck, towards her face. Still she kept her eyes closed, the tickle of his touch sending her mind into overdrive. Her head went back, exposing her neck to his tender touch, picking up the start of the wine trail, slowly drying on her skin and leaving a sticky trail of alcohol.

His tongue found her chin, but not her lips. Instead, it began to slowly wander along the trail mapped out along her body, licking and cleansing her as it went. Her legs began to shake as he rolled each nipple in his tongue, before closing his lips on the protruding buttons and sucking them dry.

She ached, and her legs almost began to wobble as he licked under her breasts, lifting the mounds of flesh with the strength of his tongue before he kissed her belly.

The wine had stopped at the entrance to her sex, as if hovering teasingly above there. Copious amounts of liquid were beginning to run down her inner thighs though, as her cunt began to flex and lubricate in anticipation of the welcome tongue, nearing even closer now.

Her heart fluttered as he licked her belly, dragging down towards the centre of her being. Since touching her neck and finding the wine trail, his fingers had not touched her at all. His tongue, that magnificent tool of his mouth had been the only touch of him on her.

Finally, he reached the skin above the hood of her clitoris. His breath warmed her, and she sensed herself down there, opening wide for him, wanting him to make her come. She braced herself against the framework, ready for the onslaught that would surely begin soon.

His cheek brushed her thigh, and the curls on his head tickled and charged her with electricity as he licked up and down each side of her opening, yet not touching her where she ached most. Hanging in space, a timeless moment of wonder, she opened her eyes to stare at the moon.

At that moment, as if by telepathy, his tongue left its' travels and torment of her soul, and the void left almost made her scream out in anguish. The moon hung in the sky, and she glanced down to look at him. But he was not there. In the shadows of the shrubbery, cast by the moon, his body was barely visible, till her eyes began to adjust to the comparative gloom having been bathed in the full moon glow.

Like a silvery ghost she began to make out the shape of his back, though with his dark hair she could not see his head. She looked back at the moon again before looking down. When she did that, she could see nothing below her, like she was going to be used by a ghost…

Her eyes full of moon tears of expectation, she gasped as his breath warmed her down there, and his tongue began to flick lightly at her exposed clit. In her mind she imagined it to be proud of her body, willing it to grow in length, so he could suck it, almost like a cock.

Again, as if by magic, his lips touched her there, and began to draw her into his mouth. Her arms shook, her breasts wobbled magnificently, the peaks of her nipples dancing to the pain of her orgasm as he sucked and then licked at her.

It was hard for him, in that position and he tried not to touch her with his face, his nose, his hair, but she was swaying backwards and forwards, almost out of control. When she came, it hit her full in the stomach, forcing the wind from her lungs, her fingers scrabbling on the woodwork to support herself as her body exploded around her. The moon disappeared as if in a display of shooting stars, and she wasn't sure if they were real or the product of this shattering orgasm rolling around inside her. Her breath came in huge sobs as she fought to claim control over her body once more. His mouth had now left her, and she continued to quake as the ripples began to recede.

She looked down once more, but could not see him…

X

Silently, and without her being aware, he had slid down, and crawled back through between her stretched legs, making sure not to touch her with his body at all. The sounds of her aching and sobbing in the still night air covered any mute sounds he may have made as he passed back through into the living room. He watched her from the rear, as her body racked through with the force of her orgasm, and her skin seemed to burn with the glint of the moonlight off the sweat drenched pores of her being. He wondered at her powers, and the hunger, which had been sparked in her over the past week.

They were not kids anymore, they had been through many of the stages of experimentation together over the years, some before they had met each other with their various partners earlier in their lives. He saw her head droop, and he silently emptied the glass of wine, savouring the heady bite of the nectar.

He stepped close to her body now, silently breathing, not daring to touch her for fear of giving the game away. Somehow he had sensed that she wanted, needed him, and he felt that to speak, or to kiss would have broken that spell, that yearning. She still posed her body in the doorway, the sharp edges of the frame contrasting completely with her smooth soft form. With her arms upstretched like that, still gripping the edges of the framework, he fed his arms through and past hers, reaching round, and his breathing almost at a standstill. She shuddered as his hands touched her breasts, the palms flattening the fleshy orbs against her rib cage.

He braced himself, for she had not opened her eyes. He was hoping she would keep them closed, if only for a while longer. As he had guessed, she assumed he was in front of her, and her body pushed back against where she thought his was. He held her weight as she fought to regain her balance, and then moved his body onto her back, pulling her onto him, and his cock nestling between the cleft of her arse, growing harder by the minute, yet still pointing earthwards, trapped by their bodies.

She shrieked, almost in alarm, and her eyes flew open. Where she had expected to see John stood in front of her, there was nothing. She glanced down, to see his hands on her breasts, realising he had somehow slipped behind her. The theatrics had been good. Just as she opened her eyes, it was almost as if a ghost, or even the man in the moon was ravaging her, before her senses told her it was his body at her behind.

She closed her eyes, wishing away the image of it being John. She just wanted it to be a wraith, a fleeting figure, watched only by the moon. The only times she opened her eyes after that was to gaze into the bright light of the fullness of that orb.