A Homecoming Pt. 05

CHAPTER 15.

The next morning Ben again visited his father and Helen. On his way back for lunch, he dropped in at the electrical store where he had bought the spotlight. This time he purchased a USB-flash drive for Christine to record her private photos on.

It may, of course, not have been necessary for him to take this initiative. But Ben did not know the extent of Christine's computer literacy. Anyway, he intended to transfer the dress-folio, once he had put it together, via the hotel's business computer. From there, Christine could download it on the flash drive and view it, whenever she wished and had the privacy, on any computer without it leaving a record.

After lunch and some surreptitious flirting with Erika, Ben dropped in at Christine's office. Looking up from her desk, she greeted him with a broad smile, a questioning look and silence. Ben, therefore, came straight to the point. Placing the flash drive on the desk in front of Christine, he said: -

"I am going to put your dress folio together this afternoon. Whenever you are alone in the office this evening, send me a message from your computer. Then I'll transfer the pictures, and you can download them immediately on this flash drive. They'll be safe there!"

Christine needed no further explanation about the why and how of Ben' suggestion. She picked up the tiny drive delicately between two fingers, grinned at Ben, and said: -

"They better be! We were rather naughty in getting all these shots taken ... out of control ... at least, I was once you spread me out on the bed! I wish I could be with you when you make the selection."

"Don't you trust me to get it right?"

"You could be too bashful in the ones you delete ... not wanting to shock me with the ones you think too naughty. And I may especially want those!"

"Alright. I'll delete only the unclear ones. ... Thinking back, I am sure I must have been shaking on taking some of these pictures! If I give you all that are sharp; you can delete the ones you don't like on the flash drive yourself."

They agreed. Christine, not hiding her eager anticipation, would message him sometime after dinner. Ben, with both some trepidation as well as excitement, sat down over his Ipad. He had taken fifty-six shots of Christine in her sinful dress. Despite what he had promised, he would make a quite rigorous selection.

Ben started with deleting all pictures where his hand had not been steady or where the focus and light had not centred on or complemented Christine. It seemed the easiest of the selection-tasks. There was one image, however, where his hand had shaken, and the picture's deletion filled him with regret.

It showed Christine, lying on her side, the upper body raised on her elbow, leaning back and smiling up at him. There was the sensuality of her body, from her legs up over an exposed buttock to the perkiness of her breasts. It combined and yet contrasted with the loving tenderness with which Christine had smiled up at him.

Ben remembered the moment of taking this picture and how it made him feel. After a flurry of shots - which he had now before him all sharp and crystal clear - of Christine twisting and slithering in an almost orgiastic abandon over the bed, Ben had stopped shooting. Both he and Christine needed to regain a level of composure. When Ben was calm enough to continue, standing close to the bed he pointed the Ipad down on Christine. And she had half-raised herself from her - almost - post-coital stupor. She had smiled up at him.

The love he read in her face, her bliss about what had just happened between them, had made him shake. Now he was left with a blurry record of a meaningful moment. Ben deleted it; together with fifteen or so other attempts which had failed to clearly capture all of Christine's allure and stunning beauty.

Christine had practically forbidden him to delete or withhold from her any images that he might have thought too raw and sexually explicit. This made the final process of selection for Ben an easy one. All he had to do was eliminate the comparatively bland as well as the repetitive images from the assortment, regardless of their pictorial perfection. What he finished up with were images, each one so distinctive that Ben would not have surrendered one to oblivion.

In looking at the pictures in the sequence he had left them on his Ipad, Ben suddenly realised that they formed a story. The first eight depicted Christine's statuesque beauty as a powerful, almost intimidating presence. In all of them, she is upright, unsmiling, but neither frowning nor pouting as she looked at him. The skin-tight fabric of her dress accentuates every contour and swell of her body; sinuously alive but in its perfection almost like cast in silver. Christine's beauty and sexual appeal in these photos were striking; beyond the pretensions of glamour or professional porn.

In the next fourteen images, central to the story, Christine is on the bed. The statuesque temptress has become seductively alive! She is unreservedly responding and focused on Ben, and thereby on the lens which captured her expressions and movements.

And Christine is totally unbridled in the display of her sexual desire. Every fibre of her twisting, stretching body and her lust-filled, at times distorted face expresses her hunger to possess her evasive lover as much as to provoke him into possessing her. Christine's dress continued to accentuate the sexy allure of her body in the sinuous contortions of her love-making.

But in the shame-free daring of her sexual needs on the bed, Christine seemed no longer aware of her dress. In some of the pictures, the skin-tight material had slid up as far as her belly. But it was not the coquettish flashing of ass and pubes to complement her breasts and pointy nipples sexily arching under her dress. To her, a strong, beautiful woman unafraid in her uncurbed lust, the degree of her nakedness simply ceased to matter.

If Ben had been prudish or less assured about Christine's attitude to her own sexuality, he would have deleted most of the fourteen pictures. But to him, Christine in every one of the images was breathtakingly beautiful and desirable, and he hoped that she would see herself in them as he saw her.

The concluding five shots in the folio were of Christine, still on the bed, but now in a relaxed state. She is resting on and between the pillows, with her body in different positions. They are still arousingly sexy photos because, in all of them, the alluring swell and contours of Christine's nakedness underneath her dress are strikingly in view. But the dress clings now, orderly skin-tight, to her body between neck and knee. Only in two, with the beginning of a questioning smile, was Christine looking directly at him. In three of them, in a somewhat pensive mood, she looked past him or down on her body.

As they were clearly the last in an unaltered sequence of shots taken, Ben felt a twinge of guilt. Had he been manipulative? Had he, after triggering the orgiastic storm so central to the story-line, wanted to conclude their session with more than a touch of post-copulatory sadness in the concluding images? But then he remembered the shaky photo he had to delete. It was the missing link that would have told a truth that the surviving pensive three did not.

After dinner, Ben passed by the reception office without going in. He did not want to talk to Christine before she had seen the folio he had prepared. Christine was at her desk. She pointed at the computer, and they smiled at each other through the glass. Ben, back in his room, saw that her mail-message had arrived, giving him her computer's address.

His reply, to which he appended the desired download, read: -

To My Not So Coy Mistress: - "This is what my Ipad 'spied' on yesterday's magic afternoon. Will you condemn me for loving every one of the images it captured? B."

To Ben: - "Thanks. Photos now safe on my USB drive. Can't look at them now; it's still too busy down here. Am dying to see them! Forgive you in advance for every sin we may have committed! Love, C."

After a few drinks and trying to concentrate on his reading, by ten o'clock, Ben knew there would be no reply from Christine tonight. He went to bed and struggled to eventually fall asleep.

CHAPTER 16.

The first thing Ben did the next morning was to look at his Pad. No mail from Christine had arrived, but there was a brief text from Erika. Before the breakfast shift, Erika must have checked their Pad if Ben had posted a wished-for message to her. He, with all his aroused senses focused on Christine, had not done so. Erika's reprimand, therefore, hit home: -

To Ben: - "Feel neglected, while C. glows: Very suspicious!! You better set me on fire this afternoon! E."

Erika served him exclusively at breakfast. The Danish couple had left, and Ben had now the table by himself. Erika flirted quite shamelessly as she stood close on the side of Ben which was out of view of the other guests. Ben ran his hand up her trousered leg as he whispered: -

"You have plans for this afternoon? Tell me yours? I'll tell you mine."

For the time being, what was so foremost on their minds remained untold.

On his way up to his room and then, passing the reception again when he left for going into town, Ben only gave Christine a furtive glance and wave. He neither wanted to show her how eager he was for her comment on the photos nor pressure her for her judgement before she was ready to give it.

However, when Ben returned to the hotel shortly before lunch, Christine's mail had arrived: -

To Ben: - "Dear Ben, you know as well as I do that these photos are a record of something extraordinary. So, I won't just tell you I 'like' them. Getting you to photograph me in my slinky dress started out, for me, as a bit of a lark. I wanted to pretend I was a sexy siren and expected you to try to motivate me into a sexy mood to record me at my put-on, seductive best. It turned into something different because you were not playful in reacting to me. Neither were the images you then captured a pretence. In photographing me, you suddenly knew me in a way I did not know myself. The pictures are, for me a revelation. In a big way about myself, about us, and our still withheld desires - yours as well as mine! In a small but related way, my eyes were opened about my dress. I know now how much I am changed and reveal by wearing it. I believe now that I would never wear it in public, nor for or with any other man but you. But with you, any time because I am proud of what you see in me and what I am for you. With Thanks and Love, Christine."

Christine's so carefully composed mail differed sharply from her previous, playfully flippant Threesome sexting. Tellingly, Christine had sent it from the hotel's computer and not the shared Ipad.

Ben was in equal measure, pleased and shocked. Christine's reaction to the images so closely matched what he felt in looking at them. She had accepted the folio as both a confession of sexual desire and a declaration of love. Ben was somewhat uneasy that she recognised it as being both.

Also, Christine seemed unconcerned that it had come into being by excluding Erika. To Ben, keeping it a shared secret, seemed a first step in betraying Erika. Not doing so, however, would force him into breaking the promise of silence he had so carelessly given to Christine.

By the time Erika arrived in the afternoon, Ben had not made up his mind how and how much he was going to tell her. Unlike on Erika's previous visits, Ben had not showered and was not in his bathrobe. Erika looked at him, seated at the desk, and smiled. She dropped her bag and walked up to him. As she moved into Ben's arms and his hands reached for her buttocks, Erika asked: -

"Am I too early?"

Then she wriggled her ass and giggled: -

"I was as impatient to get a grip on you as you are with me."

"You were naughty at breakfast this morning, sidling up to me like that. You invited me to almost touch your pussy, didn't you? And I wanted to strip down your trousers and spread you out on the breakfast table! For the best morning-fuck you ever had!"

Erika guffawed: -

"All the things we have to catch up with this afternoon!"

As she felt Ben's hand searching to undo the fastening on her trousers, she reached down to deftly undo his belt and zip. She chuckled and said: -

"I like this stripping: I show you mine if you show me yours. Piece by piece, agreed?"

Erika let him be first in stripping down her trousers and panties in one go. Ben bent forward, trying to plant a kiss on her pubes. But Erika stepped back, out of her shoes and hindering trousers kicking them aside. Then she knelt down before Ben, still sitting, and undid his laces. Reaching up for his undone trousers, Erika worked them down and threw them on top of hers. As her hands pretended to tug at his boxers, she looked up at him. With a mischievous grin, she whispered: -

"Showtime, for me!"

When she pulled them down, Erika had no reason to be disappointed.

This time, however, Ben stopped her from taking the closer interest Erika seemed to have her mind on. He pulled her upright and reached for the top button of her blouse. Erika responded by quickly unbuttoning his shirt and winning the contest. With Erika's bra and Ben's singlet on the floor, both were matched in randy nakedness.

Ben stood up and swept papers and pens from the desk onto the floor and his Ipad aside. Lifting Erika up, he sat her on the desk close to the edge. Standing between her spread thighs, with the tip of his rampant cock on her pussy's lips, they kissed. And Erika's tongue in wrestling his was knowing and wanting. As were her lips; between two kisses swallowing an excited laugh they murmured: -

"You would not, would you, spread me on this table?"

In the next kiss, her tongue rammed in even deeper and, to Ben, her throaty moans sounded like - "Spread me!" ... "Spread me!" ... "Fuck me now!"

As Ben, gentler than her urgings, pushed Erika's body back on the desk, she lifted her legs. They slid, almost folded into the waiting crook of his arms. In one swift movement, Ben pulled Erika's bottom right to the edge. She raised her head to look down on Ben's cock as it played over her pussy in a delayed, teasing search. And then it found and parted her pussy's lips. And then, as his cock slid into Erika's so ready, slippery-hot cunt to the hilt, she grabbed the desk's edges. She stretched out. Every deep thrust Erika met with a breathy whisper of - "Yes!" ... "Ben! Oh, Ben!" ... "Spread me!" ... "Yes, I want it! ... Fuck me! ... Fuck me hard!"

Ben's eyes, looking down on Erika, so sensuously stretched out as they fucked, were drawn to Erika's glorious tits with their aroused nipples. With every thrust of his cock she heaved them up, offering them to be grasped. As he reached for them, Erika lifted both her legs out of the crooks of his arms and slid them up onto his shoulders. With her pelvis now raised, her eyes wandered between looking down at Ben's cock ramming into her cunt and Ben's face as he caressed her tits and pinched and pulled her aroused nipples. Erika now had begun, at each of his deep-fucking thrusts, to cry out her lust.

It soon turned into a whimpering that she was coming and could not hold it back. Ben, not entirely coherent, stammering told her how much he loved her comings. She was the sexist, the most beautifully lecherous woman he had ever known. And Erika came beautifully. She offered her climax like a gift, crying out as she twisted on the desk with her legs locked behind Ben's neck. Laughing and moaning, Erika looked at him. At the same time, her whole body trembled as she stayed impaled on Ben's discharging cock until the last tremor of her orgasm subsided.

And then Erika pulled Ben down into a long, gently fading out kiss before she said: -

"Are we going to have a shower together now? I love showering with you after sex. It's a foreplay for something even better! ... And today, I am greedy ... you kept me waiting while you seduced my naughty sister!"

Erika had sat up and slid off the desk. Because she giggled as she delivered her challenge, Ben gave her a parting smack on her bum as she scampered off to the bathroom. But Erika was not done yet. When Ben joined her after relieving himself, Erika seductively posed and turned under the streaming down water. She demanded an answer: -

"Do you still fancy a plain woman like me after Christine has shown you her svelte body? She offered it to you, I'm sure. ... She wants you as much as I do."

Ben stepped under the shower and took Erika into his arms. He decided against a jocular evasion. Ben kissed her, pressed her close. With one hand caressing her back and his lips close to Erika's ear, with the warm water streaming down on them, he said: -

"You know how much I desire you, with my mind, with my body. ...A woman as beautiful, sexy and loving as you to want me is wonderful. ... And Christine, she is desirable and beautiful, too. ... Yes, she wants to be more than just my friend. ... It is a gift, isn't it? ... I desire her too, and both of you are close to my heart from way back. ... Do I have to choose between you now? ... Can't I love you both?"

Ben paused, uncertain of whether he had found the right words and tone. Partly, to lighten the mood and partly to test Erika's reaction, Ben kissed her ear before adding: -

"We are, after all, never getting married ... both of you are already. And loving Christine would never make me love you less."

His hand had wandered down to Erika's ass. As he pressed her groin against his growing erection, Erika's lips found his.

Her kiss was at first tentative; but eventually, it became a very long, yes-saying kiss. And then their washing each other turned, as Erika had wished, into foreplay of more and more intimate caresses. Finally, eager for the bed, they dried each other.

Erika, however, was not done. As they neared the bed, she stopped. Fronting Ben she sank down on her knees, and her hands took possession of Ben's already respectable erection. She let her tongue flick expertly teasing over the cock's head and up and down its shaft. Then, licking her lips and looking up at Ben with a grin she declared: -

"That comes from Christine and I watching porn on our Ipad. We know now what us girls must do to arouse our male."

But Ben pulled Erika up into a kiss, and both sank down onto the bed. Ben, in fact, had always been turned off by the submissiveness implied when women knelt before men to arouse them. For him, it was part of the porn-scenario of conquering males and brutalised women which he detested. Resting on his elbow stretched out next to Erika, he said: -

"Kneeling before any man to arouse him is not a lesson any girl should learn. Real lovers don't want a girl's submission to gain an erection, they want the desire shown by her body, her words and her quickened breath."

While he talked, Ben's hand had wandered caressingly over Erika's body. He paused for a long, heating-up kiss as his hand glid down Erika's belly. She spread her legs and moaned into their frantic kissing as his fingers parted her pussy's lips.

"And then," Ben whispered into Erika's panting mouth, "the girls' pussies will be as wet and hot as yours is now and their man's cock as hard as mine."

Erika's hand had now taken possession of his manhood, and her tongue matched in fervour Ben's searching fingers in her cunt. Fighting-for-breath, Erika broke from her kissing and whispered: -

"And I will be allowed to suck your cock because I want you to eat my pussy?"

She did not wait for an answer but twisted to slide down Ben's body, swing her pelvis over his face, and sink her mouth onto his throbbing cock.