Around the World in Eighteen Lays Ch. 06

CHAPTER 6: CROSSING THE DATE LINE

John finds refreshment in Hawaii. Melissa and Antonia get cosy in a country inn.

His last thoughts, as he drifted off to sleep, were of Melissa. The plane hummed on into the darkness. He wondered what their relationship would be like when he got back from his quest. Would they both have satisfied their needs: his wander-lust, her pussy-passion, so that they could settle down, get married and have good, reliable, renewable sex for the rest of their lives? It seemed like a long shot. Would she leave him for Antonia? Would they set up a ménage à trois, perhaps? Threesomes were all very well, but three people living together permanently? How much appetite did he really have for the unconventional?

All he knew was, it would be different. Five down, thirteen to go.

"Do you think I meant country matters? That's a fine thought, to lie between a maid's legs." If Shakespeare could pun on cunt-ry, then it was all right for Melissa and Antonia to go to the country for a weekend of further exploration. They piled their bags into Melissa's VW and headed west along the M4.

"I don't think we'll catch up with John at this rate," Antonia remarked. "But maybe we can overtake him with the number of positions."

"You've packed some toys and devices?"

"I have. But they're for entertainment. I don't need anything more than you." She reached out to place a loving hand on Melissa's thigh. Her new girlfriend's feet were adept at the pedals, her graceful ankles and shapely calves showing to advantage as she changed up to fifth gear. They gained speed and shot past a container truck, moving out into clear space on the motorway.

"Don't you love this feeling of freedom?" said Melissa, stepping on the gas.

"You set me free," rejoined Antonia. "Where are we going to stay?"

"I thought we would just follow our instincts. I want a small west country village with a pub and a church and a row of old stone houses."

"I like it. Especially that bit about following our instincts." Antonia's hand went a little further, and Melissa smiled as she turned towards her.

"O yes. Don't stop."

It was early morning when John woke up, just before touching down at Daniel K. Inouye airport, Honolulu. Having a ball in Hawaii was such a stereotype of a sexual free zone that he had mixed feelings about it. He assumed it wouldn't be difficult to get laid, but then, did he really want someone who was just out for a good time? After all, he was on a serious quest; he had responsibilities.

He had also been six nights on the journey, with sex twice a day, and he was less in need of being picked up as of a pick-me-up. So he left his hand luggage at a laundry and headed for the beach. He had the whole day ahead of him to sort out his date for the night, so he wasn't on the lookout for a beach babe. He felt he looked okay in his bathing trunks: not muscle-bound or grotesque, just well-toned and flab-free. He stretched out his beach towel, adjusted his newly-acquired Panama hat, and settled down with the latest John le Carré, feeling a bit like a stereotype himself.

He wanted to take a dip, but wasn't sure of the protocol. What did you do with your belongings while you were in the water? Without thinking further, he turned to his neighbour on the beach and asked, "Would you mind keeping an eye on my stuff for a minute?"

"Of course not. Enjoy the surf. Not like your bloody North Sea." She sounded English. And now that he looked at her, his thoughts began to accelerate. It was lucky his bathing trunks were loose-fitting.

"Thanks, love," he murmured, making a mental note, and wandered down to the water's edge. The water was warm, but not too warm, and soon he was dipping and diving and floating and body-surfing with the best of them, revelling in the salt spray. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her sitting up on her beach towel and applying suncream. Too far away to tell, but the signs were good.

Meanwhile, Antonia and Melissa were revelling in their Friday night freedom. They found their pub and asked the fresh-faced young man behind the counter to pull them two pints of the local bitter.

Sitting up at the bar, Antonia asked, "What made you choose me, that night when I was making out with Paula and you were watching us and touching yourself?"

"Was it so obvious? Have you any idea how enticing you look on a bar-stool?"

"We make a good pair, don't we? Come, Melissa, let's give that nice barman a treat." She leaned across for a long, passionate kiss. Geoffrey (as the regulars addressed him) pretended not to notice. So did the other pub-goers, dotted around at the tables or standing in little huddles, but they did notice, and for the most part they liked what they saw. Gone were the days when women had to be discreet. Now their clinch was as comforting a sight as the fire roaring in the grate. Cosiness was all.

And when Geoffrey climbed into his lonely bed that night, the memory would be comforting and there was still some energy in his right hand.

"You'd better let me rub some suncream on you," she said while he was towelling himself down. He looked pale in the Pacific sun.

He lay down and let her massage his back. She was good. Soon he was utterly relaxed.

"Shall I continue, or do you want to turn over?"

He rolled over onto his back, and she started at his shoulders.

"Hello," she said. Was that meant for him, he wondered, or his member tucked away in his shorts but beginning to ask for attention? "I'm Fiona, by the way."

"A Scottish lass? You sound English."

"It's that damn education system. You got any brains, you get to go to a school where they go teach you this cut-glass accent. And you? Public school boy?"

"Grammar school. I'm John." He didn't want to add Cambridge; this wasn't a wanking session. Yet.

"Good for you. Here for long?"

And so it went on. She was wearing a halter-neck bikini. He waited for the moment when she would lie down on her front and undo the strap for an even tan, and he was not disappointed. As she turned slightly to continue the conversation she flashed him a ravishing sideboob. 36D, he had guessed when she was sitting up, her full breasts heavy and shapely in her bikini top. From the side, he felt that he must be right.

He tried to be polite and not ogle, but then she smiled. "It's OK, John, you can look. You like?"

"Very much."

"Plans for today?"

"I think I have now."

Gradually the other patrons drifted away, and they were left alone in the dingle seat by the fire, the perfect place for foreplay. Geoffrey was polishing the last few glasses before closing up the bar. Soon they would go upstairs to their room and make love for as long as they liked and as often as they liked.

For the present, though, it was sheer bliss to snuggle up together, the warmth of the fire making them drowsy. Antonia's head went down on Melissa's shoulder and her hand found its way inside her jumper to fondle the breasts softly enfolded in her C-cup bra: ample, comforting, motherly almost .

"Your hands are lovely and warm," murmured Melissa in appreciation. Antonia gave her another gentle squeeze and felt the heat rising below. Not long now.

"Is there anything more I can do for you ladies?" asked Geoffrey, startling them.

Antonia kept her hand where it was. Melissa spoke for them both.

"We're very comfortable, thank you."

"I can see that," he grinned, with a glance at Melissa's tell-tale jumper.

Antonia turned her head up to look at him. "Anything you were hoping to do for us?" she asked, mischievously.

"Oh, no . . . I was just thinking." He blushed.

"Keep thinking, love," said Melissa. "Think of us all night long."

Fiona was a sport. They flirted all day on the boulevards and in the bars. They hired bicycles and frolicked under the palms. John admired the sway of her bosom as she overtook him on her bicycle, and then he stood up on the pedals and raced past her. This is what being on holiday is all about, he thought.

Eventually it was time for pina coladas overlooking the beach, and then they walked down across the sand for a final dip. When she shed her shawl he felt that familiar delicious ache in the loins. They raced down into the water and splashed and fooled about like children.

"This is still America, John," she laughed as he reached behind her neck for the knot of her halter-top. "You're going to have to wait a little longer."

It was worth the wait. She stood next to the bed in her hotel room, removed her cotton top with that criss-cross sweeping motion that every man longs for, and out they came. They were the most abundant he had seen so far on his journey, with the full heft of 36D but unaffected by gravity. His penis stirred appreciatively. She drew him closer. Her breasts were bountiful blessings in his mouth. Delicately he tried out the texture of her large, stiffening nipples with his eager tongue. She took care of all this with a no-nonsense Scottish deliberation and tact.

"So which position are we up for tonight?" she asked, with a slight emphasis on the "up".

"It's your choice," he replied. "I'll tell you which ones are taken."

"Have you heard of the G-Whiz?"

"Not in this context. Are you an expert?"

"No, but I've always wanted to try. This is how it works. Kneel down. Yes, there. Everything pointing in the right direction." She allowed herself to be distracted for a few minutes by the sturdiness of his spear.

When she had had him in her mouth for long enough, she said, "Thank you, John, that will be all."

"All?"

"All the cock-sucking for the present." She leaned back, exposing herself to him without reservation, raised her legs in the air to cross over his shoulders, and allowed him to lift her on to him. Her vagina opened for his convenient entry, and they fused, deliciously. He began to rock from side to side. She pressed her breasts against him, looked into his eyes and rode her way to her first orgasm. And then the next, as he urged himself deeper into her. With control. She gripped determinedly, focused even more intently, kept looking him straight in the eye, and began to count as the climaxes came one after the other.

Melissa perched on the side of the bath; Antonia lay in the warm, enveloping water, pushing up her mound for her clitoris to rise into view.

"That is one hell of a sexy pussy you've got there," said Melissa, admiringly.

"I'm glad you like it." Antonia lazily began to play with herself.

"Hey, that's my job!"

"Lot's left for you to do. Want to watch me come?"

Melissa allowed her bathrobe to gape open for Antonia to relish her plunging curves.

"And you, Melissa?" said Antonia, getting down to work. "Anything you'd specially like to see?"

"Lift your cunt half an inch?"

Lovingly and graciously Antonia offered her glistening vagina. She stretched herself open a little more with her fingers, willing Melissa to moisten and melt. They had crossed a line; they had gone way beyond dating.

Next time: The Asian leg of John's quest begins in Manila. The joys of early morning in the country.