Aurora - Wings of the Goddess Pt. 05

"Mmm... yeahh..." Vicky hedged, "Nah. You probably don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

Vicky rolled her shoulders, looking shifty. "I sort of told her a fib."

"What sort of fib?"

"One designed to lead her up the garden path."

"Should I ask? Or would it be better if I didn't?"

"Look... one way or the other that bitch wanted dirt. So rather than make her go to the trouble of making some up, I gave her some."

"How considerate."

"Mmm... yeah... I'm that sort of gal."

"And this dirt?" Watson asked. "That's why we shouldn't go back?"

Vicky nodded and Beck piped up. "What do you mean 'dirt'?"

"I mean a story, Beck. This is what Roger does. If the other side leads with some ludicrous accusation, he doesn't try to refute it. He just ups the ante, with something even more preposterous. As long as the proposition's basically legal, the other side has nowhere to go. Should see him, he's brilliant."

"Right," Watson said, "so you upped the ante. Is that what you're telling me?"

"Uh huh." Vicky nodded.

Watson heaved a deep sigh. "Well come on then. Spill."

"Well," Vicky said with ill-concealed excitement, "she kept banging on about Beck being underage. And I kept saying she wasn't. Well in that case, she said, why did she look it. So I told her."

"Vicky?" Watson warily asked. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her Beck has a medical condition and she's wasting away."

"What sort of condition?" Watson demanded, almost afraid to ask.

"I said Beck has AIDS."

Watson struggled to get to his knees and Vicky held him down. "Woah woah woah, Damon, keep your shirt on."

"You told her what? You told her Becky's got AIDS? AIDS? What the freaking hell did you do that for?"

"Look," Vicky said reasonably, "she wanted us off that cat, and fair enough, if I were her I would have felt the same way. I mean, how was she ever gonna compete with someone like Beck?"

"And you." Beck chipped in.

"Especially when the whole thing was supposed to be all about her. Take that outfit she was only just wearing. If anything screamed 'look at me' that was it. Those spray-on blue shorts that went all the way up her crack. And the top cut down so you could see most of her jubllies. I contend, ladies and gentlemen, she's an exhibitionist."

"A narcissist, to be precise." Watson said. "And probably a sociopath into the bargain. I've actually met that bloody woman before."

"You have?" Vicky asked in surprise.

"Well, in a different form, in another lifetime."

"Your ex-wife?"

Watson nodded.

"I can't imagine how much that must have hurt." Vicky beamed. "When you ditched her. No wonder she wanted revenge."

"But AIDS..." Watson groaned.

"Go hard or go home, as Mister Bragg says."

"How, pray tell, did Becky get AIDS?"

There was enough moonlight now that Watson could see Vicky's white smile. "From sharing dirty needles."

"Dirty needles?"

"Uh huh. With me."

Watson put his face in his hands as Vicky sat bouncing with laughter. "That's right." she said. "I told her Beck and me used to be druggies. And hookers. And you were... are... an artist, a photographer. And there you were, right, an eccentric recluse, visiting the city off your yacht, shooting a series on down-and-outers. In fact the term I used was the Underclass. And then one night you picked us up and asked to do our portraits. And... well... one thing led to another and here we are."

"Why didn't you just tell her the truth?" Watson implored. "That I'm an alien shape-shifter whose taken human form, and I've enslaved you both with my mind-reading abilities?"

"Well are you an alien? No, you're not. If I'd said that I would have been lying. But are you an artist? Definitely. A recluse and eccentric? One hundred percent."

"But hookers? And druggies?" Watson cried. "Flippin AIDS?"

"Don't you see? If she really is a psych, and she certainly has that smell, she'd have been on the lookout for telltales. Was I lying? Was I telling the truth? And that's the beauty of it. I was doing both. At the same time. I mean the silly bitch must have nearly blown a fuse."

"Why didn't you just tell her the truth?" Watson asked wearily. "The actual one?"

"What? That Beck's a teenage runaway? That she was abused as a child and about to be put on the game? Then one day you found her? In a... what's that little boat thing called again?"

"Tinny." Beck said.

"In a tinny, cos' you'd run out of gas on your way to a drug deal. And then Damon showed up and you stowed away on his yacht-"

"Okay, Vick," Watson raised a hand, "I get the picture."

"Then one day you met a multi-multi millionaire and his wife-"

"I get it now, thank you Miss MacDonald."

"-and you saved them. And later we all flew to Canberra in a sixty million-dollar biz jet, with a midget female pilot who drinks battery acid for breakfast. So I could hoodwink a passport out of the government, and after I did, I came to your room in a five-star hotel and we-"

Watson put a hand over her mouth. Vicky slithered her tongue over his palm then pulled it away laughing. "But you see now, don't you, truth is stranger than fiction. Me a lawyer? Pull the other one. A flippin' GulfStream? Yeah, right."

Watson nodded, chin on his sternum, gradually warming to the idea.

"I thought it sounded quite romantic, really. Two desperate strays on the run from their past. An eccentric old man with a yacht and a deathwish. Sailing the seven seas fucking themselves to their inevitable doom. Some of my finest work I have to say."

The old man heaved a sigh. "You might have just ruined my reputation for life. Then again... that might just be one of the most brilliant smokescreens ever cast. I guess we'll never know."

Busy stamping out flashbacks, Beck sat back saying nothing. Some of her finest work maybe, but way too close to the bone. "So what are we gonna do, Dommy?" she finally asked, "I mean, what if she goes and tells everyone?"

Vicky gave Beck's thigh a loving stroke. "Trust me, Beck, who in their right mind's gonna believe her? She'll look like an idiot."

"Macca," Watson said, "the more I think about it the better it gets. A stroke of brilliance on your behalf. Remind me to hook you up with my agent."

"I never wanted to go to her dumb party anyway." Beck said grumpily. "Can we just go home?"

"Why not?" Watson replied. "We've still got Macca's hat-trick to attend to, and I can hear a bottle of Champagne calling." Rolling to the side, the old man reefed a life vest from under his butt and thrust it into Beck's arms.

"That's okay," Beck said fending him off, "I won't be needing it." Slipping the red plastic curly-chord from her wrist, she took Vicky's hand and pressed it into her palm. "Do you know how to drive one of these things, Macca?"

"Whatever you're thinking," Watson said with the shake of his head, "the answer is no."

"Really? I was gonna take you with me."

"Where?"

Getting to her knees, Beck levelled her arm and pointed. "The moon's out. I can see Aurora."

"Good for you."

"How far away do you reckon she is?"

Watson came up beside her. "One kay? Fifteen hundred?"

Beck peeled off her dress, then fell on her back and skimmed off her knickers. "Let's swim." she said, tucking her briefs down the front of Vicky's top.

"You can't be serious." Vicky breathed.

"Will you be okay to drive this back?" Watson asked, hastily dropping his pants.

"You two? Now stop mucking around. You can't."

"Don't call me that," Beck huffed, "Here, Macca, move over." Barging her aside, Beck sat next to Vicky, naked. With two sharp pulls she had the outboard sputtering at idle, and put Vicky's hand on the throttle. Five minutes and a few circuits later, Beck kissed the RIB's new skipper on the forehead and fell backwards overboard.

"If you double-back to check on us," Watson huffed, sitting naked on the starboard pontoon, "make sure you don't run over us."

Vicky looked at him with big, frightened eyes. "I won't."

"See you back there." Watson said then tumbled backwards into the sea.

Watson and Beck held onto each other, treading water for a moment, getting their bearings, then Beck called, "Ready, set, go!"

The full moon shining down in all her brilliance had turned the sky indigo, scattering the sea with diamonds. Aurora was a low dark shape in the distance sitting under the lone white beacon of her anchor light. The rhythmic 'splish, splash, splish' of two strong and effortless swimmers dwindled slowly into silence, as the RIB's sole occupant clunked the outboard into gear. Vicky, once a little lost lamb, was now mistress of her universe. Soon it would be bedtime, time to dish up the fantasies she'd been cooking all day. The bad times were all a lifetime away. Time to party.

* * *

Midnight under a full moon. Beck was on her back on the bed in the saloon, one leg hitched up, Watson on his side next to her, squishing and squelching his cock into her bubbling pussy. This was meant to be Vicky's treat after all, fringe-benefits notwithstanding, and they had tried several different positions to give her maximum access. Missionary first, as a reminder of what she'd seen that first time, when she found the old man in Beck's cabin fucking her. Then doggy, because she loved the position so much herself, and yes, it looked great, but didn't give a clear view of what turned her on most- the sight of Watson's fat, stiff dick, pistoning in and out of the blonde's tight little cunt.

Cunt. Even using that word in the context of that little pink delicacy gave Vicky a thrill.

They took a breather and drank some Champagne, then Watson rolled a joint. It was a special occasion after all- Vicky was about to lose her virginity for a third time- and only seemed fair. Impatient for gratification after the pit stop, Vicky urged Watson onto the bed, sitting him up with his back against a bolster of pillows, Beck straddling his lap in a reverse cowgirl. It was good, but meant Beck was a moving target when Vicky was taken by the fancy to suckle her tits. Sensing their guest's frustration, Watson rolled Beck onto the bed, then stretched out beside her to fuck her slow and deep.

Perfect. With Beck's naked body spread out in all its perfection and the old man's big, stiff dick powering into her, Vicky lay down beside them, her face inches from the action. The view was spectacular. Beck's sweet little vagina, its outer lips bulging, the inner lips stretched around Watson's prick like a pink rubber band, clit peeking out from under its hood. And the old man's balls, all floppy and pendulous, slapping Beck's thigh. And that splendid cock, the very same one she'd had inside her own belly just hours ago, with its ribs and veins, all slick and glistening with Beck's sweet juice.

And the sound- the smacking and slurping, Beck's squeaks and squeals, Watson's grunts, the wet slap of their sweating bodies. And that smell! Musk and candy, sweat and smoke. Salt, diesel, French Champagne. Not to mention the feel- Beck's silken skin, the slippery tension of her bulging cuntlips, her jiggling tits, her stiff pink nipples. And Watson's cock, stiff as a board, his skin lathered with sweat, smooth and taut over straining muscle. Even Vicky's own body was part of the play, her pussy wet and pouting with raging desire, her tummy doing loop-the-loops, her heart pounding, chest heaving.

"Dommy..." Beck gasped, and everyone knew she was close.

Watson picked up the pace, slamming into her, bottoming out near the small of her back. "Go, Baby."

"Vicky?" Beck huffed, "Can I finger you?"

Vicky bounded up onto her knees over Beck's left hand, massaging her tits as the blonde curled a finger into her sopping hole. Vicky's hips began to twist and jerk and she pinched and pulled at her nipples, an orgasm rising like the sun in her groin.

Beck was already well away, head back, muscles tensed, vessels standing proud in her neck. Her pussy belched with the first gush of fluid, her mucous-slippery muscle-walls clenching and convulsing around the old man's hammering penis.

Watson watched in wonder as it disappeared between the lips of Beck's distended vagina, her flat belly bulging with every stroke. Her muscles tensed around the swelling inside her, as the burgeoning mass of a monumental orgasm bore down like a runaway train. Her tiny tits jounced as she frantically fingered the brown-haired beauty beside her, who herself was humping and jerking with the onset of orgasm. The synergy was perfect, fabulous, sublime, all three bodies, each powered by the other, barrelling toward a simultaneous orgasm.

Driving as deep as he could go, growling and grunting, Watson hosed his sperm into the blonde's churning insides. Beck's hips bucked as she followed, writhing, over the edge, her own release triggered by the hot fluid flooding her guts. Vicky was next, clenching Beck's hand to hold it in place and riding her finger, engulfing it up to the knuckle. For a moment Aurora was full of cries and squeals and gasping, and the old man groaning, "Oh fuck... oh fuck!"

Doubled over, holding fast to Beck's embedded hand, Vicky sucked in a mouthful of the blonde's tiny breast, tonguing and nipping and scraping her nipple. Drawing Beck's tit up a couple of inches, she let it go, watching as it bounced pertly back into place. "Golly," she panted, "Damon? What's that thing you always say?"

Still slowly flexing into Beck the old man grated, "Can't... feel... my legs."

"Just the legs?" Beck huffed, extracting her finger from Vicky's pussy and patting her on the thigh. "You got off lightly."

"Definitely some sort of energy there." Watson agreed, grinding to a shuddering standstill.

Beck tugged Vicky down and snuggled up to the sweat-sheened brunette. Vicky slid her hand over Beck's silken flank, and onwards over her mound, parting her fingers around Watson's thick tube. She massaged Beck's bulging pussy lips, delighting in their tension. "You ready for this, Macca?" Beck asked, abdominals bunching as she raised her shoulders off the bed.

Vicky pushed up to her knees, feasting her eyes on the sight of the girl's impaled vagina. "Oh yes."

"If you don't like the taste you don't have to swallow, okay? But give it to me if you don't."

Vicky nodded. "Yes Boss."

Beck slapped Watson's hip. "Ready old boy?"

"I was actually enjoying just lying here."

"This girl's on a mission." Beck snapped her fingers, "Let's give it to her while it's hot."

Watson propped himself on an elbow. "Rush, rush, rush..."

"Moan, moan, moan... You ready, Macca?"

Vicky nodded. "Gimme!"

Watson pulled back while Beck shimmied away and her pussy slowly extruded his still throbbing meat. Bending at the waist, Vicky swept her hair back and suckered her pillowy lips around the old man's shaft, lapping up the residue of Beck's viscous froth. Her taste buds lit up. The stuff was sweet, almost impossibly so, for something resembling beaten egg white bubbling out of a young girl's insides. The flared base of Watson's knob fetched up against Beck's muscular portal and for a moment he was stuck.

"Ready, Moosh?" Watson said and Beck wiggled her bottom. "Okay then, give me a push."

The old man popped out and rolled out of the way, while Beck flopped her knees to the sides and Vicky dived in. Eyes closed, she fused her mouth like a limpet over the Beck's pink-furrowed mound. A belch of thick, warm slime hit the back of Vicky's throat and she gagged, a nerve impulse or two short of a puke. It wasn't the taste, it was the texture, somewhere between yoghurt and snot, and it took a feat of willpower to keep it all southbound.

Now the hard part was done, the first swallow, Vicky slid her hands under Beck's little butt and raised the blonde's pussy to her lips like a bowl. A gentle touch of suction pulled Beck's vagina whole into her mouth, and Vicky slithered her tongue up and down, ploughing her open. At the top of its travel, she burrowed under the hood of Beck's clit, teasing the sensitive bead for a moment before slipping back into her hole.

Beck raked her fingers through Vicky's chestnut hair, seizing a fistful as her hips began to buck. "Oh, Vicky," she breathed, "oh, Honey. That's amazing."

This was her very first time, Vicky thought, and guessed the writhing girl was simply being encouraging, but she put her heart into it anyway, delving as deep into the girl as she could go. Still hosting the better part of an erection, Watson shimmied to Beck's side and tapped her jaw with his cock. Opening her eyes, she sucked him in greedily and put up a spirited show but Vicky, on her debut, was doing so fantastic a job, Beck spat him out again to tend to an orgasm. "Vicky," she breathed, clutching two fists-full of hair, "if you don't stop."

Vicky looked up over Beck's heaving belly. "Do you want me to sto-"

"Don't stop, Vicky! Don't stop. Can you suck on my clit for a bit?"

Vicky did as she was asked, aimlessly sucking for a moment before recalling what Beck had done to her. Pulling the little blonde's lips apart with her fingertips, she watched the tiny pink button spring into view then commenced fluttering it with the tip of her tongue, punctuating the exquisite torture with a dive into her insides from time to time. All at once her mouth filled with fluid, thin and watery, not thick and goopey like the old man's cum. Beck's hips were humping right off the bed, and her pussy made a little wet burp, as Beck pulled Vicky's face into her crotch, trying to engulf her. Eyes wide open, peering over Beck's bellowing chest, Vicky watched the little blonde's head toss from side to side, eyes shut, face flushed. Beck's muscles strained as she lifted her shoulders clear of the bed and after what seemed like an improbably long time she fell back spent.

"I don't believe it!" Beck panted. "I don't believe it! You just made me cum your very first time."

"Did you really?" Vicky asked, chin resting on Beck's spit-slippery mound.

"Couldn't you tell?"

Vicky crawled the length of Beck's quaking body and lay on top of her. Watson pushed up, repositioning between two sets of spread legs. From his vantage point, he could see two wet, pouting pussies, one still dribbling semen, and the urge to dive in was almost irresistible. "Vick?" he asked, squeezing the firm, round bubbles of her butt.

Vicky looked over her shoulder at the old man kneeling behind her, slowly fisting his meat. "Oh, yes."

Beck worked out what was happening and pulled Vicky's face down, filling her mouth with a slithering tongue as Watson mushed Vicky's pussy lips open with the head of his prick. He punched through, disappearing into her until he hit a dead-end. Pulling back, he forced his way in again, all the way up to the hilt. Vicky flexed her back, head down, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, as Watson took up a slow, deep rhythm.

After a couple of minutes when he had just found his stride he popped out in his enthusiasm and Vicky yelped. He was just mushing her open again when Vicky reached back and put a hand on his thigh. "Damo?" she panted, sliding forward a few inches, "Can you reach Becky from there?"

"You mean...?"

Head down, Vicky nodded. "Uh huh. Beck? Is that okay?"

Beck brought a knee up then felt around for her old man's cock. Dropping down a couple of inches, he slapped his prick across her palm and waited while she laid herself open.

"You don't mind?" Vicky asked breathlessly, "If I just lie here while you..."

Beck took Vicky's face in her hands as Watson gave a shove, popping right through the little blonde's entrance. For a moment he held still, savouring the feeling. While it was basically the same anatomical structure as Vicky's, Beck's vagina felt utterly different- hotter, tighter, yet not as deep and for all it's grip somehow more... delicate. Slow and steady he took up the rhythm again, gaining ground in the first few minutes yet unable to hit the hilt. Beck was meeting him thrust-for-thrust as Vicky's body rocked to and fro on top of her, while they kissed and caressed, sucking face.