Blitzed

Hamish continued to visit Hannah of course, although he suggested that he might reduce his 'dalliances' from fortnightly to monthly, to coincide with my monthly cycle, when I 'wouldn't be in the mood anyway'. This offer only served to show how little he, and most other men really understood about women. Nor was I deceived, because he and I both knew that, before he began shagging Hannah regularly, my arse and mouth were always available even if my fanny wasn't.

In the sixth month of her pregnancy his visits stopped abruptly, and after some badgering he admitted that her tastes had become too extreme for him to deal with.

The beginning of the end had come two months earlier. He had gone along with her suggestion that he push his fist into her come filled twat, because it had fascinated him to see how far he could stretch her, but he had recoiled a month later when, after he had shagged her, she had asked him to use his belt to thrash her tits and fanny. When he asked her why she would want that, she informed him blithely that this was normal practice between her and Bert, and it excited her beyond imagination. She then told Hamish that her husband knew that she was being shagged by another man, and although he neither knew or wanted to know by whom, he had urged her continue as long as he could admire the bruises that resulted from her 'act of contrition'.

To his credit Hamish had refused, saying that hard rough shagging was one thing, but under no circumstances could he use violence against a woman, regardless of how much she wanted it. It was just not in his nature. The final straw came the following month. Hannah had told him bluntly that they were finished, because she and Bert had met a couple with tastes that matched theirs. To his horror she had proudly raised her skirt to show him how at her request, and at the prompting of their new friends, Bert had used a large needle and a narrow ribbon to lace together the bloated lips of her now hideously swollen fanny, leaving only a tiny aperture to allow for calls of nature.

Poor Hamish was so distressed by recalling and recounting the experience, that for the first time since Angus had been conceived, he was unable to get hard enough to shag me.

As the warmer weather of spring crept up sales increased dramatically, and Hamish decided that Clive had earned the right to be paid a retainer in addition to commission. The young man's former brashness had been replaced by a calm assurance, and his natural charm often swayed the ladies in helping to decide on a purchase. So impressive was his sales record that when Mum raised the subject of holidays, Hamish had no hesitation in deciding that between them Clive and Bert were capable of looking after the business for a couple of weeks.

The next day I wondered about Mum's motives when she asked about the Ile du Levant, and if whole families really were welcome there. My suspicions were confirmed when I agreed this was true, and she gave a pathetically exaggerated sigh, assuming a comically woeful expression. "I would love to go there if only your father and I could afford it."

Her hint was so transparent and her acting so bad that I had to laugh. "Oh yes," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure Dad would be over the moon at the thought of strangers ogling you on the beach. Especially when you are definitely worth ogling."

"Do you really think so?" she preened, raising her skirt to mid thigh. "Do you really think men would want to look at my legs?"

I laughed again. "It's not your legs they'd be looking at Mum. It's what is between them."

"Oh. Of course. I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Obviously. Dad would have a fit."

She giggled suddenly. "You know, I don't think it would bother me all that much, especially if other women are showing all they have. Still," she shrugged, resuming her woebegone expression "there's no point thinking about it. Dad and I couldn't afford it anyway."

I knew she was shamelessly playing on my sympathy, but since I was certain that Dad would never agree to her exposing her most intimate parts to strangers, I decided it wouldn't hurt to play along with her game. "Look Mum, if you really want to go I'll have a talk with Hamish. I'm sure the business could pay for it," adding to myself, 'Besides, knowing him he'd probably jump at the chance of seeing your tits and fanny.'

Despite me reminding her that Dad wouldn't go along with it, she looked hopeful. As predicted, Dad put up a stubborn resistance, but when Mum told him in no uncertain terms that she was going with or without him, he capitulated. Three weeks later all five of us were stepping from the bus at Lavandou, and heading for the boat to the island.

Dad was all eyes behind the shield of his sunglasses when we were greeted and escorted to the hotel by the same buxom, g-string wearing woman as last time, and Mum couldn't resist a jibe, calling him a dirty old man, which of course he indignantly denied.

As we were checking in at the reception desk I felt a hand on my arm, and a quiet voice whispered, "Welcome back Madame Browning. I hope your visit will be as pleasing as last time." I turned in surprise to find a smiling Armand, dressed smartly in a light summer suit.

"Thank you Armand," I responded, raising on tip toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "It's good to be back. I'm sure your service will be perfect as always." Turning to my family, I introduced Mum and Dad, and most proudly my son. "This is Armand, our waiter in the dining room."

Armand smiled as he gravely shook hands with Mum and Dad, and patted a shy Angus on the head. "Ah, I am no longer a waiter, I am now Assistant Manager, but I promise I will see that you have all you need."

I smiled at the memory of how he had given me all I needed last time, then followed as he showed us to our units. Dad continued to grumble, but he grudgingly conceded our accommodation would 'be OK, I suppose'. By chance he and Mum had an almost identical unit to that Hamish and I had shared the year before, but separate from the main hotel, whilst we and Angus had been allocated a two bedroom suite next door.

By the time we had finished unpacking it was time to change for the evening meal. Being familiar with the informal dress customs, and since Dad had seen me naked more times than I could count, I took the initiative, donning only the shorts of my sun suit, and moments later Mum emerged, also wearing shorts, but with her arms crossed protectively over her bare bosom.

As we neared the dining room she sighed. "Oh well, In for a penny, in for a pound." Lowering her arms to her sides, she straightened her shoulders, and pushing her relatively firm breasts out defiantly she followed a waiter to a table. Dad glared at her as he sat down, although he couldn't help the occasional sly glance at a couple of women at another table, and when he realised they were unconcerned he stared more openly. By the time the meal was finished he was frankly appraising every pair of breasts he could see, apparently no longer troubled by Hamish's scrutiny of Mum's assets.

After we finished eating we were all pretty tired from a long day of travel, so we decided on an early night, or more accurately Dad decided, and in addition to Angus being almost asleep on his feet, Hamish and I were too weary to object.

My parents were both looking quite smug when they appeared next morning, and I guessed from Mum's crinkled nipples that they had made a good start to their holiday. Although Dad wore his usual scowl of disapproval over Mum showing her breasts, she now seemed quite at ease with being looked at, and was quite eager to splash in the warm sea. After breakfast we went straight to the beach, where Mum, Hamish and I undressed and stretched out on the warm sand, whilst Angus splashed happily in the water. Meanwhile, Dad stood at the end of the path to the beach, seething at what he saw as our total lack of shame.

His indignation lasted no more than ten minutes before he pulled off his shorts, and holding them in front of him he strode towards us, his expression daring us to comment. Behind his dark lenses he seemed to be making a determined, albeit unsuccessful attempt to avoid looking at my fanny, although Hamish showed no such restraint where Mum was concerned, whilst both she and I had cast aside false modesty, lying with legs parted or closed, whichever was most comfortable.

Before too long the interest of both men turned to other women around us, and seemingly surprised that his feared erection hadn't happened, Dad allowed his shorts to slip from his lap. Apart from a brief glance, which confirmed that he was more generously endowed than Dad, Hamish naturally enough showed no interest, although he looked pleased that Mum was certainly aware of the difference. I of course enjoyed both regularly, and other than the secret thrill of the forbidden when Dad shagged me, I took equal pleasure whichever one was inside me, and had no real interest unless they were hard and ready.

Not surprisingly, in almost next to no time Dad became so accustomed to seeing bare skin all around that he too was able to relax, and his perpetual scowl was replaced by genuine pleasure as he frolicked on the sand and in the shallows with his grandson. The next day he was completely in the spirit of the holiday, even teasing Mum and me occasionally when men appeared to look too intently at our bodies.

On the third morning I woke feeling a little out of sorts, and I insisted that Hamish and the others took Angus to breakfast so that I could rest a little longer. They had been gone perhaps ten minutes when I answered a tap on the door to find Armand looking concerned. "Monsieur says you are unwell. Perhaps I can help?" I hesitated and he continued, "Is there anything you need?" When I still didn't reply he must have read something in my expression, because suddenly his hands were on my tits and fanny as I worked frantically to unfasten his trousers. When he entered me it was as if the intervening year had never been, and I responded as energetically as I had the first time he had shagged me. With one significant difference. This time I felt no misgivings whatever when his seed filled me.

I looked anxiously at the travel clock beside the bed as he withdrew, and he nodded understandingly and pulled up his pants. When he was ready to leave I turned him to face me and kissed him firmly. "Thank you Armand," I whispered sincerely. "You always seem to know exactly what I want before I know it myself."

It was a very near thing, because I had no sooner finished cleaning Armand's come from my fanny when the family returned. Once they saw I was feeling better they prepared to walk down to the beach again. The morning passed happily and quickly, and coming up to lunch time Mum said that the breakfast menu mentioned that picnic lunches were available from the hotel kitchen for a very small extra cost. Since Dad was busy helping Angus bury me in the sand, he suggested that Mum and Hamish go to pick up enough for us all, along with some lemonade.

They were gone some forty five minutes, and when they returned Mum spread a clean towel on the sand and began handing out the serviettes and food, which seemed to be mostly croissants with ham and cheese filling. She seemed a little subdued as she worked, looking at neither Dad nor myself, and although there were no outward signs, and without knowing how it had come about, instinct told me that she and Hamish had taken the opportunity to shag as the picnic lunch was being prepared.

I examined my feelings for some form of resentment, but the only thing I felt was pleasure for them both. After all, considering my own actions earlier, I was hardly in a position to object. Besides, my husband no longer had Hannah with whom to scratch his itch, and I knew from seeing Mum with Chuck that under certain conditions she was no more averse to to spreading her legs for the right man than I was. The thought appealed to me for her to have regular access to another cock, and Hamish to another fanny, just as Dad and I had secretly had for years. Furthermore, since Hamish regarded her as the mother he never had, and Mum saw him more as a son than a son-in-law, I dared to hope that they shared the thrill of the forbidden that Dad and I enjoyed so much.

Although I had been surprised that Hamish and Mum had shagged, the biggest surprise of our holiday came at the end of our first week. On the Saturday afternoon during one of our infrequent meetings, Armand told Hamish and I that there was to be a screening that evening for selected guests of a 'special' film, and that we were welcome to attend. Curiosity piqued by the emphasis on 'special', we accepted the invitation after persuading Mum and Dad to babysit our son.

At the appointed time we arrived at an unoccupied suite in the main hotel building, to find six or seven couples already present, and as soon as we were seated the lights were switched off, and a large screen against a wall lit up as the projector started. The opening titles of the black and white film were in German, with the English translation:-

"ROADSIDE RESCUE" 'Starring MISS VERITY DUNWELL and Friends' superimposed.

The first grainy scene of the poor quality film showed a close up of a sign reading "LAS VEGAS - 10 Miles", and moved sideways to a rear view of a woman with waist length blonde hair peering into the open bonnet of a large American convertible.

The woman threw up her hands dramatically, and said something in German, which was translated at the bottom of the screen as "Oh dear, Whatever is the matter with my automobile? What am I to do?"

My eyes widened, and I gasped in shock as she turned to face the camera. I nudged Hamish. "Look who it is!"

He stared in disbelief, and his expression mirrored my own shock. Underneath what was obviously a wig, and heavy make up was the unmistakable face of my best friend Doris!

The screen went black for a moment, with the words "HELP ARRIVES", and the next scene showed an approaching Jeep, with two negroes in American Army uniform. The driver, with the stripes of a corporal on his sleeve, saluted and spoke as he dismounted.

The guttural German, again translated so implausibly as to be almost laughable read "Good afternoon Miss, may we by chance be of some small assistance?" Reaching under the bonnet, he produced what at first looked like a snake. "It appears you have broken a fan belt. If you care to wait here, we shall fetch another, and you can resume your journey in no time at all."

As they drove off, Doris/Verity took a seat in the car, fanning her face ostentatiously with her hand. "Oh dear, I do hope they will not be too long. I declare that I will melt in this hot sun." After a few moments she flapped her skirt. "It is so hot." She looked deep in thought for a short while, then. "What can I do to pass the time while I am waiting?"

The camera moved lower as she raised her skirt to expose fishnet stockinged legs, then an expanse of bare thigh, and I heard Hamish catch his breath as she revealed a smoothly shaven fanny, with her prominent clitoris peeping out. "Oh god, he breathed squeezing my hand hard. I wish she had been like that when we knew her. Maybe you should do it."

Very slowly her fingers moved to her slit, parting the smooth lips and pressing her clitoris from side to side. "That feels so nice. It has been far too long since I met a real man."

There was a brief image of a clock, showing the hour hand moving forward an hour, to denote the passage of time, before the calera focused once more on he bald fanny. Suddenly her skirt was pushed down as the roar of an engine announced the return of the Jeep. "Ah, they have returned at last. Thank goodness."

The next scene showed the private closing the bonnet of the car as the corporal looked on. "There you are Miss, as good as new."

"Oh thank you boys. However can I repay your kindness?" she asked archly, raising the hem of her skirt to her stocking tops.

The scene closed and reopened to the sight of my friend sprawled across the bonnet of the car,

wearing only her shoes and stockings, one foot resting on the road, the other knee bent sideways at a sharp angle, leaving her fanny open in invitation as she grasped an impossibly huge dark cock in each hand. "Oh my, boys." she gasped with feigned breathlessness. "How big and hard you are. I do hope you will not hurt my delicate little virginal pussy. Please fuck me gently."

Hamish snorted with derision at the word 'virginal', and his grip on my hand tightened as she took one cock into her mouth and the other pushed into her hairless pussy.

I didn't want to think badly of my best friend acting in such a manner with two strangers, and the poor quality of the film, plus the fact that it was definitely not her voice we were hearing, made it easy to half convince myself we were not watching Doris. Undeniably it was her pussy and mouth that were being fucked, but I reminded myself that after all she was a professional actress, who had merely loaned them to her alter ego Verity Dunwell for the sole purpose of making a film.

The remaining half hour was filled with varying camera angles of both cocks alternating between her tits pussy and mouth in different positions, before spraying their seed over her upper body and face. The final scenes were of her waving to the Jeep as it disappeared into the distance. "Thank you for cumming boys. You are welcome to cum again any time." Then a close up of her come (cum?) coated breasts, with one large creamy blob dangling precariously from her right nipple, before the screen faded to black with the announcement "MISS VERITY DUNWELL is done VERY well indeed."

The moment I saw the word 'cum' on screen and identified it with what was dripping from her tits I decided I preferred 'it to 'come', and I unconsciously added it to my growing mental jigsaw of words, even though it sounded the same.

"Now we know why Doris wouldn't say what kind of films she made." Hamish remarked as we returned to our room. "I never saw a twat without hairs. I can't believe how good it looked."

I knew he was dropping another hint, but my mind was whirling with images of Doris with those two huge cocks in her, and especially of how Armand had taken advantage of the dim lighting to slip a hand down the waist of my shorts to give my fanny a sly rub as we were leaving.

Angus was sleeping peacefully when we reached our room, and with one look at my crinkled nipples Mum smiled knowingly and ushered Dad to the door. I don't think it was more than ten seconds before Hamish had us both naked and he was arranging me on the bed. When he positioned me with one leg draped over the edge of the mattress and the other knee bent, I knew he was envisioning me as we had seen Doris on the car bonnet.

For the first time since we had met I was not thinking of my husband as he thrust into me. Nor was I thinking in the usual familiar terms, instead picturing a huge ebony cock plunging in and out of my pussy -- not my fanny or twat, and wondering how Doris felt to be plundered by two such massive organs. The film seemed to have had the same effect on Hamish as it had on me, because without my needing to hint that I might want him to, he withdrew from my pussy and slid his sticky length into my waiting mouth. With a hunger I never dreamed was in me, I licked and sucked greedily until there was nothing left to taste, and then he moved back between my legs. For I don't know how long, my wonderful husband alternated tirelessly between one pair of lips and the other, until, just as I was ready to cry enough, his driving dick poured his cum deep into my pussy.

After breakfast on Sunday morning Mum mentioned that she would like to explore the village, and hoping they would make the most of any opportunity that presented, I suggested that Hamish show her around. They both agreed a little too readily, but their faces fell when Dad said it would nice if Angus could go for an ice cream with his Daddy and Nanna. Put that way Hamish could hardly refuse, although I was well aware what Dad really had in mind.