Divine Intervention Ch. 04

As the first dusky stain of night tainted the sky, I reflected on a day that – so far – had exceeded my wildest dreams. Surreal yet so real, a combination of good fortune, sweet revenge and incredible sex had ensured it would remain in living memory. And there was still Zara and the party to forward to.

The air thick with the sort of heat that threatened never to abate, I chose comfort over style, combining a lime green YSL polo shirt with a pair of three-quarter length black sports pants and beach sandals. Hovering at the window in heightened anticipation I observed a number of guests arrive next door.

Finally, my chaperone for the evening, Natalya, pulled up in a cab, fashionably late. As I strode out to pick up the fare, she waved me away, evidently still flush from the £500 bonus earned from helping to set up Johnson. A prime example of mixing of business and pleasure, Natalya had been the perfect foil. Tonight she was wearing a pair of tight white cords with a thick leather belt, a red polka dot shirt with an orange shawl for later when the wind got up.

Glancing up as a second taxi swung obliquely into the pavement, before screeching to a halt, I issued a secret smile as the cab emptied out all but for the stunned looking driver. One by one its three sexy female occupants alighted and assembled by Zara's gate, adjusting short skirts and tight blouses. A cosmopolitan trio, they comprised a statuesque Afro-Caribbean beauty queen with braided hair and voluminous breasts, a cute little Oriental geisha-type and a drop dead gorgeous Caucasian brunette. Let the games begin!

We followed those gorgeous arses down the side of the house whereupon I caught sight of Zara through the small crowd. In white hotpants and a figure-hugging blue chamise she looked as delightful as I'd imagined she would. She glanced over yet seemed to look right through me, almost as if I wasn't there. Resorting to a less-than-cool wave still failed to elicit even a hint of acknowledgement. Perhaps playing hard-to-get was Zara's way of dealing with potential suitors, or maybe she was just shy in company.

No sooner were we at the fringe of the assembly than Natalya and I were accosted by a pot-bellied middle aged chap with a cheery demeanour and a round bald head. "Hi, I'm Tom," he chimed. "Zara's father...pleased to meet you...we haven't met before."

"Richard, I live next door," I confirmed. "And this is Natalya."

"Mmm what a lovely exotic name," Tom drooled, checking out my East European companion's bum in the tight cords.

"Yeah, but I prefer Richey," I replied drolly.

Tom sniggered before commenting: "Zara's mentioned a lot about you."

I felt a warm glow. That was encouraging, but why the hell wasn't she so much as even looking at me? A glance her way elicited no hint of recognition, let alone the huge hug I rightly deserved. Instead, she was joking with the three beauties that had led us in. Perhaps she was saving me for later.

A youngish guy, in his early twenties I guessed, appeared through the crowd. "Ah, this is my son Zack, Zara's brother," Tom revealed. "Meet Richey from next door and Natalya."

Zack offered a hand in greeting before moving on with a promise of "catch you later."

Zara glanced up again in my direction but then away just as quickly.

"Drinks?" enquired Tom.

"I'll do the honours," I offered, a chance perhaps to brush past Zara and jog her memory.

However, as I got within three strides, she turned and moved away and, disinclined to make myself look stupid, I headed inside. It did bug me though. Surely she hadn't forgotten already an afternoon in which my firm hands had caressed her taut baking flesh and she'd all but invited me to rip off her thong and fuck her hard – before we were so rudely interrupted.

Little pockets of people numbering perhaps two dozen littered the patio, an unattended barbecue on the grass billowing smoke. All were chatting enthusiastically, seemingly familiar with one another. "Richey, this is Mary, my wife, Zara's mother," Tom announced.

It was obvious where Zara's looks came from. Mary had to be fifty yet with elegance and poise that could easily pass for her daughter's age. And that was without the cosmetic adjustments favoured by so many other women her age. She gave me that 'I've-heard-all-about-you' look, complimented by a demure smile and I thought wickedly that if the daughter wasn't going to play ball tonight, I might just chance my arm with the mother instead.

The introductions extended to an aunt and uncle and a clutch of adult cousins with their other halves. Some had little kiddies of their own, circling erratically at our ankles like angry wasps at a picnic. The party was nothing like I'd imagined: a real family affair. Indeed, with the exception of the three girls who'd arrived at the same time as we did, everyone else on the patio was either related to Zara or married to someone related to Zara. My odds looked favourable, yet Zara was acting as cold as a fish.

Five minutes later the first 'competition' arrived, two good-looking guys with muscular physiques, slicked back hair and Ray-bans, offering nods of greeting. Immediately for some reason they latched onto Natalya, my companion doing what she did best and taking the competition out of commission.

A further five minutes passed and another new guest appeared on the patio. I could barely contain my annoyance. "What are you doing here?" I enquired with a scowl, taking Shannon aside.

"I was invited too," she replied with a slur, having evidently already enjoyed a glass or two of vino at home first, her lips a bloodstained hue. "Are you going to spank me again and send me home to bed, DADDY?" she enquired, somewhat too loudly for my liking.

"Shush," I replied in horror, gripping her arm tightly.

"Owww," she complained. "Daddy, that hurts."

Fuck I'd unleashed a monster in the girl that afternoon, eminently preferring the Shannon of old with all her tantrums, unreasonable demands and scowls. At least I'd known where I stood then. Now it was impossible to tell.

"Oh, is this your daughter?" enquired the keen-eared Tom, ambling over to join us.

I struggled to offer a plausible reply and Shannon came to my rescue, sort of. "We're sooooooo close, me and Richey, and he has been so kind to me since my real daddy left that I see him as my daddy," she enthused.

At least Tom bought it.

Fifteen minutes passed, making small talk with a variety of folk and drinking too much. I did at least manage to satisfy my curiosity, establishing that the three girls were flight attendants who worked with Zara, and the guys were pilots from the same airline. Incredibly, during that time, there'd not been as much as a smile from Zara.

About to fill up my glass once more and chance my arm with one of the trio of girls, I felt a tug at my sleeve. It was Shannon and by now she was half-cut and tilting. I issued a stern 'what-is-it?' type of look, but she was insistent, dragging me away unwillingly to the bottom of the garden. Whereas our garden next door had been cleared at the bottom and concreted over to create a parking space, Zara's garden contained a thicket of fruit trees. "Come quick," insisted Shannon, tugging on my hand.

We threaded through the mini orchard, heading out of sight of the rest of the party, their voices becoming inaudible. Shannon was slurring at me to be quiet. Just the other side of the clump the cause of her excitement was revealed: three semi-naked bodies, two men and a woman, intertwined and enjoying themselves. I didn't need to see the face to know that the female was Natalya, her features obscured in the groin of one of the pilots.

The other pilot stood behind and, easing the big leather belt from Natalya's waist, he tugged down her jeans, unveiling a thong-clad arse. I flinched as Shannon's jerky hand reached across to cup my balls through the sports pants. Issuing a stern admonishment I brushed it away. I should have turned and headed out of there in double quick time, but instead I found myself rooted to the spot, mesmerised by Natalya's latest performance. Besides which I was still wounded from Zara's ongoing rebuke.

The cherubic Shannon hardly helped, sliding in front of me, her back tight to my chest, her bum to my crotch with my chin resting on her shoulder. Issuing a glance aside, the cute little redhead melted into me. "Mmmmmmm daddy," she groaned beneath her breath.

Up ahead in the clearing, the pilot who wasn't receiving the blowjob lifted back his arm and lashed out with the belt. The leather met the soft flesh of Natalya's arse with a thwack and she jerked. However, the resultant sigh was muffled in the pubic hair of the guy she was busily deepthroating. A subsequent volley of lashes fell, each greeted with further jerks from Natalya's body. Her mouth going into overdrive, the guy getting the blowjob pulled out suddenly, crying out. Cum spurted like a champagne bottle being uncorked, splashing in Natalya's face and hair. Hungrily she swallowed what she could, tongue hoovering up the excess.

Shannon purred and pushed back tight into me, my cock rubbing her soft arse as my hands reached to stroke her belly. Grinning lustfully, she lifted and placed my hands over her breasts. A perfect fit, my natural reaction was to squeeze. Wearing just a light cotton dress, white with a brown floral design, elasticated at the neck and beneath the breasts, with no bra to impede, the feel was exquisite.

Something of a late developer, her tits were just starting to bud and ripen. I cupped the undersides, letting those lovely orbs rest on my palms whilst my thumbs teased the edges of each hard nipple through the light fabric. Shannon moaned deliriously, the sound fortuitously drowned out by Natalya's breathy squeals as she took her punishment like a good slut. "Oh God, I bet you want to tie me up too," the East European nymphomaniac moaned with a wicked look, clearly intent on putting ideas in their heads.

The two handsome pilots grinned at each other, clearly wallowing in Natalya's uninhibited demeanour. She made to flee but 'accidentally' tripped over, playing the helpless female victim to perfection. Taking a leg and arm each, they marched the captive to the very end of the garden.

Shannon let out a little whimper and I wouldn't have mind betting she'd have swapped places. "Mmm, you're such a dirty little slut," I mouthed as I worked those lovely young sweat glazed breasts, kneading, pawing and compressing until she was exhaling like crazy.

Evidently Shannon did not dispute the claim, rubbing herself more purposefully against my aroused crotch. Easing aside the elasticated neck of her sundress at the shoulder I gave the exposed soft skin a sensual kiss, before nuzzling. She shivered and rose up my body trying desperately to hump my bulge. "Oh God daddy, give it to me," she whispered.

I couldn't have resisted even if I'd wanted to. Reaching down, Shannon lifted the hem of the sundress above the hips. No panties either, her pussy was revealed as I wrestled down my sports pants. Lifting Shannon's lightweight frame under the armpits, I allowed my rock hard cock to nestle between her legs.

Shifting, I positioned the angry and bloated purple tip at her pussy's tight entrance, letting it rub lightly. Jeez, the drunken little slut was wetter than an Amazonian rainforest and equally as bushy, my cock tip siding through the forest of auburn hairs to split her cunt lips apart. She gurgled with pleasure as I ploughed into the depths of that fabulously tight young pussy, buried up to the balls.

Meanwhile up ahead, Natalya had been stretched between four trees like a hammock, her bra and ripped panties shredded to make lengths to secure her wrists and ankles. She was wailing in broken English for them to leave her be, thrashing and protesting. It had to be the least convincing performance since Dick Van Dyke's cockney accent in Mary Poppins.

Passing the belt back and forth, the guys took it in turns to lash her body, each impact met with a shrill yet sensuous squeal. Leaving the nasty stuff to his partner in crime, the one that had yet cum took up a position between Natalya's outstretched legs. She struggled and squirmed but the binds held tight, scoring the flesh the harder she fought. As one whipped her belly and breasts in a merciless rhythm, the other bucked at her cunt, his buttocks pistoning.

Natalya played the victim to a tee, and it was a wonder her heightened squeals didn't summon the rest of the party to the secluded spot. If they had, they'd have not only been treated to the sight of the East European slut being whipped and fucked but 'the-nice-man-next-door' shoving his hard cock deep into his 'daughter's' sopping wet pussy. Turned on beyond belief by Natalya's servitude, I banged with such purpose my thighs slapped Shannon's buttocks repeatedly.

Shannon just got wetter and wetter, her young cunt taking only its second pounding ever. Yet already she was an accomplished young fuck. "I'm going to cum daddy," she groaned.

It seemed she wasn't the only one, the guy between Natalya's legs cumming with a flourish. At the same time I exploded hard in Shannon's tight pussy, flooding it with reams of seed. It felt like I'd never stop cumming. It was then that I heard a voice the other side of the trees. "Is anyone there? Grub's up."

As I scrambled to get my sports pants up, inadvertently I pushed Shannon away, falling to her knees with a crash. The trio at the bottom of the garden glanced up as I headed the other way to try to salvage the situation and spare the blushes of this nice family. "Hi Tom, yeah it's only me," I assured as I shepherded him away from the scene.

I glanced back just in time to see Shannon down on her knees between Natalya's legs, supping the pilot's cum from her pussy. She was drinking and licking and sucking all at once. Fuck it was a damned shame I'd be moving out soon. The girl was blossoming into a slut of the highest order. I was sure also that the sound of whipping carried on the air for another ten or so minutes.

Back with the main party, I availed myself of a burger and another drink before deciding it was time to front out Zara. "Excuse me," I said, gripping her arm and easing her away from the huddle.

"Excuse you indeed," she replied indignantly, shaking herself free.

I didn't know what say or do. It was as if she didn't know me, as if our intimate, albeit brief, moments of foreplay that afternoon had been erased from memory. "Is this, um, is this one of your games?" I enquired, galvanised by the alcohol. "Would you prefer if I went home?"

She issued a strange, incomprehensible look. "We haven't been introduced properly," she said. "I'm guessing you must be Richey."

I pursed my lips, confused.

"Oh I see you two have met," rang out a voice from behind.

I turned and Zara was behind me at my shoulder. No, she was in front of me, wasn't she? "Sorry Richey, I forgot the baps for the burgers and had to pop out. Trying to find somewhere open that hadn't sold out was a nightmare. That's why I'm so late. Everyone must have the same idea for barbecues at the moment."

With that I received the greeting I'd longed for, a brief moment of guilt at what I'd just done with Shannon, though how had I to know? Zara's lips were as soft as silk. We stopped short of pressing our tongue together, but only just. Mmm, heaven.

Glancing back and forth between the two girls, the resemblance was uncanny. "I'm Zoe," the identical twin clarified, offering a hand.

Having finally recovered from the embarrassment, I chuckled inwardly before lust-fuelled thoughts took over. Twins, oh my fucking word! Did this party rock or what!

As the evening proceeded with the alcohol flowing freely, a thought crossed my mind. Though they were twins, Zara and Zoe had such wildly different personalities. Something I overheard seemed to reinforce the theory when Zara saying to her sister: "The photos from Ben's party have been developed. You seem to be in most of them."

Zoe laughed. "Yeah I did enjoy myself that night."

"Mmm, it sure looks like it," added Zara.

"Wonder if tonight will be as exciting," Zoe mused, catching my eye.

Zara issued that 'keep-your-hands-off-my-man' kind of expression girls do well, causing Zoe to grin wickedly. So for that matter did I. If I had this right, Zara was the girl-nex-door whilst Zoe was the kinky one of the two. I issued a breathy growl.

As night came down like a black sheet, someone cranked up the stereo and a string of fairy lights that ran around the perimeter of the garden was activated, sparkling in pink and green and yellow. As Zara's parents made to take to the centre of the verdant dancefloor, I felt a gust of warm breath on my neck. "I thought you were always first up dancing."

With that, I took Zara's hand and led her forward, her parents reining back to allow us our moment. As the song ended and another began, a handful of other couples joined us. We boogied for fifteen minutes before the tempo dropped with a slow song, prompting Zara to press herself to me. Within moments she'd tilted her head and our lips were locked. Tongues darted though stopped short of penetration. Pulling back she smiled and whispered: "You never told me you were such a hot kisser."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," I said with a wink.

"Mmm," she purred, allowing one of my hands to slip down her back and cop a feel of a gorgeous arse cheek.

Out of the corner of my eye I couldn't miss the look Zoe gave us. Competitive, as only identical twins can be, I imagined a power struggle could be about to erupt and here was I right in the middle of it. My hunch was evidenced when Zoe insisted on having the next dance. Zara looked a little put out but eased aside as graciously as possible. Subtlety clearly wasn't in Zoe's vocabulary for she pressed up tight to me and whispered in my ear: "I want you Richey. I want you now."

I smiled uneasily, wondering whether it was ME she wanted, or the guy that was with her sister. Laughing it off, I whispered back: "Sorry honey, but I'm taken."

As we smooched, I was relieved to see Shannon was off the booze and getting intimate with the girls' younger brother Zack. A guy closer to her age than those two pilots, it was one less hassle to endure, though Zoe's suggestion had barely helped.

The moment the song ended, Zara claimed me back, a series of scowls and glares exchanged between the pair. Clearly they were not the kind of twins that shared everything. "Did you manage to get the mirror up?" I asked as we danced.

Zara smiled. "Yeah, would you like to see?"

Now that was what I hoping she might say, a glance at my watch showing it was 10.47. Just over an hour remained of this most wonderful of days. Then what, back to normal? I felt like Cinderella. And I didn't want the day ever to end.

To be finalised soon...