More Holidays in the Sun

And there we were at last, somewhere between nine and ten at night, locked away from the world.

She grabbed me again and now our kiss was even fiercer. Now it was my tongue in her mouth and it was her fencing and sucking. I relished that for another timeless span of time before realizing that my hand was fiddling with the front of her shorts . . . and all of its own accord, I swear to you!

My brain had no input on the matter whatsoever.

Maria's shorts were cut-off jeans with brass buttons and no zip; unfastening them one-handed whilst concentrating on kissing like crazy wasn't easy. But I'd beaten bigger challenges and I soon beat that one.

Showing zero reticence, Maria kissed me harder.

(And she was already kissing me beyond my wildest expectations!)

I responded by cupping my hand around her panty-covered pubis, caring not if her shorts had fallen away altogether or nay.

She dramatically inhaled through her nostrils and sucked on my tongue like I know what not. With all the benefit of hindsight, I was lucky not to lose my organ of taste once and forever.

What a waste that would have been!

Then everything only got better.

Maria was noticeably swollen down there and her panties were decidedly damp. Duly encouraged, I slowly began to stroke her . . .

She climaxed, just like that.

When I hesitated, astonished by her immediate reaction, her hand found mine and set it moving again over fabric that was out of nowhere saturated rather than just moist.

Five minutes later she came even more vigorously.

Next, perhaps fifteen minutes further along, she erupted for a third time, more vigorously still.

Only then did she terminate what was almost incredibly just our second kiss . . . precisely as I decided it was time to relocate my fingers inside of her panties.

'I can do it,' she said in a mixture of disbelief and sheer delight. 'I doubted myself, but I can do it!'

Not in the mood for philosophical debate, I inquired where her bedroom was. Stamping herself free of her shorts, leaving them there in the entrance hall (yes, that is as far as we'd got before all heaven let loose) she led me to a door off to the left.

And soon thereafter my definition of "heaven" changed forever.

'Naked,' she said, adamant again, showing no sign of any nerves at all.

'You first,' I replied, 'one garment at a time; you then me, and so on.'

Her marvellous eyes drilled into mine but, after the briefest of pauses, she removed her top. As I had anticipated, her gorgeous breasts were secured by an uplifting white bra.

My attention fixed on her uplifted assets, I removed my own top, letting my bra-less titties spill out.

Obviously having got the hang of the game, Maria unfastened her brassiere, impressively spilling.

I kicked off my trainers, one after the other, as if I'd lost count. She immediately kicked off both hers.

Smiling at her, holding her gaze, I unfastened my fashionably faded shorts and swiftly ridded myself of them.

Then . . . and maybe I'm missing a stage . . . Maria removed her soggy panties, as if it was the most natural act in the world.

I gulped at the sight. She was clean-shaven and even more swollen than I had expected in my wildest of dreams, Yes, her sex was as wet as could be. In fact it was glistening and practically waving at me.

Beckoning; that was it; it was beckoning me.

Entranced, I responded by discarding my somewhat wet bikini bottoms.

'Now,' I began in full instructress mode.

'Never mind now,' she countered. 'Show me how you like it.'

Chapter Nine

I didn't have a clue what Maria was talking about. The dumbstruck expression on my face must have been comical because she burst out laughing.

'I mean show me how you play with yourself,' she enlarged.

I gulped again. I'd often played with myself, naturally, but never before in front of an audience.

And wasn't I supposed to be teaching this lesson?

Apparently I was not. While I gaped like an imbecile Maria pointed to her bed.

'On there,' she commanded. 'Show me, so I know what you like best.'

Call me easily manipulated, but the idea of exhibiting myself that way suddenly attracted me. I could see logic in the "for why" and thrills in the "doing".

Is this what Spanish girls and boys do? I wondered.

Or am I out of touch; is it what boys and girls do nowadays the world over?

Not prepared to take a backwards step I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for my vulva.

'Not like that,' Maria snapped in the voice of a queenly dominatrix, 'flat out. And leave room for me to join you on there.'

Flapping inside, I obeyed. And, as I again reached for my vulva, she did join me on the bed.

Girl-on-girl virgin, I thought, my ass!

But I went for it anyhow, watching Maria manoeuvre into a prime viewing position as I traced lines on my labia and gently massaged my clitoral hood.

And please believe me: actually doing it, actually making an exhibition for an audience wasn't merely "attractive"; it was as big a turn-on as I could ever remember.

Thrill City or what!

Top ten of all time!!

Maria was face-down beside me on the bedcovers, her legs beyond my head, her face hovering just above my kitty-kitty. I could feel her breath on my skin and sense exceedingly high levels of interest.

'Inside,' she ordered. 'Stop messing around and get some fingers inside of you.'

I settled for two . . . yet again wondering how unexpectedly this session was turning out . . . and used a steadily plunging rhythm that was well-familiar. Arousing as it undoubtedly was I could easily do half an hour or more at that pace.

And I was the instructress, after all.

Wasn't I?

Leaning even more closely over me, Maria studied my motions in great detail, her breath forever more noticeable.

Then, without warning, she put a hand on my trim, inverted and blue-dyed triangle, stroking all three of its sides before bisecting it from apex to base.

Somehow I managed to control myself and kept on rhythmically plunging.

Holy moly, how seductive was she!

And how calculating as well. She'd already repositioned my hand to give herself the perfect view.

Yes, I was frigging myself from an awkward angle, just to suit her curiosity.

It was exciting; I can't deny that. It was massively exciting.

Thrill City had become Thrill Universe.

Forget the perfect view; she'd gone for perfect access, the sly so-and-so.

Hadn't she just! Out of nowhere, Maria put her tongue on my clit hood and I came like . . .

Well, seeing as I have already used up most of my comparisons, let's say it was a totally out-of-this-world experience. It was also one hundred per cent instantaneous.

And there I was, bragging about being able to last at least half an hour!

My fingers did, co-incidentally, hesitate at the height of my orgasm. Maria just took my hand and set it going again, probably at the same pace, possibly a little faster.

Now her tongue-tip was weaving all over me. Prudently avoiding my clitoris, it lapped just everywhere about my sex: up and down my swollen labia, inner and outer, manipulating my hood in the most very delightful way . . .

Best of all she regularly visited my awkward, relentlessly moving hand, taking the juice off my fingers as they came out of me, in and out, as hungry as heck.

Girl-on-girl virgin, I thought once more, very distantly this time, no way José.

As if I cared about titles and reputations at a moment like that. Don't ask me how many times I came because I lost count at a hundred and six.

Fuck me and call me "Lucky", I'd never had a seeing to anywhere nearly as thorough as that.

Finally . . . maybe around midnight, maybe much later . . . Maria desisted and, pulling my by then very aching hand away from kitty-kitty, licked and sucked all my five fingers, giving them the same levels of attention, whether they'd been directly involved or not.

'Equal shares,' I gasped, my lungs contracting even more powerfully that my vagina. 'And I should've gone first.'

'Oh my,' said Maria, 'did I let the side down?'

'No you did not. But you will if you don't get on your back in the next five seconds. I've catching-up to do . . . and a ton of catching up at that.'

*****

I'll spare you the details of the next two hours or so. I simply did my utmost to replicate everything that Maria had done for me.

And yes, I did occasionally wonder about her; indeed I wondered about her a lot.

That much aside, she tasted divine. As I'm sure you're aware, every girl has her own unique essence. I kid you not: Maria's essence could have been bottled and sold for megabucks.

In fact I think I'll buy myself a gift-wrapped bottle for Christmas.

And maybe more for Easter, Halloween and Bonfire Night, every other bank holiday as well . . .

*****

I won't pretend I've got a perfect, inbuilt sense of time in my head. Best I could do was guess when I'd brought Maria off on a hundred plus occasions. At which point it occurred to me that a missionary trib might well be in order.

Well, it definitely would be for me. Don't get me wrong, I love to bring a girl off again and again; doing that is a massive turn-on. But the notion of being on her, with her ankles very tightly locked around my back . . .

How more in order could anything possibly be?

Well, ideally I'd harness up and fuck her long and slow in the same position.

Sadly, I'd left my toys back home in Yorkshire. And she was supposed to be straight, so the chances of her having a strap-on seemed remote.

Therefore I turned through 180 degrees, clambered aboard and tribbed as if my life depended on it.

And guess what? Within a minute her ankles were very tightly locked around my back and, yet again showing experience and/or brilliant improvisation, she was angling herself up to meet me in ways that suited us both.

Wow, didn't she just?

I'm not going to attempt to put a time on that real face-to-face episode. It was incredibly good, though. I'm sure we both got as much out of the experience.

I'm also sure that, having done most of the doing, it was me who flopped first.

Un-anchoring, Maria pushed me off of her and half-climbed on top.

'I've fancied same-sex for three years, but I never dreamed it'd be this good,' she gushed.

Like heck,' I replied. 'You've done it zillions of times before.'

'No I haven't. But I'll take that as a compliment.'

'If you're telling the truth the whole world's before you.' I laughed breathlessly, 'And believe me; you'll love tomorrow night with Sabria.'

'Do you mean tonight?'

'Whatever. And give her one for me. She won't say no.'

'Okay,' said Maria with an enigmatic smile, climbing more fully onto me, kissing me as passionately as ever. 'I'll do whatever you ask. But first I need to this.'

Stone me, she wanted to trib some more, positions reversed.

Needless to report, she took to it like a duck to water.

And I adored every last second.

Afterword

What am I like? I set off saying I'm about to give full details of another week of sex and crap out after twenty-four hours. Thing is, I'd forgot there'd been so much sex.

As I said at the beginning of "Holidays in the Sun", I've just had the best holiday ever had anywhere by anyone, ever, ever, ever.

Sex came into the equation every day, as it would.

And sex is the reason I've screwed up again, obviously.

Maybe my brain has been addled.

Or maybe I like it so much I ramble on and on . . .

As a parting gesture, over-riding my previous waffle, I will be back with more.

I mean how could I possibly not reveal all about Lottie and Carla?

The body on Carla . . . those boobs on Lottie . . .

Think Terminator.

I'll be back.

Hasta la vista baby . . .