My Big Mistake Pt. 02

"I was hoping you wouldn't be long," he said as I presented my back to him with my hands on the side of the pool. I parted my legs as he lifted them.

"That was George," I said to everyone as I felt a stiff cock bump against me, "He's on his way."

"Back or front?" I felt his cock against my butthole. George had tried anal sex with me once and had not got far before I said it was too painful. In my book anal is not plain vanilla. Based on my experiment with the dildo I may give it another try, but it will just be to give George a treat.

"Front, in my cunt," I said, pleased with the rhyme, and I felt the tip push against my lips, part them and enter. He was big. Maybe I wasn't as primed as before, but he felt really big. He moved in gently sensing my need to adjust. He was probably used to just this. So, this was what black felt like. That was silly. A cock is a cock, just this was a bit bigger than I'd had before, but I did not think he was as big as Joan's Doug. That made me think of what Joan had said earlier, as he buried himself deeper.

"All cocks are the same and all cocks are different." I'd never realized she was such a philosopher, although we had done Phil 101 together in college. I stopped thinking and just savored the moment and the movement.

"Did life get any better than this?" There, I was thinking again. I thought about rubbing my clit but decided he was in no hurry, and I was coming to the boil nicely. I fact little contractions were already gripping me as his cock repeatedly brushed my cervix without hurting. This boy had technique. Was it right to be fucking someone young enough to be my son? That thought pushed me over the edge and I stifled a yell as I came. Wendy looked at me and laughed. She and Bill just seemed to be enjoying the journey.

As the aftershocks kept rippling, Patrick just kept going and soon I could feel everything happening again as I reached a second crescendo. And Patrick still kept going but a little faster now, I had one more, smaller climax before he pulled out turned me around and splattered my face with his cum. I had not really thought about whether he was circumcised, or not, it doesn't really matter, but now that big raw red purple head told me he wasn't. He held it towards me, and I had no hesitation, but a little difficulty, in fitting my mouth around it and sucking and swallowing the rest of his cum. I could not quite believe how much there was.

I always used to spit, and George almost always finishes inside me now, but the impulse was there, and I followed it. Still pretty vanilla I guessed, the sex not the taste. I looked round and realized Wendy and Bill had also reached a mutually pleasing conclusion, but she had not heaped the praise on Bill that she had heaped on George. I wondered if he noticed. I know George can be good, but for us it has become a bit too routine, I guess.

That's not fair, we've already had some great fucks on this holiday, with plenty to look forward too. A lot of it is about mood. I had practically blacked out with the orgasm I had with Bill at the beach. I'd never done that before. In my heart, I knew Patrick was way more talented but the atmosphere here in the pool was just less intense. He had just made me cum three times for God's sake, "how much more do you want, woman?"

By the time George and Joan arrived I had made coffee for Wendy and me, and the boys were into another beer. We were all sun-screened up and relaxing on the loungers.

"Sorry about that," said George to everyone, "but you are probably better off here. It really is windy all over the island. I better just put this grouper in the fridge. He's big enough for everyone if you can all stay for dinner."

"What did you think of Marigot?" I asked Joan.

"Nice supermarket and nice waterfront, what I saw of it. I would have liked to climb up to that little Fort on the hill, but we had to come back."

"Fort St Louis, it's OK," said Wendy. I realized George and I have never climbed up there. I also realized how little we, or at least I, really knew about Wendy. While I instinctively liked her, I had had conversations with just about everybody on the nude cruise but never with Wendy. She just appeared at the beach and then left. She had a rental car, it was parked outside, but where was she staying? I determined to find out more about her.

Meanwhile, people wanted to have lunch. Joan and George had gone inside to put away the things that they had bought that were not part of lunch. Now they were setting everything out buffet style on the table. The patio table outside was big enough for six and Bill went next door to fetch a couple of extra upright chairs. I went in to help George and Joan and found cutlery and paper napkins enough for all of us. George pulled out a chilled bottle of a dry sparkling rosé to suit the festive atmosphere, and I watched him put another in the freezer to chill. I knew there was no risk of it getting forgotten there.

Everyone came in in turn and served themselves. I took a slice of cantaloupe, some slices of baked ham, salami, brie, and baguette, all very healthy. There were lots of other choices, but I don't like to get carried away. Once seated we raised our glasses and variously said, "cheers and santé." I said 'salut,' confusing the French word for 'Hi" with the Spanish word for good health 'salud.' I should stick to English, but it gave those who noticed a laugh.

After lunch George went for a nap while Wendy helped me put things away, and Joan and the boys went back to sunning or swimming.

"Where are you staying, Wendy?"

"I have a villa up in the hills. It was in my husband's family years before I met him."

"You mean you live here permanently?"

"Yes, for the past five years."

"Your husband doesn't come to the beach?"

"He mostly stays in Paris. He's more interested in business than leisure."

"What business is he in?"

"Oh, he owns or has an interest in lots of businesses in France. He owns two or three franchises here on the island, a car rental for example. That's why I'm always driving a rental."

"Wow, sounds like you must be very rich."

"We are, or he is, I signed a generous what do you say...pre-nup. He has children from a previous marriage and the bulk of his money will go to them, but I won't be a pauper."

"He's older than you?"

"A lot. I suppose I am what you Americans call a trophy wife. I spend two months in Paris in the winter, when we go to galas and parties, and I go to stay with him in the French Alps in the height of the summer to escape the heat, either here or in Paris. In case you are wondering he no longer comes down here, he has a heart condition and that means we don't make love. He's quite happy for me to have fun here as long as no scandals get into the media. That's no problem, I am careful what I do and with whom."

"My, your life is so different from the rest of us."

"I like you, Holly. You strike me as a very honest person, and do you know I hardly ever get asked these personal questions? Everyone just accepts me as another tourist and that's fine with me. If you like, we can all go up to my villa tomorrow. We have a pool of course."

"I'd love that."

"I'll come and guide you. We'll need you to bring your car as I won't come back, if we stay the afternoon there."

"If I can ask, how old is your husband?"

"He's eighty-two, forty-four years older than me."

"You're thirty-eight? Wow, you don't look it." She was closer to our age than I realized.

"I try not to. And in my head, I'm still twenty-two. Do you know how old Françoise, the Canadian lady from yesterday is?"

"Dan told me she was fifty-three, but she looks pretty good."

"He may believe that, but when she was paying with her credit card, I saw her driving license. She is sixty-two."

"I can't believe that. She doesn't look it, it's incredible."

"If you know how to look, you can see she's had some excellent cosmetic surgery. I won't do that myself because eventually it catches up with you. I hope she doesn't get her claws too deep into Dan. He seems a nice guy."

"They are just here for the week."

"That's what he thinks, but I smell a marriage wrecker. I hope I'm wrong."

"You really think so," I thought of Joan saying how she saw Françoise fucking Patrick almost within hearing of Dan; and I wondered if I was naïve. Wendy didn't even know about that.

"What are you girls whispering about?" asked Bill, coming in from the pool, "I'm just going to...er...wash my hands."

"Just girl talk," I said, "I didn't know the pool was so dirty."

Wendy laughed.

"I'm going to take a piss, OK?" he said.

"Fine, why didn't you say so?" I knew I was being silly, but I was in that sort of mood.

Wendy and I went out and I didn't see Joan until she surfaced and dropped down again. She was giving Patrick a demonstration of her oral skills and he seemed appreciative. I couldn't see if she could take all of it, but she had a good throatful, and was massaging his sack. "She really is a slut,' I thought, but I could feel my pulse increase, "Was I the pot or the kettle?" I was certainly behaving very differently from my usual self.

I felt a distinct chill in the air and noticed the wind was now strong enough that it was whipping the tops of the palm trees even though they were not as tall as the villa. The sky in the direction of the ocean was very dark.

"I think there's a cold front coming in and we are going to get some serious rain in a minute," I called out. "Let's put the lounger cushions under cover."

Wendy and I started, and Bill came back and helped, while Joan was still ducking and bobbing on Patrick in the pool. She finished him off just as the rain started to fall, I noticed he had started to shiver, and they both came running under cover of the patio. I felt the temperature dropping further and ushered everyone inside. It must have dropped ten degrees or more in as many minutes. The mid-sixties feel very cold when you are used to mid-seventies to low eighties. We all pulled some clothes on, and I handed out beers.

The rain turned into a noisy downpour, as we went around closing all the windows.

"Shit!" said Bill, "I think we left our bedroom windows open."

"Here; borrow this poncho," I said handing him one of George's. We always have them handy by the door. As I've said, brief showers are not unusual at this time of year, but a cold front is just bad luck. I hoped it would move off overnight but was fairly sure we were done for the day.

"I hope all your windows are closed," I said quietly to Wendy.

"Marie or Charles will take care of it," she replied.

You may imagine that we spent the rest of the day in some kind of orgy, given everything that I've told you. In fact, after rejecting Joan's suggestion of 'spin the bottle,' we played a game of charades and laughed a lot. Now George was awake, he kept the beers and rum punches going as he began to devote himself to preparing the grouper.

It was delicious and everyone heaped praise on him, which he deserves and can't get too much of.

During dinner Wendy spoke to the group, "I told Holly earlier that I am staying in a villa in the hills. I would like you all to come there tomorrow. It isn't the beach but there is a nice pool, and excellent heating if this cold weather persists."

Everyone but me was a little surprised but pleased at the idea of doing something different. I noticed Wendy had said it was where she was staying, not that she lived here. That might be something to keep between us if it did not become very obvious tomorrow. I wondered if Marie and Charles were her husband's grown children staying there too or were they servants. Can you rent a villa with staff? I suppose you can if you have enough money. I suspected the gang and I were in for a surprise.

to be continued

Copyright: © Dawn Ramble 2022