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My series of holiday affairs continued, after ‘Virgin Whirlwind,’ ‘Double’ and ‘Beware of Geeks.’ In 1998, I went to the Algarve.
The first week I drew a blank, apart from a man who believed he would be bestowing a favour on me. Most of the second week passed, too, with another man, needing some therapy. But I was not there for male ergo-boosting or cunt-based counselling. I relaxed in the pool, the sea or the surrounding terrain.
On the morning of my penultimate day, a couple of women, probably mother and daughter, came to breakfast. The older was white-haired, with a matronly figure, dressed in a dark suit and white blouse. They collected their food and sat down. The younger, about my own age, began scanning the other people as she ate. She was voluptuous — there’s no other word. Hispanic, measuring around 42, 32, 44, swarthy, with a tumble of black hair down her back. Dressed in a mustard-coloured, short-sleeved, blouse, with a matching, mid-calf flounced skirt. She had the impact described by my artist-friend Dulcinda as ‘a hurricane-force hard-on.’
That she was profoundly deaf was indicated by her mother’s touching her arm to attract her attention and then asking her something in sign-language. I regretted I had not included that in my language-studies, but I would probably not have become fluent in whatever form they were using. The daughter nodded and mother went to fetch coffee.
Meanwhile the daughter’s eyes encountered mine. She registered my appreciation with a little drooping of the lids over large, widely-spaced, dark eyes. Then she opened them fully, and shot me a look which gave a new meaning to the term ‘penetrating gaze,’ because it swooped across the two metres between us, dived up my skirt, thrust up my knicker-leg and embedded itself in my vagina, storm-force ten.
During the ten minutes of the thirty seconds that we were exchanging laser beams of lust it was established that we were harbouring instant erections of nipple and clitoris, and, in my case, anyway, tsunamis of vaginalubricant (it was as well I was wearing knickers). Ergo, we needed to be in close proximity, sooner than immediately.
My swotted-up Portuguese or reasonable Spanish would be useless, and I could hardly say to the mother, ‘Excuse me, but would you mind signing to your daughter that I need her for sex in Room 315 right now.’
I need not have worried. The daughter gave me a little nod to show that she had things in hand, shortly, I hoped, to include parts of me, and continued her breakfast. I did the same, though my excitement was not aiding my appetite. Meanwhile I considered the ethics of seducing a deaf woman. Was that taking advantage of a disability? No, she had signalled me, and the fact that she would have to signal directly someone without signing capability did not remove her control of the situation.
Both women were awaiting me when I left the dining-room. The mother offered her hand and introduced herself, ‘Eduarda.’ I gave my name and shook. She introduced her daughter, ‘Desidéria.’ That lady also shook my hand, firmly, several times up and down. Then Eduarda politely hoped, in Portuguese, that I would have a pleasant day and walked briskly away.
I wondered whether these names were genuine, being suspiciously appropriate, as ‘Eduarda’ means Guardian, while ‘Desidéria’ is Longing. Was the Guardian trusting me to assuage the Longing? Maybe this was their regular practice, the frequenting of hotels, in search of persons eager to answer to those powerful desires.
Desidéria gave me a broad grin, still holding my hand and mimed sleeping, by resting her head on the back of the other hand and then pointing to my watch and holding up three fingers three times. I must give my room number and be there in fifteen minutes. I held up three fingers, then one finger, then five. She grinned even more, squeezed my hand, released it and patted my cheek. Then summoned the lift and we rode up, apparently strangers to each other, with three others to the second floor, where she got off. I went on up.
Arrived in my room, I was quite agitated. This was surely the speediest assignation I had made for a good while. Had I interpreted the situation aright? Maybe Eduarda had consigned Desidéria to my company to spend the morning in some innocent pursuit, while I, in my lust, had read the signals as sexual. Well, I had better assume the best, so I took a quick shower and cleaned my teeth, but played safe by dressing again, including clean knickers.
When the knock came on my door I was buzzing with anticipation, and the determination to appear non-committal, until Desidéria’s intentions were clear. But I had hardly closed the door before she was upon me. She had no doubts, for she threw her arms round me and limpeted her lips to mine, and darted a long, hot tongue into my mouth. She forced herself against me, gripped me as if in a wrestling hold and began to pant and squirm. This was a woman in dire need of assuagement.
Suddenly she stepped poker oyna back, looked into my eyes and hefted her hefty bosom towards me. Offering me her breasts, and I slipped my hands between them and her hands and took the weight. She nodded and reached for mine, jogging them up and down, nodding again.
It was time to bring them forth for appraisal, and whatever she wished to follow. She indicated the blouse. I was to remove it, and did so, over her head. After which she shook out her long, dark hair over her bare shoulders and hefted her bosom at me again. Reaching round her I struggled a moment to free the hooks from the eyes of her huge-cupped bra. As I drew it off she closed her eyes in pleasure as her impressive breasts came free and slumped some way towards her rounded stomach. What next?
She reached for my face with both hands and drew it down towards her right nipple, which stood out a good half inch from an enormous, irregularly shaped, dark-red areola. It was easily three inches across at its widest and rough with many of those little bumps, so that the areola felt interestingly rough under my tongue. The nipple hardened as I sucked and nibbled. I palmed the other breast and squeezed its nipple between two fingers. She began to shudder and waver about on her feet, as if dizzy, and without removing my mouth I urged her backwards towards the bed, until she abruptly sat down, jerking the breast away.
I resumed my hold and pressed her backwards to lie down. And as I swapped to the other breast I realised she was about to cum, as those great globes swelled and the areolas filled and stood clear. She held the breasts, pushing them up into my mouth and hand, breathing hard and uttering little grunts. Then the orgasm took her, and she let go the bosom and lifted my head into a messy kiss, panting through the lips she was squashing onto mine.
As the tide of sensation ebbed, she drew my head down to lay my cheek on her stomach, then lifted a breast, releasing it again so that, for the first time in my life, I had a breast resting on my forehead. It was both soothing and exciting.
We had been together ten minutes, she was still half dressed, including her shoes, I was still fully dressed, and already she had cum. Was that relief enough, or would it take many more climaxes to reach satiation? I hoped the latter, of course, because I had not yet seen or engaged with her pussy, or that jutting bottom.
After a few minutes, she lifted my head away, so that I sat up beside her. Her breasts had deflated and hung down slackly, filling me with tenderness. She sat up, got up on the other side of the bed and walked round to draw me to my feet. Unhurriedly she removed my tee-shirt and lifted my breasts a little, thumbing my nipples through my bra. Then she began another long, long kiss, also reaching round me to unhook the harness, and, as my breasts came free and impacted hers she jerked in my arms with excitement. This was a woman with a mammary-fixation, it seemed. Without breaking the kiss, she took hold of my breasts and moved them about, so that our nipples snubbed together many times. Mine were already engorged, and hers, which had relapsed after she came, hardened again as mine snagged them back and forth, up and down. This was enjoyable for me, but it was clearly highly inflammatory for her.
She drew me down onto the bed, and we lay down. She at once slid down to apply her mouth to a nipple, sucking it in with tremendous force and jabbing it against her teeth with her tongue. It was pleasurable, but only just short of actually painful. As she went back and forth, breast to breast, she became more and more aroused, till I wondered if another first-time experience was on the way — a woman climaxing from attending to another woman’s nipples. I also suspected she was expecting me to cum from nipple stimulation, just as she could.
Since her arousal didn’t seem to be reaching a peak, I concluded she needed further stimulus and dragged up her skirt, intending to find her pussy. But as my fingers fumbled at her silky knickers she pushed may hand away. Pussy was apparently out of bounds — for the moment, anyway. Therefore, I gently drew the current nipple out of her mouth and wriggled down the bed to enable me to offer the same treatment to her now fully extended nipples. And as I drew one into my mouth, attempting the same powerful suction as she had used, she began to thrash about, the breast swelled and, she was ready to cum again. Hastily I went to the other breast and teased the nipple between my tongue and teeth. She came, writhing beneath me, and as she panted I felt her heart pounding with the force of the orgasm.
I had never myself climaxed from the nipples alone, but she had now shown me another new experience — no wonder she had not been interested in any pubic probings. Were we to continue like this, many times brimming her over with man-nipple-ation, or, better woman-nipple-ation? Well, I do believe that every woman should be ready to give any other canlı poker oyna woman as many orgasms as she wants, by any means that she favours, but I was hoping that I might have at least one myself along the way.
Anyway, we moved to snuggle in each other’s arms, and against mine I felt those superb breasts slacken again. She slept. Who needed words? We had been together less than half an hour and she had had two bosomgasms. I was uncomfortable from the sticky wetness in my knickers, and wondered if she was in a similar state. Suppose she was a virgin, with no need of any sexual activity below the waist? Or maybe her moral code allowed mammary masturbation but excluded all else. Perhaps that was why she had striven to make me cum as she had done.
Then I realised, now I had the time to note it consciously, that she was giving off a powerful odour, a heady blend of vagina, sweat and some perfume I did not recognise. Evidently, she was thoroughly aroused in the pussy department, whether or not there was to be any access to it.
When she awoke she looked into my eyes, narrowed her own, as if concentrating on some immediate concern, and gave me a lingering kiss. She detached herself, sat up, stood up and walked round the bed to draw me to my feet.
She undid and slid my skirt down to my shoes, which she took off to detach the skirt. Then she knelt before me, slipped her hands up the back of my knickers and pulled me towards her, so she could bury her face in my crotch. She licked at my damp mons through the fabric. The feel of her hands slowly kneading my cheeks, while her long tongue probed my mons in proximity to my clit could have tipped me over, but I wanted to know what more was possible.
What was possible was that she pulled my knickers down and off, stood and guided me to lie down. Thus, I was now naked while she was still half dressed. She took hold of my knees, moved them apart and bent them to expose my pussy. Which she contemplated for a short time, moving her head several times to smile at me, evidently liking what she saw. Then she held up a hand with her forefinger extended and gave me a questioning look. Would I like it inserted? Yes, I nodded. She held up two fingers and I nodded again.
She sat beside me, slid a hand up my inner thigh and felt gently for my vestibule with those fingers. Entry was readily available and with a little moue of appreciation she slipped the digits into me. I was so sensitised by now that, again, I could have cum as soon as she flexed those fingers within me, but she expertly slid her thumb along my vulva and located my clitrigger. That was it. My orgasm exploded deep within, above the cervix, radiating outwards through my bottom, my stomach, my thighs, effervescing up my chest. She squeezed the tissue between cunt and clit and the feeling intensified, sending a second shock-wave through my system, overloading every nerve to the point I nearly fainted.
She delicately massaged my vagina walls as the orgasm slowly abated, and, when I opened my eyes, she was looking into them with an expression of tender glee, rejoicing she had brought me off and happy that we were so readily attuned.
When the climax had died away, I was both drained and energised. I was determined to get at that stupendous bottom and investigate the mysteries within those silky knickers, currently not on view. So, I stood, walked round the bed, drew her to her feet, undid the skirt and pulled it off over her head. She made no objection, standing there in all-enveloping shiny white knickers, within which, aided by the dampness, was visible the dark shadow of the pubic hair. She smiled encouragingly and I knelt to take off her shoes and peel off that silken garment. Into view came a hirsute hectare of black curls. Freed from the clinging fabric they were springing back into the natural, bushy configuration. I buried my face in them and breathed its rich aroma.
She put her hand round the back of my head and pushed my nose and mouth into that steamy upholstery. I extended my tongue to seek her clitoris, hidden, like the ruins of Angkor Wat, deep within that jungle, but realised I needed to part the boskage to find it. So, I stood, and guided her to lie on the bed, where she needed no prompting to open her legs.
I needed both hands to part the thick fur and fold back the deep, livery labia. The clitoris poked forth from its hood, like a little nipple, erect, rounded, glistening with the vulval secretions. It was beautiful and inviting, and I bent to suck at it. She let forth a deep sigh, as if falling asleep, and her whole body went completely limp. For a second I was anxious I had overstressed her neural pathways.
Then I understood — she was totally letting go, giving herself into the orgasm. It swept her away for what seemed minutes, ending with a shudder. Then she lay, apparently insensible, drooling a little from the corner of her mouth. I lay down alongside her and gathered her head against my breasts. She pushed her cheek internet casino against them and gave another sigh. Then we both slept a while.
I was awakened by the touch of her mouth on mine, and her finger on my clitoris. She sucked at my lips, probed with her tongue and slid that friendly finger down my vulva and into my vagina. Then she withdrew it and returned to the clit, repeating its journey again and again, clearly wanting me to cum, never ceasing to writhe her lips on mine. I felt my labia engorge, sensitised to a degree I had not often experienced. And her eagerness that I should cum communicated to me so strongly that, almost without my consciously hoping for, or expecting it, the climax stole over me, emanating from a combination of that labial tumescence, the clitoral excitation and the vaginal pulsing round the finger, which she knew to keep there during my cumming.
It seemed that there were always new orgasmic experiences, beyond the truism that no two climaxes are quite the same. And as she in her turn pressed my face against that abundant bosom I reflected that I had still not properly viewed that surely equally abundant bottom, and formed a plan. Which had to wait until we had both recouped our forces for further arousal.
It was a little strange to lie there, embracing someone with whom I had had the most tumultuous sexual intimacy, saying nothing. But I found our hands and lips were conversing most movingly. We were kissing each other’s faces, shoulders, breasts, and caressing each other’s backs, legs and bottoms, moving in our shared sweat and juices, celebrating each other with mutual joy and admiration, in sweet harmony.
After another doze, I got up off the bed, urged her to stand, too, and turn, so that now I could feast my eyes on that glorious bottom. It was the most bottomy bottom I had seen for years, the acme of arse, the ultimabott, the culmination of bottomage. It was not just its impressive size, it was its shapeliness. The crack began in the small of her back, as the cheeks sprang outwards at once, their uppermost surface almost horizontal, before they sloped gradually downwards, swelling all the time sideways as well as backwards. They were at their maximum depth half way down the overall assembly, after which they began to tuck under and curve upwards, finally offering a deep crease with their overhang.
She was anxious at the long interval of inaction as I stood and gazed at that superb bum, and looked round to see what the problem was. For answer I cupped my hands and slotted the fingers into that delicious crease and hefted both buttocks, mimicking the hefting of our breasts. She read the awed appreciation in my face and pushed back against my palms. I need hardly say that those spectacular hemispheres of sheer beauty greatly overflowed my spread fingers.
Then I moved to fulfil my plan. I guided her to kneel up on the bed while I stood behind her. Her breasts were now hanging down and squeezed between her arms. I could now reach round her body with one hand and spread it across the nipples, pressed close, and at the same time push the other hand, palm upwards, between the lowest extent of her cheeks and feel for her clitoris with my first two fingers, simultaneously working my thumb up her vagina. By this means I was able to trig at her nipples, agitate her clit and flex my thumb in her cunt. And I could also brush my puss-fur back and forth across her cheeks. As I had hoped, this combination of stimuli proved highly effective.
She began to rock back and forth on her knees, flex her back up and down, and squeeze the hand between her upper thighs to vary the pressure and depth of my fingers and thumb. Soon she began to gasp and grunt and it was obvious her orgasm was building. What sparked it off was my tightening my grip on the nipples and forcing my thumb a fraction further inside. This time she went rigid, clamping my hands between arms and buttocks, and looked round at me, eyes wide open, jaw clenched.
This was the penultimate cum of the morning, for, without pausing to recover, when I released her, she sat on the bed, feet on the floor and drew me towards her, so that I was sitting on her thighs, my legs either side of hers. This position offered my breasts to her mouth, so that she could lick and suck, while she also held me with a hand round a buttock and slid the other hand between our bodies, wrist against her pussy, and sought my clitoris with the fingers. Thoroughly re-aroused by having just cummed her, I was not slow to cum again, this time feeling it begin in the tingling in my breasts.
We ended in each other’s arms once more, lying on the bed, looking into each other’s eyes with tender appreciation. And after another short doze we got up and went into the shower together, sluicing away the secretions. Then she put on the blouse and skirt, but not the underwear, kissed me fondly and left.
When I went down to lunch, the two women were already eating. Both smiled at me and waved me over to join them when I had assembled my meal. I wondered whether the morning’s activities would be referred to in any way, till. Eduarda began a conventional conversation, enquiring about my life and work and telling me about theirs.
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