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Saturday
Steve stared out of the ferry window at the cold grey waves as the ferry ploughed its way across the western end of the English Channel. By rights, if his friend Tom hadn’t fallen off his motorbike and put himself in hospital, he should have been camping in the Lake District. Instead he was condemned to a week of purgatory going to Brittany with the family.
He’d tried pleading, he’d tried cajoling, he’d promised them the earth and more but, ever since last Easter when he had been left in charge of the house and there had been that stupid incident with the party they refused to trust him. Ok, so the police had been called but it wasn’t as if anyone had got arrested or anything and, after all, they had replaced the glass in Mrs Jacob’s cold frame. Bloody parents, they could be so unreasonable.
The worst of it all was that he was forced to share a cabin. Everything had been fully booked this close to high season; indeed they had been lucky to get Steve a ticket, and now they were all going to have to bunk down together. Whilst Allison, Steve’s thirteen-year-old sister, thought this the greatest adventure, Steve just saw it as yet another inconvenience and had retired to the lounge. At least there he could relax with Metal Gear Solid and he wouldn’t have to listen to their snores.
With a weary sigh he went back to his PSP. There was no way he was going to enjoy himself; absolutely no way whatsoever. His fingers stabbed at the buttons as he took his frustration out on the endless stream of aliens.
The one hundred or so kilometres from the port of Roscoff to the picturesque village of Roscanvel had passed in a blur. Steve had had absolutely no interest in the rolling Breton landscape and its picturesque hints of the Celtic fringe. He had got so little sleep on the ferry crossing that he could barely keep his eyes open and he was still dozing when they pulled in to the narrow lane that led to the holiday cottage.
If your idea of the perfect holiday is to get away from it all then Roscanvel is an ideal destination. Right on the edge of the Finistere coast it offers a wild beauty and a peaceful quiet far, far removed from the hurly burly of the city. On the other hand, if you’re a seventeen-year-old boy it offers absolutely nothing. The honey coloured stone, straw thatch and exposed beams of the cottage held no charms for him; rather they accentuated its remoteness. Steve found he couldn’t get a single bar on his mobile and, as for broadband, they hardly had carrier pigeon. To top it all he was forced to share a room with Alison and, although he inevitably won the battle over who got the top bunk, this was a small victory in a sea of misery.
So it was that, when Steve’s parents had suggested that they all head for the village and then on to explore the cliffs and beaches, he had replied in no uncertain terms that he would rather be dead and had even added a few expletives for good measure. His father, realising that a grudging apology for his language was as good as they would get, didn’t press the point and Steve was left settle down in a patch of shade with Grand Theft Auto on his PSP. Even that wasn’t enough to overcome his exhaustion and he soon dozed off and he was still lying there when he was woken from a deep sleep by the sounds of someone trying to attract his attention.
“Excuse me. Hello. Excuse me.” A voice called out. “We’re booked into the cottage opposite and I can’t find anyone. Can you tell me where we get the keys?”
Steve shook the sleep from his eyes and looked up to see a goddess leaning over the garden gate. He and his mates often used the word ‘fit’ to describe desirable girls but never before had he met anyone for whom the term seemed so apt. Tall and athletic, she was dressed in a tennis outfit and neither the tight top nor the short pleated skirt did anything other than emphasise the curves of her body. She wore designer sunglasses that concealed her eyes but her wide smile was enough and Steve, completely tongue tied, stumbled to his feet and went over to the gate.
As he got there he could see past her into the lane where the car in which she had just arrived was parked. The silver BMW Z8 with the top down would have been just the thing to complete his perfect fantasy had it not been for the man, obviously her partner, sitting behind the wheel.
“Hi, I’m Greg and this is Simone.” The man called out. “We’re booked in to the cottage opposite and there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. Can you tell us where we’ll find the owners?”
Steve dragged his eyes away from Simone’s cleavage and tried to remember where Alison had been sent when they had arrived.
“Oh… Yeah… It’s the farmhouse… The one at the end of the lane. Shall I go for you?” Steve finally answered. There is no way Steve would have offered had Greg been on his own but for Simone…
“Would you? What a sweetie.” Simone answered and Steve, completely smitten and anxious to please, dashed off to fetch the owners.
When he and Monsieur Reynard returned a couple of minutes later Greg and Simone were already unloading their bags from the boot of the car. They travelled light and apart from a couple of holdalls the only other item was a sports bag from which protruded the handles of two tennis rackets; it would seem that Simone’s outfit was not just for decoration but practical as well. Monsieur Reynard went over to them and it turned out that Greg spoke perfect French the two of them were soon discussing the finer details of the cottage which left Simone and Steve standing at the gate.
“We come here because the cottage has its own private tennis court.” Simone explained. “That and because Greg can’t get a signal on his mobile; it’s the one thing I insist on otherwise he’d be on the phone to the office all day. This way it gives him a real break and he just has to let go. Do you play?”
“Play?” Steve had again been too busy staring at Simone’s cleavage. “Oh, tennis. Err… Just a bit, when I was at school. I’m awfully rusty.”
“Nonsense, it’s like riding a bike; once you learn you never forget. You must come and play a few sets with me.” There was a shout from the house. “Oh, well, the Master calls. Gotta run. Don’t forget, come and play a few sets. It will be fun.”
Leaving the gawping teenager in the lane Simone turned and went into the cottage.
Steve lay in bed idly stroking his erection. The rest of the family had set off for the day exploring the local countryside and, once again, he’d cried off electing instead to stay at the cottage. Almost as soon as they had left he had gone back to bed and, whilst his imagination removed Simone’s top and tennis skirt his hand pumped away bringing him to yet another orgasm. As he got his breath back he thought about going over to see her, err… them, but he was realistic enough to know that, even without Greg in the frame, she was a million miles outside of his class. His fevered imagination was the closest he was ever going to get to seeing her naked, let alone all the other things that were fuelling his libido.
By lunchtime hunger finally drove him from his bed and he went to the kitchen to see what he could do with a baguette and a lump of the local cheese. This, plus a bunch of grapes, made an adequate repast so he plated it up and set off into the midday sunshine. He lay full length on one of the sun loungers and, after washing down his bread and cheese with a glass of wine, drifted off into a hazy half sleep.
P’tang… p’tang… p’tang… “Oh, well played.”
P’tang… p’tang… “That was out.”
P’tang… p’tang… p’tang…
Steve rolled over, awoken by the sounds from across the road as Greg and Simone made good use of the tennis courts. Immediately his mind conjured up visions of the delightful Simone reaching for a difficult shot, her short tennis skirt offering tantalising glimpses and, as his penis stirred in his shorts, he decided to see if he could find somewhere from where he could watch. He could, of course, just go round; after all Simone had given him an open invite, but he was far too shy to do so and, anyway, they would insist that he played as well so, rather than do that, he walked into the lane between the two properties and looked for alternatives. On the far side of the house there was a small coppice and, surely, that offered plenty of scope for concealment. Working on the assumption that Greg and Simone were too busy playing tennis to be paying any attention to the surroundings he worked his way to the back of the woods and then crept through them until he found the perfect place. A tree had fallen some years back and lay on its side quite close to the edge of the tennis courts. By lying on the ground next to the log he could see under it and had an all but unobstructed view of the court. Furthermore, being low down, he was getting the view he wanted, or he would be if it weren’t that she was at the other end of the court.
He’d only been there a couple of minutes when Greg missed a shot and had to retrieve the ball from close to where Steve was hiding. At first Steve thought he must be discovered, the bright tangerine football shirt he was wearing was a dumb choice for concealment and would be hard to miss, even under the log but he seemed to have got away with it as Greg simply picked up the ball and returned to the game.
And then, a few points later, everything changed. Greg picked up the ball and, instead of serving, went over to the net where Simone joined him. For a couple of minutes they talked together; Steve couldn’t make out the words but Greg seemed to be making some sort of point, as if he were telling Simone what to do. After some discussion she disappeared towards the house and Steve was left wondering whether the game was over until she returned moments later. She went over to Greg and gave him a shy but wicked grin after which they went back to their game. However, as they took up position they had changed ends meaning that Simone was now at the same end as Steve who was now in the perfect position. Maybe three meters or so back from the edge of the court and low down he had the perfect view as the hem of her skirt offered endless tantalising glimpses, whether it be as she leant forward, ready to return service or as she reached up when she was serving. Time and time again Steve tried to check out what colour panties she was wearing until, as she bent over to pick up the ball, he finally got the view that confirmed his growing suspicions; he hadn’t been able to tell because she wasn’t wearing any!
By now Steve was completely hooked and couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to. It was as if Simone was deliberately giving him increasingly daring views as, in all innocence, she reached for difficult shots, leapt high when serving or, best of all, bent over to pick up the ball. Steve wished he had his phone with him so that he could take pictures; as it was he was going to have to rely on his memory and he concentrated on memorising every inch of her firm thighs, every beautiful curve of the twin globes of her perfect buttocks.
“That’s it, I’ve had enough.” Greg finally called out. “I’m off for a shower; clear up here, will you. And don’t forget the task I set you; come and tell me when you've done it.”
“Yes, Sir.” Simone replied leaving Steve to guess whether the ‘Sir’ was ironic or something else.
With Greg gone Simone seemed to be even less careful about exposing herself and, as she bent down to pick up the balls or sort out the bits and pieces in the sports bag, Steve was getting some of the best views yet. However the icing on the cake came when it looked like it was all over, all the balls had been retrieved and the sports bag was packed. Simone looked around the court and, with a wicked grin on her face came over to the end of the court, a mere three meters from where Steve was hidden and stood facing towards him with her feet maybe half a metre apart. Reaching down for the hem of her skirt she took it between her fingers and gently, slowly, tantalisingly started to lift. Slowly, one centimetre at a time, she pulled the hem up and sideways until, framed by the folds of white cotton, Steve had the perfect view of her shaven pubic mound, the twin lips of her labia plain to see between her half open thighs. With her free hand she stroked herself, up and down, up and down.
Then, as quick as it had happened, it was over, she let her skirt fall back into place and, with a wiggle of her hips, sashayed out of the tennis court, picking up the bag on her way. Steve was left with his mouth wide open and the hardest erection he’d ever experienced. Never, ever, had he seen anything so jaw droppingly sexy. Part of him wondered why, why had she done it? Had she known he was there? And, is she had, surely that would have made her less likely to expose herself so or to behave so outrageously. Still, the heat of his libido brushed these objections aside as he pushed down his shorts and reached for his penis. There was no way he was able to wait to get back to the house before getting relief.
“Stevie! Stevie! Come downstairs now. Mrs Anderson is here to see you.” Steve’s mother’s voice calling up the stairs roused him from yet another dream of flashes of pantyless buttocks peeking beneath the hem of crisp white tennis skirts. Who the hell was Mrs Anderson and what on earth did she want with him. Tugging on a pair of shorts and a bright red Rage Against The Machine tee shirt he made his way downstairs. His mother was talking animatedly at the door and, as he approached she pulled back to reveal Simone standing there looking radiant.
“Ah, there he is.” Steve’s mother exclaimed. “It can be quite a struggle to get this one out of bed.”
“Hello… Mrs Anderson.” Steve said.
“Oh, there's no need to be so formal, you must call me Simone. Now, you’ve been a very naughty boy.” She wagged her finger at him.
Steve blushed as bright red as his tee shirt as his mind reeled from the possibilities. What did she mean by naughty? Had he been spotted and was Mrs Anderson here to complain? If so, why was she smiling and why had she told him to call her Simone?
“Err… naughty?” he stuttered.
“Yes, naughty. You promised you’d come and play tennis with us and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of you.” Simone said, laughing.
“Stevie! You mustn’t make promises and not keep them.” His mother said sternly.
Steve, still half asleep, was completely confused. Primarily there was the relief that he hadn’t been spotted, that this wasn’t a complaint about him spying on them but, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember making any promises to play tennis.
“I’m sorry.” He said eventually. “I didn’t realise… I thought you didn’t mean it. Of course, I’d love to play with you, err… play tennis with you.” If anything Steve blushed deeper at his unintended double entendre.
“If you’re sure…” Steve’s mother interjected. “It really is very kind of you. I know he’d love to have a game or two; I’m afraid our young man is finding our Brittany holiday a little boring but you mustn’t let him make a nuisance of himself. Don’t let him outstay his welcome.”
“He’ll be fine.” Simone assured Steve’s mother before turning back to Steve. “Shall we say ten thirty? That gives you time to have breakfast and so on. Don’t worry if you haven’t got your racket; you can borrow Greg’s, OK?”
“Yeah, sure.” Steve replied. “I’d love to.”
An hour later, washed, dressed and a little apprehensive, Steve knocked on the door of Greg and Simone’s cottage. After a moment or two the door opened and Greg invited him in.
“If you’re looking for Simone she’s out back. She said you would be over. I’d be playing but…” Greg indicated his laptop which was set up on the kitchen table and a pile of paperwork lying beside it.
Steve, amazed that anyone would work on their holiday went through the cottage and out to the back garden where Simone was lying in the sun, dressed in a bikini.
“Ah, there you are. Give me a second or two to get changed and I’ll be with you. You’ll find the gear by the back door. Be a sweetie and take it over to the court, will you?”
Steve found the bag and took it over to the courts. A few moments later Simone arrived wearing a white top and a short flared skirt similar to the one she had worn previously. Steve felt his penis swell in his underpants and hoped it wouldn’t be too obvious. As Simone bent over to open the bag and fetch out the rackets the back of her skirt rode up and Steve couldn’t help but glance over to check and, yes, it looked like, once again, she wasn’t wearing any panties. He quickly turned away and, surreptitiously slipping his hand down his shorts, rearranged himself more comfortably.
The game itself was pretty one sided. Firstly Simone was a far better player than Steve and, even without working at it, could have beaten him easily. Secondly, and more relevantly, Steve was barely able to focus on the game as, time and time again, he was getting the same tantalising glimpses as yesterday. Trying to return her serves was a distraction from what he really wanted to do which was gaze on and worship; it was hard to watch the ball when all he wanted to watch was the hem line of her skirt. After an hour or so they were both hot and thirsty and when Simone suggested stopping for a cool drink Steve was glad to follow.
They went inside and into the kitchen. Simone was bending over fetching out some drinks from the fridge when…
“Simone! Are you wearing panties?” Greg asked, his voice stern.
“Please, Sir…” Simone replied.
“I asked you a question. Are you or are you not wearing any panties? Lift up your skirt and show me.” This time Greg was even sterner.
“But, Sir, what about Steve?” Simone answered.
“If, as I suspect, you’ve been parading yourself around half naked all morning then there’ll be nothing he hasn’t seen already. If not then you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Now get on with it or it will just be the worse for you.”
Nervously Simone put down the drinks she had retrieved from the fridge and reached for the hem of her skirt. Looking suddenly young and uncertain she lifted the hem, bit by bit, until it was up to her waist and it was clear that she was, indeed, without any panties.
“You’re a disgrace, do you know that.” Greg said before turning to Steve. “I’m sorry for this. My wife is such a naughty little trollop that it can be quite a job making sure she stays properly dressed. Look at her, just look at her, flashing herself to all and sundry. I do apologise.”
“Perhaps I should go.” Steve said, turning towards the door. Much as he was enjoying the view whatever game Greg and Simone were playing was making him distinctly uneasy.
“On the contrary, I’d prefer it if you stayed.” Greg said. “Her punishment will be much more effective if it’s in front of you. After all, it was you she embarrassed by her disgusting displays; it’s only fair that you should see her punished.”
“Punished? What do you mean?” Steve asked now completely flabbergasted.
“Simone, perhaps it would be best if you explained.” Greg said. “Tell Steve here why you need to be punished.”
“Steve, when I’ve been a naughty girl, when I’ve misbehaved, done things like forgetting to wear my panties, Sir has to punish me, to help me behave better in future.” Simone was still standing, holding her skirt up to her waist.
“And what do these punishments consist of?” Prompted Greg.
“I am to be spanked, spanked on my bare bottom.” Simone answered.
“Yes, indeed, spanked on that cute little tush of yours. Now, off you go and fetch the paddle.” As Simone scuttled out of the room Greg turned back to Steve. “Please, take a seat. This will only take a moment or two. She can be such a naughty little thing but a few strokes of the paddle soon puts her right.”
Steve, too amazed to do otherwise, sat down as Simone returned with what looked like an elongated table tennis bat made of heavy leather. She knelt down in front of Greg with her head bowed and the paddle held out in front of her.
“Please, Sir, I’ve been a naughty girl and need to be punished. Please be so kind as to spank me as I deserve.”
“Very well; stand up and bend over. You know the position.” Greg responded.
Simone stood up and, facing away from Steve, placed her feet wide apart and bent over, clutching her ankles so Steve could see her face between her widespread thighs. Greg reached over and flicked up the back of her skirt and tucked the hem under the waistband so that it wouldn't fall back again and her backside was completely uncovered. Had Steve imagined it or had she just given him a sly wink?
“Not so proud, now, are you?” Greg said. “Now that you’ve got everything on display. Tell her, Steve, tell her what you can see.”
“Err… everything.” Steve answered, a little embarrassed to be dragged in to the conversation.
“Everything? Let’s be a bit more specific. Can you see her bum hole?”
“Yes, yes, I can see her bum hole.”
“And what about her pussy? Do you see how she keeps it shaven so there's not even pubic hair to protect her modesty?”
“Yes, I can see her pussy as well.” Steve was both appalled and fascinated. Part of him wanted to run but the other part was enthralled and he was glad that he was sitting at a table which hid the growing bulge in his underpants.
“Do you hear that?” Greg asked Simone. “Your bum hole and your pussy, wide open, shaven and on display; now everyone can see what a naughty little girl you are, going without your panties. Twelve strokes should suffice; do you agree.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”
Greg stood back and took aim. Then, with a resounding ‘thwapp’ the first blow landed and Simone gave out a little squeak of pain. Quickly a second stroke landed making Simone rock a bit on her feet. Then Greg reached over and stroked the reddened marks on her buttocks.
“A good spanking. That’s all that naughty little girls like Simone understand. A nicely tanned backside will help her to remember to dress properly next time.” Greg said conversationally to Steve as if spanking his wife in front of a relative stranger were the most normal thing in the world. Then, without any further warning, he stood back and two more blows followed in quick succession. Simone was gripping her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes were tearing and Steve could see the muscles of her thighs working as she absorbed the pain. There was another pause and then, thwapp, thwapp, two more quick blows rained down.
“Please, Sir, not so hard, Sir, please.” Simone begged but her voice, far from being tearful was breathy and excited.
“Are you telling me how to punish you?” Greg asked.
“No, Sir. Of course not, Sir.” Simone replied.
“Very well, keep quiet or I’ll add more strokes for misbehaviour.”
Steve saw Simone’s knuckles whiten as she gripped her calves harder, bracing herself. Even so he could tell that she was at her limit, that Greg was pushing her to the threshold of what she could take and, as the final stroke fell, she was shaking with emotion. Greg put down the paddle and stroked her backside, making her wince as his fingers trailed over the battered flesh.
“And are you sorry?” He asked
“Yes, Sir, I’m really sorry.”
“And will you be a good girl from now on?”
“Please, Sir, I’ll try, Sir.”
“OK, you can stand up now. I seem to remember that you were serving this young man with drinks.”
Simone stood up but, with the hem still tucked into the waist band, her skirt was still raised at the back and her bruised buttocks were still on display. She turned to Greg and curtseyed.
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you for punishing me.”
“Very good but what about Steve?” Greg said.
Simone turned to where Steve was sitting and repeated her curtsey.
“I’m sorry, Master Steve, I’m sorry my rude and disgraceful behaviour offended you. Please accept my apologies.”
Steve didn’t know what to say but it didn’t matter as Simone then went back to the kitchen and retrieved the drinks. There was a strained atmosphere as the three of them sipped at the cool Orangina, Greg and Steve sitting whilst Simone busied herself in the kitchen. Greg and Simone kept looking at each other and Steve was beginning to feel surplus to requirements. Finally it was Greg who spoke.
“Look, Steve, we’ve got things to do. I don’t wish to seem inhospitable but do you mind if we ask you to go?”
“No, of course not.” Steve replied. “I need to get back myself.”
“But don’t stay away; I did enjoy playing tennis with you. We must have another game.” Simone said, her eyes wild with excitement. “Shall we say tomorrow, around eleven thirty?”
“I’d love to.” Steve drained his glass and stood up, heading for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,”
Once Steve was outside he nearly tripped and, looking down, he saw that his shoelace was untied so he bent down to refasten it and this meant that he was crouched just below the level of the kitchen windowsill when he heard…
“God, that was fantastic! What a turn on; did you see his face! I need you, Greg, I need your dick in my cunt right now! Fuck me, Greg, fuck me till I scream!” In her excitement Simone seemed to have forgotten the open window, or maybe she didn’t care.
“Well, get that pretty little butt of yours upstairs and spread ‘em!” was Greg’s response and, knowing he would near no more Steve went back across the road to sort out an urgent need of his own.
Wednesday
“I do hope you’re not making a nuisance of yourself.” Steve’s mother, having heard that Steve was planning to play tennis with the Andersons again was, as ever, making a fuss.
“No, far from it. I was specifically invited over again today.” Steve replied.
“That’s a shame; we were planning to go to Carnac to see the stones there. It’s rather special. A bit like Stonehenge only bigger and older.” Steve’s father cut in.
“A bunch of old stones in a field. Boring! If you don’t mind, I’d much prefer to play tennis with Simo… Mrs Anderson.” Steve assured them.
“What’s with this sudden interest in tennis?” Steve’s mother joked. “I don’t remember you being this keen last summer. Perhaps it’s Mrs Anderson that’s the attraction. She’s a married woman, you know.”
“Oh mum!” Steve complained. “It’s not like that.”
“Leave him be, Hun. Better that he stays here and plays tennis than we put up with his moaning all the way to and from Carnac.” Steve’s father commented. “Make sure you behave yourself.” He added to Steve.
“OK, we’ll be back for six. I want you back here well before then and make sure you don’t outstay your welcome.” His mother felt she had, as ever, to add a lecture on behaviour.
With a sigh Steve went back to his breakfast. Although he had no idea what, if anything, was in store for him today it was almost certainly more interesting than a bunch of old stones.
By eleven fifteen Steve’s family were long gone and he was pacing the cottage until, unable to contain his impatience, he went across the road and knocked on the door. Again it was Greg who opened it and he led Steve through to the back garden where Simone was waiting.
“Hi there. All ready to go?” She called out. “The bag’s by the back door; grab it, will you?”
She led him over to the tennis courts and he put the bag down next to the end of the net. Simone’s skirt was no longer than on previous occasions but, as she bent down to sort out the rackets, Steve’s quick glance confirmed that, on this occasion, she was wearing panties, the clean white cotton contrasting with her deep tan. Part of Steve, no, most of Steve was disappointed. Did this mean that there were to be no games today? On the other hand it did mean that he was more able to concentrate on the tennis and the match was far more even. Furthermore, as the game progressed he found there was something about the occasional flash of white cotton that had its own appeal. Maybe it wasn’t as risqué as going pantyless but it was still very sexy and did nothing to quench Steve’s growing desire.
It was nearly two hours before Greg came over and announced that he had made some lunch for everyone. Steve suggested that it might be time for him to leave but Greg was insistent that he should stay so they all went back to the cottage where Greg had laid out a meal of cold cuts, crispy bread and the local cheeses. He fetched three bottles of beer from the fridge and put them on the table. As the three of them ate their meal Steve could sense a growing tension. Greg and Simone kept glancing at each other and there seemed to be an unspoken conversation between them.
When the meal was over Steve amazed himself by offering to wash up and was busy helping Simone clear the plates off the table when Greg spoke.
“Steve, excuse us a moment. Simone and I have something to discuss. We won’t be a moment.” He said and, leaving Steve to do the dishes he and Simone went into the other room. At first he could only hear mumbles but his curiosity got the better of him and he stopped washing up so he could listen better.
“I can’t, really, Greg, I can’t.” Simone’s voice came from the other room. “Yesterday was hard enough.”
“You can and will.” Greg sounded hard, determined.
“Please, Sir, please…” Simone pleaded.
“Enough, you know what we agreed.” Greg said firmly
“OK, I will, I promise I will, just give me a minute or two.” Simone said resignedly and, with that, they returned to the kitchen where Steve quickly retuned to the dishes pretending that he hadn’t heard a word. Wordlessly Simone returned and helped Steve with the end of the washing up and then they went into the front room.
“Steve, Simone has something to say to you, haven’t you, dear?” Greg announced from the armchair where he sat.
The room had a central fireplace with armchairs around it and a hearthrug in front. Simone motioned Steve to sit in the armchairs opposite Greg’s whist she stood on the hearthrug facing them. She seemed nervous and was wringing her hands together.
“Master Steve, I’ve… I’ve been naughty again.” She started.
“Naughty? Are you going to be spanked again?” Steve asked almost too eagerly.
“Not this time.” Greg cut in. “Go on, Simone, tell Master Steve what you were doing.”
“Sir caught me playing with myself.” Simone admitted. “I was being a dirty little girl and touching my pussy.”
“And what is your punishment to be?” Prompted Greg.
“So that I can understand how disgusting and shameful it is to play with myself I must do it in front of you, Master Steve.” Simone was shaking slightly; this was not easy for her. “Master Greg says that only that way can I see what a dirty little tramp I’ve become.”
“And are you allowed any clothes for this punishment?” Greg asked.
“No, I must be completely naked.” Simone replied.
“Well, you had best get on with it then.” Greg ordered.
After a pause in which she seemed to steel herself Simone undid the two buttons at the neck of her polo shirt and shrugged it over her head revealing a white cotton bra which matched her panties. She folded the shirt and placed it on a chair. Her skirt was next to go, she undid the little fastener at the side, slid it down her legs, stepped out of it and placed it on the polo shirt. Although she was no more exposed than when Steve had seen her in her bikini the fact that it was white cotton undies somehow made her look vulnerable; she certainly seemed to feel it. She reached behind and undid her bra, exposing her perfect breasts. As she turned to put her bra on the pile of clothes Steve grabbed the opportunity to slip his hand down his shorts and reposition his ever hardening penis. Simone now had her fingers in the waistband of her panties, ready to push them down but seemed stuck, unable to continue.
“Come along, now.” Greg prompted. “We haven’t got all afternoon.”
Blushing profusely and keeping her eyes averted, Simone finally pushed her panties down and stepped out of them, tossing them on the pile of clothes and then stood, her legs locked together, one arm across her breasts, one across her groin.
“It’s far too late for modesty.” Greg commented. “Put your arms by your side and spread your legs. Let Master Steve see just what a dirty little girl looks like.”
“That’s better.” Greg commented once Simone had complied. “Now, turn around, let Master Steve have a good look.”
Slowly, nervously, and bushing profusely, Simone turned round and round letting Steve see every inch of her body. Eventually Greg called enough and ordered her to get on with it.
Simone knelt down on the hearth rug, glanced at Greg and then moved her knees further apart, so that she was wide open, on display. Although, of course, throughout this whole display there was little that Steve had not seen the day before, this time she seemed far more helpless, far more the little girl and far less the full grown woman. Slowly she slid her hand over her shaven pubic mound and rubbed the tips of fingers in slow, sensuous circles around the top of her labia.
For a couple of minutes there was silence. Simone gently massaging herself as the two men watched in rapt attention. Then Simone gave a sort of shudder, and, as if her resolve had overcome her nerves, she shifted her knees so that they were, if anything, even further apart and looked up at Steve, her eyes, locking onto his. Now her movements were more urgent, her fingers easing between the folds of her sex and rubbing directly on her clitoris. With her other hand she grasped her breast and played with her nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. She was becoming lost in the ever rising heat of her passion, her shame and reticence discarded as her lust took control. Whereas before she had been hiding it away, now she was all woman, her passion and desire on show for all to see. Harder and faster her fingers worked at her groin and little grunts of pleasure escaped her lips.
“Do you see?” Greg said calmly. “What a little show off she is? Oh, she’s all very sweet and demure on the outside but on the inside she can hardly control herself. Isn’t that right? She's a slave to her desires; aren’t you a slave, dear?”
“Yes, yes Sir.” Simone panted.
“Yes, what, slave?” Greg demanded.
“I’m a slave, a slave to my desires.” Simone confessed.
“And whose slave are you?” Greg asked sweetly.
“Your slave, your slave… your… Oh god… Oh god… I’m your… your… your slave… your slave…” Simone’s body seemed to tense, her hand worked furiously between her thighs, her fingers pushing deep inside her until, with a massive shudder, her whole body went rigid, she slumped sideways and lay curled up on the rug with her hands between her thighs and panting so hard it was almost as if she were crying; little bits of words came out between the gasps but she was nowhere near coherent.
Greg got up and went over to the hearthrug and knelt down beside her, gathering her in his arms.
“Simone seems a little overwrought.” He commented to Steve. “If you don’t mind I think I had best take her off to bed.”
“Of course. Err… I’ll see myself out.” Steve replied.
“That was so intense, so intense... Oh my god, take me Greg, take me now!” Steve heard Simone gasp as he closed the door behind him.
Thursday
At nine thirty the next morning Steve was mooching around in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil so he could make some coffee. The front door opened and his father entered with a shopping basket full of provisions and the obligatory baguettes poking out over the top.
“There’s nothing like fresh bread in the morning.” He enthused as he came through to the kitchen and put the bags down on the table. “Oh, and I bumped into that Simone Anderson from across the way. She’s a bit of a looker, isn’t she? She apologised for having to cut your game short yesterday and said to remind you that they’re out this morning so your game will have to be at two-o-clock.”
“Thanks dad.” Steve replied.
“It’s been a bit of a god-send having them across the road. I know you weren’t exactly enthralled by this holiday but it’s not working out so bad now, is it? If I had a tennis partner as attractive as Simone Anderson I’d be playing every day.”
“Dad!” Steve protested. “It’s not like that, we just enjoy playing together.”
“If you say so. Look, seeing as you can’t play tennis this morning how about coming to the beach with us. It is supposed to be a family holiday after all.”
“OK, dad, if I have to, but I must be back for two.” Steve conceded.
“Of course, mustn’t keep a lady waiting.” And, laughing at his own humour, Steve’s dad went back to putting the shopping away.
All that morning Steve followed his parents and sister as they made their way down to the beach. However, much as he was there in body, his thoughts were firmly back at the Anderson’s cottage. He and his friends had downloaded endless internet porn and he’d seen plenty of clips of women playing with themselves but nothing could possibly match the real thing and nothing could match the passion and intensity that he had seen from Simone. He wondered what, if anything was in store for him that afternoon.
When they returned to the cottages after a picnic lunch they bumped into Greg at the top of the lane. He was returning from the shops with a bag of groceries and a six pack of lagers. Naturally they fell into step as they went down the lane.
“I can’t say how much we’ve enjoyed having Steve over to play tennis.” Greg commented to Steve’s mother. “I’d far rather relax with a book than play and this young lad has all the energy Simone needs in her tennis partners.”
“If you’re sure he’s not in the way…” Steve’s mother, as ever, needed reassuring.
“On the contrary. In fact I’d say he’s helped Simone’s game. Allowed her to push herself a bit whilst I lie in the sun with the latest Dan Brown.” Greg laughed. “Yes, her game’s come on quite a bit this holiday, wouldn’t you agree, Steve?”
“I couldn’t say.” Steve mumbled.
“Well, anyway, we’ll see you in half an hour or so, if that’s alright with you?” Greg said. “Don’t bother knocking, come straight on round the back.”
“Of course, half an hour. I’ll be there.” At that point they reached the cottages and went their separate ways.
So it was that, thirty minutes later, Steve wandered across the road and around the side of the Anderson’s cottage. Greg was, as he had said, stretched out in the sun with a thick paperback in front of him. Simone was sitting on a lawn chair sipping on a long cool drink.
“Ah, there you are.” She said with a big smile on her face. “Ready for another game? The bag’s just inside the back door; be a love and grab if for me, will you?”
Steve went to grab the bag as Simone got up from her lawn chair and made her way over to the tennis courts. As they sorted themselves out Steve made the usual check but the fact she was once again wearing panties didn’t disappoint him; he knew it didn’t mean that there wasn’t any fun and games later and, somehow, now that he’d seen her all, she was sexier wearing panties than without.
The game was fast and furious. Simone still gave Steve a little leeway but she was making him work much harder to try and keep up. At first she was chasing him all over the court but he fought back and two hours later when, completely exhausted, they called it a day the honours were about even. Laughing together they want back to the cottage and Steve sat in the garden with Greg whilst Simone went inside to fetch some drinks.
As to quite what happened next, Steve was never quite sure. Whether Simone slipped, whether she tripped or whether it was intentional the result was just the same. The tray she was carrying went over and the plastic jug full of lemonade went straight into Steve’s lap completely soaking him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Exclaimed Simone rushing to pick up the empty jug and glasses.
“That’s OK.” Said Steve, getting up out of the chair and shaking himself down.
“It is certainly not OK.” Greg said, sternly. “She’s been told time and time again about her clumsiness and now she’s ended up soaking a guest. “Simone, you naughty girl, say sorry, properly.”
Simone put the tray and the recovered jug and glasses on the table, got down on her knees in front of Steve and bowed her head.
“Master Steve, please accept my apologies for my clumsy behaviour.” Simone said. “I was entirely at fault and fully deserve to be punished.”
“Do you feel she deserves to be punished?” Greg asked. “After all, it’s you who is covered in lemonade.”
“I… I guess so.” Steve hazarded. He didn’t really know but he guessed that this was all part of the game.
“She most certainly does.” Greg continued. “But first of all we must get you out of those wet clothes. If you nip upstairs to the bathroom you’ll find my dressing gown hanging on the back of the door. Change into that and bring your stuff down here. Simone will rinse it through and it will be dry in no time on a lovely day like today. Come along, off you go.”
Steve was no more able to resist Greg than Simone was so he scooted up stairs and stripped off putting on the black cotton gown he found behind the door. He returned downstairs and handed the soggy bundle of his clothes to Simone who went to the sink to rinse them through. Whilst she was doing this Steve joined Greg in the garden where the drinks had been refreshed.
“I think a dozen strokes of the paddle ought to do the trick; do you agree?” Greg said casually. “And I think they would be best coming from you; after all, you were the one she threw lemonade over.”
“A dozen strokes…” Steve had been just an observer, so far. Now Greg seemed to want him to get involved.
“Oh yes, a round dozen seems about right and on her bare bottom, of course.”
“I’m not sure…” Steve stammered.
“Nonsense. You’ve seen me do it so I’m sure you know how. I think out here will be best; this garden is plenty private enough so there's no point in us all trooping inside.” Greg’s tone was light, as if he were discussing a picnic, not spanking his wife. “Remember, you start by ordering her to fetch the paddle.”
At that moment Simone appeared with Steve’s clothes which she took over to the washing line and hung them up to dry. Having done this she came over and knelt before Steve and Greg.
“Please, Sirs, I’ve rinsed out Master Steve’s clothes and I’m ready to be punished.” She said with her head bowed.
“Steve?” Prompted Greg.
“Go and… Go and fetch the paddle.” Steve ordered. He was having trouble controlling his voice which was all over the place.
“Right away, Sir.” Simone replied before getting up and going into the house.
“Don’t forget it’s got to be on her bare buttocks.” Greg commented. “I think it best if you take her panties off rather than asking her to do it; part of arranging her to your satisfaction, if you see what I mean, shows you're in control. Ah, here she is.”
Simone came straight over in front of Steve and knelt down holding out the paddle before her. Steve took it from her hands; it felt bigger and heavier than he’d expected.
“Stand up and bend over; you know the position.” Steve said, trying his hardest to sound stern.
Simone did as she was told, her skirt riding up and exposing her panty covered buttocks. Steve remembered what Greg had suggested and got up from his chair to stand behind her. After first remembering to tuck the hem of her tennis skirt under its waistband his trembling fingers reached for the waistband of her panties.
He felt almost overcome by nerves as his fingers slipped under the elasticated waist and he began to pull them down. He had never removed a woman's underwear before under any circumstances, let alone to give her a spanking, and his trembling fingers felt like sausages as he eased the material back and down, over her buttocks and to the top of her thighs. Immediately he was hit with a problem, with her legs wide apart the panties would go no lower. He glanced over at Greg.
“You’re in control here; if you want her to move her legs so you can remove her panties then just tell her so. In fact I would suggest an extra couple of strokes for being so uncooperative.” Greg said matter-of-factly.
“Move your legs so I can remove your panties.” Steve ordered.
Simone did so and Steve pushed them down her legs. As he did so he was crouched directly behind her bent-over form and his eyes were exactly at the same level as her bottom giving him a close up view of her everything. With his heart pounding he pushed the panties to the ground, getting Simone to step out of each leg at a time and then tossing them onto a chair with a casualness that he did not feel. Then he turned back to Simone and ordered her to spread her legs again.
Now that he had her arranged he nervously hefted the paddle, feeling its weight in his hand. He wasn’t at all sure how hard to go. Whilst Greg had obviously made Simone’s bottom sting he hadn’t really hurt her, not in any vicious sense. Wishing to err on the side of caution he started with a quite gentle stroke which, never the less, gave a resounding thwapp as leather hit flesh and made Simone give a little squeal. What he wasn’t ready for was the thrill that ran through him. He didn’t want to hurt Simone, not really hurt her, but there was something about spanking her which was electrifying. He essayed a second stroke, a bit harder this time and got the same rush. Her tan marks had left a beautiful white triangle where the bottom of her bikini normally went and this white triangle was quickly turning red. Another stroke and he almost overdid it; Simone gave quite a loud ‘ow!’ of pain and rocked forward, in danger of falling over. He’d have to control himself.
After that it turned into a bit of a blur. He kept just enough self control to avoid striking too hard or too fast but beyond that he was deep, deep in the thrill of it all. To have this beautiful woman, bent over, displaying her all as he tanned her buttocks an ever deeper shade of red did something to him, something deep inside and, by the time Greg called out that he’d reached fifteen and she’d had enough he was in seventh heaven. Panting slightly he let the hand holding the paddle fall to his side.
“And are her buttocks all nicely warmed up?” Greg asked.
“I… I don’t know.” Steve replied.
“Well, why don’t you have a feel and find out?” Greg said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Steve dropped the paddle and gingerly reached out to touch the glowing flesh.
“Not just there.” Greg continued as Steve's fingers ran across Simone's glowing cheeks. “Feel between her thighs, see if she's hot there as well.”
Thus prompted Steve reached down and under to the shaven lips of Simone’s sex. As Greg had prophesied they were quite warm and, as he probed, he could feel that she was slick with juices. Simone even moved slightly easing his fingers inside her.
“And now I think it’s time Simone said ‘thank you’. Sit down, Steve. Simone, you know what to do.” Greg ordered.
Slightly taken aback by this Steve did as he was told and sat down on one of the lawn chairs. Simone released her ankles and, almost gingerly, stood up only to move to in front of Steve and kneel down again.
“Thank you, Master Steve. Thank you for punishing slave Simone.” She said gently.
“By the looks of the bulge in that dressing gown he needs more thanks than that.” Greg said with a laugh. “Go on, sort the poor boy out.”
Simone ran her hands along the top of Steve’s thighs pushing the dressing gown out of the way. It didn’t take much before his rock hard erection was poking clear.
“Please, Master Steve, it would be an honour if slave Simone would be allowed to offer you relief.” She said and, without waiting for an answer her head ducked down and her lips kissed the crown of his glans.
Steve had been aroused ever since the punishment had started and Simone was obviously no novice so, as her lips worked up and down the length of his shaft, it wasn’t long before Steve could feel himself start to explode. Unable to control himself he thrust his hips forward and Simone responded by taking him deeper. He knew he ought to withdraw, a thousand porn downloads had shown the man shooting his jism all over the woman’s face but, for the life of him, he couldn’t stop now and with a harsh, guttural cry he felt himself climax, again and again he exploded with pleasure, again and again he felt Simone take what he gave her, swallowing the lot.
Exhausted and drained he collapsed back in the lawn chair with Simone still kneeling before him with a fabulous smile looking like the cat who's swallowed the cream. For a moment or two there was silence until Greg finally said.
“Well, that’s that all sorted out but I’m not sure if your clothes will be dry yet. Do you mind leaving them here overnight? You can come and pick them up tomorrow?”
“No, that will be fine.” Steve agreed. He could see the glances exchanged between Simone and Greg and he knew when he was not wanted.
“Maybe it would be best if you slip home now before your parents return. That way they won’t be bothered by the dressing gown. Save on explanations.” Greg urged.
“Certainly, good idea.” Steve replied. “He looked down at Simone who was still kneeling beside him. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
“See you tomorrow, big boy.” Simone smiled. “Shall we say eleven-o-clock?”
Steve got up from his chair.
“OK, see you at eleven.” And, with that, he left for the day.
Friday
Steve paced around the cottage. It was only ten thirty; he still had half an hour to go and the time seemed to be passing so slowly. The rest of the family, wishing to make the best of the warm weather, had headed for the beach some time back and Steve had had to endure a certain amount of ribbing from his father over his preference for playing tennis over lying in the sun or swimming in the sea. After they had gone he had showered and shaved, even applying a dab or two of his father’s aftershave. As he stared in the mirror he wondered quite what he was doing; Simone was, after all, a married woman and, even if she wasn’t, he understood full well that she was out of his league. Why then was he getting more sex in the last four days than he had had in his entire life so far?
He sat back in an armchair and, as he thought over yesterday’s events, his hand slipping unbidden under the waistband of his shorts. Idly he stroked his prick as he remembered the blow-job he had been given; how Simone’s lips had slid up and down his shaft, how her tongue had played with his glans and how, as he had inevitably succumbed, she hadn’t missed a beat but had swallowed everything he could give her. Back at school Dave had boasted of how Felicity Woodman had sucked him off but, if his experiences with Jenny Blaine were anything to go by, he very much doubted that she would have done so, let alone swallowed.
Steve had to ease back; he seemed to live on a hair trigger nowadays and if he wasn’t careful he’d stain his shorts with all the embarrassing explanations that would involve. He glanced at his watch; ten thirty-five; only five minutes since he last looked. With a sigh he headed back for his bedroom. He knew a way of passing the time and relieving the tension.
“Hello, Steve” Greg called out as, twenty minutes later, he went round to the cottage across the road. “Simone’s still upstairs getting ready but she won’t be long. Have a seat; would you like a drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you, Mr Anderson.” Steve replied as he lowered himself into a sun lounger.
“What’s all this ‘Mr Anderson’ nonsense?” Greg laughed. “I thought we got past all that. Simone and I have really enjoyed your company these last few days and you’ve really helped Simone improve her game. There’s not much chance for her to vary her style, back at home. It’s good for her to have a different opponent for a change.”
“Well, I’m really enjoying playing with her as well.” Steve replied before suddenly blushing as he realised the double entendre. “Err… tennis, that is.”
“And here she is.” Greg said as the door to the cottage opened and Simone appeared. “Now off you go and see if you can’t beat the pants off her.”
Simone gave Steve a friendly wave and, like some eager puppy, he leapt up out of the lounger and rushed over to carry the tennis bag for her. As he followed her round to the tennis court his eyes were firmly fixed on her behind as it wiggled provocatively under the pristine white of her tennis skirt and his prick was stiffening as he anticipated what would follow. And when they got to the court it seemed as if Simone were deliberately teasing, flirting with him to put him off. The net result was that Steve was quite off his game and really quite glad when, nearly two hours later, Simone said that she had had enough.
Puffing slightly from all the exertion Steve and Simone returned to the garden where Greg was still deep in his novel. He looked up as they approached.
“All finished. I’m about ready for lunch, how about you?” He asked.
“Ooh, yes, please.” Simone said eagerly. “But have I got time for a quick shower first. I’m all hot and sticky.”
“Why not? Steve and I will set up the table in the meanwhile.” Greg replied.
And so it was. Simone disappeared upstairs whilst Steve and Greg laid out bread, cheese, fresh fruit and wine on the garden table. They had barely finished before Simone reappeared wearing a light cotton sun dress short enough to display her long athletic legs to good advantage.
Whilst they ate Steve was constantly aware of a tension in the air. Once again Greg and Simone kept exchanging glances in some unspoken conversation and all the while Simone looked nervously excited. She barely pecked at her food but was quick to empty her wine glass. Meanwhile it was Greg who made most of the small talk but he too seemed a little over animated. Finally they were finished and Simone stood up and started to clear away the plates.
“Here, I'll help with that.” Greg said, sorting out the cheeses on their board. Steve also started to help but he was told quite firmly that they would manage and that he, as their guest was to sit back and enjoy himself. As they headed for the house, their arms laden with the used dishes, Steve lay back on the lounger and sipped his wine. One minute turned into five and they seemed to be taking their time and Steve was beginning to wonder what was up when they finally reappeared, hand in hand with Simone looking more nervous than ever. After a quick glance at Greg she let go of his hand and came over to where Steve was sat and, kneeling down beside the sun lounger, she rested her arms on his thighs. For a moment there was silence until she seemed to make a resolve and she turned her head to look Steve straight in the eye.
“Master Steve.” She began. “I've been a very naughty girl and once again I need to be punished. All week I have been behaving like a whore and a tease in front of you. Master Greg and I have discussed my behaviour and we have agreed that, as I have behaved as a whore, I should be punished as a whore. Please, Master Steve, we have agreed that I need a special punishment and we need your help; slave Simone would be grateful if you would be so kind as to fuck her in the arse, show her what it's like to really be a whore.”
Steve was speechless. As a child of the internet generation anal sex was the holy grail and, furthermore, something he knew he would never get from girls of his own age. Indeed, to date, baring Simone, his entire sexual experience boiled down to a few clumsy gropes. Now here she was offering herself to him but the situation was so extraordinary and he was so overcome by nerves he didn't know what to do or say; all he could manage was to sit there with his mouth open.
“Please... I need you to show me what a naughty girl I've been.” Simone said sweetly still looking him straight in the eye before she turning away and, with her back towards him, she knelt down on the grassy lawn and reached behind herself to flick up the back of her dress only to reveal 'Please fuck my arse' written on her buttocks in thick felt-tip. Still dazed Steve turned to Greg who smiled and held out his hand which was holding what looked like a toothpaste tube and a washcloth.
“It's OK, we’ve both agreed to this.” He said. “Here, you'll need these. She's pretty tight so you'll have to lubricate her well.”
“Yes, yes, please, Master Steve, use lots of lube, push it deep into me. Make it nice and slippery for when you slide inside.” Simone echoed from where she was knelt on the ground.
Feeling as if he were in some sort of dream Steve looked from one to the other before sitting up on the sun lounger and taking the lube and washcloth from Greg. Then he knelt down on the ground behind Simone and, putting the washcloth and the cap off the lube on the ground beside him, he dithered, wondering quite what to do. He started to point the tube towards her bottom but that didn’t seem right and why had he been given the washcloth?
“Squeeze some out on your finger and then ease it in.” Greg suggested and Steve gratefully complied. “No, more than that, there’s no need to be stingy.”
Steve squeezed the tube until his index finger was covered with a generous dollop of the gel. Tentatively he placed his finger between the cheeks of her buttocks feeling for the rosebud of her sphincter. Gently he rotated it a bit but he was too shy to do much more.
“Push it in.” Simone urged, her voice slightly breathless. “Push it in, Master Steve. Push your finger inside me. Open me up, make me ready for you.”
Steve pushed a little harder and Simone pushed back until the initial resistance was broken and he felt his finger slip inside. The lubricant was pretty effective and, once he was past the initial barrier, his finger slid easily as far as the second knuckle. A deep sigh from Simone encouraged him and he wiggled it around and slid it back and forth a bit.
“That's it.” Simone said softly but urgently. “Work it well in, open me up, make my bum hole ready to take you.”
Despite the urgency coming from his groin Steve was fascinated by what he was doing and by Simone's reaction. He withdrew his finger and applied another dollop of the lubricant. This time it was easier, there was much less resistance and, as he buried his finger as far as it would go, Simone was moaning with passion, arching her back so as to open up her rear end.
“Now, Master Steve, now, take me now. I need you inside me. Please, don't tease any more.” Simone gasped between little sighs of pleasure.
Steve removed his finger and realised immediately why he had been given the washcloth. He wiped his hands on it and managed to get the worst of the lube off but he was too impatient to do a proper job. Then he reached for the elasticated waistband of his shorts and, hooking his briefs with his thumbs so as to slide them down as well, he pushed them to the ground. His prick, freed from these constraints, leapt forward, ready for action. Steve took it in his hand and leant forward, easing it between Simone's buttock cheeks. Nervously he pushed the tip against her sphincter but, even with the lube, it was still very tight. He pushed a little harder...
“Yes, yes, Master Steve. Push it in; push it inside me, deep inside me!” Simone implored.
Steve gave another push and this time he overcame the initial resistance and he felt the tip slide inside her. He fought the desire to push hard and slam himself all the way in; he wasn't at all sure how long he could hold out if he didn't go gently and he didn't want to embarrass himself by coming too soon. Slowly, evenly, he slid himself inside, feeling the pure bliss as the tight grip of Simone's sphincter slid down his shaft.
“God, you're big.” Simone moaned. “Please be gentle. It feels so good but you're stretching me so much.”
Steve gripped her buttocks with his hands and gently withdrew until only the tip of his prick was still inside. She was so tight, so tight around his prick that even slowly moving back and forth was bliss and the smorgasbord of sensations coming from his groin were heavenly. Again he pushed himself deep, deep inside her and was rewarded with a moan of pure pleasure form Simone. Thus encouraged he found his rhythm, long and slow, pulling back almost to the point of withdrawal before sliding deep, deep as he could go back inside her, feeling the well lubricated ring of her sphincter sliding back and forth along his shaft. With each stroke the pressure inside him rose and he began to lose control. Each push took him closer to the edge, an edge he had been pretty close to before he had started. His whole world was focussed on his prick, on the amazing sensations coming from his prick, he couldn't help it, he needed just a little more, just a little more until...
It was as if his groin had exploded and, totally out of control, he thrust himself forward pushing as deep as he could go, feeling the pure ecstasy as the sperm shot from him. With short, urgent movements from his hips he thrust and again and again and again and... Finally drained and sated he collapsed forward, just resting until he could catch his breath.
“That was... that was...” he stuttered as he slowly withdrew his increasingly flaccid prick. “That was fantastic.”
Simone knelt up, turned around, smoothed out her dress and gave Steve a quick kiss.
“Thank you, Master Steve.” She said. “It was pretty good for me too.”
And then there was a brief awkward moment. Simone glanced up at Greg and some sort of unspoken conversation appeared to take place. There was a twinkle in Simone's eye, a twinkle and a look of victory. Did Steve imagine it or did Greg mouth the words 'well done'? Suddenly Steve felt out of place, there seemed to be no room for him in this conversation.
“Err.. Look... I think I'd better... My family will be back soon...” he said as he pulled his shorts back up and got back to his feet.
“Yeah, if you don't mind.” Greg said absent-mindedly. “We don't want to be unsociable but...”
“Of course. I'll leave you to it. Bye.” Steve started towards the garden gate.
“Bye Steve.” Simone called out. “See you soon.”
Steve had hardly got through the gate before he remembered that he hadn't picked up the clothes he'd left there the previous day. He turned back and was just about to round the corner of the house when he heard.
“Oh yes, oh yes, oh Greg!” Simone was shouting excitedly. “Fuck me Greg, fuck me hard, fuck me 'till I scream.”
Steve peeked around the corner. Greg was thrusting away on top of Simone who had her legs wide open. He was grunting with effort whilst Simone's cries became ever more excited, ever more incoherent. Steve withdrew before he might be spotted. This was definitely not the time to retrieve his clothes.
Saturday
It was mid morning and Steve was in a quandary. He really wanted to go round to see Simone and Greg but he hadn't got an invite and he didn't want to just barge in. Adding to the urgency was the fact that some of his clothes were still there. When the rest of the family headed for the beach his impatience overcame his nerves and he wandered across the road.
The first thing he noticed that in the driveway Greg and Simone's BMW was gone and, in its place, was Monsieur Reynard's battered Renault. He was still stood dithering in the driveway when Madame Reynard appeared.
“Cherche-tu Monsieur et Madame Anderson?” She asked in her heavy Breton accent. “Ils sont partir.”
“Partir… they’ve gone?” Steve said, stunned.
“Oui, partir; un moment.” Madame Reynard said before disappearing into the cottage returning with a carrier bag from the local supermarket. “Je pense que celui-ci c’est pour tu.”
Steve took the bag and looked inside and there were his clothes. Somehow he had expected more
“Merci.” He said briefly before returning across the road. He threw the bag in a corner and slumped down on the bed. How could they have gone without saying goodbye? He lay there thinking over the week and all the delights it had held for him; some things would never be the same, every girl he met would now be measured against Simone and her delectable body. He stared again at the bag of clothes; for lack of anything else to do he might as well put them away. After all, it might be difficult to explain to his parents why some of his clothes were in a plastic bag.
It was then that he found the note; a simple envelope with a folded sheet of paper inside. He opened it up and started to read.
Dearest Steve
Sorry to leave without saying goodbye but Greg has been called back to town on urgent business.
Both Greg and I had a lot of fun over the week and we’ll be taking some fond memories back home with us. We’d like to thank you for playing along and for being a perfect gentleman. I think you’ll understand when I say that it’s best if we don’t meet again – it would never be the same and it would spoil a special memory - it's always best if what happens on holiday stays on holiday.
So, au revoir, take care of yourself and, someday, when you meet a Simone of your own, remember, a gentleman always knows how to treat a lady.
XXX
Simone and Greg
With a fond smile Steve folded up the note and stored it away safely. No, life was never going to be quite the same again.
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