After Toni’s death my life didn’t fall apart or anything dramatic like that. I just carried on; locked away deep inside me perhaps were the hurt and the sadness. Annie and Patrick Sanders were good friends and, as they lived a mere two miles away, they kept a bit of an eye on me, I know. They insisted I went round for dinner a couple of times a month.
Toni had only been twenty-nine when she died. The cancer had been very aggressive. I was twenty-eight. Someone said I was young enough to start again. It seemed cruel then but now I can see that she was right. But you don’t just go out and get another love. I had no idea how to start just as I hadn’t planned to find Toni in the first place. We met by accident at a party at Neil and Sarah’s when Toni got rather drunk and I took her home.
Now I usually stayed at Annie and Pat’s on the Saturdays when I went round for a meal. I sleep in what they now call ‘Jonathan’s room’ in their big detached property. [I’m Jonathan, by the way]. Their daughter, who was seventeen when Toni died, didn’t eat with us – mostly she was out with her own friends. I sometimes heard her come in quite late. I sometimes heard the arguments too when she came in later than had been agreed.
If I did see Zoë it was on the Sunday morning over the ‘elastic breakfast’ that the four of us ate disjointedly whenever whoever came downstairs. Sometimes, not often, I had breakfast with Zoë. I would casually browse the papers whilst she regaled me with her mischief, smiling ruefully when she told me how mad her mum was with her at the moment.
‘I’m not working hard enough at school, she says. I’m going to be grounded until after the exams, I expect.’ She grinned nonetheless.
We got on well together although I didn’t really see that much of her.
Two summers ago Pat and Annie asked me to go on holiday with them. To Spain. Zoë, who was nineteen by then, would be coming along too, probably for the last time, they said. They expected that family holidays would soon be a thing of the past as Zoë would probably want to go off on holiday with people her own age in future.
We had three rooms in a small private hotel, which we had booked on the internet. I had made all the travel arrangements and we were to stay at a small resort on the north-west coast of Spain, not particularly far from the French border. It was called Armintza.
We intended to share the driving. It took us one day from Canterbury, through the Channel tunnel and most of the way across France to our first stop, a small motel south of Bordeaux. We were pretty tired and all turned in early – at least the three drivers did. I don’t know what Zoë got up to.
It was she, however, who knocked on my door in the morning. I was awake, so I called: ‘Entrez!’ thinking it was someone from the motel. Zoë came in with that mischievous grin on her face.
‘Mum was going to wake you but I thought I would.’
I was slow to answer as I was taking in Zoë’s appearance. I had never seen her in shorts before: black very short shorts and a yellow vest. She was barefoot and her dark brown hair flowed free, just off her shoulders. I couldn’t take my eyes or my mind off her legs.
‘Jonathan?’ she asked.
‘Sorry, Zoë. You surprised me.’
She pirouetted before me. ‘You like?’ she giggled.
‘Yes, I like but…but tell your mum and dad I’ll see them in a minute.’
I was somewhat embarrassed. I started to get dressed.
I got used to seeing Zoë pretty scantily clad, as were we all really once we hit the beach in Armintza. Beach is a bit of a misnomer by the way. The best you get are rocky little coves but they are quite private and secluded.
The town itself is a busy little harbour and fishing port with good seafood restaurants and a few tourist shops. One afternoon Zoë and her mum came back from doing some shopping. Zoë had bought a new bikini, which she proceeded to try on for us that evening in the hotel. Pat said it was too brief and she wasn’t to wear it and what was she thinking of buying something like that?
Annie intervened and said she had been with her in the shop and had okayed it.
‘I’m surprised at you, then!’ he fumed. Zoë disappeared, upset.
‘Look Pat, lots of young women wear bikinis like that. She wants to get brown all over…and there’s usually only the four of us around in the cove anyway. Good heavens, Pat, she’s not your baby any more, she’s nineteen now, remember?’
‘What do you think, Jonathan?’ Pat asked me.
‘Well, first of all, don’t drag me into it,’ I began.
‘Yes, that’s not fair, Pat,’ Annie insisted.
‘And secondly, I’m a man,’ I said.
‘He means he likes it a lot, idiot,’ said Annie.
Pat was silenced and Zoë would keep the costume.
Next morning Zoë plumped herself down to breakfast across from me. Her parents still hadn’t come down. They were probably deciding what to say to Zoë to put things right.
‘I bought it because of you,’ she said directly.
Our eyes met and I knew immediately that something almost uncontrollable was taking over between us. As if we were suddenly linked by fate or sexual tension or at least something we did not actually choose. Rather we responded to its attractive power. Something had caused a switch to be thrown, if you like, for both of us.
‘I thought you’d like to see me in it,’ she added.
‘You looked wonderful,’ I told her, truthfully. ‘But it is dangerously sexy, you know.’
‘You like?’ she said, quietly. It was becoming her tag phrase.
I nodded. I felt her leg brush mine and I moved mine away.
Zoë frowned, puzzled, I suppose.
‘Look, Zoë, I’m too old for you,’ I told her, maybe rather bluntly. I sensed her body stiffen, her manner cool.
Later that day Annie caught me on my own. Zoë must be very close to her mum, even though they fight at times, and had obviously spoken to her about what I had said this morning over breakfast.
‘Zoë just wants you to like her, Jonathan,’ she said gently.
‘I know,’ I began, ‘and I do, very much, but here I am invited on holiday by her parents and I’m eleven years older than she is.’
‘Pat and I wouldn’t mind if there was a little romance between the two of you,’ she said.
‘Even Pat?’ I asked.
Annie smiled. ‘Mmm.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘one day maybe; I’ve never thought of her in that way.’
That was a bit of a lie, as I had thought of her that way I the last couple of days, since she first appeared in my room in those very sexy shorts. I went on:
‘I do want us to be really good friends. She’s become very beautiful without me noticing her change during the last two years. But she hit me like a sledgehammer when she walked into my room the other morning – in those shorts,’ I added.
‘She said you seemed lost for words!’ Annie laughed.
‘I was. It’s a long time since anyone made me feel like she began to make me feel then,’ I now admitted, hesitantly.
‘She wanted to produce an effect something like that, I know.’
‘Well, it made me a little uneasy about my feelings, Annie.’
Annie pressed my hand. We left it at that. Annie presumably reported back to Zoë, so that later that evening as we walked back from the restaurant I found myself with Zoë. She told me she wanted us to be friends too. She said she understood me. I wasn’t really sure she did but things were fine again between us. Zoë continued to wear revealing clothes and minimal bikinis and I continued to enjoy watching her and to enjoy both her company and that of her parents. We all got on really well together.
On the last afternoon of the holiday Zoë and I went down to the cove on our own. Annie and Pat said it was too hot.
‘I suppose going topless would be against your rules, too?’ she asked.
I nodded, but smiled across to her.
‘Some rules were just made to be broken, then,’ she said, unfastening her bikini top and throwing it across to me. She was sitting up, virtually but not quite naked, leaning against a rock. She had medium sized, erotically pendant, nice young girl’s firm breasts – I had been aware of that throughout the last two weeks. Now I could see her dark brown nipples and areoles for the first time. And I knew she had wanted me to see her.
Zoë turned her head slightly to look at me. Again I felt that intimate human contact as our eyes met, something for just the two of us. Something especially magical that you can’t anticipate but when it happens it locks you in and tells you. It’s a bit like ‘Land ahoy!’ when you’ve crossed the oceans in a mist or crawled, thirsty, across the Saharan dunes. Not that you’d say ‘Land ahoy!’ then but you know what I mean. You’ve found your own personal oasis and you know you are going to stop around.
Something I hadn’t felt for a long time.
‘You like?’ she asked and smiled. More serious, more like the young woman she had become and who had undergone a metamorphosis to which I had been blinded.
‘You know I do. You are very beautiful, Zoë.’
We said no more. I threw her her bikini top and we prepared to leave the cove for the last time. I held out a hand to pull her to her feet.
It was the only physical contact we had that holiday apart from when our legs had touched under the table.
Work called and we all settled back into our normal routines. Zoë had a long summer break and wouldn’t resume her studies until early October.
Her next birthday came. I bought her a nice dress ring – not too expensive, but very nice, I thought. She had a party with her friends. I dropped in but didn’t stay long even though she asked me to. I felt like I didn’t quite belong.
But it seemed that I did see more of her now. She tended to stay out on Saturday evening whilst we ate but would drop in at about half nine and sit with us and talk. And she seemed to time her breakfast with me as if she were deliberately monitoring me.
One Sunday morning the following spring she asked:
‘What are you doing today, Jonathan?’
‘Trying to sort the garden. It’s become a wilderness. Slash and burn, I expect.’
‘Right,’ she said.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked her.
‘Not sure,’ she replied as if she was going to say more but never did.
I drove home and went out into the garden. It was a beautiful unusually warm May morning so I just wore shorts and stout boots to protect my feet. The garden had been neglected. It was a decent size and offered some privacy with its large established shrubs, but grass and weeds were reclaiming the garden and because Toni had liked the garden I knew she wouldn’t want it to be like this.
I buckled down and started to use a scythe I had just bought specifically to get the grass down before I could get a mower on to it. Sweat was pouring off me.
I heard what sounded like a bicycle bell but I paid it no attention. I heard it again and it sounded as if it was coming from near the house, so I put the scythe down and walked back up the garden. I opened the side gate and walked to the driveway at the front of the house. Zoë was leaning an elderly bicycle against the house wall. She was wearing those black shorts and the yellow vest, exactly the same as she had done that morning in France. Her brown legs seemed eight miles long.
‘I’ve come to help,’ she announced.
‘Terrific,’ I said. ‘Can you get us both a cold drink?’
‘The orange is…’
Zoë had never been to my house before, funnily enough. ‘I’ll find it, don’t worry.’
She soon appeared with a tray of drinks. Then we got back to work. I was still scything the long grass down the far end; Zoë was raking it up into piles to bag up and take to the municipal refuse centre later. We were both hot; I looked at Zoë whose yellow vest was dark in places and whose nipples were clearly showing through the material as it clung, damp, to her skin. I could tell quite easily she wasn’t wearing a bra; I also suspected from her tight shorts that there was nothing under them either.
We had probably been working together for about three-quarters of an hour.
‘Break!’ I said. We sat down on a garden bench that badly needed a coat of preservative. I was looking at her. She smiled.
‘You like?’ she asked.
‘Very much.’ I smiled at her, allowing my eyes to alight on hers. ‘Still,’ I added.
‘Jonathan, I don’t know if you remember one morning during the holiday at breakfast when I …’
‘…brushed your leg against mine. Of course I remember. I wanted to respond to you desperately but…’
‘You had rules. I was hurt’
‘I’m sorry; I didn’t want to upset you but there is that age gap, Zoë. Your parents had invited me on holiday and I thought it wouldn’t be right to start screwing their daughter. Not quite the way to repay them. Right?’
Zoë laughed. ‘All right, then. And are there rules now?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘Now you have to do what you think is good, proper and what is emotionally right for you, Zoë. That’s the only rule. Follow your spirit. I won’t interfere.’
‘Remember that special eye contact we had – something happened then between us,’ Zoë responded. ‘When you look at me like that I feel we are staring into each other’s soul and I could do anything you asked of me.’ She paused. ‘Do you want me?’ she asked, simply.
‘Yes. And I want to do things for you, Zoë, special things.’
I felt that the eleven years that stood between us were melting away.
‘I trust you, Jonathan,’ she replied. It seemed an unexpected comment but I returned it:
‘I trust you, Zoë, completely.’
We sat in silence until Zoë got up. ‘I think we need another drink, celebratory perhaps.’ She smiled. She took the tray and the empty glasses back up the garden.
I carried on scything the grass – I had nearly finished this first stage of reclaiming the lawn. When Zoë returned with the drinks I stopped and sat down on the garden seat again with my juice. Zoë flopped down into a big pile of grass she had raked together.
I looked down at her. The seat and the pile of grass were in a corner of the garden, not overlooked by the nearby properties. Zoë grinned at me, a sort of naughty grin I suppose. Her hands moved to the hem of her yellow vest and she pulled it over her head. She leaned back in the grass.
‘Ticklish?’ I asked.
‘Yes, it is a bit.’
‘This reminds me of that last day,’ I said.
‘That was nearly the idea,’ she said.
Our eyes met and once more I felt I was looking into two deep pools where I was seeking to see a future, which, I was sure, I wanted to happen to me, to both of us.
And as we met spiritually in the intimacy of our gaze Zoë removed her shorts, smoothly and quickly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I sensed apprehension in her eyes now, an apprehension I was anxious to dispel.
My eyes ran down her body – over those tight young breasts, beautifully shaped mounds with their dark solid little cupolas on top – down over her flat, tanned stomach, dipping into the ‘inner’ of her navel and on through the thicket of her bushy mons. Her legs were pressed together, nervously, I assumed, fearing brusque rejection once more.
I smiled gently: ‘I like, Zoë,’ I said and I’m sure she remembered the phrasing. I paused. ‘You are incredibly beautiful.’
I got down off the seat and sat down, cross-legged on the ground at her side, perhaps two feet away as I leaned against one end of the seat.
‘Jonathan?’ Zoë began.
‘Will you take yours off, please?’ then she laughed, quite loudly.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘I was imagining you naked with your boots on,’ she said, still laughing.
‘No, then,’ I replied.
‘I’d better take them off first, then,’ Zoë countered, moving on to her hands and knees.
She had no idea how enthralled I was to watch her naked body move around me as she untied the laces of my boots and pulled the first one, together with the accompanying woollen sock, from my foot. I enjoyed watching her move uninhibitedly, showing her back bent over me, then her bottom as she turned away slightly and then I saw her breasts as they hung when she bent low to struggle with a knot when laces had failed to release. I saw her nudity in such a natural context that its beauty overcame its eroticism and I was stunned.
When she had at last removed both boots she paused and looked at me before starting on my shorts. Once again that magnetism of our mutual attraction engaged sharply like a vice.
‘I want you,’ I said simply, but, I hope, not like some commanding officer but more akin to the entreaties of a devotee. Our eyes locked in the pools of our unforgiving desire.
‘Good,’ she replied. She began to unfasten my shorts, her fingers clearly trembling as she unbuttoned the waistband. When she had succeeded and had her fingers ready to lower the zipper she paused and looked at me.
‘Well done,’ I said, reaching out to touch her hand.
‘I want you too,’ she said. ‘I want the dream, Jon. If you don’t want the dream after what you know about me… after what you’ve seen, then I can ride away, Jon – on my bike. But if you want it all, then I am and will be here.’
‘I want our dream, Zoë.’
‘Then teach me, please. That’s what I’ve wanted for…. for too long. I want you to show me, Jon…’
‘You want me to make love to you here?’ I asked.
‘Yes, yes. Mum said it won’t really be love and it won’t be perfect at first; you can show me how to enjoy and how to please. But I’ve been sure a very long time that you are the one I want.’
It sounded simple as she resumed the removal of my shorts. I helped by lifting myself slightly and she tugged them down and away. We both stared at each other. Zoë parted her legs somewhat and then bent one leg at the knee spreading her cunt clearly before me.
My erect cock stood out, angled to my chest, hard and prominent. It felt unbearably hard to me as if it was anxious to fulfil its purpose. I hadn’t been naked with a woman for a very long time, and certainly never one as inexperienced as Zoë.
‘Touch me,’ I said. Her hand reached forward and wrapped itself around my cock.
I shuffled slightly closer and ran a finger up the inside of her long, brown left leg and then placed a hand on her tummy, my fingers pushing gently down into her pubic hair.
‘I want to please you, Jon,’ Zoë whispered. We kissed.
I moved over her as she pressed herself back in the pile of grass. The smell of the grass and the heat of the sun added to the sexual languor of our mood. Zoë stretched her arms back over her head and sighed as I lowered myself to her, my cock just touching the entry to her cunt. I looked at her, questioning.
‘I want you,’ she said simply.
‘And I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you in those shorts,’ I said. ‘I’ve always wanted to fuck a girl with eight mile long legs!’ I smiled and pushed my cock upwards into her.
‘They’re not that long,’ she began, but changed to: ‘oh, god, Jon…’
I pushed myself fully inside her and then withdrew a little pushing forward again, at first gently but with a slowly increasing rhythm. Zoë wrapped her long arms around me and pulled me fully down on to me so we kissed passionately, biting each other in between the kisses and moaning in delirious pleasure. She was unbelievably wet but there was little response from that part of her body as if she didn’t know…
‘Fuck me a little too, Zoë,’ I murmured in her ear. I thrust hard, a little roughly perhaps and waited.
Hesitantly I felt her thrust back, her hips and pelvis moving so she was able to force my cock deeper inside her.
‘Mmm,’ I sighed as I almost withdrew and then slowly drove myself firmly, but less roughly, back up her cunt. This time she responded straightaway and we began to work out together, like two parts of a machine whose piston rods alternately drove against each other.
Suddenly Zoë caught her breath and I felt her grab me more tightly and moan: ‘Oh, Jon, oh nooo, I’m com…’ the word turned to a scream as she came, a blinding orgasm shook her and its suddenness made me unable to stop my own orgasm as I came, pouring my semen into her.
We lay there panting and just enjoyed an intimacy she had never had before and which I had not enjoyed for a very long time.
‘Was that all right?’ she asked nervously as if she was not actually asking me but speaking into space, afraid of the answer.
‘It was wonderful,’ I assured her.
‘But I didn’t know how to please you or even how to do it the way you want,’ she said, now on the verge of tears.
‘Then I will show you and I promise you it will be wonderful for me to teach you and to watch and feel you learn. Don’t worry, Zoë: today has been the most wonderful day I have had since…’
I stopped, embarrassed.
‘It’s all right, I know,’ she said. ‘I don’t expect or want you not to talk about her. If I’ve just given you the best time in three years then I’ll settle for that.’
She sat up and put her vest on and then her shorts.
‘Maybe I can improve on it next time.’ She grinned that gamine, mischievous smile, stood up and turned to walk to the house. She stopped after several paces and turned to me.
I turned to her and watched as she thrust her hand into her shorts and clearly fingered herself slowly.
I just stared.
‘I love you,’ she said. She scampered off before I could reply. I didn’t know whether she was going home or what.
About twenty minutes later Zoë reappeared. Her hair had been combed and she was wearing a different set of clothes. I stared in surprise. She explained:
‘I brought a change of clothes in the pannier on the bike. I hoped I might need them’, she smiled with a gentle giggle.
‘I’m glad you did then,’ I replied looking at the vision before me.
Zoë was wearing a minuscule bikini top and a tiny, no minute, lemon flared skirt.
‘You look wonderful,’ I ventured.
‘Mum said it’s a “fuck skirt”. She said there were only two situations in which I should consider wearing it.’
‘Well, one was to wear it for my lover, to please him and make him want me.’ She blushed slightly and then grinned at me. ‘And the other was to wear it just for you, Jon, if all else failed.’ She paused.
‘If all else failed?”
‘Yes, but it’s all right, all else didn’t fail so I can wear it for my lover and hope it works.’
‘I like,’ I confirmed. ‘Where on earth did you get it?’
At ‘Zany’s’. But then mum shortened it a bit. She doesn’t think I should wear it apart from alone with you.’
I may have shocked her or just alerted her sex drive but I replied; ‘I’d like you to wear it with me when at your house, in front of your parents.’
‘Good. I’d like that, too,’ she said.
Sometimes her directness surprised and thrilled me. Memories of the bikini, perhaps. I grabbed her and kissed her. She didn’t yet fully understand the sexual potential inside her but I sensed it was capable of surprising me.
‘Come in the house, Jon, please,’ she asked.
I followed her up the garden path to the house. Once inside she turned to me, put her hands round my neck but didn’t move in close to me. Our eyes met and she smiled.
‘I’d like to do it again, upstairs, on the bed. I want to please you, Jon: I want you to show me how.’
We went upstairs without further words and Zoë began to undress me and I her. When I was nude, and Zoë’s eyes kept glancing at my excited cock, I flopped back onto my double bed and lay there on my back. She stood a moment staring.
Then she moved to climb onto the bed, straddling me and immediately positioning herself so that her cunt was hovering above my erect penis. She shifted slightly so that my cock brushed against her labia as she rocked back and forth.
‘Yes?’ she asked.
I nodded and then, very slowly, cautiously as if she was unsure how she might feel, she pushed herself down onto me. She paused.
‘You are fabulous, you feel wonderful,’ I reassured her. She pushed herself fully onto me and I too pushed up towards her. I was holding her breasts and pulling her nipples and she was moaning with pleasure, as she fell forward, her arms either side of my head. I grabbed her and held her to me, at the same time rolling her over so that I was on top of her. I felt myself starting to slip from her and drove my hips towards her, re-anchoring myself. I was out of control by now, I was so turned on by her beautiful young body. She began to scream that she was coming. I fucked her really fast now and felt her responding superbly. We were both a little more confident with each other now and I felt that Zoë knew she was pleasing me and was able to enjoy the moment for herself, as she shuddered with the onset of a lingering orgasm. My semen burst from me, flooding her cunt [in my mind at least it was a flood] as the wonder of my own orgasm coursed through me. We lay a while in the afterglow, just holding, touching. Zoë kept saying ‘Jon,’ as she pressed herself to me and my fingers roamed soothingly over her breasts.
And so we had become lovers, as if something inevitable had at last happened and neither of us was surprised by our love. From then on Zoë slept at my house a couple of times a week and I slept at Annie and Pat’s at the weekend. On those occasions Zoë slept in my room and we were quite open about it. It was neither a secret nor a topic for conversation.
In fact nobody said a word; no one said a thing.
I have a cousin, Katharine, with whom I spent a lot of time as a child, you know, joint holidays, playing in the paddling pool; having baths together. Katharine, always Katharine and never shortened, had kept in touch as we grew up and led separate lives and it was she, funnily enough, who had said those initially cruel words to me that ‘I was young enough to start again.’
Eventually I rang her and told her about Zoë. Katharine is a fashion photographer – nothing grand, not an international jet setter but she works out of Bradford doing work mainly for home sales catalogue companies. She does other work too but her income comes from the bread and butter catalogue work. She’s married to Lionel, a wool broker, who seems to never be at home. They have no children but they seem to have an understanding that works for them. Anyway she wanted us to come and stay for a weekend, so a few weeks after we spoke on the phone we drove up to Bradford one Friday, planning to stay until early Sunday afternoon. Apparently Lionel would be there on Friday evening but had to fly to Glasgow on Saturday morning and would remain there until the following Tuesday.
Zoë was eager to please and had dressed smartly. I noticed she was wearing the ring I had bought her for her birthday.
‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing me a model!’ Katharine exclaimed as she opened the door to greet us.
‘I’m not a model,’ Zoë stammered in embarrassment.
‘But you could be. I must show you my studio tomorrow. Come on inside, though. Lionel!’ she screamed. ‘They’re here!’
Lionel appeared: he was charming: we had a lovely meal that evening and we talked, largely about the childhood years Katharine and I had shared and to Zoë about her early years and current plans. We toured the house. I was conscious of the pictures in all the rooms – some were paintings; some were photographs, including some nudes taken in the outdoors or on a beach. They were not sexual in any way but they held a hidden eroticism for me and Katharine caught Zoë staring at one of a girl lying on wet sand as the first waves of a rising tide washed around her.
‘Has Jonathan taken pictures of you like that, then, Zoë?’ Katharine asked.
Embarrassed again Zoë replied: ‘No, of course not,’ blushing intensely.
The two of them walked on ahead of me but I clearly heard Katharine say ‘Then you should get him to. You would look lovely I’m sure and you might enjoy it.’ I suspect I was meant to hear but I feigned deafness. Katharine put an arm round Zoë’s waist as they entered the next room. This was Lionel’s den and was filled with model soldiers and dioramas of famous battles. It held little interest for me or for the two women and we didn’t linger but I noticed that it was Zoë’s arm that was round Katharine’s waist now.
We went to bed quite early as we were both tired. We made love in the morning as the sunshine poured through our French windows. After we had fucked lazily I ate her out, pleasuring her wildly as my tongue found her clit, sucking in my own cum mixed with her sweetness. She kept begging me to stop as she wanted to scream but digging her fingernails into my shoulders she held off until a second orgasm ripped through her. She let go. I had noticed that she had become more and more vocal as we enjoyed sex and I liked to hear this expression of her pleasures.
I expect Katharine had heard something as shortly afterwards she arrived bearing mugs of tea, knocking gently on the door. Zoë was now lying with the duvet modestly pulled up to her shoulders. I was sitting up in bed. We were both naked and had never slept together any other way. Katharine was wearing men’s pyjamas but the bottom button of the jacket seemed to be the only one that was fastened and as she leaned forwards her breasts were virtually fully visible. After a minute or two of accustoming herself to things, Zoë sat up, totally naturally I felt, unembarrassed in front of Katharine by her nudity. We chatted until Katharine left ‘for a shower.’
After breakfast we drove down to the studio. I don’t know why but I had imagined a small studio attached to the house but this was a business on a substantial footing with a very large main studio hall divided into various sections for different types of photo shoot. Reception was deserted but the extent of the place made it clear Katharine was running a successful business. In the stockroom, where deliveries of catalogue clothes were sorted and annotated, Katharine showed us some of the current stock waiting to be photographed.
Mainly there were summer dresses, blouses, shorts and swimwear.
‘You’d look well in most of these, Zoë. Do you want to try a few on?’
Zoë took from her a blouse and skirt. ‘I’m not wearing a bra,’ she said appealing to Katharine for guidance.
‘I think you’ll be fine but we’ll have to find some shoes with a nice heel to lift you a little. We can do that after you’ve got them on.’
Zoë disappeared into the changing rooms but reappeared quickly. She looked really nice but seemed sexier, her back seemed straighter, her shoulders more thrown back after Katharine had found some high heeled shoes and had pulled her shoulders back and shown her how to stand. The camera clicked away and Zoë seemed relaxed as she posed and disappeared to change into another outfit, often one very similar to the previous one.
After maybe the fifth change Zoë said: ‘This is silly.’ She stripped off the clothes she had just modelled and, naked apart from a pair of lacy pink panties, she seemed uninhibited as she put on the next set. This continued for a while until Katharine said:
‘Would you like to try something different?’
‘Yes. What?’ asked Zoë.
‘Swimwear. Does that appeal? You’ve clearly got the tan for it.’
I realised, as I expect both Katharine and Zoë did, before me probably, that Zoë would need to be naked apart from the costumes. However Zoë didn’t seem to mind and comfortably stood naked as she changed from bikini to bikini. She looked radiant and she certainly turned me on.
I noticed that Katharine’s blouse was largely undone, maybe just because of the warmth from the studio lights but I suspected that we were all rather turned on by the entire session.
We took a break and cooled ourselves with iced bottled water. Zoë checked her hair. Katharine went over to her and whispered something. I saw her nod in reply.
‘One last short session and then I’ll take you out for lunch,’ said Katharine.
We moved to a different part of the studio where everything was almost pure white: the floor, the walls and various three-dimensional objects that were covered in dazzling white cotton and which, clearly, a model could sit, lie or even stand on.
Zoë took off the robe Katharine had given her during the break and was obviously ready to pose nude for Katharine. She allowed Katharine to position her sitting on one of the shapes. Legs crossed, arms loosely folded and her head thrown back, her dark brown hair hanging behind her. She had let it grow longer in the last few months. The pose was beautiful – not vulgar at all – although I sensed nervousness in her, not because she was uncomfortable, I think, but perhaps she was less confident about how ravishingly sensuous she looked than we who were watching her.
Katharine took her picture from many different angles and then asked her to just lie back and relax. Katharine bent one of Zoë’s legs up at the knee and got her to angle the other just slightly to one side. One hand was behind her head and the other drooped over the side of the ‘table’ on which Zoë was now fully exposed. She seemed fully relaxed too as Katharine positioned her and then proceeded to take her photograph again from many different angles, producing I realised a series of very different pictures.
Finally, for Katharine only posed her three times, Zoë posed in this bleached world standing but leaning also over the same table shape, elbows on the table, bottom sticking out, legs slightly apart, looking as if she was reading the magazine that was the only prop used during the session. Katharine touched her as she moved Zoë’s legs apart and pulled her bottom out a little. Katharine photographed her again from every conceivable angle and this time some of the pictures would clearly be overtly sexual as she photographed her cunt from below and her anus too. Later Zoë told me she had become very aroused during the final pose and had desperately wanted to be touched intimately or to be fucked.
‘I would have done if you’d asked,’ I told her. But I was probably lying and wouldn’t have dared.
We went for lunch to a pleasant pub not some chic nouvelle cuisine restaurant as I had half expected and then, to our joint surprise, I think, Katharine proposed a bike ride.
‘We’ve got enough bikes for when we have guests and there’s a good round-trip ride following some of Bradford’s old railway lines. That will tire us out for the day,’ Katharine said.
‘You want to tire us out?’ asked Zoë.
‘Well, just enough to relax us this evening, so we can have a nice time together,’ Katharine replied.
We enjoyed the ride and when we got back we did feel good – better I’m sure than if we had just sat around all afternoon.
Unusually, but I was pleased at the same time, Zoë took the lead and said: ‘We’re off for a shower Katharine.’
As she said this she held her hand out towards her, in a clear but unspoken gesture of invitation. Katharine smiled and stepped forward, taking her hand. Zoë had chosen to go another step in the tantalising dance in which the three of us were erotic participants. And we showered together, all three of us. There was no sex per se but there was contact between each of us we washed each other quite intimately and Katharine and Zoë explored each other just as they explored me and I them. But it was all with the hands – and very exciting too.
Katharine went off to her room to dress, after kissing us both, and we dressed ‘slovenly’ as Katharine had instructed. It was to be a light salad type meal with whisky and white wine. I sensed more excitement to come.
‘Slovenly’ basically amounted to t-shirts and jeans. We were all barefoot as we helped in the kitchen to throw together the salad. I opened a bottle of white wine from the fridge and we carried our plates and the bottle of wine through to the lounge. For the time being we put our plates on a small semi-circular table that was up against one wall whilst Katharine poured each of us an over-large whiskey. I scooped ice into mine from a stainless steel ice bucket that Katharine must have brought in a few minutes earlier. Zoë and I sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa. Katharine came over and squeezed between us both. We sipped at our drinks for a while and reviewed the day. Zoë had lots to say about the photo-shoot and seemed retrospectively to now be more confident about her body as Katharine told her how her body ‘loved the lens’.
Katharine asked her if she would like to do it again. Zoë looked at me as if she were seeking my approval.
‘Hey there, I’m not your keeper, you know!’ I said. I didn’t want that kind of relationship.
‘But I need to know if you disapprove,’ Zoë countered. ‘Please, Jon.’
‘Ok, I don’t disapprove, all right?’
After a minute Zoë came back at me again. ‘Saying you don’t disapprove isn’t the same as saying you approve, though, is it?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘But if you promise to tell me absolutely everything that happened and how you felt at the time the night you get back home and we’re lying in bed together, then I’ll approve. Ok?’
I think Katharine thought it was a good time to change the topic of conversation. ‘You smell nice tonight,’ she said, turning to Zoë. ‘What’s that perfume called, Zoë?’
‘Shalimar. By Guerlain,’ Zoë replied.
As she spoke Katharine’s face was close to Zoë’s. Katharine moved her face in closer and kissed Zoë on the lips. Zoë responded and they kissed lingeringly, their tongues exploring. When Katharine moved away Zoë seemed slightly red-faced and clearly excited, her breathing staccato as her chest heaved a little. Katharine turned to me and kissed me, half turning to me and kissing me now in an overtly sexual way.
Katharine pulled away after a moment and there was a silence that was highly charged as if we all wondered where this was leading and yet
I think the two women knew what they wanted; I was less sure.
Katharine’s proposal ‘Let’s eat’ in itself had clear sexual overtones but we ate our meal, cleared away and were heading back to the lounge when Katharine asked quite matter-of-factly I felt: ‘Shall we head on upstairs?’
I knew this actually was a proposal for the three of us to go to bed together; we all knew that. I knew too that for Zoë all this was new but I had seen enough today to know she was confident in herself about her broadening sexuality.
‘I think I’m ready,’ said Zoë, placing a hand on Katharine’s shoulder.
By the soft light of just one bedside lamp we were soon undressed and lying on Katharine’s double bed. She pulled the white cotton sheet over us initially. There was a brief hiatus as if we were each of us waiting for someone to make the first move. Zoë was in the middle and I turned to her, placing my arm under her head and kissed her deeply. She pushed the cotton sheet down away from her as I moved my other hand to cup her breast. Her nipples were erect and I knew she was comfortable with what was happening.
I continued to fondle her breast as she turned her head towards Katharine and now she moved her face in towards Zoë and they kissed passionately. Katharine’s hand moved to Zoë’s other breast. She moaned with pleasure as I moved my hand down over her stomach and pushed two fingers into her cunt.
Katharine began to suck on Zoë’s breast as Zoë moved her hand so she could finger Katharine. As Katharine started to move down my lover’s beautiful body I realised Katharine was going to eat her shortly. I wondered if she was ready for this. I moved myself away slightly and continued to watch from the sidelines, as it were.
Although I was pretty certain that Zoë had never been with another woman I am equally sure that from her own lovemaking Zoë was confident enough to enjoy Katharine’s attentions. Indeed she soon began to move so that both women were able to eat each other in a sixty-nine we were both used to as male and female partners.
I watched enthralled and masturbated in a rather post-alcoholic haze as they made love. Katharine had begun to add fingers to her work on Zoë’s cunt and Zoë was screaming in ecstasy now as a colossal orgasm ripped through her. She grabbed my hand as her spine twisted and she fucked herself in abandon on Katharine’s hand.
Zoë rolled over towards me.
‘I love you, Jonathan,’ she said.
‘I know,’ I replied.
‘Your turn,’ she whispered, and giggled. ‘Come here.’
We were both warmed by the whiskey and I moved on to her and pushed my penis into her. She responded immediately and we made love gently. It wasn’t crude or rushed: we slowly pleasured each other. I broke off to lick her out as she sucked gently on my ‘golden rod’; and then we returned to kiss and shag: I pumped her full of all I could find for her, my penis enjoying stretching her as I gorged myself on her willing breasts. We lay together until I drifted into sleep, as, I presume, did she.
I awoke in the morning to find Katharine lying next to me, her back curved in against my stomach. But before I came round and came to this realisation that it was indeed Katharine, I had pushed myself nearer to what I thought to be Zoë and had begun to slowly move against her.
I felt a response and pushed more as I began to stir and open my eyes. It was only now that I realised I was lying next to my cousin and I slowly moved away without wishing to be sudden or to waken her fully.
She rolled over towards me.
‘You don’t get away that easily, Jonathan,’ she whispered. ‘The only combination left is me and you.’
Funnily enough, I knew exactly what she meant.
A hand reached over from behind Katharine and Zoë’s fingers ran briefly through my hair.
‘I want this too,’ she murmured as she stirred.
‘Come,’ said Katharine.
I mounted her and screwed her wantonly, like a man stealing sweets; I fucked her body not the person she represented and I enjoyed doing it and I forgot my darling Zoë and I felt alive and sexually superb as I shagged her and buried my mouth in the fullness of her breasts, and with my hands I pulled her onto me as she used her legs to hold me in a vice. We moved faster as we enjoyed the sexuality of the moment. Katharine clearly felt the same and as I screamed ‘Take this!’ she shivered with the onset of her own orgasm. We kissed and held each other until we slowly eased apart and soon Zoë planted herself between us so we could both fondle the firmness of her youth once more.
‘I love you,’ she said. I presumed she meant the both of us.
On the way home I asked her if she forgave me.
‘For what?’ she asked.
‘For going with another woman.’
‘You mean Katharine?’
‘Yes. I didn’t just do it, I enjoyed it.’
‘Jon,’ she touched my leg gently, ‘I enjoyed it; I enjoyed her – we both did. There was no harm in it and no secrets. There’s nothing to forgive.’
After a couple of minutes, at the next set of traffic lights, she added:
‘And I learnt a lot more about myself.’
‘I think we both did’ I said as I turned to kiss her.
Blasts from the horns of other motorists alerted us to the fact that the lights had turned green.
A few weeks later on the Saturday evening we were having dinner with Zoë’s parents. Zoë was wearing the lemon flared ‘fuck skirt’ with a white top which reminded me very much of an old-fashioned man’s waistcoat’ It seemed to lift Zoë’s breasts giving them added prominence. She looked wonderful and very sexy too. Pat asked if we had plans for the summer. We asked what they were going to do.
‘That depends on you two really,’ Annie began. ‘Pat and I will understand if you have your own plans but if you don’t we’d love you to come with us again. We were thinking of the South of France but we haven’t decided anything more concrete than that.’
Zoë looked at me and I sort of nodded to suggest I’d love to go with Annie and Pat again. Zoë smiled back.
‘We’d love to go with you – but on one condition,’ she added as a mischievous smile spread across her face.
‘What’s that?’ said Annie.
‘You let me wear whatever I like and you don’t criticise!’ She laughed as she stuck her tongue out in fun at her father.
‘I should have said how wonderful you look tonight,’ said Pat. ‘I’ve learnt my lesson – but don’t blame me if I can’t take my eyes off you. And if you’re not offended you look very sexy too, Zoë.’
Zoë blushed and pressed her leg against mine.
I suggested that Zoë and I would organise everything and get back with proposed dates in a few days’ time. We could all manage three weeks’ leave and aimed for late June or early July.
For days the dining table at our house was covered with papers and the internet and phone seemed in constant use. Zoë found a gîte, with its own pool, attached to the Mas de la Fouque at Saintes Marie de la mer [a well known luxury hotel]. Although it belonged to the hotel it was entirely separate and quite private. It seemed ideal. Horse riding treks were possible as well as escorted wildlife excursions and although it was rather expensive we could have the place to ourselves for our preferred dates and so we confirmed the booking.
One evening at about the time we were planning the holiday we came home to find a note on the front door.
‘Parcels at number 15,’ it said laconically.
‘I’ll pop round,’ I said. Zoë followed me.
Avril, our neighbour had only moved in recently and seemed to always be in a crisis. She had two very young children and although she had a supportive husband I think post-natal depression had taken its toll and she had never got back to looking after either herself or her appearance. I suspected too that her sex life had shrivelled away.
‘I’m not having kids if that’s what it’s like!’ Zoë had said more than once.
‘It doesn’t have to be like that. She needs to make time for herself.’
‘With those two [the children, she meant] that won’t be easy.’
Anyway none of that is essential to the tale for now. We knocked on the door.
Avril had a child in her arms but pointed to a number of packages of varying sizes leaning against the wall of her hallway. We thanked her, picked them up between us.
‘They came by special delivery,’ she said. ‘Must have been expensive.’
‘Yes, thanks, Avril. Thanks very much.’
Back home we started by opening the biggest of the parcels. It soon became clear that it was a picture frame, well protected in its bubble wrap packaging.
It was a sepia tinted photograph, about four feet by three, in a sandalwood frame, of Zoë, naked, leaning on the white table reading the magazine. The photos were from Katharine. We opened the others, showing the other poses. There were four framed pictures, smaller than the first but quite large nonetheless. A fifth was quite small and had ‘for Zoë’ written on it. I passed it to her.
She gave it me back. ‘No, you open it, Jon.’
Eventually I saw a picture of Zoë’s anus and cunt. I felt my desire stir in my crutch as I looked at her photo and then at Zoë herself. I passed it to her. As I did so I saw a message handwritten on the reverse.
Zoë read it to me: ‘To Zoë, from Katharine, with all my love. Display them all with pride. This one should hang somewhere in your bedroom.’
‘They’re wonderful,’ she said. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’
‘I want the big one to go over the fireplace,’ I said.
‘People will see it.’
‘Are you ashamed of how beautiful you look?’
‘No. You don’t mind if people see it, Jon?’
I smiled at her and reached a hand across and touched her. ‘They’ll all be insanely jealous that I have a partner who looks like that.’
We went to the Camargue in the South of France to the Mas de la Fouque at Saintes Marie de la mer. Zoë drove us to the coast, having passed her test recently but was not going to drive in France. We had one overnight stop and reached our gîte without incident.
The following morning we decided to head for the beach, which was about ten minutes’ away by car. We parked and walked down onto the sands. Annie and Pat spread out their bright blue and yellow beach towels. Ours were white.
After a while Annie asked Pat to put some sunscreen on her back. I found myself drawn to watch as Pat massaged Annie’s back as he applied the lotion. He unfastened her bikini clasp and Annie left it undone after he had finished.
It must have been ten minutes later when Annie turned over and lay on her back in the sun. She made no attempt to put the bikini top back on and she lay topless for all to see. Again I found it difficult to resist the urge to watch her breasts whenever she moved. When she sat up to get something from the straw bag she had brought down to the beach I was aware how well she looked and how sexually attractive I couldn’t help finding her.
She realised I was watching her and turned to me and smiled.
‘Sorry,’ I said, embarrassed by a feeling I was looking at forbidden fruits.
‘Don’t be Jonathan. I rather hoped someone might stare at me.’
‘You look lovely,’ I told her. And I meant it.
Annie remained topless. I wondered whether Zoë would follow suit and thought perhaps that nervousness at her father’s reaction might inhibit her.
We all went for a swim after lunch. As we walked back up the beach I asked her:
‘Are you going topless too, Zoë?’
‘Would you like me to?’
‘Yes – but only if you want to.’
‘I want to but I don’t want to cause any trouble.’
‘There’ll be trouble from me and from your mum, I’m sure, if he says even a word.’
Zoë was sitting up, combing her hair. ‘Can you unfasten it, Jon, please?’ Zoë said quietly.
I sat up and tentatively touched her bikini clasp, checking.
‘Mmm,’ she said. I unfastened it and just as she began to remove it she said: ‘Mum?’
Annie looked up and smiled. ‘You look beautiful, baby.’
I leaned forward, kissed her on the back of the neck and whispered: ‘I love you.’
I think both women liked the fact that the other was there for her and their partial nudity seemed more ordinary, more normal, now there were two of them. When the cooler breeze began to blow after four o’clock we decided to move and return to the gîte.
Annie and Zoë remained topless as we walked back along the beach. I don’t know whether it was a deliberate decision or just the way things turned out – I suspect the latter – but Annie walked with me and Zoë with her dad. Annie told me how good she felt.
‘I like it when you look at me, Jonathan,’ she added.
‘And Pat? How do you feel when he looks at Zoë?’
‘I think he’s been avoiding doing so as much as possible. I thought he might ease up now while they are together.’
Meanwhile Zoë and Pat were talking about food and Pat was staring rigidly ahead. Zoë had become aware that Pat was not staring at her nakedness and realised that he was deliberately avoiding looking at her at all.
‘Dad?’ she asked. ‘Look at me, please.’
He stopped and turned. ‘You look wonderful, Zoë, but I’m not sure I should look at you and have the feelings I have. You’re my daughter.’
‘I’m a woman now dad. I know Jonathan looks at mum and likes what he sees. I want you to look at me.’ She paused and they walked on a few strides. ‘If my dad has those feelings when he looks at me like this then I’m quite thrilled really.’ She took his hand, squeezed it and kept hold.
When we reached the steps up to the esplanade we stopped and I helped Annie put her top back on and I saw Pat do the same for Zoë. It all seemed so natural. We drove home.
‘Shower?’ asked Annie.
‘Right said Pat. ‘We’ll go first.’
Zoë and I followed on about a quarter of an hour later. We washed and dried each other. Later we were both standing, naked, in the bedroom. I pulled her to me and we kissed.
‘Later,’ Zoë said.
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘So will I,’ she replied. ‘It’s been quite a sexy day.’
We dressed. I put on a short-sleeved shirt and shorts; Zoë put on a flared grey ultra short skirt with matching very brief panties and a t-shirt. Barefoot we went downstairs. As we turned the corner halfway down the stairs we saw Annie go from the lounge into the kitchen. She had her back to us and didn’t notice us. She was still topless. We stopped.
Zoë whispered: ‘Let’s go back.’
We tiptoed back to our room, as quietly as we could, and were both giggling by the time I closed the door. Zoë took her t-shirt off.
‘Are you ok with this?’ I asked her.
‘I think it will be second nature for us all before long, don’t you?’
And so we went back downstairs. Annie smiled at us as we entered the kitchen. At no time did we ever discuss the fact that we were going to go topless when at home at the gîte. We spent a pleasant evening together. I did enjoy looking at Annie and I was aware that Pat watched Zoë, especially when she was moving about the room. There was a bit of kissing and touching that evening but it was all very innocent. Zoë and I went to bed early.
We played erotically, touching and exploring each other for a long time. I was very hard and wanted to enter her but she stopped me. Zoë whispered to me:
‘Take me from behind, Jon. I want you to fuck my ass again. Fuck it hard and talk dirty to me.’
She grabbed me and we kissed until she rolled onto her stomach. We hadn’t had anal sex until several months into our relationship but she had now asked for it more than once.
I moved her so that her rear was sticking up more with her knees pulled forwards. I entered her cunt from behind and enjoyed thrusting into her. At the same time I worked lube around her anus, pausing in my thrusts to push a little finger in her anus. She had learnt to try to relax herself as I pushed through her sphincter carefully and paused again.
I withdrew my penis from her cunt and placed it up against her anal hole, pushing my glans very gently until it just began to enter her. She moaned quietly as I pushed very, very slowly as I moved until I was fully inside her.
‘Come, Jon, come in me’ she almost whimpered. I began to ream into her. I had reached that point where our love for each other enabled us to surrender our bodies to each other for what was now pure carnal lust. But it was mutual and Zoë was groaning loudly now with each stroke of my cock inside her. I came, pumping my semen into her.
Slowly we subsided, holding each other. Our love kicked back in, banishing the lust whose presence we had clearly welcomed, and it was as lovers that we lay together until, like children, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
In the morning Zoë and I went down in just our shorts to breakfast. We found Annie similarly dressed.
‘Where’s dad?’ Zoë asked.
‘Skimming the pool,’ Annie answered. ‘He says he’s making sure there are no leaves and things but he’s just playing really. It looked fine to me,’ Annie added.
However we voted for the beach again. We parked in a different place, a little closer to the beach, where we saw a board with a plan of the whole beach area. Someone had written carefully the word ‘naturiste’ on a section which didn’t look far from where we had been the previous day. We went back to the same part of the beach.
Pat applied sunscreen to Annie’s back and then she turned over and asked him to do her front too. Zoë and I watched as Pat rubbed the cream on Annie’s breasts. Zoë passed me her own bottle of lotion and lay back on the beach towel, on her back.
‘Go on,’ she said.
I started at her feet, worked my way up to the top of her legs. Then I began to apply it to her stomach. I was aware that Pat and Annie were watching. I smiled at them both.
‘Don’t stop,’ said Annie.
Zoë opened her eyes. I resumed and spurted some cream from the bottle on to her breasts and began to work it into her skin. I tweaked her nipples playfully. I saw Annie pass her hand across one of her own nipples as I did so. I was quite turned on inside my shorts. I guessed we all were.
After lunch, which we had brought with us, I asked Zoë quietly:
‘Would you like to explore a little?’
We told Pat and Annie we were going to walk along the beach a little to see just where the naturist beach was and what it was like.
‘We won’t be more than an hour.’
‘Take as long as you want,’ said Annie. ‘We’ll wait for you.’
It wasn’t far at all and it wasn’t crowded. Zoë and I removed our ‘bottoms’ and spread our towels and lay in the sun, enjoying the feeling of the air on our entire body. Zoë said:
‘This is nice.’
I couldn’t help but watch as people walked by, people of all sorts and sizes, young and old. Zoë was half sitting up with her elbows sort of behind her. She was watching too. She even gave a few men scores out of ten, but quietly, under her breath. I joined in scoring some of the women.
But it was the heat of the day and we soon tired of this. We dozed a little. Suddenly I was brought to my senses:
‘Oh, there you are at last. I never thought there would be so many people with white towels. I’ve already approached quite a few couples! I expect they think there’s a mad Englishwoman wandering round the beach!’
It was Annie [and Pat]. She laughed loudly.
We sat together and we all seemed surprisingly unselfconscious in our shared nudity. Annie lay so I could see her intimate parts easily. After a while Zoë moved her legs further apart. I made no comment but I knew she was acquiescing in showing herself fully to her father. I wondered how long it was since he had seen his daughter completely naked.
I was trying not to sport an erection but when Annie casually brushed her hand across Pat’s cock and his penis stood erect for both Annie and Zoë to admire, I was unable to prevent my own cock from hardening. When Zoë then ran a sharp fingernail along the length of my cock I knew both women were enjoying arousing their partner. I wondered how wet they were.
Again the cool breeze came at about four o’clock. We walked back. Zoë and I were behind Pat and Annie. Pat had got over any inhibitions he may have had about seeing Zoë naked and in that sense the four of us were all now far more relaxed together than we had ever been in our lives. Annie looked very attractive from behind, her bottom still small, firm and tempting.
‘Still an eight,’ I said.
‘What am I then?’ Zoë asked.
‘I don’t think partners should score each other. Ask your dad.’
She thumped me in the ribs and scampered away to avoid my return shot at her.
Back at the gîte we both wondered whether our nudity would continue for the evening. Zoë said she would pop downstairs and see what Annie was doing.
Annie had met Zoë in the lounge. Again Annie was naked.
‘Are you two comfortable with all this?’ she had asked her daughter.
‘It seems a far cry from Armintza,’ Zoë answered.
‘Yes,’ said Annie. ‘But you’re a woman now, with a wonderful partner and last year your dad was only doing what he thought a protective father should do. It took him time to adjust to the fact that you’re all grown up now! Deep down he’s like any man who loves to see a pretty woman. Or a beautiful woman confident enough to show herself to him.’ She smiled. ‘You do look so wonderful these days.’
‘I’m very happy, mum. And Jon has shown me so much…’ She paused. ‘There are sides to me I didn’t even know existed.’
‘I know.’ Annie put her arm round her daughter’s waist. They kissed briefly – a mother-daughter kiss, but as they did so they felt their breasts brush together for the first time.
A routine was now established and nudity became the way we were whenever we could. Zoë and I touched each other in front of her mum and dad and they responded in like manner. Gradually our shows of affection became more confident and by the third evening of our nudity Zoë was fully as relaxed as I fingered her very gently. Not only was Pat watching but I sensed Zoë shift herself slightly so that she drew him into what we were doing. Annie stroked Pat’s thick cock as she watched us too. But it went no further.
In bed that night she told me how turned on she had been and our love-making was urgent, almost aggressive as if a hunger for each other had built up during the evening. As we played and kissed we became quite rough, with Zoë setting the pace. She bit me hard on the neck and I countered by smacking her really hard on the bottom, much harder in fact than I intended.
She dug her nails into my back and I spanked her hard again. I then moved quickly down her body, burying my face in her crutch, holding hard onto her thighs and began to probe her cunt with my tongue. I soon licked her clit, which I continued to do whilst I also intermittently nibbled on her labia. She began to buck against me, saying:
‘Please, Jon, fuck me now, please!’
‘I love you, Zoë,’ I said. I pushed myself up against her and slipped into her wetness. Her long legs surrounded me and helped pull me deeper inside her. We fucked twice that evening. After the second time she asked me quietly as we lay together in the dark:
‘Do you think you’ll ever get married again, Jon?’
‘That depends whether the most beautiful woman in the world says yes, I suppose,’ I replied.
A long silence followed.
‘Yes?’ I murmured, sleepily.
‘Was that a proposal?’
‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’
Knowing Zoë I expected to be clobbered over the head with a pillow or kicked or something worse.
In fact she just said: ‘Right. Goodnight, Jon.’
And went to sleep.
Unknown to Zoë I had indeed intended to propose to her some time during the holiday and had borrowed one of her rings a month ago to size an engagement ring that I had now brought with me to France. It was a diamond ring with two side diamonds set in 18 carat white gold with a centre diamond weighing 0.3 carats and had cost me slightly less than two thousand pounds. I woke early and placed it on the bedside table on Zoë’s side of the bed.
I waited for her to wake.
When she stirred she was facing me, not the bedside table.
‘Last night, did I dream what you said?’
‘What’s the answer then?’ Zoë asked.
‘It’s at the side of your bed.’
She turned and saw the little cuboid black box. She picked it up and cautiously opened it, afraid perhaps it was some kind of joke, she told me later.
‘Oh, Jon, it’s…’ And she began to cry. I held her.
‘I’m so happy,’ she said, wiping her tears. ‘It’s so fabulously beautiful, Jon.’ She slid it onto her finger.
‘It fits,’ she said, sounding surprised.
‘I borrowed one of your rings,’ I explained.
‘I never noticed.’ Zoë seemed spellbound as she stared at the ring. ‘Do you mind if we don’t tell mum and dad just yet? I want to enjoy being engaged just between ourselves for a bit.’
‘Oh, so you’ve said ‘yes’ have you?’ I asked.
‘Come here,’ she said, ‘and I’ll show you how I say ‘yes’.’
We all decided to spend the day at the gîte. We seemed to have reasons for doing so. It would be ‘cooler and there was more shade in the heat of the day’. ‘We don’t need to carry everything – we can get what we want whenever we want.’ Pat said it would be nice to just swim in the pool. Annie said very little. I wondered if there were other reasons, which followed on from our increasing intimacy in front of each other, levels of intimacy that were inevitably more confined on the beach. I think we all knew that we wanted to allow us to arouse each other sexually. We just hadn’t verbalised those feelings.
The four of us were of course all naked on our beach mats and towels on the patio by the pool. Zoë had put the ring away carefully. It seemed very quiet as if a sense of expectancy led us all to lie there in the warm sun, waiting for something to happen.
I suppose it was the engagement ring and Zoë’s heightened state of excitement. She got up and knelt between my legs, a bottle of sunblock in one hand. With the other hand she stroked my cock until it was rock hard. I was incredibly turned on.
‘I want to show you how much I love you, Jon,’ she said, calmly.
And with that she put the bottle down and bent her head down onto my penis and took me in her mouth. She began to work on me sucking and licking me, taking me ever further inside her. I lay there. I knew Pat and Annie were watching. I wondered how they would react to seeing their daughter giving me head so unashamedly.
I groaned: ‘I can’t stop this.’
I began to shake as I spewed my come into her mouth. We had done this many times and I knew she loved to taste me but I had never performed anything as sexual as this in my life in front of others, never mind my lover’s parents, apart perhaps from the threesome we had had with Katharine. Zoë lay down, gluing herself to my side as we kissed. I waited for someone to speak but only Zoë did: ‘That was lovely, Jon,’ she said.
Pat and Annie said nothing; Annie was lying close to Pat stroking his erect cock.
Zoë nudged me and whispered: ‘Look.’
I turned to face the other way, sitting up slightly. Annie was giving us a show and was reprising our performance on Pat who was sitting up and holding Annie’s head as she sucked him off. I think he lasted about as long as I did and he stared almost glassy-eyed at us both as he pumped himself into Annie’s mouth.
I wondered where this was taking us but it seemed we were happy to just let things happen. Discussion hadn’t been necessary so far and Annie and Pat presumably had just shown us that their appetites and ours were well aligned.
The four of us sat around a table on the patio area and lunched on wine, salad and cold meats.
It seemed to me that Annie initially and later Zoë too, but to a lesser extent, were taking the lead in exploring the sexuality of themselves and of us as a foursome. Pat and I had consented and enjoyed. I wanted to show Zoë my approval by taking her a stage further and taking the lead myself. But this was not to happen as soon as I had hoped.
Zoë was still in an elated mood. She told me quietly that she had been up to our room three times just to look at the ring and try it on again.
We sat in the shade together, reading. Annie and Pat were lazily swimming up and down the pool together. When they got out they dried each other and Annie lay back down in the sun. Zoë was absorbed in her book. I looked up as Pat got up on his hands and knees and moved over above Annie’s prone body. She smiled and held up her arms to him.
I nudged Zoë.
‘What?’ she said, quite loudly.
‘Over there,’ I whispered.
Pat was pushing his cock into Annie. He pushed it right in and she tried to raise herself to him. Pat withdrew and looked across at us and then rammed himself home again. Annie wrapped her legs around him as they began to copulate.
‘Cunt, fucking cunt,’ Pat said as he fucked her.
Annie screamed: ‘Harder.’ I saw him reach round and shove fingers up her rear entrance. ‘Come you fucker, I want you to come,’ she hissed.
She screamed more quietly, reminding me of Zoë. I knew she had climaxed. Pat came shortly after, mauling Annie’s breast as his hips jerked against her. We watched his greased shaft moving in and out of her cunt. My own erection quivered with tension. Zoë was fingering herself as she watched.
‘Wow,’ whispered Zoë.
Minutes later I took Zoë by the hand, picked up one of the mats and a towel with the other hand, and said: ‘Come.’
I walked with her out of the shade over to where Annie and Pat were still lying, spent, in the sunshine. I placed the mat and towel next to them.
Zoë knew what I wanted and got down on the mat, lying on her back. I lay down beside her and she turned her body in towards me and put her arms around my neck. We pressed ourselves against each other and entwined our legs. We kissed for a while, tongues playing far inside our mouths. Zoë nibbled my earlobe and I moved to suck her nipples in turn, scraping my teeth on them to excite them to the maximum.
She rolled back on to her back. She looked so beautiful. Her hand reached out for my cock. ‘Come on top of me, Jonathan.’
I did as she told me and we settled together, my mouth on hers.
When we broke apart briefly she said: ‘I love you, Jon.’
‘And I love you, Zoë.’
I pushed myself slowly inside her and we began to respond to each other as we fucked slowly at first, then slightly faster. I slowed again and withdrew from her, moving down her body to tongue her clit for a minute. I knew she would soon be begging for me to restart the fuck and her language was often gross at this point in her arousal.
‘Jon, please fuck me now! Fuck me now! Please!’
I moved back up her body, thrusting my cock into her cunt and withdrawing it, then another thrust inside her. She grabbed me by her thighs to hold me and we reached total abandon as our bodies jerked together. I came first but continued to thrust until a scream and nails digging again into my shoulders confirmed her oncoming orgasm. Her spine arched and she shook as we held each other.
Eventually we sat up and looked at Annie and Pat.
‘It’s been a special day for us all,’ said Annie a while later.
‘I think it was the best day of my life,’ said Zoë. She smiled at me and grabbed my hand.
This time the day didn’t end with a cool wind. A real storm blew up, with rain and a strong wind. The gîte seemed cold and we put on shorts and t-shirts or similar for the evening. Although we sat together, kissing and touching occasionally, I think we were content to sit and talk. I think we knew that a little time to consider would not harm before we resumed the interplay of mutual arousal. We were all well satisfied for now.
The next day would be very different anyway as we had pre-booked to go pony-trekking in the marshes of the Camargue. It turned out to be a fine but breezy day. By the time we got home we were all tired and maybe a little saddle sore. Zoë and I soaked together in a hot bath before we went downstairs. We had dressed smartly as I had offered to take us all out for a meal.
‘A celebration, even though Annie and Pat don’t know why,’ I told Zoë.
‘Can I tell them this evening, Jon?’ she asked.
‘Whenever you want.’ I kissed her and stood back admiring her. She was wearing a new long, pale green skirt with a slit running half-way up the side together with a diaphanous white short-sleeved top. The shape of her breasts and the darker outline of her areoles were clear. And yet she looked classy not cheap. Everything she wore shouted expensive at you.
‘Has your mum seen you in this?’ I said.
‘She’s seen both. She described the top as “inherently erotic”.’ She added some seconds later: ‘She’s a very sexy lady really.’
‘I’ve noticed,’ I said, grinning.
I put the ring in the pocket of my jacket. I’d agreed to slip it to her when she gave me a signal we had fixed upon.
The meal went very well and Annie noticed in seconds when Zoë’s hand appeared wearing the ring. They were both clearly very thrilled for us both.
As we got home Zoë said: ‘It’s very warm again.’
We all headed for the stairs but I assumed we weren’t going to bed just yet.
Pat said: ‘When you’re ready perhaps you’d like to join us for a brandy to end a wonderful evening.’
Once again without any specific discussion we settled down together naked in the lounge, a brandy in our hands.
‘Let’s stay here tomorrow,’ said Annie.
‘Yes. And remember I don’t want things to be any different just because Jon and I are now engaged.’ She looked at her father.
I remembered how a year ago Zoë had told me that she wouldn’t be any different once she turned eighteen. I had no regrets: I had found what once I had lost. I had got my life back.
By the time we had had breakfast the following morning the sun was high and it was hot again. The good weather had returned.
Zoë had told me that she intended to shock me and thrill me that morning. Over the last months we had exchanged sexual fantasies in bed, just as a game, detached if you like from reality, and I wondered what she had in mind.
When I eventually ventured out onto the patio the others were already there. Annie rose and came across towards me as I came out of the house. She pressed her body against mine and we kissed as we never had before. I felt my cock harden against her as we moulded together. Her hand gripped my erect cock and I felt for her cunt. She sighed something I couldn’t quite make out.
We separated in some confusion as I had never expected Annie to go that far. Not that I was unable to imagine her as a sexual partner. In fact my friendship with Annie and Pat, which went back almost a decade, had become something more and whilst loving Zoë I could imagine myself with Annie. Certainly very recently there had been times when it was Annie not Zoë who had turned me on.
Strangely nothing much happened during most of the morning, apart from the use of sun-cream by each of us to arouse and play with our partner. Zoë had told me that it turned her on hugely to know that her mum and dad were watching her. It was just before lunch when Zoë touched my hand and I turned my head to hers. We were lying together very close to each other. She said quietly: ‘This is for you – or perhaps for all of us.’
Then she got up and, without standing up fully, moved across to her dad. She knelt at his feet, placing her hands on his ankles. She moved his legs apart and moved forwards on her hands and knees up his body, between his legs. Zoë’s sun browned torso was close enough to her father for her hanging tits to just brush his chest. Pat seemed to be lying dead still but Annie and I could see his erect penis as the tip brushed against Zoë as she moved forwards above him. She had let her dark brown hair grow longer recently and it hung forward now masking her face.
I guessed their lips touched as she lowered her face to his and they kissed. Zoë began to move back down Pat’s body. She sat up, back straight and stared into his eyes. Then she turned to me. Our eyes locked together. She put a hand firmly around the base of Pat’s penis, gripping it.
‘I love you, Jonathan, all right?’
‘Yes, Zoë,’ I replied, ‘and you know how much I love you too.’
Zoë bent her head down and took her father’s engorged cock into her mouth. As she swirled her tongue around it we, Annie and I, watched as Pat squirmed a little and muttered, almost shaking with either pleasure or shock, ‘God, Zoë…’
Zoë had learnt to love to suck my cock and she worked on her dad, taking more of him into her mouth. She was sucking hard on him and whether he wanted to or not his hips were rocking in response. I knew that Zoë would be squeezing his cock hard now and that he would soon come.
Pat began to stutter again: ‘I… I’m coming, Zoë.’
Zoë sat upright, still holding his cock as it began to erupt and his semen spurted, some onto his daughter’s tits and stomach, some falling back onto his thigh and abdomen. It came in three or four little bursts as Zoë pumped his cock, which she was still holding firmly.
With her index finger she scraped his cum from her tit and tummy and licked her finger clean. Then she scraped it from her dad’s body and did the same. Finally she bent forward once more and licked his cock clean too.
Zoë moved back to me, and lay down beside me. ‘Hold me, Jon,’ she said. I held her and we kissed deeply. I tasted her dad’s cum on her lips as our tongues reassured each other of our togetherness.
‘That was just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,’ I whispered.
‘What beats it?’ she asked, still whispering.
I whispered back: ‘It’s between three things: The first time I ever saw you in a fuck skirt, or the time in Spain when you said: ‘Well, some rules are just there to be broken,’ or the weekend at Katharine’s.’
We were all quiet after that. Zoë began to stroke me after a while and I responded. We kissed as I fingered her. She was becoming very wet. I pushed three fingers into her and stretched her. She whimpered a little; I began to withdraw but she said, quite loudly: ‘No, don’t.’
I pushed hard back into her as I knew a little rougher treatment sent her over. With most of my hand still inside her [she had wanted me to fist her since she had first read about fisting but so far I hadn’t been able to complete the job. I often tried to see if I could gradually get her to bear to stretch a little further] I positioned myself on my knees between her legs and reached with my free hand for a nipple. I pulled on it, not too hard but enough for her to wince a little.
‘Fuck me,’ she whimpered. I can still recall every detail. I move my hand away and am ready to enter her. I move over her, holding myself above her. I lower my face to hers and the tips of our tongues reach out for each other. I feel her push her shoulders back and her chest forward so her breasts brush against my chest. Bending my head down I suck one hard little nipple into my mouth and bite gently. Then the other.
My cock is pushing up against her cunt lips now, just playing tease at her entrance. A little push and then in response a thrust back from her and the purple helmet pushes inside. I look into her eyes. She smiles. I push in more and withdraw a little. I push firmly down onto her and enter completely. Her legs lock around mine. We copulate. I can tell she is coming from the little screams that get longer and louder.
‘Screw me, Jon!’ she almost shouts through her clenched teeth.
‘I’m coming,’ I answer and soon we are one, in the maelstrom of physical and spiritual union. Zoë and I unite in our shared fulfilment.
As we were preparing the evening meal I found myself for a few minutes alone in the kitchen with Annie. She was topping and tailing some green beans over by the sink.
‘I’d like some of that,’ she said.
‘Some of what?’ I asked.
‘Some of what you did with Zoë this afternoon.’
I didn’t know what to say.
‘Sorry,’ Annie said. ‘Shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘No, it’s all right. You didn’t mind, then?’
‘I was turned on incredibly by you both. So was Pat.’
‘And Pat, what would he do if we…’
‘He wants to watch me. He’s always wanted to watch me. I’d like it to be with you, Jonathan.’
‘And Zoë?’ I asked.
‘Maybe she’s ready to go a little further too.’ Quietly she added: ‘She’s gone most of the way already.’
Zoë came in, looking glorious as ever. ‘What are you two talking about?’ she asked.
‘Sex,’ I replied.
‘Oh. I’ll leave you to it then.’ And she did. I heard her laughing and joking with Pat in the lounge. When I went through a few minutes later they were standing by the French windows looking out across the reed-beds and the patch of open water visible from the house. Pat’s hand was around Zoë’s shoulder; hers was round his waist. But that’s all apart from the fact that they were, of course, naked. I don’t know why but I felt like an intruder and I backed away and went back to the kitchen. I didn’t feel envy or any other negative feeling – I was quite comfortable for them to be together.
Annie was still at the sink. I went up close behind her. She must have felt my presence and she turned to me, a knife in her hand.
‘I think I’d better take that off you, young lady,’ I said laughing.
I put it down and we pressed our bodies together and kissed for a long time. God, I wanted her then.
‘I don’t want this to ever end,’ she said.
‘We’d die of hunger,’ I said.
‘No, the holiday, stupid!’ she giggled.
‘We all need to finish what we’ve started, Jon,’ she said more seriously.
‘And I think we’re all ready, don’t you?’
She nodded and then, quite clearly, she blushed like a shy young girl caught confessing her feelings.
After dinner that evening we all lounged around. Zoë was squatting, legs crossed, on the floor, her back to me. I love this view: her straight tanned back, her long dark hair down now over her shoulders. She was holding a camcorder to her face. Pat was sitting to her right in an armchair. Annie hadn’t yet come in.
‘What are you filming?’ I asked.
‘Nothing. I’m fast forwarding the tape to check there’s nothing on it we might want to keep.’
I was sitting on the sofa across from Pat. When Annie came in and saw Pat in the armchair she sat down next to me. After only a few moments she shifted and leaned back across my lap. I leaned forwards towards her and we kissed again. I moved a hand to her left breast and ran my fingers across her nipple. Annie let her head drop back and she seemed to push her breasts slightly forward. I cupped her left breast and was able to take her nipple between my lips. After a moment I looked across at Pat. He was watching; Zoë was now sitting on the floor still but leaning back against the front of Pat’s armchair. His legs were placed either side of her; he had one hand on her shoulder. Zoë had put the camcorder down on the little table beside her.
Minutes passed. I continued to fondle Annie’s nipple as she lay across me. Pat had leaned forward and had whispered something to Zoë; as he did so his hand slid down off her shoulder onto her right breast. She leaned into him, against his leg, in response and then he leaned back again, moving his hand back onto her shoulder.
I kissed Annie again; this time a lingering kiss when our mutual physical desire was clearly displayed – my physical arousal and Annie’s grunts as we kissed and she pushed herself up against me.
We paused and I stared across at Pat and Zoë. Zoë had a distant, winsome look in her eyes coupled with a slight smile. She seemed lost in her thoughts.
‘It’s all right, Jon. We’re both quite clear about it – we both want it to happen,’ Pat said.
Annie sat up and moved to the other end of the sofa, taking two cushions with her. She lay on her back, her head on the cushions, legs bent as her feet were pushing into my side. Our eyes were on each other. At the time I never noticed Zoë pick up the camcorder.
Annie said nothing; she simply reached her arms out towards me. I turned my body towards her, moving on to my hands and knees as I came forward. Still bent, Annie’s legs moved apart like the opening wings of a butterfly that has just realised it can fly.
I moved over her and lowered myself to her. We kissed and began to move against each other, exploring and enjoying the contact. It was wondrous for us each to feel so wanted. I suspect we both forgot anyone else was with us there or we wittingly suspended our belief in that knowledge.
Annie said quietly: ‘Come inside me, Jon.’
I gradually pushed my hardened cock into Annie’s cunt and we responded to each other like old friends who couldn’t understand why they had waited so long. We weren’t in love but we were so close to that and we did make love that night. It was loving and erotic and ever so naughty. And I regret nothing because Zoë has made me feel at ease with her, with Annie and Pat, and with myself.
I came. That first time I don’t think Annie did. She has never told me although on a subsequent occasion she did tell me. That first night I flooded her with an orgasm whose intensity surprised me.
‘That was wonderful,’ she said much later when we had both sat up. She seemed to be talking to us all not just to me.
‘Good,’ Pat said.
I looked across to Zoë and Pat. The camcorder was still on the table at Zoë’s side. Pat smiled.
Zoë stood. ‘Come,’ she said and reached out a hand to me. I took it and she led me away up the stairs.
When we reached our room she said: ‘Shower, darling,’ and, grabbing two towels, she dragged me to the bathroom. We washed each other, every part of each other, whilst we kissed and made reassuring statements of our love. She told me how turned on she had been. She told me she had filmed it all.
We got into bed and lay together, talking and kissing. She told me she might want Pat to make love to her too.
‘I know,’ I said as she turned away from me but then pushed her back up against my front, and wriggled to settle in comfortably, like a baby in its mother’s womb. And like that we fell asleep.
Over breakfast no one referred to what had happened the night before, although Annie ran her hand across my bare back as she walked around the kitchen table where I was sitting.
It was another glorious day with an azure sky and just the faintest breeze that seemed to assuage the heat a little.
Zoë and I were lying a little apart from Annie and Pat. Zoë half turned to me and whispered: ‘Last night, Jon, would you want it to happen again?’
I knew what she meant.
‘I might,’ I answered, pulling her tight against me and kissing her.
‘Then there may be a little imbalance to address or redress. I’m not sure which one is the right word,’ Zoë whispered again.
‘Redress, I think,’ I replied.
‘You mean it needs redressing, Jon?’
‘In a little while, all right?’
We lay still again on our backs. The air shimmered above the pool. Cicadas or some other Mediterranean crickets were clicking constantly nearby like forlorn typists on old fashioned typewriters.
Pat was lying on his back. Annie sat up and began to rub some Ambre solaire on his back. Zoë sat up quietly and moved silently, on all fours, like a cat, across to her mother. And then she took over as she applied some of the lotion to her dad’s bottom and then to the backs of his legs. Annie came across to me and lay beside me. We watched. I think we knew what was going to happen. We wanted it to happen; we were both lying on our side looking across to Pat and Zoë. Annie was slightly nearer to them. I placed a hand on her shoulder; she pushed her back in against me.
I moved my head a little closer to her and kissed her on the back of the neck.
Very, very quietly she whispered: ‘I’d like to do it again soon.’
‘Let’s watch,’ I replied.
‘Turn over, dad,’ Zoë told him. She put the sun-cream to one side and bent and just kissed his cock-head. Then Zoë lay down on top of him and they kissed. After only a moment Pat rolled the two of them over so that Pat was on top. We could tell that both were so excited that they were out of control and would not last long. Pat rammed himself straight up inside his daughter and she responded with a little scream and a highly physical arching of her back that seemed to lift Pat upwards. He withdrew completely and rose on outstretched arms above her.
‘Come back,’ she told him, quite loudly.
‘Spread yourself as wide as you can,’ he answered.
We saw her open her legs wider, stretching herself. Pat lowered himself to her and pushed his rod slowly back up her cunt. They began to thrust as she now wrapped herself around him.
‘Hurt me,’ she moaned as she threw her head back. Because I’ve been there myself with Zoë I realised that Pat was no longer thinking of anything other than the pure selfish pleasure of taking this woman he was shagging and he soon spluttered: ‘I’m coming,’ as faster and faster he pushed into her. Zoë screamed in response as they each enjoyed the thrill of their own orgasm.
Annie couldn’t help herself and turned to face me. ‘Rape, me Jon,’ she whispered. ‘Take me like the slut I sometimes think I really want to be.’
I eased away from her, allowing her to roll onto her back. We kissed as I fingered her, pushing two fingers completely inside her. Annie reciprocated by pulling and alternately stroking and squeezing my penis. I sat up and manoeuvred her onto my lap. Annie realised what I was trying to do and was soon sitting in my lap with my penis pushing up against her cunt. She rocked her lower body forwards so she was able to control how I entered her. My hands locked around behind her helped pull her onto me. I ate her breasts as we moved together.
After a while Annie pulled away and moved onto all fours.
‘Come back inside me, Jon,’ she asked.
Pushing myself up against her bottom I placed my cock against her cunt and pulling on her hips I pushed hard into her. Annie pushed back and we began to fuck as she kept saying: ‘Harder, push, push!’ becoming increasingly breathless. Then I felt that tightening in my groin and that ecstatic shiver course down my spine. I was in orgasm and on the verge of ejaculating myself inside her.
‘I’m coming,’ she almost hissed as she shook with the power of her orgasm and she moaned loudly. I came too, unable to hold back any further.
Zoë and I always slept together. Once Pat did suggest exchanging partners for the night but Zoë made it clear that whatever she did had to involve me and for her the thrill of sex whilst I watched her was very important.
If this disappointed Pat then his disappointment was soon dispelled as only a couple of minutes later she went over to him and gave him head again, this time swallowing his cum.
We continued for the remaining ten days to enjoy open sex. Although Pat and Zoë enjoyed some form of shared sexual activity each day, they didn’t always have full penetrative sex: both adored oral sex and Annie and I loved to watch them sixty-nine together. Annie and I were perhaps a shade less varied in our tastes and we fucked unashamedly at least once a day and, on a couple of occasions, more than once. Nothing was hidden however and Zoë made it clear that it was not about keeping count anyway.
‘It’s about pleasure, linked to a loving family,’ I remember her saying.
One morning as Annie and I were tidying things away after breakfast – I was drying up, Annie was washing – I saw Pat come up behind Zoë who was standing at the foot of the pine kitchen table. Gently he pushed her forwards so she was leaning over the long table. Then he took her hands – and her total consent to what he was doing was clear in the look on her face as I watched them both. I tapped Annie on the shoulder as she was facing the kitchen window, and she turned to watch as well.
Yes, Pat took her hands and moved them to hold the far edge of the table so that she was now lying prone, her bottom at one end and her fingers at the other.
Pat moved in to her and I watched him push his cock up against her. I realised he intended to enter her anally when Zoë said:
‘Gently, dad, just at first.’
He placed his hands at her sides, half way up her back, and pulled her body down to him a little. Zoë stretched her arms a little to keep hold of the far end of the table. He pushed a little and she moaned in reply. I sensed he had passed his cock through her sphincter. After all she had done this before if not in such an overt manner. Pat began to thrust a little faster.
‘Whatever you want, now, dad,’ Zoë stammered as he banged himself into her backside. Pat started to quiver and in his excitement and wonder of the thrill of buggering his own willing daughter he could contain himself no more. He came and came and then relaxed down onto her, kissing the nape of her neck and holding her to him before lifting off.
‘Your turn now,’ he said, looking at me.
Indeed I was so turned on I moved behind her and pushed my cock straight up inside her. Zoë groaned as I began to fuck her ass with pure animal pleasure.
‘I love you both,’ Zoë murmured as I too spent my semen inside her.
On the morning of the last full day at Saintes Marie de la mer Annie announced that the ‘special fun’ we had all had finally had to stop.
‘You too have got your own lives to build; we need to let you do so. This holiday has been the most wonderful one of my life – but it’s time to go home.’
She looked at me. ‘So make the most of today,’ she said giving me a naughty look. ‘You two too, have a day to remember,’ she said looking across to Zoë and then to Pat.
We did. And we went home and got on with our lives. We went to Zoë’s parents for dinner a couple of times a month and, through the winter Zoë and Annie often dressed quite sexily on these occasions but nothing more.
Zoë and I tried to help Avril. We both did some baby-sitting for her and enabled her to get out, get her hair done and things. Zoë was a natural with Avril’s children and, strangely, Avril seemed to learn from her and her children began to behave with a little more concern and respect for their mum. They also adored Zoë.
Life was good for the two of us. As I said much earlier, you don’t just go out and get another love. I had had no idea how to start just as I hadn’t planned to fall in love with Zoë in the first place. I had crossed the desert and found the land of milk and honey.
It was late January. Annie The phone rang. Zoë answered. It was her mum. Eventually she put the phone down: I hadn’t paid attention to what they had been saying. She looked across at me.
‘That was mum.’
‘She wondered if we’d like to go there for the weekend.’
‘Yes?’ I said, slightly puzzled at going for the weekend when it was only a couple of miles away from home.
Zoë added: ‘To spend the weekend practising what she called our “holiday mode,” Jon.’
Zoë spoke again: ‘I’ve to ring her back. Shall I?’
‘Do you want to?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve missed it.’
‘Yes, that’s true – you’d better ring her, then,’ I said, smiling to myself at the thought of all that was still to come.