CHAPTER 62: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 2

Michael says nothing, simply working in the cream.

“What is it, Michael?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

“It just unsettles me sometimes, seeing what turns you on. I couldn’t bear to do those things to you.”

“I can understand that, but you and I enjoy ourselves in other ways.”

“Forgive me if my sympathy is a bit limited,” he comments, tartly, “but when you ask a man who has a taste for making your ass glow in the dark, for ‘intense’, you shouldn’t be too surprised if it hurts to sit down afterwards.”

Piqued, “Did I ask for sympathy?” Michael is clearly right, and it doesn’t help either my pride or my sore rear end.

He shrugs. “Fair point. No, you didn’t. Here, turn over, let me have a look. I’ll rub in an analgesic for you.”

I feel a bit sulky. “I didn’t bring anything like that with me.”

“No, but I did.” He produces a tube from his bag, “Someone has to think of these things...” I pull down my shorts and roll over. Michael looks, then whistles. “For heaven’s sake, Charlotte, I know you get a kick out of that stuff, but this is ridiculous.”

“Is it bad?” I strain over my shoulder, trying, unsuccessfully, to see my own bottom, where Michael is applying the cream.

“Are you alright, Charlotte?” asks my Master, as he appears from the house, beach towel slung over his shoulder, and sees what Michael is doing.

“No, she’s bloody not!” snaps Michael. “Look at the state of this.”

My Master peers at my butt. “I did have words with Kris about that afterwards. I had stipulated that he was not to leave any lasting marks.”

“A fat lot of good that did!” Michael is clearly furious. “I don’t know what the hell to make of the pair of you sometimes...” Then he sounds upset. “For pity’s sake Charlotte, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. What would I do if something happened to you?”

My Master looks abashed. “Charlotte, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Michael is not so easily put down. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place! You can turn over now.” As he finishes tending my sore stripes, he slaps my backside, making his point, as I holler a loud protest.

“Serves you right,” he mutters, his voice livid.

Michael’s obvious displeasure casts a bit of a pall. He stretches out on a beach towel and picks up a book.

Feeling foolish, I lie back and try to read my own book.

As the pain-killing cream works its magic, I begin to feel better. The warm air and the company of my two Lovers enjoying the sun beside me begins to stir things inside me.

Perhaps I can cheer Michael up...

Sitting up, and carefully controlling the urge to an ‘Ouch!’ as my ass rubs on the cushion, I stroke Michael’s arm.

“If you think that’s going to stop me being mad at you, you’re mistaken,” he says from behind his book.

I continue stroking him, a gliding touch up his shoulder, and onto his chest.

Still, he doesn’t move.

Rippling my fingers through the fine golden hairs of his chest, following their line down his abs, to where they disappear below the line of his shorts, I know that I am winning, as I see the movement of a growing erection.

Gotcha!

I slip my hand under the waistband and inside, where I find his cock semi-erect, and rapidly growing. Caressing it, I rub the head between fingers and thumb. He puts his book down and groans.

“Oh, God. You win. You do it to me every time, don’t you...  I look back to his face, to find him grinning at me, his beautiful face flashing a bright, white smile at me from his tan. His golden hair is sun-bleaching already, and gilded streaks shine out from the deeper bronze.

Confident that I am forgiven, I slip off my shorts and swing a leg over to straddle him, feeling his growing erection pressing against my crotch through his shorts. As my weight comes down on him, he shudders and gasps.

I sit up, curving my spine to display myself, then lift away the wrap to sit naked above him. Book forgotten, Michael’s hands rest on my thighs, rubbing and massaging, before questing to my flat belly. Leaning forward, I allow my breasts to swing pendulously over his face as he tries to capture a nipple in his mouth.

There is a hand behind me.

Not Michael’s hand...

I look over my shoulder. Still sitting in his chair beside us, stroking the tender skin at the small of my back and up my spine, between my shoulder blades, my Master sends shivers rippling up through me. He alternates his strokes between soft fingertips and the hard edge of his nails. As the nails bite, I shudder and my breath grows short.

I tug at the waistband of Michael’s shorts. “Um, you think we need these?”

His good mood restored, he grins, “They do seem a bit surplus to requirements don’t they…?”

I kneel up, reaching down to unbutton and unzip him, then pull them down past my legs and his knees. He kicks them off past his feet.

I am about to settle down across him again, but he says “No, stay like that. Let me look at you.”

As upright as I can, knees akimbo across his hips, I arch my back. Cupping my breasts, I rub them, watching his eyes follow my hands as I pinch and roll at a nipple.

As he watches my performance, with one hand he runs fingers through my foxy curls. They glint auburn in the bright sunshine, growing moist and warm as arousal puddles into my pussy.

His gaze now alternates between where I am playing with my nipples for him, and where he runs skilled fingers through my folds. Already growing wet, swelling and readying me for my Lover...

... for my Lovers...

... my pussy is opening, unfurling, sending sweet fire coursing through me in anticipation.

Still watching me play with my breasts, Michael reaches two fingers inside me, resting his thumb on my clit, pressing lightly on it.

My own control is beginning to go now, my hips shudder and quake. There is a movement behind me. My Master, standing behind me, one foot either side of Michael’s calves, reaches down and takes one of my wrists in each hand, stretching my arms upwards, over my head, displaying me, stretched and pinned for my Golden Lover.

The tension in my back, belly, and thighs, heightens my awareness of Michael’s exploring fingers. Abruptly, he pulls himself out from under me and kneels up to face me. One arm around my waist, he pulls me close to him, reaching now, deeply into me, his fingers scraping my inner walls over my g-spot while still, his thumb pressures my clit.