Handcuffed at Dawn
Introduction:
Stag & hen find themselves unwillingly chained together in Ibiza.
It was a look that said: you’re not going anywhere in a hurry – and she was right of course. Steadying myself, hand on her head, stroking the golden mane, I began to buck against her mouth, thrusting into the pursed lips in much the same way I’d attack a pretty little pussy. Honk honk, the reminder rang out from the road as I upped the tempo, taking the pigtail in hand and slamming forcefully into my fianc?s throat. She took the oral pounding willingly, saliva pooling at each corner of her smiling mouth.
With my stag do, or bachelor party as one of my American friends might call it, imminent, this was Yvonne’s reminder of what would be waiting for me on my return home, perhaps the greatest little cocksucker in London. As the orgasm took a firm hold, I gave a grunt of pleasure, immersing the whole shaft in the warm oral recess before shooting hard. My cum bathed Yvonne’s tongue and palate. Throwing back her head, she swallowed lovingly, savouring my semen.
Outside, as the hooting became ever more urgent, I allowed Yvonne to finish the job by cleaning up the cum-stained head, before quickly concealing the now flaccid cock in the three-quarter length beach shorts bought specially for the weekend in Ibiza. “Be good,” she said, half-jokingly, half-warningly.
As if I’d mess about…
A peck on the cheek and I was gone, arriving outside to a barracking. “About time,” observed Dave as I slid the hatch door of the taxibus open, luggage in hand.
“Okay guys, let’s party,” I bawled, the words met by a boisterous cheer.
—
It started out like any other stag do, the hotel located, cases dumped and out on the lash with a vengeance. By early evening we were all pretty trashed and in need of a few hours rest and recuperation before the main event. Collective batteries recharged from our naps, once more we were raring to go, joining the hordes of bar hounds for the midnight stroll down The Strip. Mouths dry from too much lager, we graduated onto fruit flavoured alcopops and traffic light coloured syrupy shots.
Nearby, a group of attractive looking hens sucked on straws, emptying a blue concoction from a fishbowl. Imbued with alcoholic verve we flirted with them – as you do – and they flirted back, as much through a sense of a shared English heritage as anything else. Their accents distinctinctly northern, ours southern, we’d heard all about gorgeous Geordie girls and they’d heard all about lecherous London lads.
Being the Casanova that he was, my best mate and best man Dave had soon wormed his way in amongst the girls and in no time the twelve of us were heading off nightclubbing. It helped ease my mind a little having the girls around: less chance of the guys getting up to mischief at my expense. For the least I could expect was a stripper covering me in foam and shaving my body from head to toe. That or being tied naked to a lamppost until the sun came up. Or being chatted up by some convincing looking ladyboy the lads had arranged. Or all three…or worse… A little good humoured fun I could handle, humiliation I could do without.
Just starting to mellow, I entered into the festivities as a groom-to-be should: leading the dancing and swilling down anything alcoholic passed my way. The hen, a quiet girl, was of similar age, I assessed, late twenties, a pleasant sort of age for getting hitched these days. A decade of partying and playing the field behind us, it was time to settle down and take life’s responsibilities a little more seriously.
Statuesque for a girl, easily reaching my nose, she was tall and willowy. Her breasts weren’t large but then again she wasn’t flat-chested either, what Dave might describe as a nice handful. Her hair had a healthy mahogany sheen, perfectly symmetrical and short to the chin, framing a pretty face. Dressed in a low cut black top with spaghetti straps and a short grey skirt, there was a familiarity about her I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
An hour passed, shot after shot downed in one, as the seven of us took to shielding their group of five like unofficial bodyguards, fending off any potential competition that happened to demonstrate a passing interest. Outnumbering them by two, I turned to Dave: “If you guys want to…with the girls…I’d be happy grabbing an early night.”
Three weeks away from the wedding, frankly I had no interest in bedding other girls and cheating on Yvonne. Another of the guys, Charlie, was a month into a new relationship and unlikely to stray either. Thus the other five could have their pick. Dave just smiled silently, causing a feeling of unease within me. Another fifteen minutes passed, marked by copious drinking, gentle flirting and uncoordinated dancing as I wondered what Dave had up his sleeve.
Then, before I even realised what was going on, it happened: SNAP.
I’d been swaying close to the hen at the time. Another snap and I looked down to see we were connected at the wrist by a pair of silver handcuffs. My senses numbed by alcohol, it took a moment to sink in. “Awww, come on guys,” I protested as the others looked on, exhibiting cheesy drunken grins.
Yet, whilst I was mildly put out, my unwitting partner was absolutely livid. She spat a tirade of expletives Dave’s way and angled to throw a punch. But the chain tightened and she was pulled back, left swinging at fresh air, yelping as the cold metal bit into her slender wrist. I winced too as my arm was almost yanked from its socket. “Fucking arsehole, let me go,” she screamed and it was at that moment I realised that she wasn’t a Geordie like her four friends but southerly like me.
“No key till morning,” replied Dave teasingly, and with that the group dispersed to leave the hen and I staring at one another in a mix of surprise and anger.
Worse was to come, however, a crowd having gathered around us, amused and bemused at our predicament. I felt myself reddening before being tugged away as she pushed through the wall of sinew and muscle to escape the catcalls. “Easy,” I appealed, my wrist aching.
“The sooner we can get this off the better,” she said coldly, dragging me away.
A hopeful request at the cloakroom brought wry looks but no hacksaw or other such tool that might free us. At the same time funny looks continued to come from other clubbers as we moved past like a pair of Siamese twins. Guiding me to a sofa, she threw herself down, yanking my arm as she raised her hands to her face. “Oh God, this is my worst nightmare,” she sobbed.
“Oh, don’t cry,” I offered clumsily, reaching instinctively to her hair with my free hand.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, exhibiting a violent look.
I reared back. “Look I’m sorry, but there isn’t an awful lot we can do.”
She curled up her lip. “Your friend is so dead when I get hold of him.”
I concurred with the sentiment, adding: “At least morning isn’t far off.”
She wasn’t appeased, lip curling. I wasn’t sure what to say next so I voiced the first thing that came into my head. “Erm, what’s your name?”
The look she gave me couldn’t have been any blacker if I’d asked her for a blowjob. I had a feeling it was going to be a longggg night. Actually, it was nearly four in the morning but I didn’t suppose my best man would be in a benevolent mood. Morning probably meant lunchtime and already this was as tiresome as hell. Considering the amount of alcohol I’d put away it was amazing how sober I’d become in adversity. As more onlookers shot unsubtle glances our way, the girl moved our conjoined wrists out of sight, down by our sides. “Dawn,” she said.
I turned. “What about it?”
“My name, Dawn.”
“Oh, right, um, hi Dawn, I’m Chris.”
She pursed her lips in a forced show of greeting, clearly as frustrated as I was by the turn of events. “Some hen party this has turned out to be.”
Yeah, and my stag do too, I thought, though I held my tongue in deference. It was my mate, after all, who’d orchestrated the stunt and I couldn’t help but feel complicit. As more cruel smiles were issued our way, she stood, dragging me up with her. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Okay, well I suppose it would be a bit awkward if one of us pulled,” I observed wryly, trying to lighten the tense mood a little and receiving a black scowl for my trouble.
“Maybe there’s a police station around here somewhere,” she suggested as we passed the grinning bouncers before running the gauntlet of the baying queue, still drifting inside despite the advanced hour.
“Just one sec,” I said, pulling up sharp to remove the phone from my pocket.
Dawn had no choice but to obey.
Unsurprisingly the call went straight to voice message. Nonetheless I left a short plea, more in hope than confidence. “Dave, this is Chris. Funny joke mate but let us go, hey. We’re outside the club. Cheers mate.”
Five minutes turned to ten and, when a further message went unheeded, we ambled away wounded. From the look on her face I wouldn’t want to be in Dave’s shoes when Dawn caught up with him. A paramedic van close by, waiting for the drunks to come piling out, could offer no assistance to our plight whilst the ten-minute walk to the police station saw it shrouded in deathly darkness. We were, it seemed, at Dave’s mercy, locked together for as long as he deigned. “You know in years to come we’ll laugh about this,” I offered, trying to be magnanimous.
“You and your friends might,” she replied defensively, turning on her heels. “I won’t.”
I followed – not that I had much choice – away from the bright lights and prying eyes of clubland to the beach, its sand as soft as a bed of chick feathers. A large wooden jetty before us, Dawn led the way up. “At least up here no one can make fun of us,” she offered.
Wrong, a couple of Spanish fishermen coming in the opposite direction grinned toothlessly as they passed. Dawn cowered at my side, cursing Dave and the handcuffs. A hundred yards of silence later we were at the very end, overlooking a calm sea that was in direct contrast to our turbulent moods. Dawn sat down, her legs overhanging and I of course had no option other than to do likewise, gazing out across the endless black swell.
We sat in prevailing silence for what seemed like ages, staring at the moon-rippled surface and reflecting on a good night turned bad. It was Dawn that broke the silence but only to start weeping.
“Oh, don’t cry,” I comforted. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
Indeed, in the short time we’d been sitting on the edge, the sky had begun to lighten perceivably. The dawn was close – in more ways than one. “So you’re a southern girl,” I observed. “Only your friends all sound like Geordies.”
Dawn sighed as if she really didn’t want to make conversation. But finally she relented. “We all met at uni in Newcastle and became pals. I’m from London originally,” she clarified.
“Me too,” I replied matter-of-factly. “Born and raised in Shepherd’s Bush.”
Just visible in the semi-dark, her eyes slanted. “You’re joking, right? This is some kind of sick wind-up.”
“How so?”
“I lived in Shepherd’s Bush for eighteen years.”
“Wow, really? Phew. Small world.”
“On the Deanside Estate,” she added.
It was my turn to show wonderment. “Me too.”
“Get out of here,” she gasped.
“Hand on heart,” I confirmed, remembering that she’d seemed vaguely familiar and assuming I must have seen a younger version around the estate.
“So, how old are you?” she enquired.
“Twenty-eight.”
She took a breath. “Me too, God this is spooky.”
It was, though if nothing else at least we were speaking. Otherwise, the hours would surely just drag by. “You’re telling me it’s spooky. Did you go to Deanside Secondary School as well?”
She nodded in the affirmative and I blew. “We’d have been in the same year then.”
“We would. So what’s your surname?”
“Matthews, Chris Matthews.”
She rubbed her chin with the free hand. “The name rings a bell. I’m Ball, Dawn Ball.”
“Didn’t we…? Ages ago…”
“I think we did…though only the one date when we were about twelve,” she clarified, half- smiling, the first time she’d shown any emotion other than anger or surprise since we’d first been cuffed together. “Didn’t you go out with Yvonne Sullivan?”
“Um yes…and…in three weeks I’m marrying her.”
Dawn exhaled hard. “Wow, you two have been together for fifteen-odd years?”
“Nah,” I laughed. “We got back together three years ago. Friends Reunited.”
The girl at my side seemed to soften noticeably. “Me too, that website has a lot to answer for. Do you remember Andrew Crawley from school?”
“What, Creepy Crawley!? Yeah of course I do.”
“We’re getting married in three weeks too.”
“You’re getting married to Creepy Crawley? Hahaha,” I replied, before biting my tongue, the good work suddenly undone as she sulked once more.
“And you’re marrying Yvonne Sullivan!”
“And?”
“We always used to say the ‘Y’ of her name stood for the Y-shaped coffin she’d need.”
My eyes narrowed. “Are you inferring my fianc?s a slut?”
“Oh, come on Chris.”
“She’s changed completely,” I pleaded. “A one-man woman and all that…”
“Yeah, whatever.”
The silence returned, this time broken by me. “It’ll soon be morning,” I reiterated. “Are you finished making insults about my fianc?
She gave it some thought, but clearly wasn’t finished. “Well she was a slut.”
“And he was creepy.”
“He’s changed.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I mimicked.
Dawn growled. “How much do you earn, Chris?”
I exhaled. “I dunno, about 25k, why?”
“Andrew earns three times that.”
“Well good for him.”
The frustration finding its way deep beneath my skin, I went to stand, but Dawn stayed steadfastly rooted to the spot. Being so far out, it was starting to get cold. “Can we walk back?” I asked, teeth chattering.
Dawn huffed but consented and we wandered back up the jetty, passing the edge of the tide sweeping the soft sand. Suddenly Dawn pulled up sharp, alerted by voices nearby. “That sounds like Dave,” I observed in a hushed tone.
“And that sounds like Karen,” she whispered back.
Our treacherous mutual friends, it seemed, had gotten things on in our absence, judging by the smacking of lips laced with heavy panting just beneath the jetty. Unlike Dawn and I, at least two of our group were making the most of their time away in the hedonist capital of the world. “Oh go on baby, just a quick blowjob,” I heard my friend plead.
“Nar,” Karen protested in that sexy Geordie accent of hers. “I’m not that sorta gal, ye knar.”
“Pretty please,” my best man begged.
There was a moment’s silence before Karen shot back: “Okay, but urnly if ye eat ma cunt oot first.”
I looked over at Dawn who, like me she was rooted to the spot. We dared not breathe, let alone move. Seconds later the first peal of lips and tongue on willing pussy was vibrating up through the rafters and though we couldn’t see, we were treated to a pretty intense running commentary. “Ooh, that’s it pet, higher. Get ya fucking tongue oop thar. Oh yeah, lick ma dirty cunt oot.”
Dave’s cunnilingual skills were tested to the full by the wanton Geordie lass evidently glorying in every moment. “Ooh that’s it pet, shove ya finger oop wor arse, ya filthy fucker.”
Dawn shuffled embarrassedly as the slurping upped a notch and, presumably with a finger ravaging her tight knot, Karen began to whimper. “Ooh fuck Ah’m cumming,” she cried. “Ah’m a squirter mind.”
I could have sworn I heard her pussy spray its scent in my mate’s face like a squeeze from a soda dispenser. And clearly Dave was impressed by her squirting skills. “Fuck’s sake you’re one hell of a squirter,” he concurred, wiping a backhand across his dampened features. “In fact, you are one hell of a dirty little northern slut. Now get down on your knees and suck my cock.”
A moment’s silence elapsed. “Nah, Ah’ve lost interest now,” Karen replied.
“You’ve what?” Dave spluttered and next to me I heard Dawn stifle a giggle.
With that Karen was gone, emerging from beneath us like a greyhound from a trap, leaving a hapless Dave to hop along in vain pursuit as he wrestled up his cutoff jeans, toppling head over heels into the sand.
“Oi,” shouted Dawn from the jetty as he hauled himself up. “I want a word with you, mister.”
I found myself being dragged off unwillingly in pursuit of Dave and the key that would set us free. “Oi,” repeated Dawn, prompting Dave to turn.
The disappointment from Karen’s rebuff and the surprise from being confronted like this was evident on his face. “You make a lovely couple,” he observed with barbed sarcasm.
“Gimme gimme gimme,” ordered Dawn, gesturing with one of her free fingers.
“Oh you mean this,” my pal replied, dangling the little key under our noses, a glint returning to his eye.
As Dawn went to snatch it he took a step back. “Uh-oh, not yet.”
“Give!” Dawn commanded. “Or you are so dead.”
“Yeah, come on mate,” I added. “This is no longer funny.”
Dave addressed Dawn with the words: “Tell you what, I’ll give you the key if you do something in return.”
Her eyes slanted as Dave continued. “Give my friend here a blowjob and I’ll set you free.”
Dawn jerked forward, our wrists locking painfully. “Fuck you,” she spat, raising a middle finger.
“Yeah, come on,” I appealed. “Can’t you see you’ve handcuffed me the most frigid girl in Ibiza?”
Dawn shot daggers my way but held her tongue, prompting Dave to laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. Oh well, a few more hours in each other’s company and who knows…?”
With that he turned to leave, nudging Dawn into action. “Wait wait. A blowjob and you’ll let us go?” she enquired to all our surprise, including her own, it seemed.
Dave raised his eyebrows.
“Not here though, not in front of you, that’s just gross.”
She led us down the beach in the half-light to where an abandoned windbreak shivered gently in the cool breeze. “Stay that side,” she ordered Dave, leading me round and whispering in my ear. “Don’t even think about it,” she hissed beneath her breath.
Just our shoulders and heads were visible to Dave as he stood idly the other side, toying with the key. Dawn dipped down and out of sight. “Mmm, such a lovely cock,” she simulated.
To be brutally honest, I wasn’t in the least bit disappointed. The selfish bitch had pissed me off from the moment we’d been chained together, with her bad attitude and lack of humour. She was totally devoid of fun, sly and money-orientated and, frankly I’d be glad when we were apart. “Oh yeah, that’s it baby,” I acted, trying to inject some authenticity into the proceedings. Though only a fool could have been convinced.
Dawn added some slurping sound effects and I started to growl under my breath as the first unwelcome stirring of arousal actually tingled in my loins. Gratefully Dawn didn’t seem to notice. Closing my eyes I started to gasp. “Oh fuck that’s it, yeah. Mmm, cup my balls.”
From her position below, Dawn shot a look of disdain my way. “Oh fuck I’m cummmmmmming…”
Opening my eyes I glanced aside for Dave’s approval, only to see that he’d disappeared. “Shit, he’s gone.”
Quickly Dawn elevated, shaking her free fist. “Your friend is so dead.”
I stifled the urge to chuckle. Seeing her annoyed was rather satisfying, even if it was at my expense too. “Looks like we’re staying together a bit longer after all,” I added, just to rub it in.
Dawn growled.
“At least we’re out of the spotlight out here,” I asserted, only to be proven wrong as a gaggle of naked teenagers came hurtling past, intent on skinny-dipping in the fresh morning ocean.
Dawn and I slumped in the shade of the windbreak. It was some sight to behold with tits, cocks and arses everywhere as they hit the tide with a huge splash. Soon they were coupling off, splashing playfully and drunkenly. Dawn lay back and I of course had to do likewise, our wrists locked. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves but me,” she observed dolefully.
“Well life’s what you make it,” I replied, quasi-philosophically.
It was the wrong thing again. But then again whatever I said caused her to snap. “By which presumably you mean that if I fucked you as your friend planned everything would be jussssssst fine.”
Jeez she was a tough cookie. “Um, no…”
“Oh right, so the thought’s not even crossed your mind?”
“I’m getting married in three weeks,” I said with complete honesty. “So nothing could be furthermost from my thoughts.”
Dawn’s eyebrows elevated to meet her fringe. “And you called me frigid.”
“I have everything I want at home, thank you.”
“Yeah, slutty Yvonne Sullivan.”
Was Dawn bating me? “And your point is?”
“Nothing. Fine. I’m sure the two of you will be blissfully happy together.”
“As will you and Andrew no doubt.”
“Yeah we will,” she replied defiantly, then as if to taunt me: “We have the most wonderful lovelife I can think of.”
Unsure how to respond I mumbled a resigned: “Good for you.”
One of the couples emerged dripping from the sea and moved towards us. Gratefully we were unseen in the shadow of the windbreak, as they stopped halfway and locked in a tight embrace. Breaking off, shamelessly the girl bent over, hands on knees, arse wiggling. The young guy didn’t need asking twice. Moving up behind and steadying, hands on shoulders, he thrust into his partner with wild abandon.
“Jesus,” I gasped. “You’re right. Everyone else out here is having fun but us.”
“Ha! Enjoying the show? You perv.”
Nonetheless, Dawn made little effort to avert her gaze, almost like a sudden change had taken over.
“You remember our date?” she mused.
Frankly I couldn’t. We were barely teenagers after all.
“We went to the cinema.”
We did? “Oh yeah right,” I mumbled, still transfixed on the couple.
Soon they were joined on the beach by the other skinny dippers, fresh from the sea, an impromptu mass orgy erupting not fifty yards away from where Dawn and I lay side-by-side. A tangle of limbs, accompanied by a symphony of slurping and heavy breathing, partners were swapped with gleeful abandon.
“You want to move somewhere else?” I enquired.
Dawn turned my way. “Chris…”
I shifted a little to face her, my eyes leaving the free-for-all momentarily. “Yeah?”
“While I was, um, while I was pretending to give you that, um…that, you know…you got hard, didn’t you?”
I went to deny it, but instead nodded silently. There seemed little point lying. So what if it got me aroused? It wasn’t like Dawn was some ugly troll. Unexpectedly she lifted our locked wrists and moved them her way, for what reason I couldn’t quite tell. “Feel,” she suggested, lifting the hem of her skirt.
I still wasn’t sure what she was alluding to, but my fingers were so near to her crotch that I literally had no choice. The front of her thong was pleasantly moist to the touch. “That’s what it did to me,” she confessed. “That, and watching all of this going on.”
“Really?”
“Yeah really.”
I expected her to lift the hand away but, to my utmost surprise, she didn’t. Instead she arched her back so as to press her thong-clad pussy into my fingertips. Gently I started to press back at the crotch, feeling the pussy lips beneath part ever so slightly. Dawn bit her lip and lay back, mewing gently. A crazy turn of events, gingerly I eased off. Glancing up she mouthed breathlessly: “Please…don’t stop.”
Taking encouragement from the couples copulating wildly along the beach, I fitted my fingers back into the groove that had been shaped where her cuntlips touched the cotton and began to push a little more forcefully, rubbing rhythmically. The lightweight material squelched as it stretched to enter the girl’s damp entrance. She purred whilst arching her back yet further and elevating her backside to get more digit inside, the nails of my fingers disappearing from view. But for the barrier of the thong front, they would be buried deep in that gorgeous pussy by now. I could hardly believe what was happening.
I wasn’t sure whether it was an attempt to excuse her actions, but Dawn stated: “Your mate Dave’s probably told everyone I sucked you off anyway…”
She had a point. Utilising the fingers on the chained hand next to mine, Dawn eased the thong’s crotch to one side, exposing a delicious looking pussy. Shaved in a Brazilian style, just a tiny line of hair was left behind. Repositioning on my flank I allowed my fingers to tease the puffy pink lips, eliciting a deep throaty growl of pleasure in a girl that five minutes ago had wanted to strangle me and me to strangle her. Now she was seemingly insatiable and I too was caught up in the hedonism for which the island was renowned. “Oh God, don’t stop,” she begged. “That feels sooooooo good.”
I pushed the index and middle fingers up to the knuckle whilst running my thumb in a circular motion close to and over her clit. Occasional contact made with the precious little nub caused her to shudder. Never before had I known such sensitivity. Recalling what Dawn had said earlier, my fianc?Yvonne’s clit had doubtless been used so many times it had almost become desensitized.
It was a real effort to fit in a third digit, Dawn’s cunt as tight as a virgin’s. I soon discovered why when she disclosed through gritted teeth: “I lied about my lovelife earlier, Chris. Andrew hasn’t touched me for six months – he’s always too busy at work.”
The last few words came out somewhat high-pitched as I continued to probe with urgency, fingers excavating ever deeper. Dawn entreated: “Oh God, talk to me Chris, don’t stay silent…like Andrew.”
I smiled inwardly. The truth about Dawn was being quickly eroded away – just like her inhibitions. This was no prude, merely a love-starved woman at the peak of her sexual prowess. “You poor neglected thing,” I whispered, screwing my thumb into her clit like I was pushing in a tack and then jerking it.
“Oh God yeahhhhhhh, but more…make it dirtier,” she commanded breathlessly.
As I worked her clit frenziedly, I allowed myself a moment to think. “Now I can’t believe Andrew wouldn’t want this gorgeous cunt,” I observed, the sentiment heartfelt.
“Yesssssss,” she hissed. “Oh God I love that dirty word. It turns me on sooooooo much. More.”
By now my fingers were animated, blurring almost. Her vagina felt amazing, as soft as pushing a knife into heated butter. “More,” she begged. “Talk dirty to me, Chris, you filthy fucking bastard.”
With the half light of morning impressing upon the beach and with nothing to lose, I decided to chance my luck. “You’ve wanted me since you first laid eyes on me, haven’t you, you sex-crazed bitch? I bet I was your schoolgirl fantasy.”
“Yesssssss,” she whispered. “Oh God, yes. More…”
By now my fingers were plunging in and out like pistons, knuckles stained. “I’d have stayed with you if I’d known you were going to turn into such a dirty little slut…”
I waited momentarily, unsure whether that was overstepping the mark. Even Yvonne hated being called a slut. When I’d done so, about a year back, she’d refused to speak to me for three days afterwards. I wouldn’t have minded but I’d only done it to spice up our lovemaking a little. Perhaps for Yvonne it was a little too close to home. Dawn on the other hand appeared to be revelling in it, perhaps because it was so far from the truth. “Yesssssss, more…”
“You’re a filthy little whore who loves being fucked hard by strangers…”
Well I guessed I was, kind of.
“More!”
“I bet you’d love for Andrew to come in from work and catch us fucking in your bed.”
That seemed to do it. “Ohhhhhhh,” she cried and came hard, her body spasming, a flood of cunt honey coating my fingers and thumb. “Ohhhhhhh,” she repeated, the orgasm evidently leaving behind a delicious tingling desire.
Instinctively I raised my fingers to my lips, sucking longingly.
“Oh you dirty bastard,” she mouthed through bouts of pained panting.
A brief moment elapsed before she ordered me to lie back. I did so unquestioningly, feeling my shorts being shimmied down, hard cock springing back to slap my belly button. Dawn smiled and, clearly getting into the whole illicit act with relish, lifted her top off the shoulders, shook her hair and reached to uncouple her bra. The breasts that were unveiled were absolute perfection: delicious peach shaped orbs fronted by perky attentive nipples. Leaning over she ran an appreciative hand down the underside of the shaft, from tip to balls, before squeezing the very base, causing my excited appendage to flick upright. Mimicking the words of earlier when she was merely pretending, Dawn cooed: “Mmm, such a lovely cock.” This time the words carried an air of authenticity.
Fingers elevating to mid shaft she peeled back the foreskin, allowing a moment to admire the fiery bulbous head. Leaning in whilst poking out her tongue, she ran the pointy tip back and forth through the eye, causing me to shudder. She kept this up for a good fifteen seconds, flicking eagerly, until I was ever so slightly sore, a little dewdrop of precum oozing out as a reward. Issuing a hot little kiss on the end, a string of seed stretched between the throbbing eye and her lips, glinting in the light of impending morning.
Repositioning around the cuffs that restricted our movement considerably, lustful glances were exchanged. “Now give me a blowjob, you filthy slut,” I ordered, though the words were more or less redundant.
Dawn grinned and ran her tongue around the raised underside, licking beneath the head whilst caressing the tip with her palm, causing me to jerk. Licking upward once more, her lips hovered so close to the eye I could feel her heightened breath. Allowing a globule of saliva to fall from her mouth, her pursed lips plunged and enveloped the tip to meet it.
Throwing my head back I let out a loud moan of pleasure, still unable to reconcile this astounding turn of events. We’d gone from sworn enemies to illicit lovers in the blink of an eye. Taking a firm grip at the base, she slowly but firmly stroked as, at the same time her mouth engulfed the bloated tip. Her velveteen tongue swirling hypnotically, she licked the ultra sensitive spot right behind the head with relish.
This continued for thirty mesmerising seconds. Convinced I was going to blow my load there and then, I fought to relax in her capable hands and mouth. Sensing my proximity she stopped stroking and took my cock into her mouth completely, cradling it. As she drew back her tongue licked at the eye once more, driving me crazy. Slowly her lips went up the length of my shaft, then back down again, continuing the oral onslaught for three of the most wonderful minutes of my life.
Grabbing the base again, she stroked up and down the shaft while keeping my knobhead in her warm mouth. Plunging down the shaft, she took in the whole length, until her nose was buried in pubic hair. Reaching over with her spare hand she took hold of mine and placed it firmly on the right breast. I fondled, cupped and squeezed the pert orb until its nipple popped out firmly in greeting. She pushed forward into my hand excitably, making light mewing noises that were muffled on my cock.
Stopping sucking momentarily, she looked up and into my eyes, saliva trails at each side of her mouth. Angling to allow access to her other tit, she groaned as I gave it a good hard squeeze, thumb chafing the nipple. “Tell me what I am again, Chris.”
“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” I enthused, the words taking both of us by surprise.
Yet there was no time to dwell upon them. Evidently her cunt craved further attention for she shifted position once more, movement initially restricted by the handcuffs, until she was able to manage an about turn and to straddle my face. As she took my erection in all the way again and bobbed up and down the shaft vigorously, I reached up with my free hand, thumb and forefinger prising apart her pussy lips. As the middle finger dipped into the moist fleshy centre, her heightened breathing vibrated on the hard cock she was deepthroating. Straightening, I pressed my lips to hers, nose nestled in her anus and tasting the slightly saline deposit of drying cunt juice that had seeped forth.
As I kissed all around the plump mound, teasing her outer lips, she pressed back onto my face, evidently craving more. In recognition I let my tongue delve idly into the soft pink folds, circling it around inside. Upping the pace I started to flick urgently, the tip embedded in the labyrinth of her sex, her anal ring cushioning my nose. Dawn pushed back harder, angling her clit to scrape it on my tonguetip, in raptures as I brought her close to a second orgasm.
So turned on was she by my oral machinations, I feared she might swallow my cock down her throat. For, at the same time I was delivering deep and even tongue strokes to her gorgeous pussy, Dawn’s mouth was working overtime on my shaft, plunging up and down with wild abandon and causing my prick to tense up. I was going to blow my load soon and we both knew it. She came all the way up the shaft and lightly traced her teeth along the head before licking around it with an open tongue.
That just about did for me. I could hold back no longer. My mind blanked and I came harder than in my entire life, spunk ejecting upwards like a burst water hydrant. The flood hit the back of Dawn’s throat and she pulled clear, gurgling and swallowing every possible drop. Another rope of cum lashed her neck, running in rivulets to her tits whilst an unprecedented third spurt coated her fingers.
As she shifted position once more I found my face squashed beneath her buttocks as she grinded down. Half-smothering me, she was seemingly determined to get my tongue up all the way. I licked and licked and licked until my lips were numb and my tongue throbbed painfully, willing her to cum. Having all but choked me, finally her body consented, pussy squirting the sort of gush that would surely have put her friend Karen to shame, coating my face completely.
I had to act forcefully to get her off me or I’d have suffocated as she rode her way to the multiple orgasms that were the stuff of folklore. Or were they? For, before my face was free, I felt spasms like mini explosions going off inside her. Shamelessly she screamed though the beach was now clear. Face free at last, I choked on the fresh air, spluttering cum juice in fine particles. The cuffs dictating that we lay side-by-side, gently we caressed one another to sleep.
—
Awaking simultaneously the following morning, the sun was shining in our eyes and the beach was half- full with bathers. Only the windbreak spared our modesty. Dawn was quick to locate her bra and top, exhibiting a look of guilt and shame. It was only then that we noticed that the cuffs were gone. Evidently Dave had made good on his promise, returning like a thief in the night. No more to say or do, the only consolation was that we harboured the same degree of guilt. Neither had the upper hand and both the same to lose. Awkwardly we said our goodbyes before heading off in separate directions.
The second and final night of the stag proved somewhat of an anti-climax compared to the first, and gratefully so from my perspective. My penance paid up fully there was no question of a repeat. Any attempt to humiliate me again would meet with severe repercussions back home, I warned. The guys understood. Deep down, I kind of hoped we might bump into the girls again but it wasn’t to be.
Next morning, the time came to return home to normality and my impending nuptials and to put all that had happened in Ibiza way behind.
* * *
Three weeks later…
My wedding day had arrived and I was the epitome of the dashing groom, in a grey morning suit and top hat, with burgundy waistcoat and tie, eagerly awaiting her arrival. My insides tangled in knots of apprehension, as was traditional she was forcing me to endure an uncomfortable and elongated wait. When finally she arrived by my side, I issued a little smile of joy and relief.
Only this wasn’t the church and there were no guests. We were alone in the pre-designated meeting place in the countryside and it was dead quiet. “You came,” I mouthed.
“I did,” she concurred.
“Sorry,” I offered clumsily. “It’s nasty, I know.”
“Yes, but better than two divorces in six monyhs time,” Dawn reasoned, taking hold of my hand.
The repercussions of our jilting our respective partners didn’t bear thinking about, though we had a fortnight’s grace before having to deal with the fallout. Our mobile phones doubtless loading up with anxious messages from friends and family, we headed to the cottage with just one thought in mind: making the passionate love that Ibiza had denied us.
The End
