I was just leaving the posh supermarket, having paid over the odds for a whole range of things from milk to organic broccoli. They got away with it because this was an affluent part of the island and also midway between the two main supermarkets, both of which sold good stuff at reasonable prices. But the fancy one was here, right in the heart of Simpson Bay, and didn’t require a road trip to get there. And it was organic this and finest that and types of bread you’d never heard of.
I grudgingly gave them my money when I couldn’t be bothered to go anywhere else.
So, I was muttering to myself as I left, when two mature women came around the corner. You could tell they were on holiday from the way they were dressed. Both wore new, thin cotton beach dresses in colours and designs that would have been described as “gay” before that word was hijacked by a minority group.
The two women and I had no real reason to stop and chat, but romance sensors were in operation, and just from the way I looked at them, they could tell I was looking for the same thing they were. I was, if not young free and single, then certainly the last two, and with my silver hair and relaxed demeanour I have been told I look like a millionaire. I am anything but, in fact, but there in St Maarten I was enjoying a quite profitable semi-retirement, with a decent place to live and enough money to get out for a drink now and then.
The ladies and I talked about this and that and I invited them to a beach bar close by. They agreed to do the shopping later and soon we were sitting in this informal restaurant, looking at the sea.
“Mo,” said the one in the little round hat (another telltale holiday item which she wouldn’t have worn at home), shaking my hand.
“Steven.”
“Betty.”
The drink turned into lunch and everything was getting quite warm and a little fuzzy to the point where I was seriously considering how I was going to break up the trio and engineer a duo with Mo. They were both quite pretty and fun but Mo seemed like a better bet to take things a large step further.
Her bare, freckled shoulders beckoned me and the rusty, dry and crinkled canyon of her chest seemed to invite me down it into a steamy land of adventure. I could imagine the sound of crickets chirping idly as I plunged into her valley on a white-water raft ride into her crotch and up her vagina.
She had caught me looking at her cleavage and given me a taken-aback smile, fiddling with her napkin.
Although similarly attired, Betty was slim and rather severe-looking. Even when she was telling a funny story, you felt like you had to be paying attention in case she asked questions afterwards. And she was a retired physics lecturer who was accustomed to having sharp minds focused on her every utterance. She was pale and had a sheen of black hair on her arms. I imagined the same effect on her abdomen and perhaps a lush forest between her legs.
It was Mo, though, a former buyer for a department store, who was on my radar, and I was getting some encouraging feedback when suddenly they remembered phone calls that had to be made and they fled like chickens in a farmyard.
We just had time to make arrangements to meet at a bar along the street later. I went home, changed, and went to the beach, figuring that it was better to have a swim and stay active than to lay on the bed and masturbate at the thought of having one or the other of these two lovely Canadian specimens.
Six o’clock came and I was in the bar as arranged. They arrived ten minutes later, giggling conspiratorially. We had margaritas, then another round, as it was happy hour.
“So, where to for dinner?” I sighed expansively, leaning back in my chair like the king of the world.
“We’re cooking,” Betty said. “The apartment’s got a nice kitchen and a little balcony, so we thought we’d eat in. If that’s okay with you.”
“You’re included, I should add,” said Mo with a little laugh. “We got lots of salad stuff in that supermarket. Expensive, though. God!”
They must have spent a hundred dollars on vegetable, couscous, nuts and smoked salmon, and one or the other must have been a talented cook, because although nothing really needed to be transformed, it was beautifully put together and dressed with olive oil and fresh lime juice.
We drank Pinot Grigio and they had also concocted some sangria, declining my offer of a raid on the wine shop along the way.And then, after a dessert of ice cream and blueberries, out came the Amaretto.
All the while music from an iPod through a little Bose speaker played seamlessly in the background. It was mainly Joni Mitchell, with a large helping of Astrud Gilberto and her sensuous Brazilian style.
“Talking of Brazilians,” Mo said, “we were talking about bikini waxing, the fact that so many girls seem to get rid of all their hair down there. What do you think, as a man? Does it offend you?”
“Pubic hair?” I ventured. “I like it, actually.”
I felt both women looking at me, daring me to go on.
“There’s nothing worse than getting down there and finding yourself looking at George Michael,” I added, stroking my chin to embellish the picture. The women laughed.
“And what about men doing it?” Betty asked.
“Ludicrous,” I said quickly. “I don’t know why anyone would bother.”
“Quite so,” said Betty. “So you’re not shaven.”
“Certainly not,” I replied.
“Au naturel,” Mo said. “Good. I… well, we, would like to see.”
Again they pinned me with their eyes, obliging me to dare or chicken out. I looked at Mo, who smiled softly, and Betty, whose stare went through my eyes and down into my soul.
“We can go inside,” she said flatly. “Better do, really.”
It was a long couple of seconds as we all trooped into the sitting room and sat on the white leather sofa. They were either side of me.
“Do I get to kiss one of you?” I asked nervously.
“You can kiss Mo,” Betty said.
Mo moved close and I wrapped her in my arms. As I kissed her she pulled her sleeveless dress down to reveal her naked breasts, inviting me to kiss them. I sucked her nipples and as I did I felt Betty grappling with my belt and then the button and zip of my chinos. And then she was on her knees in front of me, pulling my clothing down and off.
I’m not very hairy but I do have plenty around my cock and balls.
“Definitely not shaven,” Betty said, gripping my cock and wanking me.
Mo’s hand joined Betty’s, gently squeezing my balls.
“Who do you want to fuck?” Betty asked.
“I… I…”
“I think you should have Mo,” Betty concluded. “Here, on the couch. I’ll go and get some more drinks.”
As she disappeared into the kitchen area, Mo pulled her top off to reveal the full majesty of her still-firm breasts. I pulled the elastic waistband of her skirt and it was around her ankles in a nanosecond, followed by her panties, which she removed herself with great dexterity.
Mo sat on the edge of the couch with her legs parted, and leaned back, inviting me in. Her freckled thighs were substantial but not fat, and her belly was the full, solid property of a mother.
“Come on, Steven.” It was Betty’s voice over my shoulder. “The lady wants you to lick her.”
I took up the pussylicker’s stance, on my knees with my arms entwined around her thighs and I pulled Mo towards me, unnecessarily but demandingly. I got my face into her ginger bush and licked her warm, expectant vagina. Betty had settled herself in the armchair alongside and was watching intently as I administered cunnilingus to her friend. Mo was stroking my head and making soft moaning sounds.
I, although physically present, was also in heaven, my tongue in this gorgeous woman’s crotch, my nose sliding up and down her clitoris. I decided to use my nose as I had never used it before. I licked Mo’s cunt and I rubbed her clit with my nose. My hands strayed around to her ass and a finger ventured into her cleft and just played there. This revved her up even more and soon she came with a writhing, grinding yell.
“Fuck!” said Mo. She sat up and rearranged herself, and I turned to Betty, who was playing with herself up her skirt.
“Not yet,” she said. “We want you to rim us. And Mo is first.”
I turned back to the sofa to find Mo kneeling on it sideways, her elbows on the arm and her ass in the air.
“Lick my ass, Steven,” she whispered. I got down behind her and licked her eagerly. The sinfulness in the air was intoxicating. Having licked Mo’s pussy I was now licking her asshole and her friend was watching the whole thing and suggesting that I would be doing her next.
“Do you like rimming?” Betty asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Is that really what people call it?” she continued, her voice rising as she fingered herself to a climax.
“I call it licking your ass,” I said, then addressed Mo, lest she feel left out in this complicated arrangement.
“Do you like me licking your ass, Mo?” I asked.
Mo wriggled by way of reply.
“I love you licking my ass,” she said, and promptly ground her hindquarters into my face as she came, exultant, yet with just a trace of sheepishness.
I gave Mo’s buttocks a warm, affectionate kissing and licking as she lay flat on the sofa.
“Okay, my turn,” Betty said authoritatively. “Okay, Mo?”
“Have fun,” Mo mumbled from whatever cloud she was on.
I knelt between Betty’s parted legs and she kissed me hungrily, enjoying Mo’s fluids and odors on my face. She had undressed while I was eating Mo, and I could see I had been right about her dense black rainforest. The hair on her thighs was quite spiky, and I was surprised that it turned me on as it did. It seemed to make her more earthy, more human and more animal.
As we were in this position, my erection dancing in front of Betty’s stomach, there was one logical thing to do. She leaned back and angled my cock towards her hole. I maneuvred so that the head was at her entrance and slid into her drooling cunt. She was so oily, so slick in there.
“I know,” she said. “I’m going to slide off the chair in a minute. Good thing they’re leather.”
“Shit,” I said. “I’m going to cum if I stay inside you. Let me lick your ass.”
Betty said nothing, but knelt on the chair and I knelt on the floor. Her slim ass had no reception hall, like Mo’s more palatial one. My tongue was instantly in her little brown hole and she was incredibly sensitive. She immediately began to whimper and then screamed as a huge orgasm hit her like a hot avalanche.
“Fuck, lick my ass,” she said. “Lick my ass every day of my life. Let me suck you off.”
We swapped places but then came Mo’s voice.
“Over here,” she said, and I sat next to her and we kissed as Betty knelt and sucked my cock.
Mo was all over me, sucking my nipples.
“One moment,” she said loudly, and Betty stopped and looked up.
“I want to lick his ass,” Mo said desperately.
Between them they manhandled me into a kneeling position with Betty underneath, sucking me, and Mo above, her face in my buttocks.
It took no time at all for the presence of Mo’s tongue in my ass and the expert ministrations of Betty with my cock and balls. I came tumultuously in Betty’s mouth and Mo fingered herself to a third orgasm.
I stayed the night with my two ladies and kissed and licked and fucked them until we all fell asleep. Then, in the morning, we did it all again until eventually daytime and respectability took us back into its sensible hands. I went home and slept like I’d never slept before, because we had agreed to meet again, in the bar, and see what happened.I
