Absolute Threesomes Page 6

  But Celeste shook her pretty little head. “No, Cherie,” she whispered, “we belong to each other. Now, kiss me again and make me cum with your long cool fingers before we call on Zee to poke and prod and make us perform for the pleasure of his camera.”

  ***

  Both girls were unashamedly naked when Zee entered the room, Celeste lying sprawled on the chez like a wanton, Marie-Mathilde sitting primly on the edge of it like a schoolboy waiting for a disciplinary interview with his headmaster.

  “So, what, you have been pleasuring each other in my time?” the old queen fussed, bustling around the room like a disgruntled mother hen, “do I now pay for you enjoy yourself?”

  Celeste laughed. “You do not pay us at all, Zee, merely feed us and clothe us in fine brocades and silks. But while you have been gorging yourself on pastries and chocolat we have been eating altogether more delicious confections, so we are equal now, no?”

  Zee snorted and changed the subject, turning his attention to Marie-Mathilde. “And you, new girl, are you also to bite the hand that feeds you and speak to me with disrespect and derision the way that this ungrateful guttersnipe does?”

  “Why non, Monsieur,” said Marie-Mathilde, her eyes modestly downcast though she sat naked in front of him, “I will always obey you and treat you with respect.”

  “Good girl, good girl,” muttered Zee, slightly mollified, “then come, stand up and let me see your body and reassure myself that you will be worth all the money that I shall now have to spend on you.”

  “Her pussy is like fresh lobster, Zee,” Celeste whispered mockingly as Marie-Mathilde stood up to allow the old man’s inspection, “salty and sweet. Much nicer than all that dirty boy’s cock you like to suck.”

  “Be quiet, Guttersnipe,” Zee scolded, then he let out a breath as he gazed upon Marie-Mathilde’s naked body and was lost.

  Oh la, la. This girl was his best investment yet. Her face was austere but beautiful, her body long and straight like an ivory tusk, flawless skin, no breasts, taut belly and, oh my Lord, look at that cunt, a veritable beast with a huge pronounced pudenda and thick red maiden hair like an animal’s. She was making even him want to get stiff, no wonder Celeste was so in love.

  “Do I please you, Monsieur?” Marie-Mathilde asked in a small fearful voice and Celeste laughed.

  “Oh, do not worry, Cherie, he is more than pleased,” she laughed. “Even now, he is calculating how much money you will make for him.”

  Zee pulled himself together. “You are most excellent, child, but may I look more closely at you?”

  Marie-Mathilde shrugged. “I am naked, Monsieur, I cannot be more shameful than that, so you may look all you want at whatever you want.”

  Zee mopped his face with his large silk handkerchief as he felt his own large cock start to swell. They say that fat men often have small members, but this was untrue of him, and his cock, when fully aroused, would turn many a young and virile man green with envy. And it seemed that this pale and boyish girl was having the desired effect on his undercarriage.

  “Turn,” was all he managed to say.

  Marie-Mathilde raised her eyebrows but said nothing and obligingly turned her back to him, her tight little butt high and white, her long thin legs slightly parted. And her ass was magnificent. Small and firm like a boy’s but with all the pert softness of a young girl. She would be quite irresistible once he had fitted her out with the strap-on dildo, mouth-wateringly sexy, in fact.

  Zee paused for a moment to visualise the girl as he would photograph her, with her long white naked body and shock of thick pubic hair with the huge erect cock sticking out from her like an outcrop and felt his own member start to rise rapidly. Oh merde, he was up, his monstrous cock straining against the restraints of his clothing.

  Celeste was watching him like a cat from the chez, an amused smile on her pretty face. “I think Monsieur is liking your sweet little behind, Marie-Mathilde,” she teased, “and I mean liking it in the way that he likes all those petits garçons he finds in the back streets at night. Come, be kind to him, Cherie, spread your legs and bend for him so that he may gaze upon your little pink starfish and pleasure himself...”

  Marie-Mathilde blushed scarlet but obliged, parting her long thin legs and leaning forward as if she were about to be punished, knowing that her employer was seeing all her most intimate parts and strangely aroused by the sensation of it.

  Zee let out a groan in spite of himself and Celeste laughed. “I think I should be jealous, Cherie, for I have been showing this man everything I possess for many years without a so much as a twinge, but he takes one look at your derriere and his famous member is up like a ramrod. Come, Zee, let us see the fruits’ of Marie-Mathilde’s sweet little bung-hole, show us that legendary cock of yours erect in all its glory.”

  Zee tried to protest but knew that he was beaten. Years ago there had been a flaxen-haired German boy called Gustav with skin as while as the February snow who had bled him dry, always asking for fine clothes and gifts of increasing value before he would roll over and offer up his milky white ass to Zee’s desire, and this girl seemed to be having the same effect on him. He would not mount her, of course, of that he was certain, for he was too shrewd a businessman to compromise his asset, but he knew that if he did not relieve himself here and now he would be ragged with frustration and useless for the rest of the day.

  “Not one word of this leaves this room...” he breathed, unfastening his clothing.

  Celeste laughed. “Our lips are sealed, Monsieur,” she said, no longer mocking but curious and not a little aroused at the sight of her lover naked and bent over, her tight ass inciting her employer’s monster member.

  Zee had freed it by now and even Celeste was spellbound as she watched him lick his fingers and gently move the tight hood up and down over the huge swollen head. “Why, Zee,” Celeste breathed, “you waste this giant on gutter urchins when every fashionable women of Paris would gladly pay to be pleasured by such a work of art.”

  Zee grunted, already close to cumming. “It does not usually perform like this for the opposite sex, Cher,” he breathed, “Marie-Mathilde is something of a first.”

  “Did I not tell you she would be perfect?” Celeste teased, walking naked across the studio and taking Marie-Mathilde in her arms while she looked over her shoulder and took a closer look at Zee’s cock, “can you not see her with the big dildo strapped on and fucking me up my tight little ass? I have never permitted that before, but today I will let her corn-hole me for your pictures...”

  It was the tipping point for the old man and, mentally seeing Marie-Mathilde as a boy up stiff and erect pushing into Celeste’s forbidden hole, his orgasm suddenly shot out of him, his big cock jerking like a chicken with its throat cut as he thrust impotently into the empty air, his hot and salty semen splashing onto the bare floorboards and all over Marie-Mathilde’s trembling white ass and down her shaky legs.

  “Now that,” sighed Celeste, squeezing her lover’s very moist pussy, “was a welcoming party to be proud of. Come, Zee, compose yourself, Marie-Mathilde is willing to become a boy for you. Send for the hairdresser and let us get to work, I think I want to be fucked.”

  Up Periscope!

  by Roger Frank Selby

  The captain swivelled the periscope around as the boat re-submerged following the helicopter rendezvous. The marine sergeant stood stiffly to attention and delivered his salute to the Old Man’s back. ‘She’s aboard, sir!’

  ‘Lieutenant Lacey is safely aboard, I take it, sergeant?

  ‘Aye aye, sir! Lieutenant Lacey is aboard. Beg pardon, sir!’

  Halfway through his visual sweep, the captain looked around at the marine. ‘“Skipper” will do just fine, sergeant. And try to relax a bit. In the “Boats” we like to be a little less formal than our surface sailing colleagues. Is there anything else
?’ He raised his eyebrows at the marine’s continued presence.

  ‘Lieutenant Lacey has triggered the silent security scan, er ... skipper.’

  ‘Well, it’s happened before - follow standard procedures.’

  The sergeant glanced around the crowded control room. Two officers exchange significant looks, but the skipper had turned back to his periscope.

  ‘But she’s, I mean Lieutenant Lacey is a woman, skipper. We can’t just ...’

  The captain did not turn around. ‘Lieutenant Lacey is in the bloody navy and must be treated as any other member of the service! Carry on sergeant.’

  ‘Aye aye, skipper!’

  Back at the main hatch, a few idle hands had gathered - pretending to work or just gawking. The female officer was the first woman they’d seen after nine days out on patrol - and what a woman! Her drenched uniform clung to an unmistakably female person, but one in a foul mood. An encounter with the grey Atlantic breaking over the hull was a common enough hazard when being lowered aboard from a helicopter.

  ‘Sergeant! How much longer am I to be kept waiting in my wet clothes?’

  ‘Not much longer, ma’am!’

  Not in your clothes, any road, he thought.

  ‘Smith! Simpson!’ the sergeant snapped at the idlers. ‘Get on with your duties!’

  She visibly relaxed as the men dispersed. ‘Isn’t the captain or one of his officers going to welcome me aboard?’

  He grinned. ‘That’s my job when the boat’s at quarters. All the officers are tied up in this big exercise. Welcome aboard, ma’am!’

  ‘Thank you, sergeant.’ She gave him a watery smile. She was much better looking when she smiled. ‘Can you lead the way to my berth please? I’m getting cold.’

  ‘Well, there is a little problem we have to sort out first, ma’am.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Can you please follow me into the security alcove. You’ll find it a bit warmer in there than out here, ma’am.’ Passing a marine sentry, they stepped through a hatch and into a small, bare cabin.

  ‘What is this all about, sergeant? I desperately need a hot shower.’ That frosty expression was back again.

  She will need careful handling - a real young tartar this one.

  He told her what it was all about. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up.

  ‘But how am I to be searched? Are there other women aboard?’

  ‘No, ma’am. As you know, women is rare on submarines, but we do have trained security specialists aboard: myself and two others.’

  ‘You have to search me, sergeant?’

  ‘Captain’s just confirmed it, ma’am. No alternative, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Full strip search? Orifices checked and all that? That’s the standard procedure, right?’

  ‘Certainly is, ma’am. Glad you understand the procedure. Can’t take any chances these days so rules is strict. Also, a second person must be present when there are opposite sexes involved.’

  ‘Another person!’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. The second person’s sex ain’t specified, so that won’t be no problem.’

  ‘I’ll bet it won’t, sergeant!’ She put her hands on her shapely hips. Her eyebrows knitted together. ‘Can the requirement to have a second person present be waived?’

  ‘Then there would have to be a release signed by the searchee.’

  ‘You seem to be a bit of a sea-lawyer, sergeant,’ she snapped.

  He took exception to that. ‘I’m a security specialist, ma’am, it’s my job to know all this.’

  ‘Of course, sergeant, I apologise. Can such a search be refused?’

  ‘Then I’m afraid you would not be allowed to remain aboard, ma’am. Shall I get the captain to call that chopper back?’

  She sighed. ‘No, they’ll be halfway home by now, fuel will be getting tight ... We are all professionals here, a routine search will not be a problem.’ She pulled back her shoulders, sticking out her impressive chest. ‘Let’s get on with it then, sergeant.’

  He poked his head outside the hatch. ‘Corporal Scott!’

  ‘Sergeant?’

  ‘Come inside and dog the hatch!’

  ‘Whenever you are ready, ma’am.’

  She eased out of her damp uniform jacket and handed it over for the sergeant’s inspection. He hung the item to dry over a hot pipe that ran conveniently through the small cabin. She began unbuttoning her shirt. The corporal’s jaw dropped.

  The well-built woman and the two big marines crowded the small cabin. As she struggled free of the shirt, her bosom seemed to be bumping against the men - particularly Corporal Scott.

  ‘Sergeant,’ she said icily, ‘can you please order your corporal to keep his back up against that bulkhead and give me some more sea-room?’

  ‘Corporal!’

  The man sprang back to the wall, giving searcher and searchee more working space.

  Even before she was down to her bra and panties, the sergeant could see that she had the kind of body rarely possessed by female officers in the service. While she wriggled out of her damp skirt, he saw the tapering waist, the full, shapely breasts, barely contained in their bra. He couldn’t help letting out a soft groan. Corporal Scott’s reaction, although silent, was becoming all too obvious.

  ‘Sergeant! That man ... That man has an erection!’

  And I’m getting one too. God - why does the woman have to have such a body? She’s all legs, tits and arse! Got to try and get through this without a court-martial ...

  ‘Corporal Scott! Control yourself!’

  ‘But Sergeant... This ain’t fair!’

  ‘Ma’am ... This unusual situation ... You have to expect a little ...’ He organised his words: ‘Your body is most stimulating to men, ma’am. If, as a professional, you can forgive a natural reaction - or two - we can all get through this in no time, and you can get into your lovely hot shower.’

  ‘Of course sergeant, I quite -’

  ‘This is the captain.’ The tannoy was muted. ‘We are approaching our target. Rig for silent running. Prepare for manoeuvring. That is all.’

  Wide-eyed, she bent very close to him. ‘I’m only used to surface craft, sergeant,’ she whispered. ‘”Silent running.”Does that mean we can’t talk at all?’ He looked down at the creamy globes of her boobs, barely contained in her transparently damp brassiere. He noticed he wasn’t the only gawking serviceman in the room. Scott couldn’t take his eyes off the broad bottom, pushed right out and brushing against his (now permitted) projection.

  He concentrated hard, suspecting that she knew the drill as well as he did. ‘It’s all right, ma’am. We can talk quietly like this, but move around carefully, don’t drop anything and don’t yell if you bump into anything ... ’ The sub began a fast, swerving turn, and they were all thrown heavily to one side. He stifled her sudden yelp with one hand as she slipped backwards, his forearm pressed between her breasts. With his other hand he caught her around her waist, but her rump had pushed hard against Scott’s crotch. ‘... like Corporal Scott’s cock.’

  ‘Oooops ! Yes,’ she gasped. ‘Sorry, my fault, that.’

  ‘Aaaah!’ exclaimed Scott in a hoarse whisper, ‘Ooooh, that really hurt!’

  ‘Not like I’ll ’urt you Scott if you don’t keep that dick of yours under ... Sorry, ma’am! Forgot myself there for a moment.’

  ‘That’s all right, sergeant.’ She smiled sweetly and turned around to face the corporal nursing his privates. ‘Are you injured, Scott?’ she asked anxiously, bending forward. ‘That was a very hard bump.’

  ‘I think so, miss. It ... It buckled a wee bit.’

  ‘You call the officer “ma’am”, corporal’, hissed the sergeant, trying to ignore her bottom now pushing hard up against his projection. />
  ‘Sergeant, this man is hurt. An aneurysm could form. A burst blood vessel in the penis can be very dangerous indeed.’ She bent further down for a closer look, and despite clothing in the way, the sergeant’s own penis was suddenly nestling dangerously deeper in the valley between her buttocks.

  The sergeant was sure she was aware of this because she wiggled her arse a trifle. ‘Are you a doctor, ma’am?’

  ‘I’m a trained paramedic, sergeant. Corporal, hold still.’ She was already opening Scott’s trousers, pulling them right down to the deck, shorts and all. They were all sweating in the warmth of the room. Her underclothes, plastered to her skin, revealed the intimate details of her body. Scott’s suddenly released member swayed slightly, pointing boldly up at her face at an angle of forty-five degrees or so. She took it gently in both hands.

  His mouth hanging open, Corporal Scott looked as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes and feelings were telling him. The sergeant could hardly believe it either. The woman’s fingers stroked expertly against the taut skin. She was feeling it, pressing it here and there: examining the cock like a prize cucumber.

  ‘Does this hurt?’ she whispered, squeezing carefully around the bruised midsection.

  ‘Ooooh. Aye. A wee bit.’

  ‘And here?’ She touched the broad, oozing tip, massaging the fluid over the cockhead.

  The man reacted with a sudden jerk. ‘Ah! No. Not there, er... ma’am. Ahhhh!’

  ‘Here?’ Her fingers were down at the root, squeezing away while the other hand began soothingly stroking the head. Her lower hand cradled his hanging balls, the other now moving faster, squeezing, while the man reacted.

  ‘Ahhhh!’

  ‘Quiet, Scott, I won’t tell you again. Hey! You filthy little ...’

  ‘It’s all right, sergeant, I was expecting that, poor man. The release will help him - ease the pressure. There, there ... That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind at all. Let it all come out. There, there ...’ She held on with both hands, pulling rapidly and lovingly along the length of the shaft, while Corporal Scott continued ejaculating in long spurts all over her bra and cleavage. When he was fully spent she became businesslike again.