Retta needed a bath. Luckily, there was a bathhouse nearby. I was enjoying the walk over there. My dick was swaying around half-mast, almost like a normal person. Ever since I got here - wherever here was, which I wasn't sure about - I'd ranged between 'hard' and 'aching hard'. All it took was maybe a dozen orgasms, topped off with a solid assfucking, and I was pretty much worn out.
Poor Retta wasn't having such a good time. She was so exhausted she could barely walk. After about a hundred yards I took pity and carried her. She was sticky all over, and stank of jizz. I tried not to think about how many men must have used her. She must have been on her hands and knees for hours, a cock in her mouth, one in her pussy. Probably one in her ass at the same time. For hours.
And just from imagining what she must have done, by the time we reached the bathhouse there was no more half-mast. My cock was sticking straight forward again like a signpost on the road to ruin.
The bathhouse was pretty much an onsen, but without all the privacy. The front doors opened right into the changerooms. They were segregated, men on one side and women on the other, but from the front desk you could see into both. While the girls filled out forms at the front desk - Violet and I needed temporary Heart membership or something like that - I watched this luscious bubble-butted girl in the women's changeroom rub lotion all over herself. Retta was so tired she sat down on the floor in front of me. She leaned against my legs and I rested my erection on her head. Couldn't hurt. There was come in her hair already.
The baths were just outside the changerooms. There was a steaming hot bath the size of a pool, and a cold bath the same size on the other side. The whole compound was just enclosed by a railing, which gave us an unimpeded view of the lake. And gave anyone walking down the path an unimpeded view of the naked Hearts within. There was a lot of foot traffic there. A lot of people with their phones out, having conversations that involved suspiciously little talking.
I lay in the hot bath and watched the girls wipe themselves down. My erection bobbed up and down in the water. It was throbbing - it almost hurt, I was so aroused. Millie and Violet had their arms wrapped around each other. They were soapy, and sort of technically washing, but they mostly whispered to each other with their noses about a quarter-inch apart. Trudy brought her purse out to the bath with her. She stripped naked, putting her clothes away in her purse. Then she bent over and fished around until she found a monogrammed washcloth. She extended her hand to Retta. "Trudy Mulheimer, erotic hygienist."
"Retta Bergson," said Retta gravely, and shook her hand.
Trudy lathered Retta up from head to toe and scrubbed her down. She spent a lot of time between Retta's legs, which I guess must have been pretty dirty. Though from the panting and moaning, I'm guessing Retta came twice.
After the girls rinsed off, we had smoothies. It turned out the whole time I was sitting four feet from the smoothie bar and I never noticed.
Retta had the most unbelievable endurance of any girl I've seen. By the time she was done her smoothie she seemed completely rejuvenated. Before we left she swam over to me and kissed the tip of my cock. "I'll wash this for you."
"Sure," I said, "if you want."
"So it doesn't get itchy. Soap gives cocks a rash, so they have to be washed with saliva. Or at least that's what someone told me last time I was here."
"Yes," I said. "That is completely true." And she took me in her mouth and ran her lips up and down my dick and stroked me with her tongue. I kneaded her breasts in my hands until I came. And I made sure her back was turned before giving my dick a quick wash.
Afterwards we sat in a little gazebo drinking wine. The girls were wrapped in towels that barely came down to the bottoms of their asses. If Retta bent over - even when she climbed the steps into the gazebo - the little curves of the bottoms of her buttocks came into view. Trudy was shorter, so her towel covered more. When she sat down, she tried to be a bit discreet, but in such a little towel the skin over her lips was right there in the open. Violet kept her legs squeezed tight together. Millie's pussy was practically hanging right out, though Violet had a hand on her thigh most of the time, which partially blocked the view. The two of them didn't even finish their wine before they disappeared somewhere together.
I noticed all that. Also apparently there was a wine bar or something, but I have no idea. It was probably above waist level.
We finished off the bottle of wine and Retta went off to the desk for more. She came back with what looked like an empty bottle. "The guy wasn't there, so I just grabbed this one off the shelf."
Trudy rolled her eyes. "It's empty, you twit." She took it from Retta and peered at the label. "No, it isn't a wine bottle. It's a genie bottle."
"Really?"
"Says right here. 'Ingredients: One genie.'"
Retta took the bottle back from her. "So you rub the bottle until the genie comes out, right?" She put her fingers around the neck of the bottle and stroked it up and down, first slowly, then more quickly. Nothing happened to the genie bottle, but I felt like I was going to come in my towel. "It's not working."
Trudy cleared her throat. "Trudy Mulheimer, genealogist."
"For fuck's sake," I said. "That's not what that word means."
"You shut up. Retta, the problem here is that you need to lubricate the bottle before you rub it."
"Oh." Retta looked around to see if there was any lubricant. I was going to offer semen, but that seemed crass. She shrugged and started running her tongue all over the neck of the bottle. Then she put it in her mouth, sliding it in and out slowly. After several minutes of this she took it out and looked slantwise at it. "Still nothing."
Trudy rubbed her chin. "It looks like you're going to have to fuck the bottle."
"Okay," said Retta. "If I have to. I'm not ready, though. I mean, it's a fine bottle and all, but it just doesn't turn me on."
My raging boner pulled me out of my seat. "I'll help."
Trudy pushed me back down. "Leave this to the professionals."
"Professionals?"
She snorted, reached into her purse, and handed me a business card. It read "TRUDY MULHEIMER, B.S., M.D., D.Phil. LISENCED CUNNILINGUIST."
"This might be convincing," I said, "if you could spell."
Trudy flipped me off and knelt down in front of Retta, who undid her towel and opened her legs. Retta closed her eyes and panted as Trudy licked her pussy. I sat there and stared. I wasn't going to jerk off. I was determined not to jerk off.
Trudy sat up and handed Retta the bottle. Retta put one leg up on the bench, her pussy spread completely open, and started working the bottle into it. She moaned as she fucked herself.
I sat down next to Trudy on the floor, just a few feet from Retta's pussy. "There's a genie in my cock," I whispered. "You should suck it out."
"Not going to miss this," Trudy whispered back. But she was nice enough to put her hand on my towel and give me a few strokes. I caressed her back and her legs as she did, working my way towards her pussy. Which when I got there turned out to already be full of Trudy's own fingers. "Do you mind?" she whispered. "I'm trying to masturbate."
"I was aiming for not masturbating."
"If you want to help, you can play with my tits and tell me how awed you are by my intellectual prowess."
I undid her towel and fondled her pert little breasts. "I am awed by your intellectual prowess."
"In a less sarcastic tone of voice, thank you."
Retta pulled out the bottle and sighed. "Still nothing."
"Hm," said Trudy. "Maybe the bottle's into anal."
"Trudy, I am awed by your intellectual prowess." I shook my head. "But now let's try pulling out the damn cork."
"Oh, good idea," said Retta.
It took her a few minutes to work the cork out, given that the bottle was soaked with spit and juices. A wisp of green smoke emerged from the bottle, and then more, until there was a huge roiling green cloud in the middle of the gazebo.
Trudy and I backed away, and she hurriedly tied her towel back on. "Beginner's luck," she said with a snort.
The smoke coalesced into a woman. She was very tall, with long brown hair. Her face was covered by a veil, so that all you could see were her green eyes. She wore a dress with slits that went up the sides past her waist, and cleavage that went past her belly button. Or at least I think it was a dress. It might have just been a couple of strategically-draped silk scarves.
"I am the genie of the bottle," she said. "For freeing me from my imprisonment, I will grant you three wishes."
"I wish for my erection to go away," I said.
"I wish to be more smart," said Retta.
Trudy frowned. "I wish I could think of something good."
The genie's eyes smiled. She reached out and touched the end of my dick with her fingers. It bobbed up and down in the air. "Sorry. Those aren't the three wishes I'll grant."
"Wait, what?" I said.
