Twelve Lays Of Xmas Ch 07

Part Seven of 12 Lays of Xmas, the full novella version. Typical. You wait seven months for chapter six, and then two come along in 24 hours.

Any similarity to any persons living, loving or otherwise - well - you know who you are.

* * * * *

The Twelve Lays of Xmas

Seven Swans A-Swimming

Nobody was around very early the following day, but I actually had to force myself out of bed at about ten to go and see the people behind my present to Jessica, the CD and the artworks. Apparently, all was finally ready.

The owner of the bureau was an attractive woman in her twenties, with long, light-brown hair; buxom, curvy, vivacious and full of curiosity. Her name was Cristal. I hadn't picked her because of her big tits - I think Jess had found her, actually, when she was seeking out someone to process some graphics she had designed - but they were no disincentive. Actually, I had been completely professional around her, which - this time - she didn't repay. I waited twenty minutes to see her, by which time most of her staff had departed for lunch, and I was half-asleep in a comfortable chair in her office. At least when Cristal reappeared, she brought latté.

She had asked to speak to me rather than just hand over the disk, which was slightly worrying. My chief concern with this extravagant present was how and when I was going to get the pictures hung in the entrance vestibule to the building without Jessica seeing them. Before Christmas obviously had big advantages. The contractors had been extremely difficult about this, understandably, but we had worked out that if the wall mountings and lighting were put in place on the 20th, a small crew could come and hang the pictures on Christmas Eve. Even if she saw the work, Jessica might not assume it was anything to do with her present; the vestibule had needed re-lighting, and I had told her back in October that I would take care of it. Two months for me to get the job done was stretching it, but she hadn't complained at all. Much.

So, the last thing I needed was for there to be any delay with the prints, which Cristal's people were producing and a framer was meant to be completing in the next four days. Her asking me to wait worried me (though not enough to stop me falling asleep).

So, when she came back into her office with coffee and apologies, I came round sluggishly, but I did come round. I was almost ready to ask if there was a problem when Cristal's curiosity got the better of her.

'I have to ask: I have seen many unusual presents in my time, but for a man to give his lover naked pictures of her female friends and neighbours, to be hung in their house, that beats a lot of them. Are you sure she wouldn't have preferred perfume?'

I laughed; Cristal was merely being humorous as well as inquisitive. Well, she had a point, and I suppose I had just blithely assumed that she would take the order, process the job and never wonder. I drank the coffee she had brought, and felt my mind come slowly out of the fog of sleep, as I explained. Cristal's eyes widened with every twist and turn of the story. She leafed through some prints on her desk which turned out to be prints of the pictures for the building vestibule.

'That's incredible,' she said eventually, sounding a little dry-mouthed. 'I thought your gift to her was... unique... But, well...'

I shook my head, still feeling slow and stupid with lack of sleep. Why had I told her about the excesses of the last few days and nights? The point had been to explain my gift to Jessica, not to detail our strange lifestyle to someone who was a stranger.

Confession caught on. 'I've never been with a woman,' she murmured, and this was more than just information, it was the open expression of a wish. We looked at each other for a moment, and I caught her looking down at the naked and near-naked women on her desk, and without a moment's hesitation I asked for her home number.

*****

The framers were happy, the installation crew were - well, not happy, but they had stopped bitching. Their foreman had spoken to me in that languid "we need more money" kind of way, and I promised him that I would sooner hang the pictures with Blu-tac than get ripped off over a job for which he was already getting well-paid. He agreed to get the work done; I agreed not to sue his arse. I had the CD with all the pictures in my pocket, and I found some good wine on special offer in the store on the corner. Did I mention before that Christmas was going pretty well so far?

I met Jessica and Orla for lunch. We were all a little sleepy, and a couple of glasses of wine along with spiced soup, fresh, warm bread and sizzling steaks, and we were on the cusp between giggling and taking a nap. Jessica and I sat wrapped around each other on one bench, watching as a spiteful, gusting wind threw rain and sleet against the restaurant window, intent on reminding us that it was winter. People went by, huddled in greatcoats against the cold. Even inside the diner, it was bracing, and we cursed each time a new customer opened the door.

Orla had the blues because her time with us was almost at and end. The only good thing she could find in the situation was that when she left us, she was going to a boat in the Caribbean for Christmas. Every time the sleet hammered on the window, and another torrent flooded down the glass, I was prepared to fight her for the ticket. And I

hate

boats.

'I could live with being on a beach right now,' I said over coffee. Surprisingly, Jessica checked her watch as if we might have a flight to catch.

'Maybe the next best thing?' she asked. I laughed, and kissed her mouth. It appeared that it was time for the next part of my present. Check, please.

*****

Laine lived about thirty minutes from our place, in a quiet suburb near the river, across a high arching bridge that offers spectacular views - usually of more than driving sleet. She had a modern, three-bedroomed house, nestled deep in the rising hills, which lay ghostly white, covered with frost and snow.

I've known Laine a long time - pretty much as long as I have lived in the city. She and Jessica get on pretty well, but not intimately, or so I thought. I hadn't included her in the list of portraits I had had done, nor on the screensaver. Of the other women in the building, I could only recall her having met Lisa at a party in the club.

So, it was quite a surprise to find myself at her house, some time after lunch. Tizianna drove the three of us out there, but she couldn't stay, apparently, and she turned the Saab around in the drive and went off again, though there was some hint in a whispered exchange between her and Jessica that she would return.

Laine welcomed us at the door; cheeks were kissed, coats were taken, introductions were made. Laine's hospitality is awesome. She served coffee and chocolate cake, found some brandy, and then provided bathrobes, towels and swimming costumes.

The penny dropped. One thing Laine had that our building did not yet provide was a pool. Well, I call it a pool, but what Laine actually owned was a small resort, tucked under glass on the southern side of the house. There was a small plunge pool, a hot tub, showers, a sort of cascade/waterfall thing, and ample decking for chairs, tables and other furniture. It was like a terrace at a very posh hotel.

Now, I'm not particularly a swimming pool sort of guy, but it there is one thing I do enjoy it's women in swimsuits, and it took very little time for me to work out that this was the basis of today's gift/kink. Babes in bikinis. Well, revealing one-piece costumes, actually which seemed to be the inspired choice for the day.

The three women went off to change, while I pulled on a simple pair of shorts, doused myself in warm water from the shower, poured drinks, put on some music and waited. There was a lot of laughter from a distant bedroom, and it took the three of them a suspiciously long time to wriggle into bathing suits. But the wait was worth it.

The three of them tripped onto the terrace like contestants in a Miss World contest, garbed in small fractions of their national flags. The costumes were identical monokinis, with tiny gold ring fastenings between the breasts and at the sides where the high cut sides of the briefs were cross-fastened to the top. Orla's was orange white and green; Jessica's starred-and striped (though even with my lover's generous bust, there was not enough material covering her tits to account for all fifty states), and Laine had a maple leaf on her left breast as part of a red and white design. I looked down at my dark blue shorts, feeling quite unpatriotic, though I did have a pole to fly a flag from.

'Twirl!' Jessica instructed, and they all three showed me the way the costumes were Brazilian cut at the back, exposing a lot more flesh. Laughing, they faced the front once more.

You can already imagine from how I described them earlier that Jessica and Orla fill out a bathing suit very nicely. Laine is petite like my lover; I'd say they were the same height to within an inch. They also share the same bust size, at a guess, or close enough to make no great difference when they were both threatening to spill out of the skimpy tops. If you're a breast man, those two side by side would be nirvana. I really don't think I am, but still.... damn!

Laine's shoulder-length hair is a wild mane of tousled red, not the fiery kind, but quite subtle. She has dark brown eyes, framed by really long lashes, and a sort of shy smile that makes her look quite sweet and innocent. It had been a long time since I had fallen for that act! Her creamy white skin was dappled with freckles across her nose and shoulders. And, judging by all the work that had gone into preparing for this event, she knew Jessica a lot better than I had given credit for!

'Look at his eyes, so!' Orla laughed. 'Paul, I never knew you were such a breast man.'

I

genuinely

don't think I am, but I did have to admit one truth: 'I think it's different with swimsuits like those, Orla!'

She laughed and fidgeted with the straps at her shoulders. 'Swimsuit, is it? I'm not sure I'd trust this in water.'

'It should be fine,' Laine insisted. 'I wouldn't recommend diving off a high board in one, but...'

Orla decided to test the scaled-down Irish tricolour, and slid into the plunge pool with a shriek of delight. Jessica and Laine came and sat at the same table I occupied, Jessica turning her chair so she could dip her feet into the pool at the foot of the bronze cascade. Through the large panels of window glass along the far wall, I watched a winter storm gather over the hills, and the continuing sleet dash against the glass. The pasture and woodlands close at hand looked frozen, brittle and stiff with rime. Here inside, we were lounging in subtropical splendour, drinking brandy from huge snifters while hidden speakers spoke a little soul, jazz and blues into the room; Martha and the Vandellas, Norah Jones, Robert Cray. Orla did laps of the tiny pool in ten seconds or less, laughing and kicking water up with her feet.

We three watched her, especially when she climbed out of the pool to prove that, though perfectly adequate for bathing, the costumes were truly designed to cling to, emphasise and barely conceal the wearer. She wanted to take it off, but Jessica insisted that as part of the bathing beauties fantasy she had to keep it on. Orla pouted, Jess scolded, and then the instructions were forgotten as my lover proceeded to take Orla's costume off as they lay together on the deck, head to toe, devouring each other's pussies with flicking tongues.

Laine looked at me with an expression that showed she knew we were about to cross a line we hadn't really looked at before. My cock was tenting the front of my shorts, and even if I had been wearing a lot more than a pair of shorts, my arousal would have been no secret. Laine smiled, hesitated and then reached over to close her hand around my erection, stroking up and down the rigid shaft through the straining material. Her eyes kept flicking towards the tangle of female limbs and torsos on the floor, as if worried that Jessica would object, but the only sounds to come from the deck were the diving of tongues, and moans that grew in intensity and volume.

I pulled Laine closer, and as my thumbs hooked under the shoulder straps of her costume, moving them to the side, her breasts spilled out. I kissed her mouth, our tongues danced, and my hands cupped and stroked and squeezed at her big tits as my hands moved all over her generous body. On the floor, Jessica was cumming already.

'Oh God, you mustn't,' sighed Laine, in a voice trembling with emotion, so genuine that I almost hesitated, fearing that I had misread the situation. I rested my cheek against hers, breathing against her hair, and tried to gauge her meaning from her eyes. All the time, she had her hand around my cock, and was pumping it up and down through the tortured cloth of the trunks. That was when I realised that Laine was the kind of woman who - in this situation - has to voice a reluctance her body betrays as false. For a guy, there is nothing more confusing - and very little sexier.

I moved my mouth down and kissed at the upper slopes of her breasts, and then at her nipples, and she sobbed and begged me to stop, but the wave was bearing us up already, and there was no place to go but on. Laine came easily to me, first laying at my side as I pulled the costume off her arms and bodies, and then down over her hips. She had the most gorgeous arse, and I played with her bare skin as she pressed her breasts to my mouth and her pussy mound against the hardness of my penis. The moment the costume hit the floor, and she had pushed my shorts down, she straddled my thighs, and guided her open pussy above my straining cock. I steered the head between her thighs and deep inside her. She rode me vehemently, almost violently, as if seeking to purge all reservation and self-restraint. All the time she was gasping, moaning - 'No, oh no, oh please don't' - as if horrified at just how easily this was happening. Her orgasm was a cry of the most forlorn release, and she held my shoulders so tightly her nails were raking the bone.

After her climax, she could barely look me in the face, but her kisses were as passionate as before, and she tasted herself from the head of my engorged cock. I lifted her up by her hair before she could make me explode, and pressed her forward onto her hands and knees across one of the wooden recliners.

'Oh God!' she sobbed as she felt my cock between her cheeks. 'You mustn't! Oh, please, don't!' But she pressed back the moment she felt my cock nestled against her puckered anus, and paused for but an instant after it had popped through her muscle before she plunged her body back against me. We fucked instinctively, animalistically, bodies driven together, a whirlwind in the hot air of the terrace. She was so loud, so wild, it was hard to know when she orgasmed and then even harder to be certain she would ever stop. Her body reacted to everything instinctively. One touch, and she was aroused, wet. Only the tone of her voice was false; everything else was completely in tune with her sexuality.

I ejaculated deep inside her and we slumped onto our hips, looking over the edge of the recliner as Orla and Jessica writhed together, fingers imbedded in each other, forcing each other to new excesses until they were exhausted. There were small smudges of mascara on Laine's cheekbones; I brushed them away and she smiled.

I climbed back under the shower letting the warm water beat down on my face. Jessica slid into my arms, warm and wet and soft. I plucked short strands of her dyed red hair back from her forehead, bent down and kissed her. She went down onto her knees and bathed my cock in her mouth, letting her fingers run up and down under and between my balls. Her tongue seemed to move over inch of my lower body, from my mid-thighs to my navel. When I couldn't resist any more, I turned her against the wall of the shower and fucked her with long, slow strokes as she balanced on her toes with her palms flat on the tiles. The difference in our heights had always made it difficult for us to make love in positions like this, but today I was so rigid, and she was so wet, and everything was perfect.

'That

was

a surprise,' I whispered into her ear as we sat by the window afterwards, warm and wrapped in each other's arms as the rain beat down with even greater severity on the glass.

'She couldn't tell you that was what she wanted,' Jessica explained. 'She just needed it to happen, and that was the best way - sudden and without time to think.' Jessica watched my eyes, and ran fingertips along my jaw. 'It was as much her present as yours.'

I smiled. 'It was a worrying moment when she started saying that we shouldn't,' I admitted. Jessica smiled, kissed my mouth tenderly and nodded over to the recliner, where Laine was once more on her knees with her arse raised. Orla crouched behind her, with her face pressed between those rounded cheeks, licking and sucking, diving her tongue in and out of Laine. Our hostess gripped the edge of the chair with her delicate hands hooked, the knuckles white; her breasts swayed as she rocked back on Orla's face.

'Oh God, no!' she sobbed. 'You mustn't... oh, please don't... please...'

*****

Jessica insisted that we all had to get back into our costumes to maintain the fantasy, and so when Tizianna returned early in the evening, we were all relatively decent (as far as those costumes allowed, not to mention the atmosphere of sexuality that hung in the sultry, warm air of the terrace). The four of us were seated in the hot tub, laughing and joking and sipping chilled Sancerre as if it was midsummer. Night had slipped across the hills, and the world outside the window had pulled on its shroud. Tiz suggested that the weather was bad, and that we should not leave it too late getting back in case the roads got any worse.

'Another hour,' Jessica smiled, and she handed our driver a small green box, tied with a red ribbon. Tizianna unwrapped it, all the time looking at the three women in their miniscule finery.

'It's an Italian flag!' Tiz said, laughing as she took the lid off the box. She lifted the costume up for us all to see.

'Very nearly,' I remarked, and we were all laughing together. Tizianna slipped off to change, and the hour passed quickly, as did the next. I don't know how bad the roads were, because the moment I folded into the back seat of the Saab, I fell into the deepest and most satisfied sleep, having fucked all four nationalities (including the USA twice - you know how it is with superpowers).