Runa is still savoring the afterglow, blissfully unaware that we have an audience. I consider trying to lick her to another climax without telling her about the new arrivals, but decide this is an even worse idea than telling her.
"We have company," I whisper. She forces her eyes open and takes a long look over her shoulder, making eye contact with the woman cyclist. The woman, whose body is tight and sensuous under a lycra top and biking shorts, smiles almost bashfully at Runa and some kind of secret understanding passes wordlessly between her them that results in Runa nodding perceptibly.
"It's OK," Runa whispers back. "She just wants to watch," Runa adds, leaving me scratching my head. We later learn she is Marie-Clair. Her companion, apparently without any ironic intent, is Max.
Marie-Clair, whose face is unremarkably plain in comparison with her hot body, sets her bike aside and says something inaudible to Max. He responds by lowering his bike to the ground as well, then kneeling in front of the her and running his fingertips over her body, paying special attention to her breasts and inner thighs.
Runa twists around and pulls herself to a lotus sitting position with her glistening wet sex exposed to the other couple. "Stand up," she says, and when I get to my feet next to her, she swiftly yanks my biking shorts to my ankles, leaving my erection bobbing up and down. I see the woman, whose own biking shorts are being peeled off, smile appreciatively at me.
As I step out of my shorts and briefs, Runa moves directly behind me with her naked breasts firmly pressed against the hollow of my back. Her arms reach around me, and pulls my t-shirt over my head. Before it has floated completely to the ground, her fingers are toying my nipples. I look at our visitors to see Marie-Clair strip off her chemise, her eyes focused on my cock and a wide smile across her face.
Sometimes an event is so strange and unexpected, that time literally stands still. Whether it lasts a few minutes, or a couple of hours, is immaterial. Emotional intensity colors all perceptions, rendering the mundane dimensions like time and space irrelevant. For me, our afternoon was on the cusp of becoming one of those timeless events.
It was partly the warm sun on my naked skin. Partly, the sultry breeze caressing my cock and swirling around my balls. Partly, the searing sensation of Runa's firm nipples pressing against my naked back. Partly, the hungry gaze Marie-Clair, whose eyes never strayed from my cock. Together, these things produced an erection more turgid than anything I can recall.
Then there's the scene unfolding before me. Max, who surely fits the stereotype of a gigolo, performs an all-out oral assault on Marie-Clair. Her fists clench, she bites her lower lip until it turns white, and her eyes which not long ago seemed to lust after my quivering cock, are unfocused and roll upward into her head.
Max's hands squeeze her ass, forcing her pussy into his mouth. Then I see one hand move between her ass cheeks. Whatever Max does with his fingers back there, seems to topple Marie-Clair over the precipice. Her eyelids flutter close, a red flush spreads across her chest, her nipples look painfully hard and distended, and her legs go so slack that Max grabs her waist to keep her from sagging to the ground.
A long, guttural groan emerges from Marie-Clair, increasing in volume as the muscles on the back of Max's neck became taut and distended from the effort he exerts with his mouth and tongue. Her body trembles with a series of spasms and for some reason Max vaguely reminds me of guitarist Jimmy Page blasting through the final chorus of "No Quarter."
I realize Runa is hanging onto me, mesmerized and motionless, and an idea occurs to me. "I thought she just wanted to watch us," I tell Runa, realizing that we have become the voyeurs.
Runa just gives me that coy smile that beautiful girls anywhere in the world seem to master long before taking their first steps. Meanwhile, Marie-Clair is bent over, hand on her knees like an athlete struggling to catch her breath, and I realize that both Marie-Clair and Max are the ones who have gone all out to put on a show for us. And something about that stokes my competitive instincts.
I turn and face Runa, grab her by the hips and squat down at the same time that I hoist her legs over her shoulders. As I rise to my feet, she rides my shoulders as if we are playing a game of playground chicken. Except, of course, there is one important difference.
Rather than Runa's naked crotch riding against the back of my neck, it is positioned opposite my mouth.
I savor the flavor of her girl juice. But I am far more careful in the way my tongue approaches her pussy lips. The position gives Runa and our voyeurs an unobstructed view of each other, although all they can see of me is my white butt.
When my tongue finds the tiny button of her clit, Runa whimpers softly. Soon she is joined by the Marie-Clair, their feminine mewls rising and falling in counterpoint. There's no question about the extent of Runa's arousal. The smart-ass in me wants to make some kind of wise crack, like 'Hey! It's raining down here." Fortunately, my mouth is otherwise engaged.
And a sweet engagement it is. Runa's aroma is an aphrodisiac that sends shivers along my spine and releases butterflies in my stomach. All this excitement, of courses, all ends up focused on my cock.
From the sound of her moans, Marie-Clair is approaching another climax. Almost instinctively, my tongue switches from softly probing Runa's clit, to a more aggressive fluttering motion. I'm rewarded with a gasp and as Runa tries to squirm beyond the reach of my tongue. She even presses down on my scalp with her palms, desperately looking to put some separation between my mouth and her pussy.
I relent, withdrawing from my assault on her clit. Sitting with her butt cheeks resting on my pecs and her legs hanging over my shoulders, puts the entrance to Runa's love canal at the perfect angle for some deep tongue exploration. I hear her sigh as I slide inside, perhaps from pleasure, perhaps from relief that I'm no longer focused on her hypersensitive clit.
I tense the muscles in my tongue and push it far as it will reach. Except before it's fully extended, I it's stopped by something soft, but remarkably unyielding.
At that instant, Runa screams and clamps her thighs against my head with such sudden force, that I fall onto one knee to keep both of us from toppling to the ground. Once before I was nearly decapitated like this when a girl slammed her legs together with my head between them. That time, I'd been probing with my finger, but I'm sure the cause is identical.
Little Runa is most assuredly a virgin.
I couldn't tell what our voyeurs made of all this, but I pull my head back far enough to tell Runa that I'm sorry. Whether it's pain, embarrassment or a impending orgasm, Runa face is brilliant red. Still, she manages a weak smile as I rise back on both legs and use my tongue to sooth her by lapping gently at Runa's labia and taint.
Something about our momentary drama, or perhaps merely Max's gigolo expertise, brings Marie-Clair to another very long, very audible orgasm. Her moans are just beginning to fade when I feel a shudder pass through Runa's body. Her ass cheeks clench against my chest as her fingernails rake into the back of my neck like feline claws.
Once again, Runa doesn't have time to revel in the after glow. In the immediate aftermath of her climax, her muscles go almost slack, which combines with a fresh explosion of slippery girl cum, making it difficult to stay balanced. This time I drop onto both knees, and let Runa slip into my arms.
"Bravo!" Marie-Clair calls out, clapping her hands. For a moment I think maybe she's mocking us, but the look of lust in her eye says otherwise. Besides, a woman wearing nothing but bike shoes with man's face between her thighs is in no position to ridicule anyone.
I take a little mock bow, then squat next to Runa, who's pulled herself into a sitting position. Her ribs are heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and she has that heavy-lidded look that Bea sometimes called boudoir eyes. I don't need a guide book to know that means Runa's sexual appetite is not yet sated.
The French couple has traded places. Marie-Clair has her back to us and is kneeling in front of Max. Her naked ass makes a lovely heart shape beneath her thin hips and a long, slim waist. With very deliberate movements, she undoes the his belt, button and zipper. As she pulls Max's pants down, I hear Runa make a little gasp. The expression on her face is adorable mixture of disbelief and wonderment.
If this guy is the gigolo that I think he must be, he certainly is built for the job. Not completely hung like a horse, but close. And certainly bigger than me. A lot bigger, actually.
