Lunch

In a matter of a few minutes, we're at Saskia's parents' house. Even by Amsterdam standards, this place is grand. Overlooking one of the nicest waterways in the city, their vast open plan loft offers commanding views and has clearly been furnished by someone with exquisite taste. As I look around, I see a number of paintings adorning the walls. At first I assume they are prints, but on closer inspection realise that original pieces by Auerbach, Lichtenstein and Picasso are on display. Saskia squeezes my hand, aware of the shock I feel at the opulence of her life before university.

Her parents, Lotte and Dirk-Pieter are gracious and generous hosts, and we spend a couple of hours chatting in their company. Saskia is finding our lunch date troubling and is drinking more than is appropriate in the circumstances, trying to mask the awkwardness she feels. She's topping my glass up all the time, and although I'm trying to control myself, lose track of how much I've had and feel my head starting to spin. Over dessert she disappears to the WC, leaving me to discuss modern art with her parents.

Whilst Saskia is gone, I feel a series of vibrations from the phone in my pocket which I choose to ignore. As I chat with her parents about my love of Roy Lichtenstein, I hear Saskia shouting the word 'kut' at the top of her voice from the WC -- one of the few swearwords that the Dutch haven't borrowed from the English language. When she reappears, she stumbles forward, knocking over a large vase full of flowers off the table. Her mother jumps up, remonstrating with her, annoyed at her drunken clumsiness.

Dirk-Pieter and I exchange glances before he mutters something about it being time for us to leave. He stands up and walks off hoping that clearing the lunch table can divert attention away from the embarrassment he's feeling at the antics of his only child. With her mother searching for a bucket, I'm left alone enough to check my phone. I find a series of explicit texts; Saskia naked in the bathroom, squeezing a hard nipple, her hand playing with her clit, a picture of fingers buried deep in her pussy, her fingers being licked clean.

As I scroll, I see some short movie clips and start to view them. I have to pause quickly since the video comes with sound. Whilst her parents talk to her over the kitchen sink, I retreat to the WC to enjoy her offerings. Once the door is safely locked, I watch a movie of her sliding her fingers into her pussy. In the next movie she is licking her fingers clean, deep-throating herself in the process.

In the last one which is several minutes long she is naked and rubbing herself all over whilst filming in the mirror. She leans forward and picks something out her handbag. I recognise it immediately since I bought it for her birthday a couple of weeks ago - a large pink butt plug. Whilst I purchased it with an expectation that she would use it on herself, she's fucked me with it a couple of times when I've been handcuffed to her bed. In the video she licks it a few times, bends at the waist then runs it down her butt crack. She inserts it into her pussy, briefly masturbating herself before she takes it anally, gasping as the large moist toy slides inside.

She then puts the camera onto the edge of the sink so that she can fuck herself with it properly. The video stops abruptly when the phone slides into the sink, at which point Saskia shouts 'kut' at the top of her voice.

I'm hard and wanking as I watch the video. But I'm also aware that I'm in her parents' home and that jizzing in their bathroom is probably not the done thing. I stand, wash my hands, and am about to go when I realise that Saskia's handbag is on the floor of the bathroom. I pick it up, resting it on the sink so that I can clip it shut before I return it to her, knowing that if a butt plug clattered onto the floor during our departure, her parents would be far from amused.

I peek into the bag but can't see the plug so check round the rest of the WC. It's not anywhere to be seen. I smile, remembering a quote from Sherlock Homes -- 'When you have eliminated everything else, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'.

I exit the WC with the bag, and hand it to Saskia with a raised eyebrow, smiling as I say "I think you might have lost something." She flashes a cheeky wink back at me but nothing further is said about the location of the butt plug.

By this point lunch is definitely over, and the remaining alcohol has been put away. This is probably for the better given Saskia's state of inebriation. She suggests I show her round the house, and pulls me in the direction of the staircase whilst her parents finish tidying up.

We enter her bedroom, which still has a teen feel about it - it hasn't changed since she left home at 18 and went to University. One of the walls have posters of people she probably had a crush on at one point. Another wall is adorned with dozens of rowing trophies and pictures of Saskia looking younger, athletic and very cute. The bed still has a few soft toys on it, the desk is covered with pink things.

But as the bedroom door clicks shut, Saskia turns on me, pushing me frantically to the floor. She rips open my belt, unbuttons my trousers and fishes my cock out my pants. I'm still hard from watching her video and my dick grows as she yanks my pants and trousers down enough for her to mount me.

Straddling me, she lifts her dress off her body in a single up-and-over movement. Then she takes my hard dick in her hand and places my cock head at her vaginal entrance. I feel her warm moist femininity on me and know that I am about to be fucked beautifully.

Saskia pauses. Leaning to my ear she echoes my previous teasing, "Do you want fucking?" she asks seductively.

I know that whilst I had the self-control to play her earlier, a drunk, horny Saskia will be lacking the ability to hold back. So I grab her, pulling her down onto my hard cock.

She feels tight, and then I remember why. This is the first time I've fucked anyone who has a butt plug inside them, and it feels deliciously dirty and different. Her pussy is tighter and there's less room to move. The walls of her vagina grip my cock and increase my pleasure. I fantasize that this must be what it is like being inside someone who is enjoying double penetration. I lodge the idea in my memory banks as something I want to do with her as soon as possible then get on with the important business of fucking her hard.

Saskia squeals as both her cavities fill. The plug I chose was thicker than my cock, quite considerably, but at 20cm a good 5cm shorter. She is desperate after our earlier games, and so makes no attempt to moderate her pleasure. Rather, she's screaming and moaning loudly as she fucks me, reaching back to jab the plug in and out of her butt to intensify the sensations. Then she reaches forward, rubbing the fingers of her free hand on her clit, completing her holy trinity.

Her moaning becomes ever louder; so much so that I am sure that her parents must know what their daughter is up to. I try to process this, thinking of ways to calm her down, but then realise that I'm losing control and that I'm ready to come. The tightness of Saskia's wet pussy on my cock, her guttural screaming and the filthiness of fucking her in her teen bedroom whilst her parents sit downstairs tip me over the edge. My back arches as I move past the point of no return, and I look up into Saskia's eyes as my come begins to flow.

I then feel her orgasm. The rhythmical waves of muscle contractions in her vagina, her six pack flexing, and her intense howling portent signals of her pleasure. She gushes over me as she comes - not that I can see - but I feel wetness over my crotch area as she howls and judders herself to completion.

My cock becomes still as the last drops of cum unload inside her and then there is silence in the room. I then feel a small puddle underneath me and wonder what I am experiencing.

"Fucking hell!" calls Saskia, "I think you made me squirt!". Her hand covers her mouth as she giggles at what she sees underneath her.

"What?" I ask quizzically, since I had never experienced it before and assumed that it was something that only happened in porn movies.

Saskia climbs off me to take a better look. As I sit up I realise that the back of my shirt, my boxers and trousers are very noticeably wet. We look at each other -- Saskia making no attempt to hide her mirth, whist I sit there in silence.

"Fuck! Saskia! This is serious. I can't go back downstairs smelling of sex with cum-stained clothes, like seriously! What the actual fuck!"

The more I protested, the more Saskia laughs, her hand covering her mouth ias she points in disbelief at the mess that she's left me in. In the end I stand up and try to assess the extent of the damage in the mirror. Sure enough, there's a noticeable patch of wetness on the back of my shirt. I pull off my damp trousers so that I can remove my soaking boxers, throwing them in Saskia's general direction.

Saskia stands, opens a wardrobe and rummages. A few moments later she returns with something that looks like it's out of the 1960's -- a blouse with a large pink and white checked pattern, and collars 10cm wide.

"I wore it to a fancy dress," explains Saskia, "but it's yours if you want it."

I put it on, and look in the mirror. I am 201cm tall; Saskia is only a little bit shorter than me. We have similar physiques; her elite level rowing has left her with a body which, if I am honest, is better ripped than mine. The blouse fits me, if a little snugly.

We return to the lounge, our faces still flushed by sex and alcohol, and stroll onto the balcony where her parents are sitting.

"Oh, is it warm enough to be outside?" asks Saskia innocently. It clearly isn't, but faced with the choice of retreating to the balcony or sitting in the lounge and hearing their daughter fuck, they've chosen the least-bad option.

After a brief conversation, Saskia advises her parents that we're going to leave.

Lotte and I kiss, three times on alternate cheeks. She holds my gaze saying, "It was lovely to meet you." An awkward pause punctuates the flow of the conversation before she follows up, staring into my eyes and saying, "I'm so glad you came."

I'm not sure how to respond to that one, so smile stupidly at her. Lotte then turns to her daughter and says, "You too, sweetheart. Thank you for coming. You enjoyed yourself, I'm sure?" Again, this comment is met with silence.

Her father looks at both of us and joins in saying, "It's obvious that they enjoyed themselves!" He follows it up, looking directly at me and saying, "Of course, whenever you're in this part of town you're always welcome. Feel free to come inside. My daughter - she's has told us so much about you!"

Despite having impeccable, if lightly accented English, Dirk-Pieter messes up the intonation of the last two sentences. Even slightly drunk, it is evident that he has said it in a way that could reasonably be interpreted as 'Feel free to come inside my daughter. She has told us so much about you'.

I blush slightly, my skin mirroring the shade of the blouse Saskia gave me to wear. I look down at my feet, unable to formulate a response, knowing that not only has our fucking has not gone unnoticed, they are also making sure we know that they heard their only daughter fucking someone they've just met in their home.

The awkward silence that follows is punctuated by Saskia stepping in. She replies, "we'd love to come more often, thank you papa". She kisses him lightly on the cheek, and with that we make our merry way back home.