Red or Blac?

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All characters in this story are definitely over 18, and of legal age.

This is my first published fiction, so go gently on me with the comments.

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As I slowly swam back up to the level of awareness, some strange things came to my mind. My left arm felt numb, with a heavy weight on it, and a warm, soft breast cradled in it. That wasn't the strange element. The strange element was that there was another hand on the breast, and it wasn't mine. As I moved I felt two more hands that weren't mine, both of which were gently holding my cock. There was at least one hand spare here.

As I woke, I must have stirred, as behind me I heard a murmur, and at the same time felt another larger breast pushed firmly into my back as one of the hands started to gently squeeze my cock, which started to harden in response. The other sleeper in front of me must have felt me (it?) stirring as well as her backside started a very pleasant motion indeed, as the second hand started fondling my balls.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves here! Cue blurry, wibbly-wobbly time effect, and we're back to 5 days earlier.

****

Now, a little about myself, I work at a high-end resort on the Spanish Mediterranean coast. Picture a secluded wooded area with some very well appointed cabins. From one cabin you could easily think you were on your own, tucked away quietly in the woods. Around the cabins there was a slick, operation keeping things running in the background, several restaurants ranging from 2-Michelin Star, through to a simple steakhouse and anything in between.

The restaurants are all centred around the pool complex, indoor, outdoor, saline pools, hot and cold plunge pools, if you can think of it, it's there.

Tracing their way through the woods are a number of trails for biking, hiking and running - you could easily manage a half-marathon if you liked, and we hire out road bikes and MTBs for those that way inclined. As we are on the coast we also have a whole bunch of water sports going on. Over 100 acres in total, with some great trails and a nature reserve, it's the nature lovers dream.

So what's the point of all this waffling on, you ask? Well, in summer, June to early September, we cater for the family crowd, school holidays, and it's all prim and proper. The staff are your best friends, look after your kids, teach them to ride a bike, sail a dinghy and so on, all dressed in perfectly laundered and pressed polo-shirts and khaki shorts, butter wouldn't melt.

Between September and late May, it's all very different, bookings come through a very different website. Guests stay ten days, arrive Sunday, leave a week on Wednesday, with a big party on the Saturday in the pool complex. The staff recover and prepare between Weds to the next Saturday. And it's adults only, purely 18+. For guests it's 100% clothing optional, no pressure at all and we see the whole range. For staff, it's slightly different, we need to mark ourselves out, so the majority of male staff still wear the polo shirt, with khaki shorts, and the female staff, have polo shirt and short tennis skirt, but these tend to give way to bikini bottoms or, board shorts, for the female staff there is also a one-piece swimming costume with the logos and for the male staff logo'd budgie-smugglers as the Aussies would call them.

So how does all that link to the enticing opening paragraph?

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All of the staff are generally able to help out with most activities and specialise in a few others, in my case I lead the trail running and cycling sessions along with Jen, an amazingly talented runner with the most amazing control of an MTB off-road (she can't touch me for endurance on a road bike though!), and I'm also an amateur naturalist taking a keen interest in the local habitat and creatures on which I occasionally give guided walks. Jen by the way is both fit, and FIT, but this story is not about her, at least not this time.

So let's cut to the scene you want, the set-up.

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Jen and I were the leads for a trail run though our forest. The plan was a common start, then Jen would peel off with a short route of around 8km, and I would carry on for a longer run playing it by ear depending on the runners, up to 20km if they were capable.

The day was perfect for it, picture a bright morning, not too late, nice breeze, low humidity and shade in the forest.

This was when I first saw them, let's call them Red and Black,

They both looked like runners, but so very different. Red looked like your classical long distance runner, not an ounce of spare flesh on her, tall, lean, like a greyhound, short flaming red hair, pale skin, freckles, skimpy red shorts and running vest in club colours. Black was the complete opposite, built like a Greek Goddess (I later learnt she was actually from Cyprus), bronzed skin, rippling with well honed muscles, she reminded me of a player of games, maybe rugby, hockey, heptathlon or similar, running as part of something else. She looked equally capable in a pair of tight black mid-thigh lycra shorts and sports bra. There were other runners too, but please excuse me if I don't describe them in exquisite detail, my focus was a little distracted.

The premise was explained, we'd share the first 5km, briefly halt at a water stop and then regroup for those to follow me, or to take the shorter route back. What a great run I must say, Jen led out and I followed up moving between mid pack and the rear, checking on the runners, making sure they were all OK and getting some great views of the lady runners, including Jen, Red and Black. At the 5km we stopped for water (we always left coolers at certain points with bottles of water and electrolytes), warning not to take on too much. We took a poll on turn back or carry on, and of the 15 runners, half a dozen decided to come with me on the longer run, which we set at a steady 16km this time. I'm sure you can guess that Red and Black both put themselves in this group.

Jen split off with the short run group, and off I went with my hardcore bunch. It was starting to get a little warm now, so I took off my shirt and tucked it into the back of my shorts. Now I'm not a hugely built, gym-ripped guy; I'm a cyclist and runner after all, but I'm lean and well enough muscled, and have enough of a tan not to be the typical pasty-white Englishman who turns into a lobster at the first glimpse of the sun. A couple of the other guys followed my lead, and as we ran on at a nice steady pace, Red commented to me

"You guys are lucky, no-one bats an eyelid at you baring your chest like that."

"You know the rules here," I responded, "no-one will look twice."

"it's only Tuesday, I'm not sure I'm quite ready for that yet, maybe later," she replied. I would certainly be looking out for that, but didn't reply that way -- why make myself out to be the weird pervy staff-member.

Instead I quipped "Well, you friend is obviously a bit further along than you are!" Black was now glistening with sweat, with her breasts bouncing invitingly and her nipples obvious through the sports bra.

"Oh, Aphrodite! She's not at all shy, I think she's only wearing that to stop giving herself two black eyes! That's more than she wears on a night out."

With that delicious thought placed in my head, I needed to focus on the whole group with some tricky technical trail sections coming up leading us through the forest, down to the dunes and then back to the rec-centre for cool down, stretching and rehydration.

"Great run everyone!" I said as they started to drift back to their cabins, the beach, bar etc. "remember, we lead runs every other day, cycling on the days in between, tomorrow is an early start road ride a nice easy 30k, or for those a bit more hardcore I'm up for 50-80km, if you think you can take it. Remember the early breakfast as well, from 6:30. You can hire bikes at reception, you won't be disappointed."

****

Next morning, bright and early there I was with Jen again waiting to see who turned up for the ride, we had a good crowd this time, mostly on the hired bikes -- these were top-end, no cheap shit, guests were paying good money, and we sold them off at the end of year half price after maintaining them well all year.

I must admit, I was surprised to see Red and Black there, I'd not pictured them as cyclists, and I wasn't proved wrong. You could see they were struggling, though they were game and trying not to show it. They were trying to keep a bright mood and chatting as we went, but by about 20km they started to go quiet. Come the split, I politely suggested that they take the short route and come back with me, leaving Jen to take the long route -- normally I'd do that but had ridden a long ride during our time off and didn't mind taking it easy. That seemed to brighten their outlook and they jumped at the idea, partly to save face I think. Everyone else chose to carry on with Jen for the longer ride, opting for a steady 50km route via a local nature reserve with a decent café.

As we headed back, we chatted and it became clear that they were both athletes in their own way, but very new to cycling, generally seeing it as a bit of cross training/recovery, in Red's case from 5-10k running and in Black's case, I was right, she was a rugby player and used to all-out explosive efforts rather than endurance. We had a great chat on the way about sports in general and sport-specific fitness, but it was clear they were both very dedicated and knocking on the doors of national representation, better than me in fact, as just a decent amateur. We were getting on like a house-on-fire by the time we got back and I actually spun it out a bit to 35km which they didn't seem to notice.

They were on both on their off-seasons, so just keeping fit but with no specific goals for a month, so decided to get away somewhere warm for a break as their university was also closed and they could take some time off from researching for their doctorates. They knew the resort was clothing optional, but in a generally mild way and had intended just to bum around in swimsuits, maybe topless if they plucked up the courage. So far they'd not seen any full-on nudity, but it was still early and they had been keeping themselves busy and visiting some of the local towns.

All good things, as they say, must come to an end, so we eventually returned and I took care of their bikes for them, and off they went with a wave and a smile, and that was it, or so I thought.

****

That was Wednesday, and I didn't really see anything of them directly for the rest of the week leading up to the Saturday's dinner party as I was busy with my general duties, but did see them around the pool complex and taking in the activities, generally in swimsuits as they said. I only ever saw Red in red, generally a very micro bikini, leaving nothing to the imagination, barely three triangles with string ties. She was smoking hot, lean and lithe with that pale complexion, clear cut muscle definition and that bikini bottom so small, there must have been a lot of waxing involved, leaving a clear shape of her pussy outlined. Either she was continuously excited, or just naturally had prominent nipples as they were poking out hard underneath the other two tiny triangles, topping small, pert breasts.

Black, Aphrodite, as I've already said was built like a goddess, and typically wore a black one-piece costume that had its work cut out for itself. High-cut over the hips, backless showing her bronzed skin, and looking like it was painted on, it was so form-fitting. It wasn't deeply cut at the top, but then if it was, she'd have been constantly falling out if it, but it definitely accentuated the more than handfuls she was displaying. Both of them were in that perfect spot where they showed just enough that it was more alluring than the nudity or toplessness that would have had nobody batting an eyelid where we were.

I don't know if Red knew what she was doing to me, but as I passed round the complex with my work, she always seemed to be there, looking amazing and with a quick smile at me before heading off to do something.

Now this is probably the point to say that, although not strictly forbidden, fraternisation between guests and staff, is generally frowned upon, with one exception being the Saturday night party which generally turns into one massive hedonistic blowout where all cards are on the table. Tensions among the staff therefore rise inexorably from Sunday to Saturday; similarly hemlines rise as the female staff move from shorts to polo shirts with bikini bottoms, or very short tennis skirts and skimpy underwear or just swimsuits. In the case of the male staff, polo shirts disappeared, but board shorts remained, if nothing else to hide the increasingly stiff members as the guests paid more attention to the "optional" part of clothing.

Through all this, Red and Black were there, in bikini and swimsuit, fire and ice, oh how I suffered in my state of almost permanent semi-arousal.

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Cue another blurry, wibbly-wobbly flash forward to Saturday.

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All hands on deck, all front of house staff take their part in the Saturday ball, as waiting and bar staff, but with the distinction that all staff are at least semi-naked, guests remain clothing optional, though most have a good deal of skin on show and over half go naked for the evening. The kitchen staff of course need to manage splash risks, so remain clothed. The band play naked -- OK if you have a double base to hide behind, not so easy with a trumpet. Front of house though, all females are topless with a small apron, giving a very enticing rear view, all males are naked apart from a brief loin cloth, cuffs, collar and bow-tie. Of course there is no coercion, staff can duck out and help in the kitchen, but most do not.

Now, to this day I do not know if they engineered it, or it was just sheer luck, but I ended up serving Red and Black. In my section I only had three tables, one of which was no-show leaving just two. Red and Black's table was also somehow semi-hidden behind one of the poolside pillars making up the "Greek temple" theme. Either way, there was a real air of mischief from both of them as we started with the 5-course fine-dining meal.

It started with a little light flirting and commentary on my attire, that this was more like what they had come here for, and that it was a great step up from my running gear. As I served the pre-dinner champagne, Black looked down the menu

"Oh dear, no sausage on the menu tonight," she said with a distinct smirk "perhaps our waiter can manage a special order for us, he certainly looks capable."

My cock, already aching for relief, obviously heard this as well. Have you ever tried hiding an erect penis under a loin cloth dear reader? It's not the easiest thing to do, and made even harder (literally) by Red's next comment

"looks like a large enough portion for two! Oh goody." delivered with a lingering look at my loincloth.

As turned on as I was at this point, there was still a job to do, but poor Mr and Mrs Sherman, or maybe not, she certainly couldn't keep her eyes off it either and Mr Sherman didn't seem too upset when her hand dropped below the tablecloth.

We were only clearing the appetisers right now, preparing for the soup (gazpacho of course) but if you looked out across the tables you could see the shape of things to come as hands found their way to servers rumps and the occasional nipple was dipped into a glass of champagne for a waiter or waitress to lick clean, or vice versa. It was looking like this could be a very interesting night indeed.

The gazpacho was duly served, chilled, fragrant with garlic, herbs and olive oil. When I came back to check on them and pour more white wine, red "accidentally" spilled a spoonful of soup down her front.

"Oh, look at this mess, this top is ruined!" She exclaimed theatrically "I can't wear it with soup all over it, I may as well just get rid of it!" as she reached behind herself and undid the strings to reveal a breathtakingly pert pair of b-cup tits, lightly tanned as the rest of her with nipples already stiffening and smeared in soup.

"would you be a dear and help me with this?" Through such a sultry smile, how could I resist? Luckily I had a clean napkin over my arm and I made certain I did a thorough job of things, lovingly, gently, slowly as I could. Damn! What I really needed right now was to go and find a quiet corner and take care of myself, but I still had work to do.

Mr and Mrs Sherman were still looking happy on the other table as I cleared their soup, poured their next wine and served their fish course. Mrs Sherman was looking flushed at this point, and I don't think it was from the wine.

The fish course was incident free, and I cleared the table again ready for the main dish, my favourite of the chef on duty, a superb loin of venison, served beautifully pink, with a chocolate-chilli and redcurrant sauce. Anyhow, everything was served, the wine was Chateau Musar, the premier Lebanese wine and a perfect match. About 5 minutes after serving, I went back to check that everything was OK.

"I've dropped my fork under the table, would you mind helping me out?" asked Red

As a dutiful waiter, of course I did, but I was not expecting what happened next. As I went down onto one knee and lifted the tablecloth to find the errant fork, Red moved her napkin aside and spread her legs wide, giving me a full-frontal view of her bikini-clad pussy. Then she slid both hands down to her sides and tugged on the strings at the sides, letting the front of the bikini bottoms fall away and expose herself fully to me. What a vision was set before me, completely shaven, delicate pink inner folds peeking out between plump outer labia. I watched, transfixed as she mover her right hand downwards and stroked herself from bottom to top, spreading her outer lips to reveal herself in her glistening wet glory, and then stop.

What else could I do, but pick up the fork "Let me get you another one miss, this one's dirty."

"She is, isn't she," quipped black suggestively "and you know, she thinks I'm even worse."

A new fork was duly found, and there were no further "incidents" at that table, but wearing just a loin cloth made it fairly difficult to hide the raging boner I was sure I'd have for the rest of my life, and which was taken advantage of by Mrs Sherman, who just reached out and grabbed it while I poured her a glass of wine. Oh, what smooth, cool hands she had, wrapping around my pulsing dick like a cool velvet glove as Mr Sherman looked on.

"I really hope you get an offer from them tonight," she said, looking across at the other table, with Red sitting topless, and Black just lurking suggestively as she could, almost ominously, predatory. "but if not, we're in cabin 310, and we've love the company of this." as she slowly stroked me up and down. My head was swimming, my dick was aching it was so hard. Just dessert to get through, then it sounded like I had an energetic night ahead of me, whichever way it went.

Dessert was served, one of my favourites, a rich crème brulee with a homemade vanilla ice-cream and sharp redcurrant coulis, rich but light, the perfect ending to the evening. Anyhow, as I'd been doing all evening, server Red and Black, serve Mr and Mrs Sherman and then go back and check on Red and Black etc.

"Could you help me?" she said, "I'm afraid I've had an accident and made a real mess on my lap with this, I need cleaning up." as she pointed down to her lap, her hand hovering near the most erect nipples I've ever seen on tits so small.

"I'm sure I can help." I reply, in a daze as I kneel down again to be presented with those spread legs and that beautiful glistening pussy, this time smeared with a good helping of crème brulee and melting ice cream.