Gemmas Playthings

I was a witness, and I swear to god, I saw it happen! We'd been heading south to Brisbane, the three of us, and had been driving in shifts for about a day and a half, with nothing but each other, the dust and the open road with which to amuse ourselves. We were listless, counting down the road signs to civilization: one hundred and fifty miles...sixty...thirty five miles...twenty. Ten. The name of the place escapes me, but it was one of those weird old aborigine-sounding places in the middle of nowhere, which after so much time on the road was a welcome rest. A beer, some shade and perhaps a bed for the night would do us all some good, and a break from one another's company would be welcome.

Vicky had been giving me the ice treatment ever since we'd agreed to meet up with an old college buddy, Gemma, because she was flirting outrageously, bringing memories of old fumblings bubbling up, and when that girl teases I'd challenge any red-blooded man not to melt. I'm only human and that husky, seductive voice worked wonders on me. Gemma, with the face of an angel, body of a model and her thick, luscious, throaty tones...you get the idea. Curly, dark brown hair smelling of roses and jasmine, pert, teenage breasts and long legs gracing her tall frame: it was a bad idea to meet up with her in the first place, and even though teaming up had been Vicky's idea, she resented my lack of composure. For the sake of us, it would be good to spend some couple time mending fences and fucking till morning.

Grimy, not unkind faces turned with interest to the girls when we entered the bar. The locals were the same kind of simple, browbeaten yokels that characterised the Australian farmer: the hoi poloi whose uniform 'leather and checked shirt' chic were miles away from ours. Imagine what must have been going through every mind as the three of us walked in – well, two of us, at least: as the male appendage I received no attention at all. Gemma, by contrast, always loved the effect she had on men, and the ham fisted attempts they made to charm her. She practically skipped to the bar, and in her deep and silken voice asked for three beers. Vicky found a table while I asked the barman where the nearest room for the night was.

"Yew're real lucky there, mate: she's an inn as well's a pub!" said the barman, cheerfully. Without a word on price or details, he handed me a key, a wooden slate as large as a plate hanging from the ring marked 'spare room'. I thanked him, and made some chit chat before returning to the table.

Christ, they'd already sparked up some company, I thought. I'm a very social person, and wouldn't normally have minded were it not the fact that I was completely surplus to the group of men's intentions. Vicky introduced me to the two guys that had wandered over with full pitchers of beer, as warm a welcome as Aussies can give you. Bill and Charlie were local ranch hands, in their twenties, features beaten into similarity by a life's work in the blazing sun so as to make it impossible to know without asking. They both wore the same workmen's clothing, carried themselves in the same nonchalant manner and...

But I'm of course getting carried away. They were 'good blokes', especially after finding out that Vicky, 'The Blonde' as Bill referred to her in an aside' was with me, and that an unspoken 'thou shalt not touch' rule was agreed upon. This didn't seem to bother them, and clearly Gemma had been the focus of their attention from the start: laughing, flirting, touching the boys at every opportunity, she really hammed it up.

A touch on my upper thigh made me look down, to find Vicky's hand sliding up my bare leg to where she knew my cock would be. Perhaps she wasn't so angry after all, I thought, four beers fuzzily: perhaps she wants to kiss and make up. She leaned closer, and whispered something I won't repeat in my ear, her deft tongue darting out to make the briefest of licks that instantly had me stiff. Without a further word, she made her excuses and headed for the toilet. We'd played this game through many a time before, and I'd wait a moment to meet her around the back of the bar for a quick shag. I sorely needed it.

Christ, did Gemma, too. Bill was gaining the upper hand, while the locals at the other tables pretended not to drink in her incredible beauty. He was the more charming, and would be ending up lucky tonight: perhaps her casual flirting would ease up in the morning, and Vicky would ease up on me. I mumbled something about checking the van, and headed for the door. No sooner had I left than my girlfriend pounced, slamming me against the wall and arching her long, naked leg against my side as she assaulted my lips with her own. She moaned and pressed her crotch against the bulge in my jeans: I grabbed her pert little bum in my hands and pulled her up to support her weight. Two gorgeous legs wrapped around me, our passionate French kissing never ceasing even as she ground her sex against me and undulated against my hard-on, sexy moans emerging from her throat. I slid a hand under her shirt and squeezed her breasts in turn, hard, to make her purr all the more. Finally she broke our kiss to whisper in my ear: "Fuck me. Do me right here."

For exactly a microsecond I wondered whether doing it in plain sight, where anyone entering or leaving could see me, and doubtless the people inside could hear me, before she slid a hand between our bodies to massage my raging shaft to persuade me otherwise. A true gentleman, I obliged.

I turned and pinned her against the wall, where my hips could hold her and my hands could be free. Tearing at her shirt, I yanked it over her blonde curls and kissed her further, winding my fingers between those sweet locks to turn her on even further before I slid my hands down her back to where her skirt flapped in the evening breeze. I caressed her shapely legs, reached down to her soaking panties, nudging them to one side with my fingertips to expose her sex. She shivered as I slipped myself to the knuckle, straight inside her without tenderness. Like an animal, in the thralls of lust I fucked her with my fingers, lapping at her soft, pink lips.

"Do me," she groaned, a look of frustration and arousal on her face as I gazed straight into her bright blue eyes. But I would not be so easily overcome. Instead my other hand found her clit, engorged between her sopping pussy lips, the scent of her wetness driving me insane with lust. And yet I teased her further as she moaned and begged for me to slip inside her. "Please...I'm ready, give it to me, baby," she sighed, rocking her hips even more to let me know how badly she wanted it. Her hands roamed my body, feeling the muscles on my back and arms, squeezing here and rubbing there. Finally her frustration at my ministrations wore her out, and she grabbed a lockful of my hair, gave me a deep, sluttish kiss and growled: "I'm gonna come if you don't stop, and fuck me now." God bless that girl; she was an angel with a dirty mouth.

I took the hint, and yanked down my fly to tug my painfully thick cock out in an instant, pressed it against her lower lips and with a forceful thrust was inside her almost to the hilt. She let out a great wail of pain and ecstasy, her hands at the back of my neck and in my hair, urging me deeper inside that tight, wet, tunnel of hers. I withdrew to the point of coming out, and thrust again, harder and deeper this time and eliciting a throaty gasp of pleasure. No more moaning from her now; with each slow retreat and shoving fuck back into her she merely gasped, in pleasure and subdued lust. Quickening my pace she added a yelp – was it pain? – to each groaning sigh, pleasuring me with tight clenches at every thrust. I let out a moan, egging her on as I began to fuck her properly, rocking into her like a beast while she fucked back against me, still pinned against the wall.

Harder and harder, she rode me with skill, first kissing my neck, now licking my lips, now whispering obscenities in encouragement. "Don't stop, baby, give it to me harder...that's it, baby, make me come...give me that spunk of yours...I want it bad, baby, don't make me beg..." she intoned between gasps. Soon I could hold back no longer, and the pace quickened to irregular thrusts and the short strokes. She was close too, her teeth gritted and screwed up. "I'm gonna come," she gasped, and no sooner was this said than she convulsed with the first wave of orgasm, suddenly throwing herself forward and grabbing me around my neck and shoulders violently. Her thighs squeezed my hips, her legs locked around my waist as she came shuddering.

Gasping breaths came without rhythm as she reached the first of her climax, her tight pussy gripping my shaft like a fist. I paused for a second, no more, before I returned to the pace, a little too early even for her: "No, no, noo," she protested, her first orgasm not yet subsided as I thrust even harder into her unrecovered body. This had the desired affect, and within a few seconds she was once more coming hard around my cock: "oh god, oh god" she pleaded as she climaxed again. I let her relax a little longer now, kissing deeply as she snorted for air through flared nostrils. One final push, I thought, and continued my assault, this time allowing myself to reach my own climax without thought for her comfort, fucking harder and deeper than ever into her quivering flesh. She moaned in real pain now, but did not chastise me, and finally, I pulsed a long overdue ejaculation deep inside of her, groaning like a rutting creature as I came with each thrust.

I stood there, motionless for what seemed like an eternity as my blonde angel held me close, the sound of her breath in my ear filling the world, my shaft still encased by her soft flesh. Slowly, we recovered together, and kissed each other, and said the things that only lovers should hear. She slid off me, and bent over, brazenly exposing her still bare pussy to me: a thin trickle of semen slid from her hole and wet her already sopping labia; I reached out and felt the heat radiating from her backside with a friendly pat. She jerked upright with her T-shirt in her hands, and gave me a sated, exhausted smile. "I needed that," she said simply, before slipping the shirt over her head and covering herself with her white panties once more. I zipped up while she readjusted her skirt, and took her hand as she led me back to the bar. For all of our coded dialogue and discretions to meet for these quick ones outside, we neither of us cared by the time we returned, walking back arm in arm to sly comments that always washed over us. Unashamed, proud and dripping with sweat, we re-entered the bar, to raised eyebrows, a wink or two and a few smiles and raised glasses. We smiled back brightly, and headed to our table.

Empty or half drained glasses met us, however, and of where Gemma and our new found friends were, there was no sign. Vicky looked inquisitively at my for a moment, before her face screwed up in disgust. I looked blank before putting two and two together, and wondered which one she'd deemed worthy of planting his flag that evening.

I asked at the bar if there was another room to let; the barman shook his head no, but gone was the cheerfulness of earlier that evening. Indeed, now more disapproving looks and furtive whispers met us, and the entire bar had developed a more disparaging air. Feeling uncomfortable, Vicky said we should drink up, head to our room and tell Gemma to go a get fucked outside; we needed some sleep, and, our passions sated, a bed was welcome. I thought this highly rude, but in our relationship it is usually her who tires first, leaving me to idly fondle her body before myself drifting off. Such is life.

Up creaky stairs to the rickety first floor we went, the unusual layout of the room being such that the surprisingly large guest room in which we were to stay let out onto a mezzanine (no doubt the work of shoddy construction over aesthetic architecture) as well as the landing, from which the unseen observer could, should the door be opened, have a view of the bed within. This explained the barman's cheeriness earlier on, I mused, him probably thinking he could creep to catch an eyeful of a threesome during the small hours, and given the horrible state of Australian television, this was somewhat understandably entertainment of the highest order. Obviously this inn was no stranger to foreign backpackers sinfully cavorting, but why the disapproval now?

Vicky tensed and grabbed my arm as we were about to enter, and wordlessly motioned to the door before I could ask why. Silent, we heard the unmistakeable sounds of sex from within. "I'll go tell her," I whispered, not knowing why she remained quiet, but she shook her head no, and with a mischievous glint in her eye, in the darkness discernable only in the moonlight, she pushed the door stealthily ajar, and gasped in amazement.

The room was dark except for a well of light from an overhanging source, again probably the barman's work to ensure his privacy. The bright circle cast all else into shadow except the bed, upon which, still fully clothed but very obviously not for long, lay Gemma, her long, white legs parted by men's hands, each one caressing her soft and gentle thighs. From where Vicky and I stood we could see every detail as Bill and Charlie stroked her aroused flesh and teased her still covered pussy. Her top was unbuttoned, and her plump breasts exposed, with Charlie's lips working easily on her nipple from where he lay at her right, while Bill kissed her passionately, urgently, while she moaned, loud and throatily in stark comparison to my love's gentle sighs. Both men were undressed to their under shorts, and the scent of sex could be discerned even from where we stood. To complete the tableau, Gemma's hands were stroking through Charlie's hair to the right, and merely stroking Bill to her left.

Vicky could not tear her eyes from the scene, but stood hypnotised, her breathing shallow as she became obviously aroused by the scene unfolding before us. "Where's that other cunt?" asked Charlie all of a sudden, "the blonde sheila?" Gemma pulled her lips from Bill's and sternly warned him:

"She's out fucking her boyfriend in the van, and watch your tongue." Even chastising her lover sounded like an invitation to buggery coming from that voice that so personified sex. Charlie blushed, which drew a smile from the centre of the mens' attentions, who pulled his head up to her face, and switched to kissing him instead. Bill took to unbuttoning her shirt further, and began to kiss down her flat abdomen to the low cut of her hot pants. He unbuttoned her fly, and kissed her belly just above the front of her thong – she wore this even in a country where all one can do is sweat – and, brushing Charlie's eager hand from her thigh, began to tug at her shorts. Gemma moaned loudly – whether from Charlie's kissing or from her assenting to being undressed, I do not know – and bucked her hips up, allowing Bill to yank her shorts off in one go. The discarded material was hurled into a darkened corner of the room while Bill slinked up her long, shapely legs to her thinly veiled snatch. He hooked a finger under the thin cloth, nudging it to one side as I had done not fifteen minutes earlier, pressing a thumb expertly against her clit with one hand and deftly spreading her lips with the other. She moaned even louder into Charlie's mouth, who broke off his kissing to free his stiff cock. Gemma tousled Bill's hair while he went down on her, his tongue darting and lapping with finesse at her hidden delights. Then, she removed her top completely, and lay there naked except for her tiny red thong, held to one side by her second lover.

My cock was of course every bit as stiff as Charlie's, but I was taken aback when I felt Vicky's hand slide down to squeeze me. I turned to her for a kiss, but she smiled wryly and nodded back to the scene, saying simply "just watch." I obeyed, the experience thrilling me deeper as my girl rubbed the length of my penis through khaki and cotton.

Charlie had now brought his hips up to Gemma's face, who had now taken its impressive length in her right hand, stroking it with both hands and commenting on its size and girth. She wore an expression of shocked innocence, which I knew was merely her technique; the perfect compliment to her angelic voice, a pantomime of theatrical youth that would urge on anyone. "It's huge," she purred in wonderment, stroking his foreskin back to expose a genuinely intimidating cock head. Gingerly, and with a look of feigned, nubile worry, she parted her lips and tentatively licked the tip. Charlie moaned with pleasure as she licked slowly, only the very tip, before planting a delicate and sweet kiss on the bulbous head.

Bill looked up to notice this, and returned to his works with renewed vigour. Now her breaths came in shallow gasps, as she began to wrap her lips around the monster cock at her mouth. For all her feigned virginity she really couldn't take the whole load at once, and her jaw stretched impossibly as she sucked upon his tool. For my part Vicky had reached inside my trousers and was openly jacking me off, knowing full well that no-one inside the room would know or care.

Gemma's moans took on a more guttural quality, now, her deep voice grunting as Charlie began to rock his hips, or as Bill worked his magic particularly well. Without another word, he was on his knees, holding Gemma by the hips and lifting her arse, legs splayed on either side of the man's arms before entering her with a groan of pure delight. Now we were frustrated, as his muscular frame blocked out view of the action, but not for long; Charlie was now aiming his penis into her throat at an uncomfortable angle, which Gemma objected to with a gesture. Bill repositioned himself so that Gemma was on her hands and knees, her mouth sucking almost all of one tool and her pussy taking another. She was taking a spit-roasting with style; though her hips were held aloft by one man, who fucked her hard and with a regular rhythm, she still bucked and rode him every bit as much as he did her, while her hands caressed the lucky Charlie's balls as she sucked him deeper and deeper. Saliva dripped from one man's shaft, while her own quim wet the other; and all the while as she was taken at both ends, she egged them on with urgent groans of ecstasy.

It began when Charlie, surprisingly, could hold out no more, and cried aloud that he was going to come. Unfazed, Gemma merely took a deep breath, sucked her cheeks in even further and took his whole length down her throat. Vicky snapped her head around to see the action, and gasped as all eight and half inches of the man's meat disappeared into her. Charlie groaned as she sucked the load from his cock, his hips thrusting into her with each ejaculation. I was disappointed, expecting – or wanting -her to take his come on her perfect breasts, but when at last he was finished, we were all startled from a voice by the other entrance to the room.

"Looks like you've found a beaut there, fellas," said a third man, happily. Gemma looked up in shock to see him standing there, still clothed, framed by the light from the corridor. "Sorry, darlin', but I had to come see," he said apologetically, but made no further entrance into the room. Charlie had collapsed onto his haunches as he recovered, but Bill did not even pause to catch his breath. Alone in taking this sweet young thing, he began to thrust hard and deep; Gemma, her mouth smeared with fluids, began to gasp and moan with each long spearing. The man stayed at the periphery, greedily eyeing the scene on the bed; Gemma looked over her shoulder and gave the bloke a slutty wink, before a shuddering orgasm overcame her and she collapsed face first onto the bed, arse in the air and taking a shafting. This was all the encouragement Bill could take and he too began to grunt, his strokes now short and erratic. With a great wail he pulled out his shaft, and long spurts of come leapt from his wet cock, spraying her arse, back and thighs. One man to another, I was impressed.