Isle Of Lays Ch 06

A/N

I know it took a while to get this chapter out and you have my apologies, but life does happen and a writer does get busy with other things.

Do enjoy this late installment to my story and I do hope you find it to your liking.

*

Soft dawnlight shimmered just past the drawn drapes covering the wall of windows to one side of Charlaine's bed and the scent of bacon and French Toast wafted to her nostrils just as she felt the bed sink under the weight of a hefty, warm and very naked man behind her.

She'd gotten home from the Wet Pussycat club exhausted and soaked in sweat and come and been greeted at the door by a smiling and bare-assed Jamaica, who licked her pussy and ass clean right in the foyer before using warm, wet (and velvety plush) hand-towels to finish the job.

The things that woman could do with wet, warm hand-towels is mind-blowing, Charlaine recalled with a sleepy smile that morphed into a pink "oh" of pleasure as someone slid under the duvet to continue where Jamaica had left off.

Her vocalizations rose in pitch as a tongue flicked a hot, wet curve along her right ear and strong teeth nipped her earlobe, teasing her fully awake and causing her to open her eyes in delighted surprise.

My goodness, I will have a sore pussy when I'm done here,

was Charlaine's next thought.

But who the fuck cares? That kind of sore is good in my book.

Charlaine began bucking against the long tongue invading her pussy, drawing out her womanly wetness and flicking the hard little button of her clit with a divine little syncopation.

A pair of large hands held her thighs apart while a hard cock nestled in the crease between the globes of her ass and gently rubbed warm pre-come on the skin of her back.

"Good morning, Laine." Matthew's husky voice triggered a wave of lust that flowed inexorably to body parts south of her neck as he speared her ear with his tongue. "It is almost time for breakfast, though I think Miguel is getting a jump start on that."

Matthew took hold of her right leg and slid it back, hooking it over his hip just as Miguel brought his thick, long fingers into play by plunging the digits into her pussy and twisting them so Charlaine could not contain her groans.

Charlaine's hands went straight to Miguel's thick head of hair and she hung on for dear life, her hips bucking her clit into his hot, sucking mouth.

"No coming yet, sweetness," Matthew's gravelly voice held her off the precipice she was just about ready to take off from. His hands wrapped around her breasts, squeezing lightly, his fingers drawing lightning spirals to the nipples that ached for a good roll-and-pinch. "You will come with two cocks in you. Mine and Miguel's."

She jolted forward as she became aware of something big and tapered vibrating deep in her ass.

A butt plug? But how...

"You were so deeply asleep it wasn't hard to insert the butt plug into your sweet little asshole," Matthew said into Charlaine's ear. "I even got to lick that pretty pink hole and hear you groaning into your pillow, Laine. That was so sexy. You had me hard in record time."

Matthew pinched her nipples hard, stopping another orgasm, one his words had been pushing to her clit and G-spot so insistently Charlaine felt like she was about to lose her mind most pleasurably.

Someone, likely Miguel, as Matthew's hands were still pulling at her breasts, began fucking her ass with the vibrating butt plug, establishing a rhythm in counterpoint to the tongue licking the length of her slit up and down. Something vibrated against her clitoris, too, one of the butterfly vibes that she'd last seen in the bathroom cabinet above the commode.

"Please, please, I need this. I need to come," Charlaine's voice was husky with sleep and wracked by the torture of orgasm denial. "Please, fuck me."

"Not yet, baby," Matthew said, making light bites along her neck and shoulder. "Hold it in a bit more and, I promise, you will be very, very well rewarded."

With a hard suck on her clit that left Charlaine shuddering and clutching the pillow under her head, Miguel slipped up her front and greeted her good morning with a carnal kiss that mimicked exactly what he'd been doing to her pussy just seconds ago.

Miguel's lips were slick and shiny with her arousal and she tasted herself as he plundered her soft lips and licked past them, and her open teeth to meet the hunger of her greedy tongue.

Matthew bit the soft spot between her shoulder and neck lightly again and chuckled as he slowly pulled the vibe out of her ass and reached for a squirt bottle of lubricant from the space between Charlaine's head and the padded headboard.

As the butt plug was withdrawn, Miguel's cock began its slow entry of her pussy and Charlaine released a groan into her butler's sensuous slew of kisses. She felt the squirt tube of lube enter the ring of her asshole and a quick, cool gush coating her rear tunnel made her gasp softly in anticipation of what was to come.

A large, slippery cockhead knocked at her rear entry and Charlaine bucked her hips back to welcome it as Jamaica threw the drapes of the loft wide open to allow the morning sun into the room.

"I see you started without me, boys, tsk," Charlaine heard Jamaica cluck in censure as she pulled the duvet slowly off the three people writhing naked on the massive red bed. "I'm going to have to play catch up now," the chambermaid said as she fingered herself, squeezing her engorged clitoris and pulling at it.

Charlaine swallowed Miguel's groan and groaned, too, when she felt Jamaica's tongue on that sensitive strip of flesh between her pussy and asshole.

The woman is licking all three of us together. The thought hit Charlaine hard, making her even wetter.

Charlaine heard Matthew chew out a very strained "fuck, woman, that's so hot. Yes, rim my asshole with your tongue. Just like that, baby. Oh, fuck me." The thick arousal in Matthew's voice made her gush even more.

The heavy treads of another set of feet clibing the loft's carpeted stairs signaled the arrival of Pietro, naked chef, just as Jamaica began slowly fucking both Miguel and Matthew with saliva-slick fingers, making both men shove their cocks into Charlaine hard and deep.

"That's fucking nasty, Jam, licking and finger-fucking my ass like that," Miguel said, tearing his mouth away from Charlaine's to hiss and curse in his native tongue.

"Hindot, putangina, sige pa!"

That said, Miguel pulled Charlaine's right leg from Matthew's hip, hooked it over his left arm. He began pounding his massive cock into her weeping, lust-swollen pussy like a jackhammer breaking cement.

"Good, motherfucking God," was Matthew's lusty bellow as he began hammering his cock into Charlaine's ass with a fervor that matched Miguel's. "Jam's got two fingers in my ass and on my prostate and she's fucking me so hard! Yeah, baby, keep finger-fucking my ass you nasty bitch!"

Charlaine could see the barest reflection of them in the bed from the window she was facing. The scene, superimposed against a serenely blue sea lapping at fine, pink sand and swaying coconut palms, would warm her on the coldest nights for a very long time to come.

Jamaica was naked and bent over the bed, her heart-shaped ass sticking up in the air just inviting an oral, penile or manual invasion. The chambermaid's head was lowered to where Charlaine was joined to her butler and personal trainer. Jamaica's generous coffee and cream breasts were pushed against the fuck-me red Egyptian cotton covering the bed and she was making loud slurping sounds to syncopate her bedmates' groans and expletives.

Pietro got to his knees just behind the sexy

mulatta,

licking his lips as he jumped into the wake-up session and pushed himself into Jamaica's glistening pussy all the way to the hilt and reached forward to cup the chambermaid's plump breasts.

"Nipple clamps? Oh, you naughty little

puttana,

" Pietro murmured as he rubbed his big palms over the body jewelry to Jamaica's pleased little mewls. "You think of everything. Well, then, my hands are free for other delicious pleasures, my caramel kitty."

Despite the very heavy simulation Pietro was giving her, Jamaica did not pause in her oral or manual ministrations upon the increasingly frantic threesome on the bed. Rather, she moaned, groaned and hissed loud and long, the vibrations from her lips and tongue making the butler, quality-control specialist and personal trainer she was feasting on shudder, scream and cuss even harder.

"Ah, yes, your pussy is so tight, Jamaica," Pietro bit out, pushing the woman's legs further apart and spitting on her puckered brown anus before plunging two fingers right in as he fucked her pussy hard and fast. "You like this?" The chef brought his other hand into play, pinching and pulling at Jamaica's prominent, hard clitoris, making the chambermaid utter cusswords in almost incoherent French.

"All together now," Matthew cried out through gritted teeth. "We all come NOW."

A chorus of gorans, wails and screams bounced about the walls and windows, off the ceiling and floor and, quite possibly, out into the gardens and straight to the waves of the shore as all five hot and bothered bodies in the loft of the Villa Erotique orgasmed together, sharing a moment in time that would see no duplication, ever.

Chalk up one for unique sexperiences.

Charlaine wondered if she'd even be able to get out of bed this morning. Or if she wanted to.

The Isle of Lays may be part of an archipelago that sits on the world's Typhoon Belt and right atop of the Pacific Ring of Fire, but gale-force storms and volcanic eruptions on the scale of Mt. Pinatubo's big show had nothing on the fiery, earth-shattering, deafening intensity of the simultaneous set of orgasms that had just greeted the most gorgeous sunrise ever.

Gods above, what a wake-up call that was, Charlaine thought to herself when her brain finally cleared away its post-multiorgasmic haze. I'd have to give that a perfect rating. She smiled and stretched contentedly between the heaving chests of Matthew and Miguel as Jamaica and Pietro lay intertwined atop the foot of the bed, bent at the waist and gasping.

+++

The breakfast that greeted Charlaine was truly a feast for the senses. Rashers of perfectly crisp bacon were complemented by French toast that was crisp on the outside and perfectly creamy inside, topped with sweet whipped cream, with plump strawberries and, on the side, a steaming bowl of champorado -- a Filipino chocolate and sticky rice porridge topped with flakes of smoked round scad -- one of her favorite breakfast dishes, ever.

Charlaine held her chin cupped in her left hand as her left hovered above the handle of her mug of perfectly brewed Kona coffee. She was gazing at Pietro's magnificently muscled gluteus maximus and thighs while he puttered about in the kitchen, gathering ingredients for osso bucco.

"You have not tasted truly good Italian cooking until you have tasted my osso buco," Pietro was telling her as he bent over to pop the marinated bone-in beef shanks into the oven. "And only an Italian raised by an Italian mama knows the perfect way to prepare osso bucco." His butt flexed as he straightened up and Charlaine's smile turned into a silly grin.

"So, Pietro, what is your favorite leisure activity here at the Odalisque?" Charlaine decided it would be best to ask her villa staff for recommendations, adding a non-sexual human element to her quality control evaluation as she tapped into the laptop beside the breakfast plate she'd cleared of food in record time.

Talk about Michelin-class chef. Rawr. He's just as delish as the food -- and that's plenty delish.

"Well, I'm a very physical man," Pietro began slicing onions, peeling and mincing garlic and chopping tomatoes as he spoke. "I like nature. Particularly the forest trails and the hidden waterfall. So I'd suggest that you try both. The forest trail is also where you can see a version of this country's

ulog,

the tradition of husband-selection by actual trial in a hut -- without the need to marry, of course," he said with a broad, friendly grin that showed off his perfect, white teeth and dimples she hadn't seen until that smile.

"Seriously, they took the Ifugao custom of

ulog

and turned it into a trail feature?" Charlaine shook her head.

I'm just going to have to see how this works out, then.

Miguel walked into the kitchen, impeccably dressed in his butler uniform and smiled at Charlaine and Pietro. "Oh, yes, they did," he said, grinning. Obviously he'd overheard her conversation with the chef. "You can even dress the part of Ifugao maiden -- if you call walking about in just a wraparound native skirt and bare up top dressed. There are three divergent trails you can take: One on the right-hand side for the people who are exclusively heterosexual, one on the left-hand side for the exclusively homosexual and the middle path where anything goes."

The

ulog,

Charlaine recalled from her anthropology classes at the state university, was how Ifugao women of child-bearing age selected their husbands. Their parents would build them a hut on stilts of bamboo or wood with thatched roofing, slatted wood or bamboo floors, large, open picture windows and a single door opening up onto a shallow set of steps. The maiden would lay on a woven sleeping mat inside the hut and her suitors would enter, one after the other, to see if they were sexually compatible. If the suitor was a good partner by the maiden's measure, he would stay the night and they would emerge from the hut a married couple. If he wasn't, she sent him out and saw the next one.

"Our ancestors had a good way of ensuring that marriages would be both satisfying and lasting," Miguel said by way of conversation with Charlaine as he cleared the dining table and began loading the dishwasher. "They knew good sex played a very vital part in any marriage."

"Yes," Charlaine answered readily. "There was no guilt in having pleasure as well as duty in those days." Her smile lit up the room and caught an aswering grin from both butler and chef.

"Ah, but there is a lot to be said for good, old-fashioned religion-inspired guilt," Pietro shot back. "When something like sex and the immense pleasure it brings is seen as filthy and sinful, the pleasure is increased by the size of your guilt, no? You are both presumably Catholic by upbringing, you know I speak the truth."

"Well, yes, guilty pleasure would not be as good without the guilt factor," Charlaine answered and laughed before adding: "There is just something very exciting about thinking you will burn in Hell for the things you're doing that would curl the hair on your parish priest's chest and make him walk awkwardly with a blaphemous hard-on after you confess all to him."

"So, blasphemy in the confessional, sacrilege and priests with a hard-on turn you on," Miguel noted with a cocked eyebrow as he ran the dishwasher and cleaned up the countertops. "You should check out the Forbidden Place, then."

"Forbidden Place?" Charlaine's interest was now well and truly focused on the young mestizo butler's smoothly handsome face.

"It's near the other pier," he said casually, smiling as his eyes roamed over Charlaine's surprised face. "The one where the cruise liners with contracts to dock at the Isle of Lays are moored and day-trippers come off the boat for a little naughty adventure. The compound there has a quaint old church and graveyard that the Odalisque Resort management had restored. The church has confessionals and a few, ahem, priests and nuns, as well as a small parochial school building with schoolmistresses, schoolmasters, even a headmaster and schoolgirls and schoolboys. All of them age of consent or above, of course."

Wow, choices, choices. Charlaine's eyes widened and she shook her head slowly. "So, my choices include blasphemy and sacrilege, huh? Wow."

Perhaps it was time to explore her long-disused Catholic guilt, then.

+++

Charlaine hadn't worn a parochial school outfit in over a decade and this one was definitely not the kind of outfit her school's Mother Superior would have approved of.

The blouse was frilled and ruffled as most parochial school outfits were, with the exception that the white linen clung to her curves and was so tight the seams strained and her breasts popped up in their white lace demi-bra through the vee left by an open buttonhole.

A navy-blue jumper-skirt cinched her waist tightly and the hem barely covered her high and rounded hind end, leaving her bare nether-regions amply aired. The one of the shoulder straps on the jumper kept dropping off her shoulder, as if beckoning someone to defile this luscious little school-girl with her dark brown curls tamed into a reverse French braid falling in a straight queue down her back and pointing the way to her dark, forbidden heaven below.

White ankle socks and low-heeled black Mary Janes completed the outfit Jamaica had assembled for Charlaine and Miguel entered the walk-in wardrobe to add his finishing touch to her outfit.

"My, don't we look demure," he growled out wolfishly. "But we can't have you go to parochial school and confession bare down there." He put a leather harness onto the vanity table, along with several vibrators of varying sizes, with their remote controls, and set the items alongside the harness and grinned at Charlaine. "Here, I brought a little something to keep you from getting too bored with school. Pick your wild."

Grinning, Jamaica adjusted Charlaine's blouse, tweaking her nipples sharply in the process. "There you go, honey-chile, beautiful. If I were you, I'd pick the one with a prong up front for your clit and a slim, tapered one for your ass. The priest on duty today has a monster of a cock." The chambermaid glossed her lips with a naughty, horny tongue after saying her piece.

Intrigued about the coming adventure, Charlaine selected the vibrators she wanted and handed them to Miguel. "These should do me just fine."

The butler nodded, smiled and attached the dildos to the harness and lubed the tapered one Charlaine had picked before turning to the chambermaid. "Jam, perhaps you could prepare our lovely Laine's pretty pussy and ass for these toys?"

Miguel then turned to Charlaine, his eyes full of sensual command and said, "kneel with knees apart, missy, and bend over the vanity stool. Raise that gorgeous ass up high so Jamaica's tongue and fingers can reach both your holes easily."

A gush of wetness flooded Charlaine's pussy, spreading to the inside of her labia and glossing her slit as she complied wordlessly. She was turned on already and hadn't been touched yet. Their mind-fuck technique is very, very good, her inner slut said in approval.

Then she felt a soft, wet fluttering at her wet nether lips, a fluttering that strengthened into firm licks and a steady, flicking rhythm at her clitoris as she moaned softly, her nipples hardening atop breasts that were swelling from arousal as they hung over the other edge of the padded vanity stool.

Slim, slick fingers pressed their way slowly into Charlaine's hot cunt, curling over her G-spot, fucking her slowly and deeply while the tongue that had flicked her clit and slit began licking and poking its tip against her perineum and into her roseate pucker. Her parted legs shook and she put a hand to her mouth, sucking on two fingers while Jamaica tongue-fucked her ass and kept pumping three fingers into her dripping beaver.

"Your personal trainer told me to let you have some free time," Miguel said. "So you may come at will, Laine." He got to his knees before her and opened his fly. "You may also suck on me, if you wish, he said bringing out his erect cock and frigging himself right in front of her face.