The Red Sports Car Ch 03

Not quite satisfied with my rest, I'm awoken by the chug-chug of Kira's motorbike as she slowed on the road to come through the gates and into the driveway. Before I am properly conscious and able to collate everything, my nose picks up the sweet smell of honey overlaid with apples and pears... Matsui! Oh fuck! My eyes flip open faster than the shutters shoot up during a bank raid; she's still asleep, her beautiful form only minutely covered by the corner of the top sheet.

Her body at rest is even more beautiful; here on the bright blue sheets her skin tone looks only barely Asiatic, her short spiky shock of blonde hair even more contrasting. But I haven't time to gawp, and wistfully slide away from her, turning smoothly; in three silent moves I'm quietly closing the bedroom door and pulling the belt around the white satin house coat that had been hanging from the hook on the back of the door.

I'm filling the coffee machine as Kira's bike coughs to a halt outside the back door. She's already shouting as she enters the house.

"Mum! Are you home? Who's...?"

For a second she's quiet as she comes to the realization that I am three feet rather than half a state away, then fifty decibels quieter she continues - at speed, "Is that car… did you get lucky? You did, didn't you? Mum! You old dog you.... what's he like? He must have been pretty horny 'cuz you both forgot to shut the doors on the car..."

The questions are coming too quickly to answer, so I don't even try; she continues at the speed of youth as she walks past me to the fridge.

"Is he up? If he's not, I probably won't get a chance to gawp because I have to be at the Searle's in ten minutes to finish the garden so that it's perfect for Cassie's wedding shower... I'm taking this big pot of yogurt for breakfast... what's his name? What a snazzy looking car... do you think he'll let me drive it?" she pauses to breathe, "Will he still be here this afternoon? Oh no... it doesn't matter, I'm busy this afternoon... sorry Mum, I can't stop to chat... if I'm going to stay with Natasha tonight I'll call and let you know..."

She only stops long enough to plant a quick peck on my cheek before she's back out of the door.

"See you later... have a nice day... he smells quite nice on you... you dirty young trollop you!"

She is laughing as she closes the door and is gone. The bell on the coffee machine rings and I drop a couple of cubes of sugar into my mug before placing it under the nozzle. It's Blue Mountain and the sweet, almost chocolate taste brings a warm smile to my lips as it does its wake-up job. I walk outside to close the doors on Matsui's car - my daughter was right, we had been too crazy with lust to even push them shut when we'd returned from our meal last night.

The car is so low slung that I have to stoop to run my hands over the length of its' red body. It's warm in the morning sun, but it's not the sun that's causing the seepage from my pussy. It's not even that it's hers... at least not completely because it's hers. I notice that I'd left the keys in it when we'd got back and reach in to remove them from the centre console. The smells of her combined with the car produce a lustful shiver and I close my eyes to revel in the memories. I walk around its curved rear end, with its understated spoiler, to close the passenger door.

Close up, everything about it looks so deliberately designed, so exactly right, so at one with all of the other bits of it. Maybe that's why it makes me feel as differently about it as I do; I love my Mercedes, sleek and quiet, comfortable and easy to drive... but I've never felt lust towards it - and there is no doubt about it, none at all - I definitely lust after Matsui's car. I don't even understand what exactly it is that I want to do with it... but it makes me gush.

Back in the kitchen, I am adding sugar to my second cup while waiting for the toaster to finish when she makes me jump. Her arms reach round me, hands cupping the upward slope of my breasts as her fingers immediately seek my nipples and her body presses up against mine.

"Is there enough coffee for me?"

My nipples harden into her grasp and I want to close my eyes and throw my head back into the neck nuzzle which I hope is coming. My hopes are realized and expectations bettered as she bites first one side, then the other. As I slip from her grasp she pulls and tweaks my nipples as if petulant.

"Do you take cream... or sugar?"

"Both – lots of both."

"I'm making toast; there're eggs or cereal if you'd rather?"

"Toast is fine... or nothing if it will get you back into my clutches quicker."

I laugh, evading her again as I get plates from one of the lower cupboards.

"We could eat first, and then I want to shower and get myself clean again. I want to taste clean and fresh..."

I pause to look at her and I feel the warmth inside that her presence causes.

"Matsui... I don't know if I'm being forward about this or not, but I have to tell you that I have never felt this good about being with anybody - never in my whole life - and I don't want to make you feel compromised or harried, but I think that I've fallen in love with you."

In a step she has me in her arms again, her expression serious and her eyes searching mine.

"Please don't say that... please... unless you mean it."

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Eventually we eat, sitting on the tall stools at the breakfast bar, juice and coffee supplemented by toast and English marmalade. I can't believe that she too loves the bittersweet condiment; my girls believe that it's calling the alien flavours and textures of marmalade normal which causes the British to have such an obtuse sense of humour. Even as we eat, Matsui and I are unable to stop stroking each other. We decide to share a shower.

Completely without embarrassment she sits naked on the throne for a pee, as I sit on the bidet covering my legs with hair removal cream prior to the shower. The water temperature is set automatically to how I like it

"I hope that you like it hot?" I ask. The look she gives tells me of the double entendre I had unwittingly said, and it says 'yes! You bet I like it hot'. The water comes from twelve outlets in the four uprights and from four nozzles above our heads; hot and hard, the shower copiously caresses us. For a few seconds we turn in its massage as the depilatory cream on my legs is rinsed away. Then we wash each other; she has brought her own shower gel and natural sponge and I take them from her hands and start on her. The sponge seems unduly rough against the softness of her skin as I start on her arms, but she murmurs for me to rub her harder.

As I progress beyond her arms, over her shoulders and down her back, she holds her arms above her head as if trying to guide the water jets more accurately. There are no signs that there has ever been any hair in the pits of her arms and I press and drag the sponge down her sides and over the elegant curve of her behind. I turn her round and start on her front; her chin pulls up allowing me access to the length of her wonderful neck. Her nipples stand proud from her petite breasts and her stomach shivers gorgeously as my hand makes its way to her pubic mound.

"Lean back against the glass and I'll be able to do your legs," I say.

One at a time I hold her perfect lower limbs in one hand as I sponge their length with the other. I massage the soap between her toes with my fingers, squeezing and pulling at each toe... I can only resist the first foot; as I rinse the second I lean closer and suck her big toe between my teeth and into my mouth. One after another I suck at her digits licking their undersides and dragging my teeth up and down each ones length. She writhes against the glass, eyes closed, water pouring down her body.

I slide her leg over my shoulder and move in on her cunt My hand is still soapy and I turn my fingers upwards as I rub the bubbly mixture over her labia. She spreads her legs as I rub back and forth, reaching round to clean the crack of her bottom and the puckered entrance to her behind. The water falling down the length of her body rinses the soap as I move my head in closer. My hands move around her to grasp her cheeks, spreading and kneading as my tongue seeks the clitoris that is already freeing itself from its cover and starting to stand proudly from her beautiful hairless pussy.

The muscles in her body harden as I reach my target; immediately she is thrusting away from the glass towards my tongue. I only flick her button a couple of times with my tongue before sucking it between my lips to my teeth. My teeth move around it as if they were chattering from the cold - instantly she stops thrusting and her whole body becomes rigid. Her hands come down from above her head, fleetingly touching my hair before pressing palm first against the glass surround. I hear her strangled screams above the noise of the shower and feel the imminent arrival of an orgasm of my own, empowered beyond belief by what I was doing to her.

Her first squirt hits my chin - just a drop bouncing back into my mouth, its taste giving the lie to my first impression that perhaps she'd lost control of her bladder. Ejaculation... another something that I'd read about without ever really believing the reports. Thicker than pee, without it's astringent tang, it's sweet and florid. I drop my bottom jaw so that my mouth covers her entire vulva just in time for the second spasm as again her pussy ejaculates. Again and again, eight times in all, fluid hits the back of my mouth. I swallow over and over.

In the aftermath of her orgasm, she grabs the hair at either side of my head and pulls me upright, her leg sliding off my shoulder to the tiled floor. Her eyes are wide and there is an animal glint to them that I haven't seen before; as she mashes our faces together her lips and then her tongue seeking mine.

I hardly get more than a cursory application of soap before she assaults my pussy with two, then three fingers. She is rough with me, her eyes still ablaze as her fingers thrust in and out of me. With her other hand she rubs through the hair at my clitoris for a few seconds until my orgasm approaches when she switches to slapping the protruding bud with the flat of her fingers.

It's too much and my legs give way as the lights in my head become all encompassing; Matsui holds and then lowers me into the shower basin, never removing her fingers from my pussy, and returning to slapping my clit as soon as I was safely down. Two, three, and four more slaps and I'm pawing at her to stop, as I fear that I'll black out and drown before she relents.

Much later, I call the two girls on their mobiles and, perhaps fortunately, they are both switched to the answering service. I leave a message telling them that I'd leave a hundred bucks in the usual place in case it was needed (not to be frittered), and that I'd be back on Sunday. I added that my mobile would be switched on if there was an emergency.

Matsui drove us across the corner of the national park to her hotel, the sat-nav spouting directions and giving warnings of impending hazards. The difference between what I would have been willing to try in the car and what she was, was a chasm as wide as the horizon and as long as my life. The curve of the seat held me snug as she slid the back end out around bends and flung the thing into corners, at what seemed like deadly speeds.

I am helpless, my knickers drenched and my nipples pressing against the crossed seatbelts. I am held on the edge of a breaking orgasm with every second that the engine throbs its vibrations up through the floor; it's a wonderful torture of waiting and yearning. My eyes bulge, a scream silent in my throat as a tractor pulls suddenly onto the road ahead, once again the little red car surprises me - the nose tips towards the road surface as the brakes take hold in a quarter of the distance that my car would have slowed in and we're at ten miles an hour in half an instant, slowly approaching the tractor as it drives on.

She glances across at me reassuringly, but her expression changes as she sees the expression on mine.

"Do you get like this over anybody's car, or is it just this one?"

I don't get a chance to reply as she presses down hard on the accelerator. The engine barks and then screams in response to the signals from her foot. In two shakes we are around the tractor and in a few hundred yards it is out of sight behind us. I come without touching myself a couple of minutes later.

The hotel is two four storey blocks facing each other, ends on to the road; Matsui has the penthouse suite which occupies the entire top floor of one of the buildings. It has its own lift discreetly at the end of the foyer, and two uniformed flunkeys who carry our bags up for us while the hotel manager, eager to please, shows us the amenities in the suite. There are two bedrooms, two reception rooms each with a bar; added to that are a gym, a sauna, a private dining room with seating for a dozen and a half, and a staff chef, maid and butler.

At the dining room table we sit down to the business that Matsui is there to complete; for the most part I am no help whatsoever. She only needs to ask for clarity on a couple of details. Otherwise she composes, corrects and finishes her report in under an hour.

The maid has unpacked for each of us - separate rooms - our little secret makes me smile to myself. The chef hurries a late light lunch and at two we take our food outside on the apartment's huge patio. The food seems fine, although a little fussy for my taste; Matsui notices my expression and giggles her agreement. She asks the chef to prepare some late night snacks and then gives the staff the evening off saying that we had arranged to eat out.

She doesn't want to hang around the suite, so we decide to explore the peak road that runs in a forty mile circle through the least accessed parts of the park. It soon becomes apparent that the road surface is built more for off-roaders than cars such as hers and we slow to a much more sedate and, I must admit it, less thrilling speed. We have a chance to admire the magnificence of the place, below the boughs of trees that were full grown when Europeans first made it to this part of the country; the land looks new and invigorated with abundance. Twice we startle deer as we make our way along the road.

In more than two hours we haven't seen another vehicle. Aside from the occasional jet stream overhead, we could have been alone on the earth. The scenery is beautiful, interrupted occasionally by breathless views.

The shadows have started to lengthen as we return to the hotel; we notice a place that advertises itself as having a French trained chef outside a village a couple of miles before we get back and determine to try its wares after a shower and change of clothes.

The chef is still preparing a vast array of countless different snacks - we hadn't been specific enough in our instructions, and he didn't want us to be disappointed. His presence means that we each shower alone. I find her out on the patio looking down at the building opposite.

"Are you a voyeur as well?" I say as I walk up behind her.

"Oh yes, it makes me horny to watch, but usually there is nothing to see."

My question hadn't been serious, and it is a second or two before I can collate this new strand of information about the woman to whom I had declared my undying love just a few hours ago. She continues to talk without turning around.

"I have found if something turns me on, then it's often easiest to not try and work out why, just how. I trust myself to be a caring and compassionate person, so whatever it is that turns me on is more likely to be okay than not." She turns and I can read the love in her eyes.

"I hope that there are things that I've never considered which I'm going to explore with you. I've been thinking all day since we left your home about us and I want to come here... to somewhere close to you, maybe as project manager to the new headquarters - I don't know what the job will be, but I find myself feeling things I'd only dreamed about. I do love you Emma," she takes a deep breath, and after a brief pause, blurts, "Now!" She shakes herself out of her thoughtful pose and suggests that we 'go get fed'.

The food is good; a homemade foie gras on chunky bread is followed by a dish described as Mediterranean paella, which arrives at the table on its own trolley in a huge flat pan full of shrimp and octopus, saffron rice, peas and peppers, along with mussels still in their shell and a lobster chopped roughly into eight chunks on the top. The place is only half full as we finish the main course; as the waitress clears our plates Matsui asks for the dessert menu. A couple of minutes later a tall thin man in a full chef's suit, including tall white hat, stops by our table. In a French accent too gruff to be Canadian, he asks us if we enjoyed the paella that he had cooked for us. Both of us were quick to show our appreciation; he seemed pleased and asked if we liked chocolate. On learning that we did, he left us. A few moments later, the waitress asked us to be patient as the chef prepared our dessert, assuring us that the wait would be worthwhile.

We talk; with every passing minute and every new disclosure, I become more and more convinced that I have found my soul mate. For a moment I become scared that there were a thousand reasons and ways that our lives might have never collided with each other, that I might have missed out on it all. But I remind myself that I haven't, that I'm here with her right now.

Twenty minutes later the dessert arrives in two martini glasses. Dark, almost black, the waitress announces it as

Chef Breton's chocolate mousse.

If there is a sin against the reputation and skill of all other chefs in history, then this is it. Hardly sweet but totally chocolate, it is mostly bubbles and yet it is so rich that your tongue and every taste bud tells you it must be bad for you. Before we have finished, each in reverent silence, the chef arrives back at our table, he holds a finger to his lips and encourages us to finish. Nothing short of death could have stopped me. He walks us to the car and invites us to visit again; we assure him that we will.

The journey back to the hotel is over before we have even vaguely recovered from the dessert. The suite is lit but empty, the huge fridge bulging with platefuls of food. We crack into a bottle of Krug that we find chilling in one of the doors and take our glasses out onto the patio. The night is warm without being hot and sweaty and here, away from the streetlights of town, there are countless stars in the cloudless sky. While I'm looking up Matsui makes her way to the edge and starts to peruse the now lit windows below our level.

In the background I hear her voice without being able to discern what it is that she is saying; I decide that it must be her asking for a refill so I wander back inside to collect the bottle and its ice bucket. She comes in from outside as I'm on my way back out. I notice that she seems eager or flustered about something.

"Come and have a look what we can see..."

We stop to leave the champagne on the table; she takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the patio at the far end of the roof. Only a few of the windows have the curtains drawn to shield the rooms from our prying eyes.

"The restaurant and conference centre are on the third and fourth floors this side, so they feel safe... does this feel deliciously naughty to you?"

I nod my head as she leads me on. "There're a couple of hopefuls and at least one definite - check these two out"

I follow the line of her arm. Two floors below at the corner of the building, the forms of two bodies naked and wrapped in each other's arms tangle in a distressed-looking sheet. It takes a few seconds before I realize that they're both women. Before, it had felt naughty - schoolgirl kind of naughty; now it feels like a sexy, smutty kind of naughty.