Lorna

I went straight back to the car where I waited for about fifteen minutes. Then they appeared from the front door, both fully clothed now I might add and looking like nothing had happened. They chatted seriously for a moment and then shook hands. Jeff looked in my direction as he headed toward his own car and smiled politely. I smiled back as well as I could. Next thing Lorna was in the car next to me. She was literally glowing with contentment. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, though I had a good idea that something else had.
“Ah, here you are.” she said, “That was a long conversation. Any problems?”
“No.” I said tersely, “Just my old housemate.”
“Oh good. Well, you’ll be delighted to know that Jeff changed his mind. He’s decided to pay the asking price after all. He’s instructing his solicitors to start the ball rolling this afternoon. Isn’t that wonderful news? Old man Sanderson will be made up.”
“I see...” was my only reply.
“Yeah,” she said, turning the ignition key, “which reminds me. I’ll have to get one of the lads to come and remove the sign as soon as possible. You know, its a wonderful feeling in this business when those words “For Sale” come down to be replaced by “Sold”.”
I made no further comment until we were more than halfway back. Then it came out. I gave her no warning, no chance to think up a hurried explanation.
“I saw what you were doing Lorna. In the greenhouse.”
Lorna gulped slightly but kept her road concentration. Nothing more was said between us that afternoon.

Lorna came home about an hour after me and although she tried to make conversation, I maintained my wall of silence. Eventually she gave up and we sat without talking in the lounge, me reading, her watching television. I went to bed early and did not say goodnight. I quickly fell into a deep, difficult sleep.
Startled by a noise, I woke up at about midnight. Still drowsy and disorientated I sat up a little and peered through the darkness. Despite the absence of light I could see my bedroom door closing. A dark shape moved stealthily across the room toward my bed. Next thing I knew the duvet was being lifted and the figure was sliding into bed beside me. The subtle aroma of expensive perfume entered my nostrils, unmistakably Lorna’s. She snuggled in close to me, and I could tell straightway that she had no clothes on. Immobilised with surprise and tiredness I did not move a muscle. Then her head was next to mine on the pillow.
“Clairy-wary” she said in a soft, childish voice, “Are you awakey?”
“Yes.” I murmoured, looking up at the ceiling. A long pause. “Why are you in my bed?”
I heard her breath in deeply.
“You didn’t say goodnight to me Clairy-wary.”
“I think I was trying to tell you something Lorna. I thought you would have got the message. What are you doing?”
She snuggled at little closer, “Clairy, I just wanted to say that I’m really sowee for today. I feel weally bad. Sometimes I lose all control of myself.”
I sighed, wishing she would drop the annoying accent, “Forget about it Lorna. Its done. Now I would very much like it if you left me alone to get some sleep.”
I hadn’t noticed until now but her hand had crept under my nightie between my legs and she was caressing my inner thigh with light wispy strokes. My mind immediately instructed my hand to remove hers from my genital area, but there seemed to be some kind of blockage in my neural pathways. No matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t do it.
She dropped the itsty bitsy effect and her voice took on a husky tone, “I’m going to make it up to you, I promise. I’m going to give you a treasured possession of mine.”
“Lorna, I...”
I gasped as her little finger touched my clit with the faintest of tickles. With one hand she pushed my nightie up off my body and over my head. A second or so later I heard it drop to the floor beside the bed. “That’s better.” she said. Her head began to move down my body towards my breasts. “But in the meantime,” I heard her say, “I want to give you a special, special present.”
“Lorna...”
It was too late. I had missed my chance. There was no stopping her. It was pitch black but I could imagine her honey gold skin against mine as her tits brushed and teased my own, our nipples coming together in a sexy rendezvous. I was fully awake now, my mind turning at a hundred revolutions a second. All of a sudden my head was filled with the images of the times I had seen Lorna being fucked senseless by those two well hung studs, first on her bed, and then on the table in the greenhouse. I remembered how excited how I had felt, more so because I was so ashamed, and I sensed the fluid inside my pussy start to boil. Her lips were flicking round my nipples now, her fingers dexterously rubbing my labia.
“Oh Lorna,” I moaned, “Please don’t....”
She removed her lips from my nipples and began to stroke my belly, “You have an amazing body Claire,” she cooed, “you make me feel so horny.”
I was gone now, all resistance futile. My conscious mind probably still wanted this to end, but my desire had overridden all reason. She began to kiss my nipples again and I felt them harden to the consistency of small pebbles.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for days Claire,” she continued, blowing wet little kisses onto my rib cage, “I fantasise about you all the time.”
I opened my mouth again but no words came out. She had moved even further down now. Suddenly, her head was between my legs and I could feel a warm, firm tongue circling the area around my vagina, hot breath breezing over my inner thigh. The first shudder of pre orgasm reverberated through my body and I reached for her head, running my hands through her hair.
“More,” I gasped, giving up all pretense of non compliance.
She responded by covering all of my pussy with her mouth. Her tongue darted in between my vaginal lips and began to lick the inside of my cunny, taking my copious secretions into her mouth. I grabbed her hair tightly and pulled her even closer. No man had ever gone down on me like this, noone had known so instinctively what did it for me. My clitoris had become a swollen, throbbing bud of pleasure, hard as a rock but not yet retracted inside its protective hood. It was as if it knew it was safe from the rough attention of a cock. Almost as if she could read my thoughts, Lorna readjusted the focus of her attention to my sex organ, pursing her lips around my clit and deftly dabbing it with just the tip of her tongue. She seemed to know my rhythms completely, sensing just the right time to speed up or apply more pressure and when to slow down and be gentler. She was playing me like an instrument, and she was truly a virtuoso, a tuned practitioner with flawless technique. But for all the joyfulness it was almost too intense. In her quest to prolong and enhance my pleasure I was slipping into a daze from the agony of unsatiated desire. I needed to come quickly before I fainted and wanted desperately to be able to touch my clit to finish the job.
“Oh Lorna, please, now!” I murmoured.
Lorna did not punish me any more and moved quickly to the grand finale. Once again she took all of my clit and its hood between her lips and began to suck as hard as she could. The vacuum she created at once rushed even more blood into my bud and within seconds I was climaxing. My entire body literally shook as three to four waves of intense pleasure cascaded through my every cell. The feeling lasted more than thirty seconds before subsiding and being replaced by a warm sense of well-being and belonging. Lorna was by my head again on the pillow.
“Was that alright for you?” she asked.
Was she for real?. It was quite possibly the greatest orgasm I had ever experienced in my life. Nothing had ever come close.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, “It was amazing.”
“I enjoyed doing that for you. You tasted so nice. Sort of like honey or vanilla. Yes, vanilla I think. Do you forgive me then?”
“Yes....everything’s forgiven.....”
“Good.” With that she started to kiss me, and I could feel her hand sliding between my buttocks. She wasn’t finished for the night.

Lorna left my bed at around four am. I slept in late and caught a minor ticking off from the boss. It didn’t matter though. The memory of Lorna was still very fresh and I was so numbed from the pleasure I felt like I was doped up on Novocain. Around lunch time Lorna gestured that I should come with her to get a sandwich and a coffee at the local deli. As we sipped our lattes there was no mention of the previous night’s goings on, but then again, it was hardly an appropriate setting. Instead, Lorna had other things to talk about.
“I really, really want to make things up.” she said, lighting up one of her habitual Marlboros, “As you know, it’s Friday. So I thought that you and I would spend a nice weekend in the country. At my parents place near Cheltenham. What do you think?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“That’s settled. We’ll go tonight after work.”
And so after a quick shower when we got home and a few things thrown into a holdall, Lorna and I were soon bombing down the motorway in her Volkswagen Golf GTI, the stereo on full. Lorna enjoyed driving and she sang merrily along to Alice Deejay as she wove in and out of the heavy traffic; “Will I ever fall in love and if I do will it be with you? Will I ever fall in love and will you be the one for me?”
I looked at her and smiled. She was such a child.

It took a couple of hours to get there, and I was tired when we arrived. Her parents’ place was wonderful, a country house set in acres and acres of land. God knows how many rooms it must have had. It was also home to Lorna’s father’s stud farm, and we saw several horses being put through their paces as we traversed the gravely driveway which lead to the house. Lorna gazed longingly at them.
“I can’t wait to see Honeysuckle and Friday. They’re my two darlings. That reminds me. We must go riding tomorrow.”
We parked up beside a Range Rover and Jag and made our way inside. The place was even more spectacular inside, beautifully furnished and decorated and full of antiques and paintings. In the hallway there were several family pictures, one of which showed a girl who looked quite similar to Lorna.
“Mummy will be back soon,” said Lorna after a brief conversation on her mobile, “She’s in the village. Daddy is in the States at the moment so we won’t see him at all. Ah, that’s my sister, Lydia. She works at the British Embassy in Washington DC. Meets lots of famous people.”
“Really? Is that the sister who you used to....”
“That’s her. You seem surprised.”
“No, but...”
“Claire,” said Lorna with mock reproach, “Just because she likes fucking doesn’t mean she can’t be clever and successful. We are all very proud of her.”
I nodded, and my mind boggled at the thought of the various deeds these two young ladies had undoubtedly got up to in this fine old house. After taking some food in the kitchen we retired to the lounge and watched television. Lorna’s mother got back around ten and the two exchanged energetic hugs and caught up on all the gossip. Lorna was of course, quite selective about her gossip. My eyes were heavy now and I asked if I could go and turn in. I was given Lydia’s old bedroom and was soon in a deep, contented sleep.

The day began with tea in bed and then an excellent cooked breakfast made by Lorna’s mother. The morning was given up with a tour of the house and some of the surrounding buildings including the stud. It was all very professional, a veritable hive of activity with assorted stable hands, riders, trainers, owners and buyers hustling and bustling around. Here, I was introduced to Honeysuckle and Friday, two elegant mares who were being groomed by one of the stable lads. Lorna went crazy for them and they seemed delighted to see her too.
“We’ll ride this afternoon.” she said, her head in Honeysuckle’s shoulder, “You can ride Friday. She’s very good with people she doesn’t know.”
I patted and stroked the horse. She seemed like a friendly old thing. I was a little apprehensive about riding again after so many years, but at the same time a little excited too. I had loved taking horses out when I was younger and a few childhood memories were starting to come to the surface again. As we made our way back through the yard, Lorna spotted a group of three people locked in serious conversation and dashed over. Two of them looked like proper country types, all bristly moustaches, barbour and flat caps, whilst the third was a much younger. He was tall, dark skinned and had black wavy hair flecked with auburn from the sun. He was kitted up ready to ride. Lorna hugged him in a sort of brother/sister type way and they exchanged words for a moment. Then she beckoned me over.
“This is Jorge.” she said, “He’s a friend of the family. Jorge, this is Claire, a pal of mine from London.”
The dark skinned one took my hand and kissed it. In contrast to the colour of his skin and hair he had cobalt blue eyes and they pierced mine like lasers.
“Enchanted.” he said in heavily accented English.
“Jorge is one of the best polo players in Argentina.” enthused Claire. “He has a great career ahead of him. They say he will be even better than Gustavo Porta.”
It of course goes without saying that I had had never heard of “Gustavo Porta”, but I did my best to look impressed, which of course I was. Jorge was an extremely good looking man and looked every inch the polo star.
The South American looked modest, “There many fine players from my country. If I can achieve ‘alf of what Porta did then I be very ‘appy.”
“Have you been riding Lancelot?” asked Claire.
“Not yet. ‘is shoes are being change. I will give ‘im a good run this afternoon.”
Lorna thought for a second, and then touched Jorge’s arm. “You should come out with us this afternoon. Claire and I are going for a little ride through the estate.”
“No,” he said with a shake of the head, “You two are friends, you should go togeth.”
“Oh go on Jorge.” pleaded Lorna, jumping a few inches off the ground. “Please. For me.”
He thought for a moment, “Okay then. But only for short run. I see you here at two yes?”
“Splendid!” squealed Lorna, “How jolly marvellous!”

At two o’clock Lorna and I were standing in the yard again all geared up ready to ride. I was wearing the full paraphernalia, jodhpurs, riding hat, boots, the lot. Lorna certainly looked the part and I’m sure she would have fulfilled many a school boy fantasy dressed the way we was. Her curvy hips and bottom seemed tailor made for tight riding trousers, and her polo top was so figure hugging it barely contained her breasts. A couple of jaw dropped stable boys helped me mount Friday and I had a little trot around the yard to get used to her. She was considerate of my rusty horsemanship and did not protest at all. When I had completed my lap Jorge had arrived. He was sitting atop an impressive chestnut stallion, presumably Lancelot.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes! Lets go!” said Lorna. “Gee up!”
Once we had left the yard we trotted at a fairly even pace across the grounds before Lorna and Jorge’s competitive instincts got the better of them. After a very brief conversation that I could not hear they hurtled away into the distance at great speed, leaving me far behind and I had a job even keeping them in view. However, despite my lack of speed I enjoyed being able to go at my own pace and I quickly got the knack of riding again as some of the old skills came back. Eventually I began to make up a bit of ground on Lorna and Jorge, although I never had much chance of catching them. It was a tremendous feeling galloping through the countryside with the wind caressing my face and not a care in the world. In the midst of my enjoyment though I had not noticed the ominous black clouds gathering overhead and the faint raindrops on the wind. Then the grey was divided by a crooked streak of lightening, followed seconds later by a boom of thunder. Lorna and Jorge were not oblivious to the sudden change in the weather either and by now were galloping back in my direction. When they were nearby they turned their horses. Lorna pointed toward a barn in the distance.
“Looks like its going to be a heavy one!” she called, “We won’t make it back to the house. We’ll tether up by the barn and take shelter.”
With that she and Jorge spurted away again. I arrived at the barn shortly after they did and tied up Friday to a fence next to Lancelot and Honeysuckle. We made it inside the barn just as the rain got really heavy. It was very clean inside, and evidently was only used for storing hay and not for keeping animals. Lorna removed her riding helmet and her hair cascaded free.
“Phew.” she said, “Relief to get out of that rain.”
I nodded in agreement, “What are we going to do? Wait until the storm passes over I suppose?”
Lorna flopped down on a pile of hay and threw her arms behind her head.
“Well...” she said, letting out a big sigh, “Sort of. You know I said I was going to give you a present?”
“Mmm.” I replied.
She gestured with her arm, “Well, this is it. Jorge. He’s all yours babe.”
Stunned, I turned to the Argentinean who had now taken his hard hat off as well. He wore a purposeful smile, but said nothing
I didn’t know what to say either. What was Lorna expecting me to do? Have sex with a complete stranger in this barn? The pieces were now starting to fit together. Our arrival here had been no accident. The whole thing was another one of Lorna’s little games. I wouldn’t have put it past her to have arranged the rainstorm too.
“Jorge thinks you are very pretty.” said Lorna.
“Lorna, I can’t...”, the words stumbled out as my nerves betrayed me.
There was an awkward silence.
“Its okay, its okay.” said Lorna. She looked at Jorge. “Claire’s a little nervous I think.”
The polo player nodded gravely, “So I see Lorna. Maybe this was a mistake.”
Lorna furrowed her brow, and then said, “You know, riding always makes me feel really sexy. Why don’t we warm her up for you with a bit of a show?”
Jorge digested the suggestion and then beamed, “Why not?”
Without a single moment’s hesitation Lorna pulled up her polo shirt and threw it on the floor. The bra was soon to follow, her breasts bouncing happily free from their confinement.
“Do your special.” she said grinning from ear to ear.
“My pleasure,” replied Jorge in his deep Argentinean way, already undoing his belt buckle.
Lorna kicked her boots off and kneeled down on the hay. The fabric of her cream coloured jodhpurs was stretched tightly around her buttocks, and because of the dampness and the way that the material disappeared slightly in between the contour of her ass cleft I could tell straightway that she wore no underwear. With one hand she unbuttoned the riding trousers so that the tension of the elastic was released and Jorge hooked his fingers around the edge of the waistband. With one yank he pulled the trousers down and Lorna’s pert, naked bottom was exposed. Jorge fumbled with his own trousers and soon they too had been discarded. Like most horsemen, he was in great shape, superbly defined abdominals and thick muscular legs, almost like one of those models you see on Calvin Klein underwear packages. His boxers remained on, but how I don’t know for the bulge around his crotch was so prominent I felt it would surely burst through. He leaned forward and began to touch and massage Lorna’s bottom, kneading the firm flesh and pushing her ass cheeks together, heightening the tension for all of us and savouring the delicious feeling of anticipation he must surely have been feeling.
Without a word he then offered his hand forward and Lorna turned to take two of his fingers in her mouth, coating them with saliva. Jorge removed his hand and gently eased the wet fingers into her anus, moving them inside with studied care. Then they were removed and the routine was repeated, his hand, her mouth. And again for a third time as the two of them worked in tandem with a unique understanding that seemed almost telepathic. Next, he leaned forward and slowly pulled away his boxers, allowing his erection to burst free. Like Lorna’s previous latin lover, he was certainly well endowed, though his cock seemed even thicker than that of the man she had screwed in the flat.
He walked slowly around in front of Lorna and wielded his swollen phallus between her lips, as all the while I watched. She accepted his prick eagerly, but this was not so that she could blow him off, but rather just another part of their carefully orchestrated preparation. The two of them seem to know exactly what they were doing and had evidently performed this ritual before. For some reason I thought of Jane Torvill and Christopher Dean, the great British Ice Dance pair whose understanding and co-ordination was legendary.
Lorna slobbered her tongue over Jorge’s manhood several times with generous amounts of fluid until it was dripping from base to tip with her saliva. This part of the process complete, Jorge returned to his previous position. With one hand on Lorna’s ass to steady himself and the other circled around his penis to guide him, he slowly pushed his prick into her well lubricated peach. I watched in disbelief as first one inch, then two, and then three and then four inches of his love tool disappeared inside her, making a lewd squelching sound as it did so.
Lorna let out a light gasp as she was entered and threw her head back. “Oh my god Jorge, I want you so much!”
What I then witnessed literally blew me away. It was sensational, like nothing I had ever seen or imagined before. Jorge placed his hands on Lorna’s hips, and after a couple of gentle thrusts to find his range, he began to plunge his cock into her swollen cherry for all he was worth, his prick driving in and out of her anus with phenomenal power, his glute muscles flexing and contorting as they pumelled back and forth. His knees were flexed slightly so he could get a better angle of entry and his quadriceps and hamstrings rippled and quivered with the effort of maintaining his form . As Jorge fucked her ass, Lorna moaned so loudly that I feared her mother might hear her all of three miles away. Their union was frenetic and from the looks of it highly exhausting. But such was the intensity that it was also very brief, lasting perhaps only a minute or two. But it was quite possibly the horniest thing I had seen in my twenty two sheltered years. The finale came when Jorge pushed himself inside Lorna one last time, almost to the hilt, and then with his next movement withdrew completely, just in time to splatter her bare back with spectacular arcs of hot cum. His work done, he staggered sideways and collapsed in a heap by the hayloft ladder. This had been an all out anaerobic effort on his part and as he lay, I could see his heart thumping against his chest, his muscles still twitching under the skin from the exertion. Lorna was still kneeling down but was now staring at me.
“Lick it off my back.” she commanded. “But don’t swallow.”
I didn’t need asking twice. During the course of their ass fuck I had removed all of my clothes almost without even knowing it and been playing with myself vigorously. I leaned over Lorna’s body from the side and began to scoop up the salty discharge with my tongue. When I had collected every last drop I lay on top of her. She was sweating profusely and I could feel the heat rising from her body. I pressed my lips against hers and we began to kiss. In the midst of our necking, I transferred Jorge’s hot semen into her mouth. Lorna savoured the taste and consistency of his seed and then swallowed the lot. She pulled her mouth away from mine and looked into my eyes.
“Are you ready for him?” she asked, “Jorge never takes long to recover. And I know that from first hand experience.”
“That’s right,” I heard Jorge say. He had risen from his prone position and was now standing beside me, his penis fully erect again and inches from my lips. He glanced at Lorna for instruction. “Does she want it the same way?”
Lorna shook her head, “No” was her firm reply, “She isn’t ready.”
Silently I agreed. Horny and fascinating as it was to watch, I could not yet handle the concept of having anal sex myself. But my desire was burning intensely and I still wanted Jorge to have sex with me in a more orthodox way. Before any further doubts could creep in I pursed my lips in the shape of an “O” and confidently took his penis into my mouth. I looked up into Jorge’s intense blue eyes and could tell that he liked it. I was lucky in that my boyfriend at university had a thing about me sucking him off and so I had become something of a practiced giver of blowjobs. I probably wasn’t anywhere near in Lorna’s class, but at least I could hold my own. Or should that be blow my own? Anyway, I continued to lick, massage and tease Jorge’s cock with my tongue and lips while Lorna watched eagerly from a nearby vantage point.
After several minutes of pleasuring Jorge, I lay back and opened my legs so as to signal my intent. The horseman nodded and grabbed a condom from one of the pockets in his rumpled trousers. Within an instant he was ready and he slowly lowered himself onto me, supporting his weight with arms and shoulders that seemed carved out of granite. Seconds later he had penetrated my simmering pussy with his penis. The combination of his hardness and my wetness meant that he almost slipped out with his first thrust, but he soon established a rhythm, probing and pressuring my vaginal walls with varied and unusual movements. He was now showing a more subtle aspect of his sexual repertoire, the finesse and timing a far cry from the raw power of his fuck with Lorna. He seemed to be in perfect control of himself and continued like this for many minutes, suppressing his own needs in order to prolong my pleasure. Part way through, Lorna joined us. She leaned over me from the opposite side to Jorge and kissed and massaged my boobs as the Argentinean stud continued to pleasure me with his cock. For my part I reached up to caress Lorna’s pussy which was now only inches from my face. With Jorge attending to my cunt and Lorna fondling my breasts, I lay there wallowing in the glorious thrill of it all, wondering when the dream was going to end. I felt truly privileged as these two beautiful people devoted their entire being to making me happy.
Of course, nothing good ever lasts forever, and in time Jorge had brought me to an exquisite climax, and I showed my pleasure by whimpering with delight like some grateful puppy. His self mastery was such that to accelerate his own orgasm he only had to quicken his thrusting for another minute or so before coming himself. Once finished he again staggered away and collapsed. As I lay there in my post orgasmic heaven I kind of sensed that Lorna would not be satisfied just yet. And sure enough within minutes she was draped over Jorge’s exhausted form, caressing his nipples with one hand and coaxing his prick back into life with the other. I must admit that the poor guy looked shattered, like he had just run the heats and final of an Olympic quarter mile within the space of an hour. His stamina was legendary though, almost inhuman, and within minutes he was hard as he had ever been. In view of his earlier work, Lorna took on the lead role this time and mounted him from above. This was a slower, more sensual copulation than before, though I felt that could have watched beautiful naked Lorna’s ass forever as she eased herself up and down over her lover.
When everyone was finished Lorna and I smoked a couple of her cigarettes while Jorge dressed himself. We were lying naked in each others arms when he left.
“I must go to Lancelot,” he said darkly, “‘e is a ‘eadstrong and demanding beast and ‘is workout for today is not yet finish.”
I marvelled at how anyone could be thinking of horse riding at a moment like this, but I guess it was a mark of Jorge’s sense of drive and purpose. I don’t know if riders take after their owners, or vice versa, but I was sure that Lancelot was well sought out for stud. After all, his owner had masterfully laid two mares that afternoon himself.
“Lorna,” he said as he opened the barn door, “And you Claire, my beautiful English rose, maybe we meet again no?”
“I hope so,” was my disbelieving reply.
“Good. I ‘ope that I make you ‘appy today.”
Then Jorge was gone. “Isn’t he marvellous?” said Lorna, cuddling me tightly, “He’s just a dream.”

It was still raining when we got outside to the horses. They looked fairly miserable having been tethered up all that time, but soon forgave us as we mounted them and headed for home. Such was my exhaustion, the ride back was difficult for me, and at times I did not feel as if I could make it. Eventually we got there and saw the horses back to the stables. Glad to be out of the rain and free of their saddles, they fell onto their hay beds eagerly.
Lorna’s mother was in the kitchen when we came inside. She looked at us with healthy approval. She must have been thinking something along the lines of “how splendid that a couple of young girls get out into the outdoors rather than lazing around at home, splendid.” If only she knew. For a moment I wondered if she had been anything like Lorna when she was younger.
“My, my,” she said heartily, “You two look absolutely soaked to the bone. Get yourselves into a nice hot bath and I’ll bring some food up to your room.”

Lorna had her own bathroom, a marvellously luxurious affair of white marble and chrome. There was a jacuzzi and one of those huge stand alone enamel baths, certainly big enough for two. She ran the bath and we took off our soaking riding clothes. Lorna applied plenty of expensive bubble foam and perfume to the bath and soon we were sitting at opposite ends, relaxing in the warm, rejuvenating water. After a while we began to reflect on the events of the afternoon
“Jorge was my first.” said Lorna, working up a lather in between her hands, “When I was sixteen and he was twenty. It happened after one of the big polo events that he was competing in. It was a blazing hot day in and he looked so handsome and sexy in his gear. I don’t think I will ever forget that summer afternoon six years ago. He knew I was a virgin and broke me in with amazing gentleness. There was never any pressure either. After we had undressed, he said that he would only continue if I wanted to”
“Wow.” I replied, ruefully recalling the inarticulate fumbling that was my first time, “Not a bad person to show you what it’s all about.”
Lorna nodded, “I reckon that’s why I’m so addicted to sex. He got me hooked.”
I could understand why.
“Jorge is also the only man I allow to give me anal,” Lorna added as she soaped my breasts, “It’s vital that you trust the person who does that thing for you, and I trust Jorge implicitly. He is a man of great honour and integrity. I would do absolutely anything he asked me to. And probably have for that matter.”
“Does it not hurt?”
Lorna looked thoughtful, “A little bit the first time maybe, but after that as long as you are lubed up there’s no problem. And it’s best if you only do it once every couple of months or so, when you’re really relaxed. Its more of a psychological thrill than anything. This whole idea that you are doing something a bit naughty and a bit taboo. It’s also the fact that, though many will deny it, virtually all men fantasise about fucking a girl in the ass - I guess its why they like doggy style so much.. Just the thought that you are fulfilling a man’s deepest lust can make you come. Though I have to say that its a dream that very few guys ever get to fulfill, purely for the reason that the majority lack the intelligence and subtlety to win a girl’s trust. If they could just learn how to do that thing, then riches beyond their wildest dreams would be at their disposal. You must try it sometime, I swear you’ll love it.”
“Well, I’ll try anything once.” I replied.
“That’s the spirit.”
We soaked our aching limbs for an age until our skin started to prune. I felt great.