Part of that charm was a rather hefty Staffordshire terrier called Induna. He would crash through your bedroom door at the first opportunity in the morning and run tearing circles over your bed: up the one side, over whoever was in the bed, down the other side, around the bottom of the bed on the floor and up to start all over again. It was a little nerve-racking at first, but we grew to love him and he became one of the highlights of our visits.
Being quite high up on the mountain, the view was absolutely spectacular and the walks challenging. It was a favourite getaway, and as word spread amongst our friends we seldom went alone anymore.
This time we were there with some of our closest friends, Phillip and Miranda. We’d been flirting with each other for years, but had been getting more overt in recent months and everyone knew that this weekend was going to define where that flirting was going. Were we going to continue to push in public and take the whispers back to tease our spouses with in our own beds, or were our ‘bed arrangements’ going to become a bit more fluid? I don’t think any of us knew exactly what path we would end up on and that made the weekend all the more titillating. Would we be spoiling the friendship going forward? Would we be stupid not to try to take the next step with people we trusted? I suppose the real question was ‘How daring were we?’
We arrived late the first night. Everyone was tired after travelling the winding mountain roads with their terrifying drops in the pitch dark, so we did a quick explore of the house, unpacked only clothes and toiletries out of the cars, chose our rooms and left the rest for the next day.
Cole and I had fun debating with ourselves whether to warn our friends about Induna, but decided not to: it would be so much more interesting that way. They could find out for themselves the same way we had to.
The next morning we were up quite early. As the door opened for Cole to go to the toilet, Induna shot through for his traditional wake-up dance. He raced in frenetic circles, getting more and more excited with each one until Cole managed to catch him and cuddle and stroke him into doggie bliss. He was really just a love slut, and once he’d gotten a healthy dollop of attention he was quite happy to be evicted again, leaving us with a lot of adrenalin on our hands from all that excitement that had to go somewhere. We used it well, greeting the day as God intended, and I don’t mean with yoga poses although some of ours were quite inventive.
Afterwards we got dressed but stayed in our room until we heard the shrieks: Induna had clearly invaded next door. In our defence, we went rushing to help, even if we were laughing ourselves silly. We calmed Induna down with cuddles, but it took quite a bit longer to settle our friends. We had to offer to serve them coffee and rusks in bed and to make breakfast to earn our way back into favour again.
The day was spent exploring the neighbouring Debegeni Falls, sliding down the moss-slick rocks into icy water so cold it knocked our breath away, and then sunning ourselves afterwards on the crusty sun-baked rocks. It was already autumn, so we didn’t have the normal extremely hot Limpopo temperatures to deal with which we were grateful for when we left the falls to hike up into the mountains. We followed the river and stopped now and then to cool ourselves off in the waters. It was a blissful way to spend a day.
When we got home there was good-natured fighting about the bath, which the girls settled in true princess fashion, sending the men off to do the dirty work. They had to light the donkey for the hot water while we did our bit, pouring wine and preparing a food platter: a gorgeous spread of cheese and biscuits with freshly picked fruit and vegetables that we had just bought on the side of the road. The mango was pungent and sexy, the plums tart, juicy and the bananas were so tasty you knew they weren’t picked green and shelf-ripened.
We had already inhaled one glass of wine and were well onto our next when the two filthy men joined us, not even mildly entertained by the work they’d just done. It seems that lighting a donkey was harder work than we had expected and considerably dirtier unless you knew its idiosyncrasies. They ‘were too dirty for a bath and were going to take showers’ we were acidly informed.
Once they had showered, Miranda and I ran a deep bubble bath. Without really discussing it, we topped up our glasses of wine and slipped into the bath together, snuggling with relaxing sighs into its warm comfort as we felt it ease our muscles’ aches and the bruises we’d gotten from sliding down the falls. As the light faded, we just stayed where we were, topping up the water and chatting cleverly, feeling no pain thanks to the wine. We called the guys randomly to switch on the light, and somehow they ended up with us in the bathroom. It was huge, with lots of space for the chairs they brought in, and even for the little table that they brought for the food platter. We languished there in our bubble cocoons, nibbling, sipping and chatting about all sorts of things.
That was one of those blissful moments in life of pure peace. Real quality time, where the being together, the laughter and the shared memories being exchanged count more than the normal boundaries that society places on us.
Eventually the bubbles had completely faded and the air cooled to a degree that was no longer pleasant. The men left the bathroom to light the fire in the lounge and to warm the food in the coal stove that the cook had prepared for us that morning and left in the gas fridge.
All dressed and ready for another glass of wine, we joined them in the lounge and almost immediately had to discard our top layers of clothing. The fire was warm and inviting, casting a beautiful glow on the room. The only other light came from a paraffin lamp on the table and another on the dresser. The warm light caught us up, wrapped us tight and set the scene for a cosy, romantic evening.
“Hey, you guys owe us a Trivial Pursuit rematch,” Phillip reminded Cole. We’d been having this on-going battle for years and were pretty evenly matched as couples. It was mainly a testosterone thing between the guys as neither could bear not being to last one to have won. Miranda and I just played along for the fun and enjoyed the jokes and conversation that flowed in between the serious business of answering general knowledge questions.
“You’re on!” Cole accepted eagerly.
‘How predictable.’ I was thinking, but his next words weren’t.
”But this time put your money where your mouth is – strip Trivial Pursuit.”
What? With that the die was pretty much cast. Everyone knew what Cole was actually suggesting. With those words he had committed us to a freer sexual future with our friends; now it was Phillip and Miranda’s decision whether or not we took our games further. Phillip’s answer was to smile, take the cover off of the box and spread out the board. He looked at us directly and began a litany as if he’s had hours to plan it:
“Rules. Every time your team can’t answer a question correctly you each lose an article of clothing. No girly crap.” he addressed Miranda and I. “One earring doesn’t count. You can include jewellery, but we work in sets: a pair of earrings, a pair of shoes or socks. The first team naked are the losers. First person to chicken gets dumped in a cold shower. Once everyone is naked, then we move from stripping to daring and we play right through to the end.”
Well, that was succinct.
We grabbed more wine and by mutual agreement spread out a blanket in front of the fire and moved there with the trivial pursuit, our wine and the fruit platter. The game started slowly, and because we were good, very little clothing was lost. It couldn’t last forever of course. Our downfall was geography, and that was the first to bite us. I bravely offered up my watch to lots of derisive comments from Phillip.
He put his money where his mouth is too because the first thing he took off was his pants. Maybe it would have looked better if he’d done the usual thing and lost his shoes and socks first, but he got huge points for being eager and committed.
Slowly our clothes melted away. I had on more layers than the others, but it didn’t take much to encourage me to discard my clothes in twos and threes to make up. The wine, the atmosphere and especially the promise of what was about to happen were exciting aphrodisiacs and we all wanted to move along.
Surprisingly, Miranda was taking the lead now, egging us on with her dares.
“I dare you to do a dirty dance.”
Cole and I did, with me wrapping my right leg raunchily around his upper thighs and grinding up and down his leg. There wasn’t music, but we’d had lots of wine, so we didn’t feel at all stupid dancing without it. We were effective too because by the end of our little Cole was sporting a pretty decent hard-on and Phillip’s might not have been completely hard yet but it was definitely awake and ready to play.
Now it was their turn again, so we returned to the game and they won a few in a row, which lessened the tension in the room and the hard-ons. Eventually they were floored by biology: neither of them knew the name of some obscure little part of the brain. At last! I’d been agonising in my mean little mind about a suitably nasty dare and I had it. I ran to the kitchen, nude and freezingly cold, grabbed my supplies and ran back.
“Stand up, both of you.” I ordered with a grin.
They did – Phillip’s tall, pale body a contrast to Miranda’s shorter, darker one. Miranda had large breasts with dark, dusky nipples. She looked like a luscious offering, which got my mind ticking on different dares, but that was for later. I took a teaspoon of the chocolate spread and rubbed it onto her stomach.
“Aaahh, that’s cold,” she squealed.
“Not for long,” I teased. “Rub yourselves together to spread it around – no hands. You’re a chocolate sandwich. Spread it well because you get to lick it off afterwards.”
It was a treat to watch, pure eroticism in motion. Phillip moved up and down eagerly but sensuously, knowing that his groin was quite close to her stomach, and if he managed to get any on there she would have to lick it off of him in front of us. He didn’t quite manage, but he got close. It was another of those perfect moments for me, watching her bend over him, the firelight limning them, as her tongue moved over his lower stomach lapping up every little bit of chocolate. In that second, my body’s temperature rocketed, and I felt something I had never felt before: intense, burning lust for another woman. I wanted to be Phillip. I wanted her to be licking me with her soft little feminine tongue, guiding her efforts on my body with her firm, gentle hands. I wanted her long soft hair sliding caressingly over my pubic hair, dipping between my legs as she moved her head.
His turn was equally erotic. His cock was now at full mast, hard, enflamed and much darker than before as it dangled between his legs. He crawled up her between her legs to reach her stomach, allowing his cock to dangle as close as he could to her own dampness whilst he lapped her stomach. Had he managed to get some chocolate on her breasts? He stretched himself a little higher, glistening cock dabbling eagerly at the juncture of her thighs as he lapped assiduously. He must have managed to get a lot of chocolate on her because it took a long and sustained effort to clean.
My god, now I wanted to be her. I was a dripping, quivering mess and our game of dare had hardly begun. Why had we taken so long to do this? It was the hottest thing I had ever experienced.
This time, when we returned to the board, it took much longer for the heavy breathing and heated flushes to settle, and even longer for the hard-ons to shrink sulkily back into their little covers. Our discussions now were less competitive and far more flirtatious, accompanied by wandering touches and nipping kisses between couples as well as across the board. The lines between us were definitely becoming more fluid.
The next dare was ours again. We awaited it eagerly, longing to have our own chance to touch and taste, but as enthusiastic to perform for our friends, to get them as hot as we were. They conferred, and then Phillip gave us the verdict.
“Your dare has two parts. The first part is that you have to rub her stomach and breasts with the softest, juiciest mango you can find and then lick it all off. I’ll tell you the second part afterwards.”
Great, just what we wanted. Cole was diligent in his duty, applying the mango thoroughly. It was cold and sticky on my skin, but I loved its ripe silkiness as it slipped and slid over me. The best was as he rubbed it in damp little circles on my nipples. Heaven!! He bent forward to blow on them before he slipped down to lick from just above my pubic hairline, working his way up my body with painstaking care. The musky smell of our mutual arousals had slowly mixed in the air with the wood smoke and the pungent, heady mango added another note, mingling erotically with our pheromones.
My nipples were pebbled so hard they were painful, and Cole didn’t help at all by sliding a hand up to pinch them even tighter as he licked at my lower belly. I didn’t care about the show anymore. My only thought was to entice him up, to get his warm lips closing around and hotly sucking my cold nipples. Oh please god, suck me. I arched, I strained, and … eventually his teeth settled over my one nipple, his warm hand over the other. His lips continued slipping higher and higher over my breast, sucking in my entire nipple and more, more. He’s never done that before – it was like he was trying to deep-throat it and swallow as much as he could. Aaaah, the sucking – long, tight sucks creating a vacuum. He dragged himself back, all the time keeping his hard suction going until it was so painful I wanted to scream at him to stop. Then my nipple popped right out of his mouth. ‘Nooo, come back…’ He did the same on the other side. I was moaning, begging, writhing, but he stayed completely focussed on his duties.
“Enough, you still have to do part two, and if you carry on like that we’ll all cum before we’ve finished.” Phillip reminded us in a much huskier voice than I had ever heard on him before.
I wasn’t so sure I was enjoying this anymore: this continual stopping and starting when I was so wound up was torture. That was until he gave us part two of our dare. Then I realised that until that moment I hadn’t truly understood the proper meaning of being torturously turned on, so electrified that I felt as if I could literally snap. He was standing behind Miranda, gripping her so tightly to him that there were white marks at her waist and her breast around his hands. She was eerily still, completely focused on me.
“Insert the leftover mango into her vagina.” Phillip instructed. Cole was eager, thinking he knew what would come next.
“Now step away,” Phillip continued, making direct eye contact with Cole that was almost pleading and contrasted starkly with his dominant tone. So he wasn’t so sure of himself? It made me feel a little more relaxed somehow. Then he dropped his bombshell:
“Miranda will suck it out.”
What!?! Until a few minutes ago the thought of girl-on-girl had never turned me on particularly. It didn’t turn me off, but I had simply never considered it and it had definitely never featured in any of my fantasies. Still, that moment burned in me, a newly lit flame, and no way was I going to refuse. I looked at Miranda and realised that her immobility was due to nerves. She was terrified of what my answer would be. When I met her eyes and nodded my agreement, I could see the fear drain from her and a burning similar to mine enter her eyes. Now how had I missed that intense lust in the bath? Phillip and Cole both sat down on a couch with a good view whilst Miranda settled a pillow under my butt.
What followed was beautiful, gentle and loving. She settled between my legs and looked, letting her eyes wander over her mirror image. Exploring, she spread my nether lips, then pushed them together again –open, close, open again. She touched a tentative finger to my dripping cream mixed with the mango, scooped a little up and sniffed it, then closing her eyes, put her fingers in her mouth and sucked, savouring the flavours. I felt intensely loved and understood in that moment of a meeting of equals.
Now that she had the taste of me, the flavour, she became surer in her exploring. Tucking her hair behind her ears to tickle at my thighs, she bent forward and sniffed, then darted her tongue out and scraped it, hard and wet all the way from my rosebud, up, up, past the mango, all the way up to my clit, where she hovered and suckled and nibbled. She went on an on savouring me until I burst into orgasm in a totally new way as soft waves cascaded endlessly all over me, tightening and tightening in intensity, until, at the zenith, she sucked the mango out of me. I lost consciousness for a second or two after that, completely imploding on myself.
When I could focus again, it was to a frozen audience. Miranda, hands still gentle on me, stroking me down, was looking as proud as a mother with a new baby: she had produced that incredible orgasm in me. And the men … that was priceless. They were both sitting there, cocks in hands, but had forgotten to do anything with them. They were completely, absolutely enthralled in what we were doing. Enthralled, shocked, and very, very excited.
Cole was the first to move. He came over to me and kissed me deeply, then turned and did the same to Miranda. As his hands slid from me and onto her, his were replaced by Phillip’s, and now it was Phillip’s lips that drank from mine, his tongue that tasted my excitement, and his hands that slipped and slid over my body, testing my shape: a new shape, so different to the familiarity of Miranda’s, smoothing over my smaller breasts, the lighter veins on them, my pink nipples. He licked and sucked them for ages as he made his way slowly but surely down my body to put his lips where his wife’s had been.
He didn’t try to suck me off again; this was a meet and greet, a getting to know. He worked his way down me, not forgetting the back of my knee or my inner elbow, all the way down to my feet and then up again.
I was aware of the sounds of Cole and Miranda next to us, even felt the brush of their skin against mine now and again as they thrashed around. Their coupling was a lot more frenetic than ours because Phillip was giving me a chance to regroup, but Miranda had been so worked up she clearly needed something different.
Now as Phillip moved back up me, his cock slipped knowledgeably between my legs, seeking and finding its destination unerringly without needing any guidance, as if he’d been slipping into me for years. I was still so highly sensitised that I came again lightly as his cock slipped over my clit and down into me, a little electric burst of dampness and tingle that was a warning of more to come. He was kissing me again, hard, his tongue and cock matching their penetrating rhythms.
He might have started gently, but that wasn’t where we were leading. He nipped, I bucked. We rolled over the floor, colliding with Cole and Miranda and not caring. Wherever we moved and rolled on the floor, we stayed connected, with him driving into me as if I was his salvation. Deep, hard, earth shattering jabs that rocked against my cervix again and again.
I was too sensitive to last and cried out helplessly as I again orgasmed, this time hard, clenching my muscles around him. It was too late to think that we hadn’t thought of condoms. He blasted his seed into me, flooding me with it. He was on top of me when he burst, and collapsed there, limp and deeply satisfied.
From the sounds around us, Cole and Miranda were heading the same way, but I couldn’t concentrate on them. I just lay there and enjoyed feeling Phillip’s slowing breath, the intimacy of our sweat-slick skin, and his cock, twitching and shrinking inside of me. It was another perfect moment.