Carly Goes Down Under Ch. 03

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

College

The combined efforts of my two aunts – Aunty Jackie licking at my pussy, her sister-in-law Rachel sitting on my face – soon erupted into an orgasm for three people. Myself, thanks to Aunt Jackie’s clever little mouth, Aunt Rachel, thanks to my clever little mouth, and Uncle Rick, thanks to his randy voyeurism and his stroking hand!

As soon as I had come, quickly followed by Rachel’s explosion on my mouth, Uncle Rick let out a grunted “Oh, whatta fuckin’ sight!” and his handiwork on Mr Spanky brought the inevitable, sticky outcome for his belly, as his seven-inch prick spurted a couple of wads of semen upwards.

Later, outside by the pool as we savoured his beautifully cooked steaks, washed down by the inevitable bottle or two of Grange Hermitage – a taste I thought I had, by now, acquired – Uncle Rick told his wife and sister-in-law: “Well, as you’ll have gathered, I’m no longer persona fuckin’ grata with little Miss Carly’s sensational pussy.

“But judging by the way I couldn’t control myself as you two worked her over upstairs this arvo, I’m not really much use at wanking and watching, so I’ll bow out of the picture.”

Aunty Jackie laughed. “That’s Rickspeak for ‘I’ve found a new woman’, Carly, don’t let him fool you,” she told me.

“Who is it this time? Don’t tell me Raewyn has finally relented and let you fuck her? Now she’s an executive producer in TV land she’s changed the habits of a lifetime?”

Uncle Rick muttered something about “opportunity being a fine chance” but I wasn’t really listening, I was thinking of her. Raewyn – the very word evoked wonderful memories of my previous visit, 10 years before. But before we get to her, let me take you back to that year – 1995 – when I was enjoying a month’s holiday in Sydney, far from the snow and sleet of an English winter on the Sussex coast.

After a couple of weeks, alternating between Aunty Jackie’s bed at nights and my own, when Uncle Rick would bed me, I was happily enjoying sexual favours from both of them. But a fortnight into my holiday things changed. That night, Uncle Rick was enjoying his turn between my thighs – and it was quite a night.

Uncle Rick, for all his loudmouth ways, was, in fact, an incredibly gentle lover. We had spent the day lying by the pool, stark naked, and as usual I had been lavished with attention from my aunt and her 50-year-old Aussie author-husband.

That night, he carried me up to my bedroom, laid me gently on the cool silk sheet and covered my body with kisses. His seven-inch cock was a proud piece of equipment, but there was none of the macho posturing in his lovemaking.

He took me in the missionary position, then doggy style, then gave me a tit fuck and after a passionate hour or more of fucking and sucking, collapsed fast asleep in my arms. Quite how he could perform that well after at least three-quarters of a bottle of what he described as “a ball-tearer of an Aussie red” was beyond me.

That morning he woke me gently by the simple expedient of placing his practised tongue along my sex trench until I stirred and accepted his eager, stiffness in my vagina. Half-way through our “dawn breaker”, as he crudely referred to it, the phone rang. Seconds later there was a knock on the door and my aunt opened it and announced: “Channel 9 on the phone for you Rick, it’s the show’s executive producer, he says it’s urgent.”

With a sigh, uncle rolled off me, his erection leaving a trail of sex juice across my thigh and I took the opportunity to jump into the shower and get dressed – if you can call the bikinis I was in the habit of wearing in the hot Sydney sun being “dressed”.

Uncle Rick was also dressed and showered by the time I got downstairs.

“Channel 9 has a midday show I’ve got to appear on,” he told me. “I’m apparently being talked about a lot in some fuckin’ High Court case in Pongolia – it’s all about some sheila who’s claiming her work’s been plagiarised by some other Pommy author and the defence team want to call me to give evidence for him.

“Wanna come down to the studios while I appear for my ’15 minutes of fame’ as Andy Warhol put it, Carly?”

“Yes, please,” I said, buttering a slice of toast and marmalade. “When do you have to given evidence back home?”

“Apparently Qantas is holding a first class return ticket for me at Mascot. I fly tonight,” said Uncle Rick.

And that was how I met Raewyn!

Uncle misjudged the traffic, which can be bloody awful in the centre of Sydney, and we were running late when he wheeled the big red Holden into the studio car park. He rushed me inside, we got visitors’ tags and a cold-looking woman took us to the hospitality suite.

There we were greeted by a lovely blonde vision, who shook me by the hand – she obviously already knew Uncle Rick – and announced: “I’m Raewyn, and you Rick are late. Get down to makeup, you’ve 20 minutes before you’re on air.”

Uncle handed me over to her. “This is my niece Carly, and you look after her Raewyn, only don’t get her pissed,” he said, in his casino oyna typically blunt Aussie manner and was then gone.

They say “gentlemen prefer blondes”, but it’s not just gentlemen, it’s women, too. Oh, well, let’s admit it – it’s me. But then again, I prefer blondes, brunettes, redheads. You get the drift.

Anyway, with Raewyn there a lot to prefer. In her late 20s, she was wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt with “Everlast” stamped across her breasts, which were large, around the size of my 36ers, I’d guess. Her eyes were flashing green, her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was pretty, with a little snub nose, great teeth and a warm, pleasant smile. I knew from the instant I saw her I was going to like her.

But wait, as they say on those awful TV ads, there’s more! She was wearing a pair of red leather jeans and her arse was the most magnificent pair of muscular mounds I’d ever laid my lascivious eyes on. She caught me looking.

“Sorry,” I said, quickly, knowing I’d been caught leching on her bum.

“Oh, that’s OK, Carly,” she said, “I get a lot of that, but it’s mostly from old politicians or blokes like your uncle, who’d just love to spank me.”

“I can see that,” I said, indicating I’d have a gin and tonic while we waited for Uncle Rick’s appearance on the show.

“A mother’s ruin and Schweppes coming up, Carly,” said Raewyn, in her broad Aussie twang. “And tell me, is he really your uncle, and has he spanked you?”

I sipped on the monster drink she’d poured me. “He’s married to my aunty,” I said, “so he’s an uncle by marriage and yes, he’s spanked me.”

Quite why I told her, to this day I have no idea, but just as there are some people you instantly take a shine to, so there are some people you instantly trust, as well. Raewyn was both of these things.

And then I added my clincher. “But I got him back,” I said, sipping the g and t to check that it was as strong as I feared – it was.

“You got him back?” said Raewyn, her eyebrows arching.

“Yes, I whipped his arse while he was being fellated by my Aunty Jackie,” I said, knowing I shouldn’t have been saying this, but feeling so at home and at ease with the young blonde.

Then I blushed. “And I had help from uncle’s sister, Rachel, a former lingerie model. We whipped him together, while aunty brought him off.” I just couldn’t shut up!

Raewyn gave a start, but it wasn’t my talk of whipping or fellatio. It was my mention of the name Rachel.

“Rachel?” she asked. “Not Rachel Riccadonna – the Rachel Riccadonna?”

“Well it’s a different name to uncle’s, I know, but she’s a former model and she’s 40 now,” I said.

“Ohmigod,” said Raewyn, running the three words together. “When I was a teenager my mum got a lingerie and bikini catalogue and one of the models in it was Rachel Riccadonna.

“Mum thought her catalogue had gone missing and it had – ‘cos I’d nicked it,” said Raewyn. “Stone the crows, I had the hots for your uncle’s sis. I used to stroke myself to sleep at nights dreaming of the naughty things she could do to me.”

I sucked on a deep draught of the gin – shit, it was strong!

“Would you like to meet her?” I asked. “Uncle Rick’s off to London tonight and Aunty Rachel’s coming round on Friday evening to stay the week-end. I’m sure Aunty Jackie wouldn’t mind if I invited you along too, there’s rooms for Africa in their place.”

I thought Raewyn was going to hug me to death and I had a job balancing the g and t as she pressed her glorious body against me and said: “You’ll make me the happiest girl in the world!”

Then she took a card, scribbled her home number on the back and I promised to call her.

Then we watched on the monitor in the hospitality suite as Uncle Rick did his interview, but to be quite honest I wasn’t really paying attention. I was envisaging Raewyn, buck naked and strapped over a flogging bench in Aunty Jackie’s basement games room while I worked on her glorious arse with a large leather paddle. It excited me and by the time uncle emerged from the studio and came to enjoy “a palate cleansing ale”, as he put it, my panties were sopping wet.

Back home, while uncle was packing and trying to find some smart suits “that will impress a bunch of fuckin’ Pommy jurors” I explained to Aunty Jackie my chat with Raewyn in the hospitality suite, told her I’d possibly revealed a bit too much about the games we played together with Aunty Rachel, then said I’d invited the TV woman for the week-end. Would it be all right?

“Would it what?” exclaimed my aunt. “It’s a terrific idea. And Rachel makes out she’s a hard-bitten Aussie gal, but deep down she’ll be hugely impressed that she was such an influence on a teenager. Mind you, it was 10 years ago, and I hope she’s not disappointed in Rachel.”

I grinned. “Aunt Jackie, you know as well as I do that Aunty Rachel’s still got a body to die for – or, rather, to go down for,” I told her. “I’m sure Raewyn will be her devoted slave – and from what I gather canlı casino she’s really into spanking and bondage and stuff.”

“Fuck, I can hardly wait,” said Aunty Jackie, then Uncle Rick arrived, dressed for his trip.

“Can hardly wait for what?” he asked, dropping a large suitcase and a suitholder on the couch and dialling for a cab.

“Oh, nothing,” said Aunty Jackie, then she added, mischievously: “It’s just that Carly here’s invited the TV hospitality suite girl, Raewyn, around for the week-end, only you won’t be here to enjoy it. You’ll be at 35,000 feet on the way to Heathrow.”

“Fuck!” exclaimed uncle, then adding hastily, “er, no, sorry mate, not you, I was having a chat with my wife. Can you get a cab to pick me up?” Typical Uncle Rick and his loud mouth!

The next day, a Friday, I called Raewyn at the studios, and gave her Aunty Jackie’s address.

“It’s all set for the week-end,” I told her, “only Aunty Jackie and I haven’t told Rachel, so it’s going to be a surprise, OK?”

Raewyn was thrilled, but also cautious. “Oh, Carly, I don’t know about this, what if she hates me?” she said, her voice wavering.

“She’s going to love you, you silly Aussie tart,” I laughed. “We’re expecting you this afternoon – and bring a bikini, the smaller and sexier the better!”

It was Raewyn’s turn to laugh. “Already done that,” she informed me, “one black, one red. I’m finished as soon as the show wraps at 2, so I’ll be with you by 3.”

Just after 3 o’clock and in the middle of a torrential downpour, Raewyn arrived in a battered little Citroen, which made coughing and spluttering noises all the way up the drive.

I greeted her, took her up to my bedroom and told her: “I know it’s pouring, but it’s still stinking hot, so let’s get into our bikinis – Aunt Jackie is downstairs in a little itsy, bitsy thing and she’s dying to meet you.”

Raewyn immediately stripped stark naked, giving me my first – but by no means last – look at her incredible bum. It was to die for! She had quite sturdy legs, a trimmed pubic region and big breasts. She saw me unashamedly ogling her naked, beautifully tanned figure.

“36-24-36,” she grinned. “Good enough for you?”

“You are mouth-watering, you fuckin’ beaut Aussie sheila,” I replied, putting on an Uncle Rick-style accent.

When we had got into our bikinis – Raewyn’s a stunning little red creation, mine a black PVC job – and back into our high heels, I took her down to meet my aunty.

Aunty Jackie looked pretty damn sexy, too, wearing a tiny little blue bikini which accentuated her lovely 35-year-old figure. While they were chatting, I asked if Raewyn would like a drink.

“Mother’s and tonic, darl,” she said, seated on the couch alongside my aunt.

I poured her a stiff one, getting my own back for the monster she had made me at the studios, but she sucked it back like it was weak lemonade!

Then a car horn peeped and I went out to greet Aunty Rachel.

Unlike Raewyn’s clapped-out Citroen, Rachel drove a much more modern car, but like Raewyn she also chose European – only this was a sporty little Mercedes.

Upstairs, I told her that there was a surprise guest and that Raewyn, from Channel 9 was staying the week-end.

“Has she got a body to die for?” asked Rachel, cutting to the chase as she removed her dress to reveal a stunningly sexy black g-string and bra.

“Of course,” I said, “or I’d never have invited her.”

“Then lead the fucking way,” said Rachel and back downstairs we went.

Raewyn’s eyes looked as if they were on stalks as she drank in Rachel’s stunningly-built body walking across the lounge floor.

“Hi Raewyn,” said the 40-year-old, “how’s it hanging?”

She may have been a 28-year-old, but Raewyn’s face blushed beet red as she came face to face with her teenage “crush”.

“Oh, Rachel,” she said, “I’m so pleased to meet you at last. I’ve been a huge fan for 10 years.”

Rachel poured herself a rum and coke and sat in an easy chair across from the couch where Raewyn and Jackie were seated.

“Ten years?” she laughed and then added flatteringly, “Crikey you must have still been in nappies, darling.”

Raewyn blushed an even deeper shade of red. “I was 18,” she said, “and I pinched mum’s lingerie and bikini catalogue one night when she’d gone to the pictures and I just fell in love with you. I’d stroke myself off looking at pictures of you and fall asleep dreaming about you.”

Then she went quiet, as if aware she’d said too much.

But Rachel pounced on it. “You stroked yourself to pictures of me in sexy lingerie and teeny, weeny little bikinis, eh Raewyn?”

Raewyn looked up sheepishly and nodded. Rachel went on: “That’s naughty, isn’t that naughty, eh girls?”

Aunt Jackie and I nodded. “Did you think naughty things, Raewyn?” asked Rachel, her voice inexorable.

“Yes,” admitted the stacked young blonde, her voice a whisper.

Then Aunt Rachel stood and stepped in front of where Raewyn was seated, her kaçak casino long, brown legs apart, her hands bunched fists on her lush hips, her buttocks revealed in their naked glory in her g-string.

“That’s really very, very naughty, isn’t it Raewyn?” said Rachel, in an icy tone of voice. From where I sat I couldn’t see her face, but I could imagine she was staring Raewyn down.

“Yes,” whispered Raewyn again – and then something quite magic happened.

Raewyn stood up – for an awful moment I thought she was going to run out on us – then sank slowly, almost as if in slow-motion, to her knees and pressed her mouth down on Aunt Rachel’s hugely expensive high heels.

“That’s a good girl,” said Rachel, her voice now soft, caressing and calming. “You know you’ve been naughty, you know you’ve got to be punished and you want Rachel to punish you, don’t you?”

The tiny whisper of “Yes, Rachel” was more of a squeak.

“We’re going downstairs now to the games room, my dear where all those naughty little teenage dreams of yours are going to turn into reality. You want to go down there with me, don’t you, Raewyn?” said Rachel, her voice now a purring persuader.

Then the 40-year-old former lingerie model lifted Rachel to her feet, smiled at me and Jackie and walked to the stairs leading down to the basement. “And you two Pommy perverts can watch – I know you’re both wetting yourselves,” she said, softly. “Only give us five minutes, while I get Raewyn ready.”

As the pair disappeared down the stairs, I moved from the easy chair where I had witnessed Aunt Rachel’s bravura performance and sat beside Aunt Jackie. We were both so aroused by what we had seen that we collapsed into each others arms, our mouths locking in a long, tongue-to-tongue smooch.

Then I pulled away. “You bitch!” I hissed, “you told Rachel about her and everything she told me in that hospitality suite, didn’t you?”

Aunt Jackie grinned a wicked grin. “Course I did, silly,” she said, “I thought why beat around the bush, let’s get it on. Am I wrong? Raewyn’s lapping it up, isn’t she?”

I confessed that she certainly appeared to be, then we walked, hand-in-hand, down to the basement torture chamber.

The sight that greeted us when we entered the basement games room was stunning. Raewyn was still wearing her high heels, but the bikini was gone! Her naked body was now strapped down over a lovely big, black leather flogging bench, her buttocks great mounds of suntanned flesh, her shaved pussy displaying just a wisp of pubic hair at her mons.

Aunt Rachel was selecting a supple-looking black leather lash. She indicated to us to take our places on the couch which stood some feet off to the side of the strapped down nude, the black leather belt across the small of her back gleaming under the dungeon’s strip lighting.

“Now Raewyn,” said Aunty Rachel, as she stepped in front of her bound victim, “let’s discuss your disgustingly perverted fantasies – they are disgustingly perverted, I hope?”

Raewyn admitted they were. “Good,” said Aunt Rachel, “I’d hate it if you were a boring little slut.”

Then she bent slightly until her breasts were level with Raewyn’s eyes, but a foot or more from the bound woman.

Rachel pulled on the little triangles of satin material, laughingly called “cups” – they were more like tiny saucers! Then she dragged them across her breasts and revealed her pert 34-inchers, the nipples thick with arousal.

“You want to suck these breasts, don’t you Raewyn?” she said, huskily. “You’ve dreamed of this moment for years, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Raewyn admitted, in a voice that was close to a sob.

Then Rachel stood erect and stepped out of her lovely little black g-string, displaying her shaved pussy, her labia lips thick and glistening at her crotch.

“You want to suck this pussy, don’t you, Raewyn? You’ve fantasised and fantasised about how it will feel, how it will taste, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” came another little sob.

“But first,” said Rachel, extending the poor blonde’s anguish, “you’ve got to be punished, haven’t you?”

My hand strayed to my pussy, a sopping wet pussy, so aroused was I by this teasing, oral torment. Aunt Jackie, I noticed, was doing the same thing!

“Yes,” said Raewyn, in a rasping voice to Rachel’s latest verbal tease.

“Yes,” she whispered, again. It was one little word, but a little word that had so much more meaning. What it really said was “Yes, yes, I want to lick your breasts, I want to suck your pussy, but please, please, start my whipping so I can enjoy your beautiful body.”

At last the wicked woman relented and almost swiftly, she walked behind her victim and with a sweeping left-armed swoop the lash slashed down across Raewyn’s stunning arse. The “thwock” it made as it caressed the naked flesh was so erotic, my finger work increased a notch.

Then the next blow came, and now two thin red stripes crossed Raewyn’s wonderful globes, obvious even above her deep sun tan.

Four more cracking blows thrashed down on Raewyn’s erotically trembling buttocks, then Rachel walked in front of the naked blonde. But if Raewyn thought her domina’s taunting was at an end, I’m afraid she was sorely mistaken!

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Yayımlayan

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir