An Indecent Invitation Pt. 07

Lisa dropped off to sleep on a lounger by the pool after her copulation with Oliver, only to be discovered by Molly, rising early and finding Lisa not in the bed next to her. Surprised at the empty bed she had gone searching. Not expecting her to be with Oliver in his room, she was not terribly surprised to find Lisa by the pool. What did surprise her, when she came back with an early morning mug of tea was to see a very clear trickle between Lisa's somewhat immodestly open thighs. It was not that Molly deliberately looked. Unlike a man, or boy, her eyes were not instinctively drawn to the join of a pretty woman's thighs -- the more so when lolling open. Her eyes did not bore into the softness there, but her eyes swept over her friend's sleeping form and caught sight of the trickle and her eyes sharply focused. Lisa had been fucked! What had gone on?

Molly sat, sipping her tea. She thought it good Lisa had now joined the 'club'. She was happy for her. Happy too for Trish to be in on the act, but what she did not want was Phoebe getting more than her fair share. Well, that was not quite it. Molly did not want Phoebe trying to monopolise Oliver's attentions. Rather she wanted to maintain her position. Happy for all to share, of course, but best at the end of the holiday if she, Molly, had been 'fucked' the most. Happy for Oliver to share his semen around and, despite his age, he seemed capable of regular production, but she wanted to receive more of it than the others. To be completely honest with herself, she just wanted more of it than Phoebe!

A sound and Oliver came out. A naked man with swinging penis, bespectacled and greying but undoubtedly a man. Molly was up in a flash,

"Tea, Oliver? I've made a pot."

He followed her into the kitchen just as Molly had hoped.

"Been busy, Oliver? With Lisa last night I see." Her hand reached, without invitation, fingers curling around Oliver's soft and warm genitalia, holding it. It was not like her -- really. "Been busy with this!"

"Um, yes, er, Lisa -- Yes, I met her by the pool in the middle of the night and..." He shook his head, "rather unexpected but, yes, very good. All a bit tiring!"

"We don't want your cock all worn out, Oliver, do we? Lots to do with it. I hear olive oil is good for skin and especially to keep cocks supple. Stop them getting sore from too much... fucking!" The olive oil bottle was to hand. Molly un-stoppered and poured a generous amount into her palm and just brought it up to Oliver's cock and balls and massaged them. Male genitalia in her hand, the whole apparatus, so soft, so mouldable, so sweet, so squidgy; a mass of malleable flesh, so unlike anything a woman has, even a breast. Just so malleable, so mobile in her palm and, within her fingers, all slippery and slidey. And then the penis began to strengthen, to grow in her hand and, again become like nothing she possessed. Even her tongue, which could erect was nothing like Oliver's penis -- or the penis of any other man for that matter!

Molly was not aroused, but she certainly had aroused Oliver -- the evidence all oily in her hand -- but she was not prepared herself. Molly was not going to let that stop her; her aim quite clear to herself - to be fucked that morning before Phoebe. Forestall that possibility by getting to Oliver first and 'draining' him. From reticence and undoubted concern, at that first pub meeting, to this... things had so changed!

Mug of tea in hand, Molly hopped up on the kitchen table and opened her legs. The invitation clear and Oliver took it. Very much the same position that Trish had adopted the day before. A bit of pressure and despite Molly not being at all wet, her lubrication not yet even dribbling, let alone flowing, the amply oiling of the penis more than made up for that. Oliver might not have even noticed the lack. Perhaps enjoyed the extra effort required to penetrate; a bit more forcing, a bit more shoving into the girl. Some men seem to like a tight vagina, and that was probably what Oliver was getting. Tight but slippery, even if the slipperiness was pressed from olives not young women.

"What a lovely way to start the day!" Oliver exclaimed as he reached out and picked up his own mug of tea and the two of them were fucking whilst drinking tea and talking. The shiny, oily, slippery penis going in and out of the hole below them. Morning tea with a fuck. Sexual without urgency. A simple, pleasurable stroking. It might even go to start Molly up.

"What would you like to do today, Molly?"

Slightly surreal to be engaged in such a normal conversation with Oliver whilst his stiff penis was moving in and out of her vagina. It was almost as if there were two separate and unrelated, activities going on.

"A beach? Might we, perhaps, go on a boat trip -- a trip from that harbour along the coast?"

In came Lisa. "Oh, um..."

"Morning Lisa, there's tea in the pot."

Surreal, really. The more so when Phoebe and Trish came in. There they all were, all five of them, talking about what to do that day, all whilst drinking tea, and all whilst Oliver was fucking Molly, she perched on the table. The connection between the two of them very much visible. Just a glance from each of the new arrivals and there was the very shiny, olive oil coated penis going in and out of Molly for them all to see. Even more surreal when Oliver paused the activity to go and get something. It happened because Lisa could not find the honey.

"I can't find the honey," said Lisa getting breakfast things ready on a tray.

"You'll need a new jar, there's one in here," advised Oliver, casually pulling himself out of Molly and walking across the kitchen with a very shiny -- and very erect -- penis. It was all as if having sexual intercourse going on was so normal, so unremarkable that it just happened. But perhaps that was exactly how it was now at the villa, was just as Oliver had planned it all to be. Had it not been like that with Trish the day before?

"You're looking very fine this morning," remarked Phoebe and her hand went out and encircled Oliver's cock.

"That's mine," said Molly trying to keep the crossness out of her voice. To be accurate it was not even her wetness Phoebe was feeling, it was all the olive oil.

"I think we can all share," said Phoebe, "like the honey jar!" She had unscrewed the lid and was holding the open jar in her hand.

"On the contrary," said Lisa, "I think that over there's the honey jar," pointing straight between Molly's legs, "or here," pointing up between her own legs. "More than one honey pot. What you mean is we can all share the honey dipper!" She held up the turned wooden wand, a tool for gathering honey from the jar, its head consisting of equally spaced grooves changing in circumference as it widened and narrowed along its bulbous head. Sort of phallic, somewhat reminiscent of Oliver's standing penis -- without the grooves of course... well perhaps the one.

The wooden dipper in Lisa's hand, the fleshy dipper in Phoebe's. Phoebe made to move the jar in the direction of Oliver's stiff organ.

"Oh, you wouldn't," exclaimed Trish, "that's not..."

But Phoebe did. She very much put the two together. Jar in one hand, Oliver's cock in the other, she brought them together, plunging the erection head first (of course) into the amber coloured, liquid honey. It came out liberally covered and dripping.

"You, Phoebe, can clean that up," said Molly looking across from her perch on the table to what was happening directly below Oliver's honey dripping cock, "the floor's going to be so sticky."

Not just the floor but Oliver's erection was now ever so sticky, liberally coated in amber, dripping not semen but honey down onto the floor. Cleaning that up, removing all traces of stickiness from Oliver would not be a chore, not a bother: not compared to the floor. That would be a task on hands and knees with a bucket and cloth -- and given how sticky honey is, repeated scrubbing would be needed. With Oliver's cock it could also be on hands and knees licking and sucking the honey (and maybe something else) into a mouth!

Phoebe seemed quite unconcerned at her later cleaning job. She seemed delighted with what she had done, shaking Oliver's 'honey dipper' around, showing just how much honey she had picked up with it. Undoubtedly plenty to have gone on a piece of ready buttered toast, perhaps two slices, had any been to hand. "Shall we, one day, at breakfast use..."

Lisa was shaking her head.

Phoebe did not go down on her knees -- that would come later with the bucket and cloth -- rather she hopped up onto the table, her back to Molly. "Come on Oliver, let my honey pot have your dipper!"

Molly was a bit cross. She had got Oliver where she wanted him and, all in a moment, 'blooming' Phoebe had supplanted her. She could feel the push of Oliver into Phoebe as Phoebe's back made contact with her own.

"I prefer marmalade, anyway," said Trish dismissively.

"Jam for me," said Lisa, "strawberry jam."

"Hmmm," said Trish to Lisa, "I think that'll look a bit peculiar. Like blood, like you're..."

"Oooh, that feels so sticky. Sort of tacky, sort of... it's not that I'm not wet enough but there's a drag from the honey. I like that. Do you Oliver?" Phoebe being fucked.

"Well, yes, but how can I not like fucking all you, young ladies, at once?"

"All?" queried Lisa.

"Oh yes, it's got to be," replied Phoebe. "Up you hop, Lisa and Trish. Go on. Join Molly and me."

A frown from Molly. She had got Oliver to herself, had intended to take his semen before Phoebe had a chance. But now the initiative, indeed Oliver's erection, had been snatched from her by Phoebe.

It had been surreal before, with the three girls milling around the copulating couple talking about breakfast. It was more so now as Trish cleared away some of the breakfast things she had started to put on the table and she and Lisa hopped up onto it, backs to Molly and Phoebe. Four girls on the table, one at each point of the compass, legs open. Indeed, four 'honey pots' opened for Oliver. Four to choose from. What were they? What were they each like? Acacia honey, lavender, thyme, heather, pine or Manuka honey?

Acacia honey is very clear and light with a mild floral taste that stays liquid for a long time. Lavender honey has a subtle taste and smells of the lavender flower. Thyme produces a heavily aromatic, pungent, and savoury golden honey. Heather honey has a gel-like texture, smoky, deep, and with a slightly bitter taste. Pine and fir produce a woody, resinous honey with a rich caramel colour. And then there is Manuka, thick and earthy and highly regarded. Which, if any, applied to the girls? Might Oliver undertake a comparative tasting another time? Might Molly be light and floral with Phoebe being smoky, deep and with a slightly bitter taste?

"This," said Oliver, "is very much my idea of a holiday breakfast!"

It was very much his idea of the holiday. Him, mature, moustached and greying with his gold rimmed spectacles perched on his nose, and four naked, open legged young ladies inviting him in to fuck. In between their open legs. It was no doubt just what he had envisaged back in that pub with the rain beating down when he had made his interesting offer to the girls. No coercion. Those thighs had very much been opened voluntarily at Phoebe's bidding. They had all got up on the table.

"Oh," exclaimed Phoebe, "you too, Lisa. I thought..." Phoebe clearly had not expected Lisa to comply,

"Well, you thought wrongly, Phoebe," said Molly quickly. "Do keep up."

Phoebe was unaware that things had moved on in the night. A little caught out by the development. Had she been on her hands and knees and looking closely between Lisa's thighs she might well have discerned that Oliver had been busy there in the night. Phoebe might have found Lisa's pussy 'heavily aromatic, pungent and, rather than leaking golden honey, might be showing something rather more creamy, perhaps more the colour of set honey! Indeed, Oliver's semen.

"If you're going to do this, Oliver" went on Molly, "then, off you go. Make the rounds. I wonder how many circuits of the table you'll make. I shouldn't think many. This must be just a bit arousing for you. Four of us. I wonder who'll get your, um, butter. Hope it's me."

It was the best Molly could do. Hint that she wanted Oliver to come inside her. But for now, the gentleman was sinking his sticky, honey covered, cock into Trish. He proceeded to make the rounds, circumnavigating the table. From Phoebe to Trish and then back into Molly again before pushing himself into Lisa as he had done the night before.

"That's good to see," remarked Phoebe, watching Oliver's penis disappearing between Lisa's plump thighs. "Perhaps you should be limited to how many thrusts in each of us."

"A half dozen," said Molly.

And so it was. Oliver made no less than four circuits of the table which was pretty good going considering the excitement of having four girls to fuck at once! But he had fucked Lisa not that many hours before and had been regularly at the others. It was not as if he had been celibate for a fortnight. Anything but!

Perhaps it was happenstance, or maybe Oliver was being diplomatic and very much aware of the dynamics of the group, as it was Molly he ejaculated into, exceeding her quota of six thrusts with her. Clear by the fifth he was in the process of cumming. Perhaps he could have withdrawn and pushed into Lisa in time but he might have misjudged and had something of a 'ruined orgasm', spurting between vaginas.

"Mmmm," said Molly afterwards, "that was so nice, Oliver. Loved the game." The reality, she had only just started to get worked up but she was not letting that information out, "I did love the honey. So tactile, so sticky, so sexy, didn't you think so, Trish? But, like it as it seems we did, Phoebe, I think you've a bit of clearing up to do, as Lisa said."

It was rather good seeing Phoebe on hands and knees with a pail and a cloth mopping and scrubbing. Molly stood there watching, hands on hips, legs apart, rather hoping there would be a drip or two from her pussy to add to Phoebe's work. Naked and with her little breasts hanging and bottom on the move Phoebe did look rather sexual, ready to be fucked.

"Don't you think..." began Molly. "Oliver, you haven't a French maid's outfit tucked away here in the villa, have you? I think Phoebe would look so right down on the floor on her knees scrubbing like that, skirt all rucked up and looking..." Her eyes met Oliver's and descended to his flaccid cock. "But I suppose this," she reached and lifted, "isn't currently up to that?"

Oliver shook his head, "Neither maid's outfit nor necessary stiffness. Perhaps at lunchtime I can try again. I didn't think of dressing up."

"Your cock's all sticky still, Oliver. Phoebe come and wash it. No, not with that dirty water. Use your mouth."

So good for Molly to rather stuff Oliver's flaccid penis into Phoebe, pulling back the foreskin and pushing it into the open mouth. Honey covered still, semen splashed and, moreover, wet as well from all four girls' pussies. Molly did like the idea of Phoebe in a maid's outfit, being just fucked as she worked. A mere servant girl of no consequence to be used and abused.

Molly stood there watching as Phoebe dutifully washed Oliver's cock with her tongue and mouth. How good that looked. A pity about the missing maid's outfit.