Open by Night.

Two or three times a year our town holds an open by night event. You know the sort of thing; all the shops open till 10, bouncy castle in the car park and free hot dogs to the first 500 customers over at the supermarket.

Nobody was really keen so stand in the shop for 12 hours at a stretch, so we split the staffing into two shifts: Our employees, Marion and Dot opened up in the morning, giving us a little extra time in bed and then we took the graveyard shift.

By happy co-incidence the next day was to be one of our free Saturdays so we decided to head down to our summerhouse as soon as we were finished. Despite it being after 10:30 by the time we got there it was still light.

It was delightfully cool and still after the sweltering heat and bustle of the town. We relaxed in front of the tv, watching one of our favourite series at the moment; 'Angesicht des Verbrechens' (The Face of Crime), a German cops-and-robbers series where two renegade cops go after the various warring factions of the Eastern European mafia in the Berlin underworld. The action is clumsy, the dialogue stilted and the plot predictable, but it has the redeeming feature of lots of gratuitous sex and nudity.

The sex and nudity continued after we had finished with the television; with nothing to get up for next morning we were in no hurry to go to sleep just yet. We stripped off in the lounge as is our habit and wandered through into the bedroom, there to lie on the bed and play languidly with each other.

I traced my fingertip around her stiff nipple as she grasped my cock and started to knead and twist it into firmness, then she caught hold of my nipple and we started a game of 'like-for-like'. For every tug and twist and nip that she gave me, I replied in kind until it became an endurance contest to see who could bear the pain the longest.

I slid my free hand down over her stomach and ploughed through her mat of pubic hair, seeking out her moist, welcoming cleft. It was already dripping wet and my fingers slipped easily into that furrow. Despite Heather's attempt to prolong her pleasure by keeping her legs pressed together and denying me full access I was able to fetch some of that ample wetness and use it to lubricate my fingertip as it circled and drew figures of eight over her clit while her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps and her grip on my cock became tighter.

By stroking and tickling the insides of her thighs I at last got her to relent and spread her legs just a little. My fingers darted inside her like a rat up a drainpipe; first one, then two, then three, with a well-wetted little finger slipping just as easily into her bottom as I stroked her g-spot and massaged her clit with my thumb.

She gasped again as I pulled the fingers out again and stroked slowly to either side of her clit. She started wanking me hard and fast as her whole body stiffened and I matched her tempo, skating my fingertip over the very tip of her clit as fast as I could manage, while twisting and mauling her nipples. As her whole body went rigid I slowed right down, just on the cusp of her orgasm and, as there was nobody to hear, she was able to give it full voice.

I am used to stroking her gently as she comes down again. I wouldn’t dare just stop dead and leave her cold, but usually after a while she shivers with a post-orgasmic chill and lets me know she’s had enough. But this time she hadn’t had enough. Having recovered from the first she was ready for more. This is a very rare thing. Even on the occasions when she hasn’t just said ‘enough’ after the first and we have carried on, we have usually had to give up in the attempt, having rubbed her dry. Not this time. Kneeling up beside her and resting the palm of one hand on her mons while hooking my fingers up inside her and pressing down on her lower abdomen with the other hand I had her gasping and stiffening a second time and almost before I knew it she had come again. As before, I slowed down the massaging of her clit as she caught her breath again but this time instead of passive acquiescence, she positively demanded that we go again.

Now regular readers of these posts (if any) will know that Heather simply doesn’t do multiple orgasms, though it’s not for the want of trying on my part. In fact, the last time we achieved two in a row it was so memorable that I wrote about it. Now here she was, going for number three. Again my fingers slipped inside her; with the little finger popping inside an arsehole that was even more wide open than before. I should have taken advantage of that and fucked her arse there and then but I feared that by the time I had reached the lube we might have lost the moment so I stuck with it and she rode out her third orgasm in a row on the tip of my finger.

Only then did she turn to me, hold me close, and shiver as I put my arms around her. There wasn’t going to be a fourth orgasm. After the best part of two hours she was exhausted.

I looked down into her upturned face as I positioned myself on top of her: She had a dreamy faraway look in her eyes. Fucking her, actually getting my cock wet deep inside her, was necessarily a subsidiary to the main event. It is often so and that’s ok by me. I take my greatest pleasure in giving her pleasure. Having wanked me for so long I felt I could have held back almost indefinitely, but Heather was tired out so I quietly slipped my load inside her and we rolled apart to sleep.

The time was 3:30. The candles we had taken with us to the bedroom had flickered and burned out but outside it was getting noticeably lighter as the birds in the trees in the garden were starting to sing in celebration of the dawn of a new day.




Another favourite place in UK .