CHAPTER 5 - A BLOW ON THE NOTHE
“Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!”
.
Stan’s Story
At breakfast the next day, we sat in the same places as dinner. We chatted over a final coffee and laid plans for a day out while Christine’s foot played gently across my ankles as she looked at me across the empty plates, and my cock reacted by stiffening inside my pants. I looked into her eyes; we locked on each other for what seemed an age, then she smiled, rose from the table, and they were gone.
An hour later, we met in the lobby, ready for a day of tourism. Our hotel was on the outskirts of the seaside resort of Weymouth. We walked out together to the nearby bus stop; after a short wait, the number 2 rolled up for our short ride into town.
A few minutes later, we stood on Weymouth Esplanade. Graham and Christine looked quite unsure and lost.
“Follow us!”
It was a glorious sunny day; the forecast was for isolated showers later, but for us, there was not a cloud in sight. On our left golden sands, the strand sweeping along the seafront ahead and behind. As we passed the final bus stand, I called out to our friends and pointed across the road.
“Look to your right; at the statue.”
We all paused as they followed the direction of my raised arm.
“That’s King George the third. He made Weymouth a fashionable resort two hundred and fifty years ago”.
Christine interrupted, “Didn’t he lose the American colonies?”
“Yep!”
We continued our stroll southwards until we reached a road with railway tracks embedded in the tarmac, which we crossed and climbed three steps to a pathway. Ahead was the harbour waterway; we turned right and headed away from the seafront.
On the front buildings were all hotels. Along the harbourside, every building was a restaurant or pub. We strolled along, looking at the fishing boats, yachts and other craft moored along the quays.
A few minutes more brought us to a bridge across the waterway. We climbed some stairs to the upper road, crossed to the other side and turned to follow the opposite quayside.
The road eventually petered out to become a footpath following the harbour; we turned right here and took a steep flight of steps up the hillside into a wood. At the top was a grassy park where we joined a narrow road that descended gently to our destination - Nothe Fort, a forbidding granite mass that bore down on us as we walked under the portcullis gate, paid our fees and continued out into a bright central courtyard.
Abandoned by the military some decades earlier, nowadays a tourist attraction, it was just the place for a couple of mature men to engage their fantasies of combat heroics. Perhaps not such a draw for a couple of mature ladies though.
Ginny’s Story
We had visited the fort before when we had been on holiday in Weymouth, so it seemed an excellent place to take our new friends. I always enjoy visiting historic buildings because there’s so much to learn. Christine didn’t seem so keen, so we let the men wander off to explore; we sat at one of the cafe tables in the warm sunshine and ordered tea and cake for two.
An hour flew by as we nattered away, and then the men came back enthusing about emplacements and guns.
“You two have to come with us; we’ve seen a fantastic viewpoint over the harbour and bay.”
So we left our comfortable seats and trailed them up onto the ramparts; the view was as incredible as they had said with Weymouth Bay, and Portland Island sparkling in the sunshine.
“Come on, follow us.”
We followed a path around the outside of the walls, but still high above the sea until we came to the viewpoint. It was as good as they had said, a concrete bunker with a short flight of steps down and an open side facing the bay and harbour.
There was another couple inside when we entered, six people made a crowd, so it was unsurprising that we were soon left alone.
Christine’s Story
The view was incredible. We stood and gazed at the panorama, but even without anyone else it was still quite crowded. Stan was behind me and pressed against my back.
Initially, I thought it was accidental, but then he put his hands on my hips, pushed into my bum and started to rock against me.
His erect cock was obvious, and to my shame I responded by pushing back against him, wriggling my bum cheeks to enhance his pleasure. I had become a married slut!
While we were there I didn’t notice the sunshine had gone, the chalk cliffs across the bay were still glistening, but we were under clouds. Then a breeze blew across the open front, and drops of rain splattered on the concrete ledge around us. In no time it was pouring, the rain was blowing in, and Ginny, standing next to me, was getting a soaking.
Graham stepped back and turned around to look out of the back entrance.
“Okay guys; I’ve seen a better shelter. Come on and make a break for it.”
So we ran up the steps and dashed to another concrete building set against the fort wall. Inside it was dry; the narrow doorway and a long open slit along one side were both protected from the deluge by the fort.
“It looks as if this was some sort of wartime bunker,” Graham remarked, “it certainly does a good job of protecting us.”
So I stood close to the slit and rested my forearms on the smooth concrete ledge. Stan took this as an invitation to continue frotting himself against my bum slit. I decided he needed the attention of my slutty self, so I turned around to face him, threw my arms around his neck and planted a great, wet kiss on his lips before sticking my tongue inside. I glanced to the side and saw Ginny was following my example with Graham. There was no going back now!
My arms slipped away from Stan’s shoulders to rest on his chest before I lowered myself onto my haunches, trailing my hands down as I went. On a level with his erect cock I unzipped him, groped around and pulled his tasty tool out into the open. Again a glance to my side showed Ginny following me with Graham.
The men stood upright; while two wives sucked and wanked two cocks. I felt we were like two whores, having men take us into a place where no decent woman would want to go. That was a huge turn-on for me, so as I sucked, I pulled my panties aside and pleasured myself with my fingers.
My orgasm came first; my grunts were followed by Ginny’s, and then Stan blew his load into my mouth before Graham followed up as the last one to cum. I stood up, reversed the whole show and pushed my mouth onto Stan’s. He opened up willingly, and I shared my snowball of cum with him. Our snog went on quite a while until Stan drew back, his eyes focused outside.
“The rain’s stopped; we need to get decent before anyone else comes out.”
The four of us sorted our clothing quickly before we stepped into the brilliant sunshine. There was a clunk a few metres away, and then a door in the fort wall opened, and a couple with two kids came out onto the terrace where we stood.
“Phew!”
Stan’s comment was very appropriate; we all smirked, thinking how close we had come to a very embarrassing situation.
Stan’s Story
Our visit to the fort ended with our little naughtiness, and then we retraced our steps back to the Custom House Quay, where we settled on the George Inn for a lengthy lunch while we sat at a bench table outside in the warm sunshine. It seemed the only rain of the day occurred at exactly the optimal time for one very special activity.
Mid-afternoon we arrived at the hotel and disappeared into our rooms for a rest and shower.
Later on, Ginny and I lay entwined on our bed, going through the events of the previous evening, and I took the chance to praise her for a whole raft of brilliant suggestions; each one had been a big help in giving Christine an evening to remember.
“And I think you should take one of your blue pills; you don’t want to fail to rise this evening after this afternoon’s fun and games.”
As I said, my wife is full of brilliant ideas.
.
CHAPTER 6 - THE MADDING CROWD
“They spoke very little of their mutual feeling; pretty phrases and warm expressions being probably unnecessary between such tried friends.”
.
Dinner - Stan’s story
We sat down at a table with two couples, women opposite men, so we faced the partner that each expected to swing with later. As we perused the menu I looked at Christine, face down concentrating on her choices, still not believing that I could be bringing this woman to multiple orgasms again in an hour or two. A bottle of white wine arrived; we filled our glasses and raised a toast; “to us.”
That bottle was followed by several others. By the time we had finished eating everyone was relaxed from the alcohol. The conversation turned raucous, and we laughed like long-time friends.
Under the table there was a lot of action; two sets of footsies were being played. Christine’s shoeless foot flicked around my upper legs, but she couldn’t quite reach my crotch, so I obliged her by shifting forwards until my tummy pressed hard into the tabletop. That did the trick; her toes wriggled around my hardening cock, she knew the effect on me, and her face said it all. So different from twenty-four hours ago when she was very uptight.
We came to a natural quiet break in the chatter, looked at each other, silently nodded, and we all got up and walked out into the night, a twenty-metre walk back to the hotel. The decision was taken to play in our room; then it was up the stairs, tipsy and randy, ready for action.