RELATIONSHIP ADVICE

The weather was flat calm and damn hot, the scenery, rolling, wild and as ruggedly beautiful as only the North West of Scotland can be in late summer. It was my first proper holiday in years.

I had not long returned home from a taxing six month work assignment that had turned into nearly seven long ones and while it had certainly been hot, there wasn't much relaxing or unwinding to be had. Now, I was only a day into my first break in years and already I wasn't having fun.

Sitting on a large, flat rock as the sun descended in a clear, dark blue evening sky, sinking rapidly behind the mountains, I took a sip from the bottle of tequila in my hand and looked down the hillside to where I could see the little coloured specks of windsurfers, jet skiers and assorted other visitors to the area enjoying themselves on the loch below. The peace, solitude and the sounds of nature were beginning to ease my irritation, but only slightly.

I guess it had been a little over a fortnight since I arrived back and went on leave. The usual sense of maladjustment that follows a period away quickly got its fingers around my throat as I stood gazing at the skyline of Edinburgh from the window of a flat that I’d barely stayed in since I bought it.

I walked like a zombie through a dreary day shopping for provisions and essentials for my home, another rebuilding up and updating my wardrobe and then a third getting drunk by myself on the Royal Mile. 

It was on the fourth day of isolation, around noon; an email pinged into my inbox. I read the name at the top of the screen and it was like a kiss on the cheek from God.

Hey stranger! It chirped.

It seemed that someone had told a welcome face from my past that I had crash landed back in the Scotland.

Fiona was a very old acquaintance by my transient and solitary standards. We had met at University in Aberdeen in the nineties. She was doing some random arts degree that I secretly suspected would never take her anywhere besides teacher training college.

As it turned out, it was not to be. She met some bloke, dropped out, moved south and ended up training and working as a hair dresser in small salon down on the east coast.

That relationship didn't last, but her career did and so did our friendship. Though we only saw each other very occasionally there was a great deal of affection and a deep bond between us. I had been in some very bad spots in recent years, only to receive a text message from Fiona that had given me the strength to keep my head straight and get the job done. It was love alright; albeit platonic - a kind of brother and sisterly thing. Strong none the less and I felt lucky to have it.

In looking upon Fiona as a sister, it wasn't that I didn't find her attractive. On the contrary she was a pretty thing, with doe brown eyes and a kindly, mischievous smile, always immaculately turned out and well made up. She had a tendency to be slightly overweight, but that didn't diminish her appeal.

I had typed an email back in quick order, perhaps a little more needy than I’d act around most people. I bemoaned how I was having trouble adjusting to life back in Edinburgh, fishing for a bit of company.

Like the good sister she was, an email bounced right back.

Got a holiday cottage booked up north for a week, it said, plenty of space, will be upset if you don’t come. You have been in my thoughts more than usual lately, she added. I’ve been worried, and it's been too long. 

The idea of a week in the sticks with my sister sounded great; just what I needed to ease myself back into ordinary life.

Count me in; I fired back, already casting an eye round the room for my second biggest holdall.

Another lightening fast reply: Can't wait! It's me, my bf, and another couple of friends. Hope that's cool?

It's cool. Hope your taste in men has improved? I replied.

It was set. I was going on holiday.

On my rock, watching the birds of prey combing the scrubland beneath me, smelling the lime and salt in the air, feeling the sun on my weather beaten face and slightly buzzing from the raw spirit, I started to regain some inner peace.

'There you are,' a little voice said behind me, almost apologetically.

'Here I am,' I smiled sympathetically at Fiona as she picked her way over the rough ground towards me, her girlie black sandals hampering progress.

As always, on this trip she had made a big effort with the way she looked. Tonight she more a pretty light blue summer dress over black leggings, a cute pair of brown-rimmed glasses (as she always did), her hair nicely styled and highlighted with reds, coppers and blondes and pinned away from her face with a little clasp. She was still a big girl, lots of boobs and bum, even a hint of a belly, but with a fantastic figure, shapely legs and whimsical, feminine tattoos adorning the base of her neck, her wrist and her ankle.

Suddenly, I was conscious that I was perhaps staring a little too hard at her. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen her, that’s all, I told myself.

'Sorry about all that,' she sat down on the neighbouring rock.

The day, particularly the last few hours hadn't been the best.
 
I had met Fiona and her partner of almost three years at Waverly railway station bright and early that morning. I’d never met this guy before. My overriding desire was to see Fiona happy, so I stole myself to like him regardless.

I failed.

Graham was a thirty-something stiff who walked like he had a corn cob up his arse and looked like he was suffering from a serious vitamin D deficiency. Most likely he'd spent too much time in some random office pushing pens about his desk. We shared a limp handshake followed by a revitalising hug from Fiona that made me feel ten years younger, transporting me back to the very first one she gave me in some sweaty Aberdeen rock club years earlier.

She smelled as wonderful as always.

Then we were on our way.

There was the tangible feeling that Graham and I were making an effort to get to know each other on the train. We shared boring small talk about bands, places we'd lived, films we'd seen, but he was very much a man who defined himself by his job and I think it irked him that I politely avoided all attempts to bring the conversation onto mine.

That is not my thing.

Presently, with the sun blazing through the windows as we clattered up through Fife, he fell asleep. His unconsciousness was followed by a sudden sensation of relaxation. Fiona and I sat and beamed at each other like a couple of kids, rarely breaking eye contact, often saying nothing at all, just happy to be together again.

For a time she cupped my rough, dry hands in hers, stroking my chapped knuckles and running her fingers tenderly along the lattice of scars on my fingertips and palms, the burn on the back of my right hand. I could virtually feel her telepathically chiding me for not looking after myself well enough.

Her concern felt, warm and nourishing. I began to feel stronger.

Graham stirred suddenly and she dropped my hand quickly.

I feigned a hurt look and shook my head at her. She playfully stuck her tongue out at me.

Something in the pit of my stomach quivered a little. Perturbed, I ignored it.

It must be said that if Fiona's only problem was that she was shackled to a slightly boring guy, then this story would have ended right here. But, there is a little more to tell.

We coasted into Inverness, picked up the smart but underpowered hire car and started driving west towards Ullapool, Graham by this time dehydrated and suffering from a bad headache, was already beginning to vent his irritation at Fiona's general existence.

As we pushed out through the Black Isle, I hoped for his sake that he was just feeling rough and a bit out of sorts. Aware of the depth of our friendship, he kept his mouth in check as best he could manage. 

I drove, as I knew the area fairly well from a job I had done in a previous life. I spoke little, trying to ignore their domestic arrangements and Graham’s escalating whinging. I was already convinced that this individual was not remotely good enough for Fiona.

We penetrated further into the west, being swallowed up by the amazing mountain-scape, forgotten lochs and mysterious winding roads. The boy dozed in the back, missing most of it.

Heathen.

In the late afternoon, we arrived at the rented accommodation. It was a small Scandinavian style chalet in a row of three, nestled into the rough, heathery foothills of one of the, vast, ageless peaks. Beneath the decked area out front the ground dropped off steeply through wooded slopes all the way down to a tiny village which was no more than a row of houses and a pub, on the banks of a glistening, emerald loch below. It was a genuine slice of paradise.

We debussed and I was introduced to another serious looking couple: Tim and Anna. I shook hands with a tall bespectacled freak that looked like a mad scientist with his white afro, round specs and his skinny, hippy-looking wife.

'Really nice to meet you,' I lied, smiling.

'Yah, yah. Likewise,' mused Tim. 

Anna just looked slightly worriedly at my high mileage body, sun burnt visage and tattooed upper arms.

We settled in and I helped Anna and Fiona make a dinner of grilled chicken, salad and potatoes in the pleasant open plan kitchen while Graham massaged his temples, watching TV and Tim pecked at something statistical on his laptop.

Once the ice had thawed a little, it was actually okay. It turned out Tim really was a mad scientist and Anna really was a skinny hippy. They were pretty sound though and, of a scientific background myself, we got along nicely.

What didn't click so well was Graham's relationship with Fiona.

In fact, it continued to eat away at me more and more.

Now, all couples go through ups and downs and I wouldn't dream of judging, but he snapped at her too frequently, talked down to her progressively more and more as the evening wore on. By the time we'd eaten dinner and had a few drinks, I’d go so far as to say he was belittling her.

Were these his true colours, or was he just having a bad day? I didn’t much care which.

Anger was rising, slowly but surely.

Aggressive action should never ever be emotional. Anger is a tool that can only be used effectively if it can be switched on and off at will.

'I'm gonna take the air,' I growled, when Graham had made his latest jibe about Fiona getting fat, smugly looking to his captive audience for approval.

Tim and Anna smiled embarrassedly. They were good folks and I could tell they didn’t think much of Graham’s behaviour either.
 
Now, sitting together on our rocks, looking down at the world, I placed a hand on top of Fiona's, 'you've nothing to be sorry for except your choice of men. That one's an ugly girl in a pair of trousers, if you ask me.'

She smiled sadly, 'well I don't think you'll have to worry about that any more. We just broke up.
'
I studied her. It didn't look like she was seeing a silver lining.

'You've done the right thing,' I said, reaching for one.

'No, you don't understand. He dumped me.'

I laughed, stunned by the revelation: ‘No way!’

'Yeah, not long after you walked out. Apparently living with a fat hairdresser is holding him back.'

‘You want me to beat the shit out of him?’ I suggested genuinely offering.

‘I don’t think that’ll help.’

‘Well,' I said, 'he's probably just burned up because you have a more exciting job than him.'

She liked that, looked sideways at me; smiled prettily.

‘And you definitely aren’t fat’ I added, ‘come on,' I said 'let’s walk and talk.

We linked arms and sauntered towards the road that led down towards the village, and the loch.
 
'I don't know what it is about me,' she said later, down on the banks of the loch as we picked our way through pine trees that scattered the rocky inner shore. It was getting dark but it was still warm and humid. Music and laughter emanated distantly from the pleasant, white walled pub next to the road and scattered along the shoreline there was still plenty of activity, giving the place a friendly, bustling vibe.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean these guys I’ve lived with. They all seemed right, said they loved me, it all seemed solid, but things always fall apart eventually. They always end up unsatisfied in some way.'

'You know what I think your problem is?' I said, stopping her, turning so we were facing each other.

'Oh, and what's that, mister big relationship expert,' she mimicked affectionately.

'Your always looking for a relationship to define you, relying on another person, rather than just looking for ways to survive... to thrive.'

She laughed at me, 'survival - your answer to everything!'

'Okay, not survival. How about happiness? How about the pursuit of happiness and following that to wherever it leads rather than just giving your happiness the form of yet another unfulfilling long term relationship? You can't find yourself in other people, you know.'

She looked into my eyes for a long time as I held both her hands in mine. I looked at her immaculate aubergine-painted fingernails.

For a moment I thought about kissing her. The sensation felt bizarre; out of place. I put it down to hard work and no female company. I was losing the plot, surely.

'Maybe you're right, bro' she conceded.

We walked on some more. The stony beach up ahead was flecked with an attractive, cosmopolitan bunch of guys and girls in lightweight wetsuits, shorts and t shirts, tending to windsurfers, little boats and BBQs. A VW camper van and a Toyota Hilux were parked on the shore.

A song that Fiona and I both liked by the Deftones was blaring out of the latter.

‘Remember that gig?’ she said.

‘I remember everything we’ve done together,’ I replied.

'You know what?' she announced finally as if she had had some inner revelation.

'What?'

'I'd love to play the field.'

'First I’ve heard of it,' I said.

'But it’s not the first time I’ve thought it. Between you and me, right here - yes, I’d love to juggle men, be a slut, you know?' she looked embarrassed for a second.

‘Does it change the way you see me, to hear me say things like that?’ she asked.

‘What, like aspiring to act the slut?’

She nodded.

‘Never. Go on,' I encouraged, 'you can tell me anything, say anything. Our relationship is permanent.'

'You know, I’ve never done that - played around, I mean. The time has never seemed right to be the girl who fucks anything with a pulse. But I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be her.'

'Well, what better time than now,' I suggested, 'now that shithead is out of the picture.'

She thought this over and I couldn't help but notice her eyes darted to one particular clutch of athletic, toned guys clad in black neoprene and talking in loud, brash tones but a half dozen meters away.

She sighed, 'I’m not getting any younger. The time to do that would have been years ago when we were, like, twenty-something, when everyone else was doing it. I mean, is anyone going to really want that? With... me, I mean.'

I laughed out loud.

'You have to be joking! Have you seen you? Besides, you’re only thirty two. You’re a spring chicken!'

She tilted her head demurely, not handling the focus of attention being directly on her.

'Fiona, seriously; you are smoking hot.'

Her eyelashes fluttered momentarily, making the pit of my stomach do the same.

I looked around, suddenly gripped by a potentially idiotic idea.

She saw where my mind was going and grabbed my arm, tried to slap a hand over my big mouth.

'No, S!'

Too late.

'Oi, mate!' I yelled.

The tall, slim windsurfer who was walking past us carrying a case of beer, dressed for BBQ and party in Stussy and Bong turned towards us with the open, warm smile of a bloke who's been doing what he wants to do for days on end.

I both liked him an envied him right off.

As he cautiously greeted us, I narrowed his origin down to Australasia somewhere.

'Wondering if you can help us with something,' I began 'my good friend here is just newly single and is having a crisis of confidence about hitting the scene. The biggest of these problems is that she doesn't seem to believe how eminently gorgeous she is.'

The guy drank all this in for a moment, wondering nervously whether he might be potentially facing some kind of trap. He looked momentarily embarrassed, surveyed Fiona, slightly hungrily, from head to toe and then brushed his salt-matted dirty blonde mop of hair out of his face, composing his response.

'Well mate, you can tell your lovely friend that a couple of us have just watched her walk the length of this shore, admiring the view the whole way and commenting on what a lucky bastard you are!'

Fiona blushed, a deep red, but looked delighted none the less.

I held my hands up, 'Hey, I'm just a friend.

Don’t want to be cramping anyone’s style here.'

On receiving that news, he immediately disregarded me utterly and made a straight course for the lady 'I'm Brad, from Sydney,' he intoned proudly, dumping the beer and advancing gallantly on Fiona, hand outstretched, chest puffed out for maximum impact.

'I'm Fiona,' she said looking bewildered by her own sudden change of lifestyle.

Their handshake metamorphosed into a slightly awkward peck on the cheek, then a mannered but hopeful kiss.

'Are you very newly single, Fiona?'

'Very, very newly.'

'Looking to forget about that no-taste deadbeat with a little Aussie beef?'

'That would be a yes.'

Well, this was clearly none of my business.

'I'll be on the shore.' I indicated and winked at her, before performing an about face and heading off to find solitude, chuckling to myself as I went.

I honestly never knew she had it in her.

Finding another suitably big and flat rock, I got back to my memories.

Of course, I take my friends wellbeing seriously and so, in reality, I didn't stray far away and was close enough that I’d be there if she needed me. Just like some caring sharing modern day charity-pimp!

Obviously, I would never let her know that I was keeping tabs.

About a half hour or so later, I intercepted her walking back the way we had come, looking for me.

As our eyes met she beamed broadly, apparently delighted with herself.

'And just what the hell was that?!' I asked genuinely, ‘I wasn’t expecting you to jump right off the deep end with this playing the field thing!’

She shrugged, looking like the cat that got the cream.

It was an ironic expression in this case.

'I have never, ever done anything like that in my whole life!'

‘What?’ I pried, happy to see her cheered up.

She laughed, embarrassedly.

‘Fiona, did you just fuck that dirty bum?’

She nodded, blushing, ‘we spoke for about thirty seconds before I had his cock in my mouth.’

‘So you’re a slut after all! I hope you got something out of the arrangement?’

‘Honestly, the way I’m feeling about that shit with Graham, I was willing to just having someone’s spunk in my mouth – make a point, but Brad from Sydney was very nice,’ she smiled.

‘Knickers down, skirt up?’ I asked.

‘Uh-huh’ she enthused, ‘I just bent over and he fucked me right there on the grass. It was so easy.’

‘So are you,’ I said.

She gave me a friendly punch on the shoulder.

‘And you didn’t even get any cum on your clothes or in your hair? I’m impressed.’ I teased.

She opened her mouth wide for my benefit, showed me her tongue.

It looked nice. A provocative gesture, whether she intended it that way or not.

‘See? All gone!’

‘Good girl; very efficient!’ I looked down at her bare legs, ‘I take it some of your clothes stayed behind though?’

She nodded, ‘I had to lose the leggings and, well my knickers got a bit wet. I let Bradley keep them as a little souvenir of his gap year.’

We wandered along the row of houses, past the pub and back towards the road that led up into the foothills and the chalet we were staying in. The thought of dealing with Graham, though unspoken, was spoiling the good mood for both of us.

'Guess we'd better show face, eh?' I said.

She nodded and kept walking, ‘You know, it’s not the first time he dumped me,’ she said eventually.

‘You’re kidding? This guy just gets better and better.’

‘But it feels like this is the last time.’

‘Damn right it should be.’

We were just about to pass the cross roads and head uphill towards home when I heard a vehicle engine roaring up the trail behind us. It was twilight now and visibility was poor. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and for a moment, I was prepared for trouble.

The noise came closer and then ground to a halt amid a squeak of badly maintained brakes just next to us. I recognised the VW camper van from the beach as the side door slid open. An interior light went on revealing a wholesome bunch of outdoor-looking lads all trying their best smiles and most chiselled postures. They were all looking right at Fiona.

One look at their eager, tanned faces told me that word had travelled very, very fast.
'Our mate reckons there's a horny single lady round here looking for something to take her mind off her ex? I don’t suppose that would be you?'

Fiona looked startled for about four seconds before she clocked the bus-load of six-packs, lean muscle, tattoos and easy smiles, then she broke out in her best pout and, to my amusement, even canted her hips provocatively, her ego visibly swelling.

'Well, I guess I'm not in any real hurry to go home. Any room in there?'

The driver's window rolled down and an older looking guy, perhaps late thirties, early forties, angularly handsome with black hair and greying temples stuck his head out.

'Alright, love? I'm Dan and you are quite simply the best lookin' thing I’ve seen since I’ve been in this miserable country.'
 
Five minutes later and we were back on the shoreline sitting round a big, comforting fire. I was swapped some booze and a few stories with the Aussies while Fiona was having a lot more fun with the silver fox on an inflatable mattress next to where the VW was parked.

I talked, engaged and enjoyed myself, although my attention kept flicking to the live show noisily progressing about five meters away. No longer feeling the need to be protective, I was now just stealing the occasional glance and pushing down my hardening cock, same as the rest of the six blokes sitting with me.

There wasn’t much attempt to give the lady privacy and, this night, outside of her own reality, she didn’t seem to want it. All of us could quite clearly see her spread thighs by the light of the fire, as the top dog’s butt pumped up and down, fucking her like his life depended on it.

Things escalated and before too long, we were all essentially spectating the action, too horny to pretend we weren’t. Top dog finished up and got off her, kissed her. I watched them whisper quietly to each other for a minute or two before he returned to the fireside to a smattering of cheeky applause.

Barely a minute later and Fiona was on her knees, the next two suitors standing either side of her while she enthusiastically massaged their cocks, occasionally sucking off one, then the other. Eager hands popped her ample boobs out of the cute black bra she wore, fingers prying between her creamy thighs.

Soon all manners and order dropped by the wayside as the majority of the group hovered close enough to the action to enjoy the sights, sounds and smells properly. I kept a respectful distance and remained at the fireside, guiltily drinking up the sight of my friend’s knickerless crotch as she stuck her bum up in the air, presenting herself so that she could fuck one, suck one.

The boys were democratic enough about things, groping her prone, exposed flesh between turns in her mouth or pussy. On and on the relay seemed to go. Her appetites were proving to have impressive depths.

I’m not really sure how long she lay on that cheap, inflatable piece of vinyl, gamely dishing out blowjobs and sex to the group, but eventually everyone (bar me) had had their balls drained; satisfied themselves that every avenue they fancied exploring with this particular lady had been fully attended to.

'Right, has anyone not yet fucked me yet?’ Fiona eventually enquired loudly and to much amusement from the group.

I remained quiet as the night clicked down a gear, entering its final phase. Then, suddenly it was over. The little blue dress was pulled back over her shapely hips and those big, milky tits were squeezed back into her bra. Once she had straightened herself up, she approached the fireside to much childish applause, fawning, kissing of hands and general admiration from the Aussies. It was as if she had seven little adoring boyfriends; all suddenly ready to leap through flaming hoops for her. Like an adult version of Snow White... with me as gooseberry.

I wrapped a protective arm around my sister, ‘ready to go?’ I said.

She nodded, kissed the boys and we said goodnight.

It was the early hours when we finally made our way back up the mountain road to the chalet. From the driveway, we could see everything was in darkness. Everyone was asleep.

I looked at Fiona. 'You okay, don't need a piggy back or anything?'
'Maybe tomorrow,' smiled wickedly.

'Feel okay?' I ventured.

'Bit dirty,' she replied.

'In a good way?'

'Definitely. I think I’ve needed to get that out of my system for a long time.'

We reached the decking and flopped down on the pair of comfy recliners overlooking the starry sky. For Scotland, even at this time of year, it was still impressively warm.

'Just one thing,' this had been tugging at me for a couple of hours now given the epic binge of disposable sex she had just embarked on without fuss or moralising.

'Yeah?' She reached out for my fingertips and held onto them.

'When you were planning this orgy, how come you didn't think of including me in it?'

We looked over at each other but the answer was already crackling satisfactorily in the air.

'Well, I wasn’t sure how that’d be. You being the brother I never had and all...'

Her soft brown eyes fixed me and for a long while. I could not break away from them; didn’t want to. Something was imparted between us without a word being said and finally, I took the incentive and rolled to my feet, moved across and positioned myself next to where she was laying. I stood over her for a moment, admiring her shapely form laid out beneath me.

‘Well, we’re not blood relatives,’ I said.

‘True,’ she took my hand again, ‘but just so as you know, where you’re concerned, I’ll always be right here; whenever you want me.’

Her choice of words was intoxicating, filled with some exotic promise of a place that we had never been together in all these years.

I touched the side of her face, ‘including right now?’

She nodded emphatically, 'that is if you’re interested right now?'

'You mean, after you've just been shagged by about seven guys?' I smiled.

She squirmed a little, 'that type of thing, yeah.'

I reached for my belt buckle, slid out the pin and began to unzip the canvas shorts I was wearing.

Fiona was on me before they hit the ground, my cock straight in her mouth, pumping it hungrily as if the sexual tension had been building up for decades, eating me alive.

Soon I couldn’t hold off my need to be inside her any longer. 'Do you think you could get it wet one more time tonight?’ 

'It already is,’ she smiled up at me, the palm of her hand flat against my abdomen and my dick cradled against the side of her face as if it was something she felt possessive of, 'want to see?’

It was a rhetorical question as she turned her rear end round towards me, on all fours, head pressed into the padded green fabric of the recliner, the soft, pale skin of her bum peeked teasingly out from under the hem of the dress.

I lifted the soft material slowly, exposing her, admiring the inviting crease running down to her neatly trimmed pussy, savouring the moment.

Her fingertips appeared between her thighs, pushing her lips apart as if displaying her opening for my approval.

I had nothing but approval for her. One glimpse of that glistening pink recess and I was already sliding myself in there.

Time and the world melted away as we finally came together; both of us silent, lost in the sensation as I spread her buttocks, loving the view of the most intimate recesses of her body.

We fucked hard like the first bloom of love and lust and she came quickly, fluttering and pulsing on my glistening, slippery shaft. I withdrew slowly and watched her greedy, wet cunt convulsing, nerve endings overloaded, looking for more.

I would move heaven and earth to satisfy her.

Once she had relaxed a little I steadied my hand on the small of her back and pressed the head of my cock into her anus, working the tip round her rim, looking for the acceptance that would allow me to penetrate her that way.

‘Stop,’ she said breathless.

I held off, unwilling to pursue something that she was not comfortable with, but a tiny bit disappointed that the bubble had burst.

She took a moment to rummage beneath the recliner in the little pink shoulder bag she carried, produced a bottle of sun cream and slapped it against my chest.

‘Use this,’ she smiled cheekily. I could tell that making me think she didn’t want it had amused her to no end.

I took my time and a great deal of pleasure, working the scented, white cream into her back door with my middle and index fingers. She moaned softly, her face nuzzling against the cushioned material as she accepted one digit then two. I massaged her that way for a time, preparing her for what was to follow.

When she was loose enough for my cock I mounted her again and she stifled a squeal and sunk her nails into my sides as she lost control, swallowing me.

‘First time?’ I whispered.

‘Yeah.’

As time went slow, we alternated as her frequent whims dictated. She wallowed wetly on my cock one moment, pleasuring herself, orgasming a second time; then when she had had her fill of pleasure and wanted a little pain and to feel a debased, I’d switch to her arse hole, probing where no one had touched her before, progressively deeper, progressively harder, fucking her like she was my possession.

I was cooking off rapidly and she knew it.

‘Where do you want to put it?’

It was hard to even contemplate this without serious risk of immediate ejaculation but somehow I managed to form a coherent thought relating to finishing this act.

‘You know, I’ve always quite fancied spunking on your tits.’

‘That’s a coincidence!’ She whispered next to my ear as, once again, we faced each other.

The front of the pretty blue dress was unceremoniously pulled apart, the lining ripping noisily in the process and I suddenly found my hands full of soft, warm, creamy tit, spilling out between my fingers as I kneaded them roughly, my cock sandwiched in the depths of that warm, enfolding cleavage.

I came, hard, a huge arc of thick cum splattered across Fiona’s pretty face.

She pushed her tits together as I feverishly jerked myself off, squeezing a voluminous aftershock into the soft depths of her cleavage.

She took my softening cock in her hands and began to rub it across her lips, mopping up the stray trickles that were still pulsing their way out as I reached down and began to massage, the thick, gooey stuff into her rock hard nipples.

Closure was achieved, and enormous wave of catharsis and pleasure swamped us both and we slumped, exhausted against each other.

‘Fiona?’ An irritated, sleepy voice from the doorway suddenly made us both start, jerked from the post orgasmic fug.

‘Graham,’ her blissed out expression suddenly glazed over with worry, embarrassment and shock, descending fast on her as if she hadn’t truly accepted their sudden breakup and his arrival had somehow confused her feelings for him.

He stared at the scene in silence and utter, humiliated disbelief. He gazed, appalled at me with my penis pressed against his partner’s breasts and then her, breathing hard and shallow with a quarter of a pint of spunk splattered across her face and tits, dripping down onto the cushion of a recliner that would never again regain its innocence.

Without warning, in the still of the mountain night, Fiona started to giggle, unable to help herself, burying her face in my chest.

Graham continued to stare, his eyes slowly but surely filling with tears.

‘Fiona,’ he said again hopelessly as if he may somehow have got the wrong person.

She was still hiding from his gaze, still hysterically cracking up with laughter at the ridiculous scenario, arms enfolding me.

I decided that everyone concerned had already been made to feel awkward enough and that staring at a lady covered in someone else’s jizz was no gentlemanly way to behave. We needed to take a shower urgently and this joker was slowing down the process.

‘Graham?’ I said, as kindly as I could manage.

‘Yeah?’ he sobbed.

‘Fuck off mate.’