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I felt like the world was whirling around me, dizzy and a bit faint. ‘Fucking amazing,’ I thought, ‘and what an amazing fuck!’
I still had to finish her off, and she sat back further on my face, shifting her hands to my breasts, kneading and rubbing them. I gathered a bit of strength from somewhere, and applied myself to the task eagerly. Before long, she was rising up and down, hands spread out to keep from toppling over, her pussy wide open and her eyes squeezed shut. She shifted her hands suddenly to her own tits, and I knew she was about to come – she often pulls on her own nipples as she approaches orgasm. And so it was, and she climaxed with a series of deep rasping grunts, their rapidity and pitch increasing as she approached that golden moment of ecstasy and relief.
Spent and satisfied, Claire rolled off me. For a moment she lay beside me on the grass, and then she kissed me softly on the lips. She rose to her feet and, before I could grasp what she was intending, she gave me a wave, blew me a kiss – and walked off into the house, leaving me pinned on the lawn, legs wide open and arms stretched above my head. I called out to her, but she disappeared into the kitchen, so I shifted to yelling.
‘Claire? Claire! let me go! – what’s going on, what are you doing? Claire?!! Claire, you cunt, you can’t leave me here like this!! Let me go – please!’ I shouted and pleaded for several minutes, wondering what she was up to. Then she came into my view again, having restored her bra and skirt (but not the panties). She had a bottle of beer in one hand, chilled from the fridge, and I watched in mounting disbelief as she took a long swig from it.
‘Don’t I get any?’, I asked, trying for a wheedling voice. ‘C’mon, babe, let me out of this – please?’
‘Sure, you get some’, she said, and she held the bottle to my lips to let me take a mouthful. But then, she poured the remainder over my pussy, and lapped it up with her tongue. I’m really not into the food thing – and thank God, Claire isn’t either – as I’ve never found it to be erotic, but I must admit that her oral attentions to my cum-drenched, beer-soaked vagina were tantalisingly different from usual. I came again under her attentions, though not with the volcanic eruption of the first fuck with the mallet.
As if she could read my thoughts, Claire picked up the mallet that had been the substitute dildo, and re-inserted it. I was thoroughly wet and loose now, and it sank in even further than before. Claire pistoned it in and out half a dozen times, until I climaxed again with something like a banshee wail. Then she left it in there, well inside me, and to my disbelief she got up and walked away. I shouted at her again and again to come and remove the mallet and hoops, but she just laughed and gave her impish smile – and then she sat on the swing chair, shaded by its awning, and flicked through a magazine.
‘I like the view as it is, sweetie,’ she shook her head, and teased: ‘maybe later ...’
I couldn’t believe it, the nerve of it. I had hugely enjoyed the amazing sex, and the erotic sensation of being staked down, submissive to my younger lover. But this was not so funny, and how long did she intend to leave me here anyway? I began to get a bit cross, which of course was exactly what Claire was intending to happen.
Of course, the croquet hoops were not that firmly embedded into the soft earth, and once I realised it was down to me to get free, it really was not too difficult. The slowest part was getting the first wrist hoop pulled up enough to slip out of, and then the elbow one on the same arm. After that, the other arm and the ankles were quick and easy, and I slowly pulled the mallet handle out of my vagina – getting quite a delicious sensation as I did so. I was a bit stiff and had pins and needles as I got to my feet, naked and a bit cheesed off. I advanced up the lawn menacingly towards her chair, as she dropped her magazine and jumped to her feet.
‘It’s payback time, I’m gonna have you!’ I growled, admittedly hamming it up a bit – I wasn’t really that cross, but I didn’t mind her wondering for a minute or two. She gave a squeal that was half-alarmed and half-delighted, and scuttled behind a sun lounger.
‘Mmm, yes,’ she said with a wicked grin, ‘but, first – you gotta catch me!!’, and with that she took off at a run, barefoot, first down into the garden and then – as I raced after her – back up onto the patio, through the kitchen (dodging around the big oak table), through the sitting room, and into our bedroom. This was a dead end, but – of course – it was where she had always intended that I would catch her.
I was aroused by the chase, but also still just a bit mad at her, so I was a bit firmer than I would ever normally be. I grabbed Claire and flung her face-down, with her top half on the bed and her ass sticking out over the edge, her knees and feet on the floor. I pulled the wrap skirt roughly open and up around her waist, exposing that sweet fantastic firm ass of hers. I was going to make it tremble with ecstasy – but first, lesson time!
‘You are a naughty, naughty girl!’ I said, as sternly as I could, but nearly breaking down into laughter. To cover that up, I gave her a firm smack on each butt – not really painful, but enough to sting and produce a very satisfactory yelp of protest. That only encouraged me to give one more to each cheek, as she squealed and wriggled. Then I put my hand on her back, swiftly undoing her bra, and ordered her in a no-nonsense tone of voice not to move.
Quickly, I reached into the nearby dresser drawer and found my strap-on, and buckled it into place. Then I pushed her legs further apart and ran a finger along the length of her pussy cleft. As I thought, she was almost dripping wet, and her labia were already slightly parted. So, with no more ceremony or foreplay, I gripped her firmly above the hips, lined the knob of the plastic dildo up and plunged it into her, all the way home so that the backplate gave a firm smack against her buttocks. Claire gave a shriek of mingled shock and delight, raising her ass up off the bed to give me a better alignment for ramming it into her again. I was riding a wave of lust and excitement, and I lost all restraint, giving her a harder, faster fucking than we ever usually do (and doing her doggy-style is one of my favourites, her ass is just so neat). I was getting off on this as much as she was, and we were both nearly screaming, mounting rapidly to climax. It exploded way too soon, and I collapsed on top of her. We lay together on the rumpled sheets, out of breath, but laughing and kissing. After that, only one thing was possible – a long soak in the bath together, and another good thing about the villa is its positively sybaritic bathroom, which features a large oval whirlpool bath in white marble which has plenty of room for two.
We played "croquet" a few more times during the holiday, although by agreement we didn’t again leave whoever was pinned down to get herself free. A couple of times, as a prelude, we actually played the proper game itself – it’s quite fun, on a good lawn like that – with the prize being that the winner got to stake out the loser. I hope, when we go next summer, the croquet set is still there ...
If you enjoyed this, you might like my fiction stories as well ...
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