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It was one of those sultry, Kenyan tropical nights, hot, but not too humid. We were in Watamu on a kind of a second honeymoon, a long awaited trip without the kids. Watamu was just the kind of escape we had been looking for, unencumbered, here in this resort village with its reputation for wild, swinging parties and sultry nights.

We went for a walk on the beach, aching and wanting to fuck right there and then. As we walked, I had my hand on your arse, and I could feel your wetness. Every now and then you would turn and kiss me hard, my cock pressing into you, feeling your wetness. It was open night at the hotel, and we decided to eat a light meal of Swahili coconut prawns and then sit back and observe.

We sat back in the shadows on the big, deep couch, watching the dancers on the floor. It was a hot, sweaty night in Watamu at one of those hotels whose name is long forgotten. Most of the people there were European tourists out to have a good time. The air reeked of sex. This particular hotel had a reputation for wild, swinging parties.

I watched you out of the corner of my eye: you were wearing a silk Thai shirt with no bra, and a long silky Hip Hop dress, sexy boy pants underneath. Earlier in the evening, you posed for my camera with our friend Katie, who was in a bungalow next door to our camp, just for fun. The two of you were in a teasing mood, but Katie had to leave, she had a date in town. But the picture remains …

It was a bizarre scene inside the hotel’s club: these Europeans seemed to have no inhibitions. There were two women in fishnet stockings quite openly fucking in a booth in the corner.

In another darkly lit corner, another two women were naked, and kissing and fucking and nobody seemed to notice, or care.

There was one woman there who seemed out of place, a gorgeous Italian woman in her late 30s, an impish red head, tall, with firm, full, but not overly big, breasts. Her hips were wider than her legs, peasant hips, her nipples shifted against her thin top, swelling. The music changed to salsa, and you asked me if I wanted to dance.

I said no, I’ll watch, you go ahead. Just then the Italian woman drifted over and in halting English, said “I am alone here and would like to dance. Will you join me?”

She was looking at me, but the question was directed at you. I inclined my head, and smiled. You rose, ever gracefully to your feet and the two of you began to move together. You found your rhythm fast, as you always do, and soon the two of you were engaged in a wonderful, sensual whirl of hands and hips and breasts and legs. You touched without seeming to touch, seduced without seducing, and I was bewitched.

The music gathered in tempo, climaxed, and stopped. As it stopped, the two of you were touching fingertips, and you did not separate hands, but began to talk, heads inclined towards each other.

The next song started, a slow, sensual Latino piece, full of tropical rhythm. You moved closer, and your hand drifted down to her hip, and hers to yours. Every now and then, I could see that your breasts touched each other, almost as if by mistake, and you moved closer together. She linked her hands behind your head, and you danced cheek to cheek, your hips moving together, your bodies closing in.

Then the music came to an abrupt end as the DJ tried to find a new CD. The two of you looked confused, then moved slowly across to sit on the couch. “Tony, this is Francesca, from Napoli,” you said. “She was here with her friend, but they had a fight and he has left for Nairobi. Won’t you get us some dry white wine.”

Finding a good dry white wine in Watamu is like finding water in the Sahara, but I wandered across to the bar and asked the barman if he had, by chance, any good South African wine. He smiled, and said that he had been hiding a couple of bottles of Durbanville Hills sauvignon blanc under the counter. I could take the lot if I had fifty dollars to spare. “Asante sana, rafiki,” I said. “Lete barafu tafadhali,” and he passed across the three bottles and a jug of ice.

I poured out the first bottle and we all drank, savouring the crisp dryness in the tropical heat. Then the DJ returned, and the music changed to a thumping disco beat, a mood destroyer. Francesca grimaced and said “I want to dance salsa, not this rubbish. Let’s go to my suite and drink wine and dance.”

We exchanged glances and nodded. We were camped down the road in our Land Rover, and had merely dropped in for a snack and a drink. Why refuse an invite to a suite with a rich Italian?

We walked through the indigenous forest across the lush lawns, the sea murmuring in the distance, and all three of us stopped dead as we turned the corner and saw two women in their shower, wrapped together, kissing deeply. Francesca giggled softly and hugged you, and took my hand, and said “I like this place.”

Francesca’s “suite” was down the beach, the honeymoon suite, secluded, sumptuous, a huge makuti living area on stilts in the lagoon, the water lapping underneath. It was completely invisible from the rest of Ankara escort the hotel, hidden behind a grove of trees, paraffin hurricane lamps lit the pathway. We entered, and gasped: the suite had been lit with hundreds of candles, and night jasmine, that distinctive flower of the African tropics, had been strewn on the floor, on the bed, on the path.

Against the back wall was a four-poster Lamu bed fit for a sultan: a bed big enough for four people, mosquito nets draped up ready to be hung. Against one wall was an ornate, brocaded Victorian couch.

Francesca hit a switch, and soft salsa music began to wash across the night, mingling with the sound of the crickets, Christmas beetles and the soft lapping of the waves underneath. She stretched out her hands to you and said “shall we?”

I watched, mesmerised, as you rose to your feet and grasped her hands, then swung her slowly into your arms, and began to dance. It was a limpid, gorgeous scene.

I wandered outside with my glass of wine, and smelt the night. The salt air and the smell of the mangroves was intoxicating. Far off in the distance, I could hear the boom of the surf on the outer reefs, and I felt the wind shifting as a slight kusini, a south wind monsoon, began to blow. I turned and look through the window. You and Francesca were in a slow embrace, dancing hip to hip, breast to breast.

I took a walk down the beach, and walked up to a lit bungalow. There was a young woman lying there on a couch, naked, and she looked at me and mouthed the words “I want to fuck.” I said “I do to, but with my wife,” and walked back to Francesca’s suite.

As I got back to Francesca’s suite, the salsa changed to an even slower, more moody piece of music. The rhythm reeked of sex, slow, sultry, tropical, wet and warm. I stood outside in the shadows on the deck and watched as you lifted Francesca’s chin and began to kiss her. Your arm reached up her back and you rested your fingers on the base of her neck. Her fingers crept up your thigh and you slid your hand up hers. There was a long moment as you danced like that, breast to breast, thigh to thigh, pressing against each other.

You slid your fingers over her silky pants, feeling the heat and dampness deepen. She slid the straps from your top and pulled them down over each shoulder then tugged on the top exposing your swollen nipples, then she stripped you naked.

You pulled all her clothes off in a sexual frenzy and climbed onto that ornate Victorian couch, with incredible works of sensuous art surrounding you, and began an elaborate dance.

It was like watching two beautiful blue cranes mating, as you arched and rubbed and stroked and danced, two beautiful nymphs together. Your skin tones were enhanced by the rich brocade of the Victorian furniture, there was a faint hum of the fans overhead. Then Francesca produced a hookah loaded with dope and you puffed, and everything became soft edged and even more erotic, life slowed down as she leant down to kiss you.

You slid your fingertip over the exposed flesh of her cunt, feeling the slippery wetness. Her clit was hard and swollen, wet, her lips moved to your breast. Your finger slipped between her lips and entered the hot thick wetness of her cunt.

You slid your finger in deeper, feeling her body clench it then relax. You felt around her cunt inside the slick hot walls – feeling her move and slide, moaning softly, wanting more, wanting it deeper. You made her wait and felt her response as she rose above you, both breasts exposed . You took your second finger and placed it at the entrance of her cunt. As her mouth closed over your nipple, you pushed it in and let both fingers glide deeper into her wetness. When you were fully in, you took your thumb and passed its tip softly over the exposed valley of her bum, wet from the juice of her cunt. Her teeth bit your nipple then sucked to take away the sting. You reached over to the table and fished an ice cube out of your wine.

I watched as you took the ice and circled her hard nipple. The heat of her excitement mingled with the sharp cold of the ice and you felt your cunt grow wet and your delicious clit grow hard and sensitive. You slid your fingers out of her cunt, then eased them back in. Slow. Really slowly. On each thrust you pressed your thumb against her bum a little harder, feeling her tight resistance relax with the repetition and the warm wetness that coated her cheeks.

Then she pushed you back onto the couch and began to slowly lick your cunt, your clit, your incredible wetness. Your back was arching as you moaned, and told her “harder, lick me harder, slide your tongue inside me, baby, fuck me with your tongue, fuck me, fuck me, harder,” and she licked you and licked you and you came so hard you squirted juice, wonderful wet juice on her face and she came too, her fingers high inside her own cunt, and you collapsed together.

I couldn’t take it any longer. My cock was hard and I wanted to be part of this. I slipped back into the room, and stood against the wall, the tip of my cock wet and aching. You looked up, dazed, and Ankara escort bayan we exchanged a glance. You nodded at me, and then began to kiss Francesca again. I came up behind you and knelt down, and began to tongue your arse. You spread your legs wider, and your clit and sopping wet cunt were wide open above me, and I slid my tongue up and up and up.

Then Francesca was lying down on the other couch in the suite, her legs wide open, and you were kneeling on the floor, your face between her legs, licking her clit, fingering her cunt. I stood back again and watched.

I briefly slid my cock inside you, then both of you slowly stood up, and you told me to sit down on the bed. I reclined, and the two of you began kissing, deep kissing, fingers inside each other, then slid your kisses down over my cock and began kissing each other with my cock between your two mouths.

I said “this is for you, not for me”, and stepped back, and watched as the two of you began kissing again, deep, and playing with each other.

Just then there was a knock on the door, and Katie, who I’d photographed earlier with you in your boy pants, walked in. “Oh my god,” she gasped, looking confused. She looked at me, naked, my hard cock in my hand, then at you and Francesca, faces and cunts glued to each other. Katie grabbed the hookah and took a hit, then drank deep on the bottle of Durbanville Hills.

“Can I join you guys?” she asked. We all looked up, a bit dazed, and she said “but first I want to take a shower.” We all watched, a bit stoned and confused, as Katie stripped down to everything except her red panties and began to shower. She moved the shower head over her body, over her nipples, and then slowly moved it down so that it was playing over her cunt. She began to moan …


Francesca and you were momentarily spent, erotically sprawled across the bed, naked, snuggled together. I came and lay with you, and the three of us cuddled up together, flesh against flesh, wetness against wetness. We lay back and watched as Katie switched off the shower and sank into the chair facing us, and spread her legs and slid her hand down her breasts, and began to masturbate.

“Watch me,” she said, “I want to be watched.” She began a slow rhythm, one finger stroking her clitoris, the next sliding inside her cunt, the other hand gripping her nipple, squeezing, fondling, stroking. She slid a second finger inside her cunt, then a third.

You and Francesca were watching her, stroking each other’s cunts. I couldn’t wait any longer, and stood up, and went to Katie. “May I fuck you?” I asked her and she said “please, please, please.” I turned her around and slid my cock inside her, and the next thing I knew, you were beside me, and you said “excuse me, that’s my cock, I want it now.”

We began to kiss, and you grabbed my cock and rubbed it hard against your arse, which was slick with Francesca’s cunt juices, and you slid the head across the lips of your cunt, equally slick with her licking you, and your own explosive orgasm, your ejaculation.

Katie rolled over and began kissing Francesca, and then slid down and began sucking her cunt. Francesca opened her legs wide, rolled onto her stomach, and lifted her hips into the air, Katie slid her tongue into Francesca’s arse, tonguing her and licking her, sliding her hard tongue tip into Francesca and then slid her tongue down into her cunt, licking and sucking.

We lay side by side with them, watching them and fucking, you held my cock, and then slid it slowly into your wetness. Francesca slid across and began to suck your nipples while my cock slid slowly in and out of you. Then Katie moved in and began to kiss you and caress Francesca’s nipples, and you slipped your left hand’s index finge up into Katie’s cunt.

“Ohmigod,” Katie gasped, “fuck me Liz, fuck me with your hand,” and she lifted her body so she and Francesca were squatting above you, their cunts together, their breasts rubbing, kissing, deep kissing, their cunts wide open above you, their clits hard and exposed.

You lay below them and started kissing their clits, wonderful, erect clits hanging above you, dripping with juices, their thighs taut and firm, quivering, as I slid my cock inside you. We fucked and fucked and then you were beyond me. You slid away from me, and lost all inhibitions, sliding and sucking and fucking with Katie and Francesca, and I was left with my hard cock watching you.

I sat back and poured myself a glass of wine and took another hit on the hookah. Time was suspended. I was lost in an erotic daze as you and Katie and Francesca wrapped yourselves around each other, rubbing breast to breast, nipple to nipple, sucking and kissing and fingering and tonguing and fucking and coming ….

Then Francesca sank her mouth over my cock and began sucking. You started to kiss me. Katie had her fingers deep inside your cunt. We were all in a daze. My cock was hard as steel, and Katie said “I want to be fucked in my arse.” I looked at you and you nodded. I have always wanted to fuck you in the arse, but it’s too painful Escort Ankara for you, you aren’t built right.

“OK,” I said, “but I want you to suck Liz while I fuck you.” You nodded OK, and lay back on the bed, and began kissing Francesca. Katie knelt down and spread her arse, a beautiful, firm arse, two half moons firm and athletic, and I smeared Kiwi juice into her hole. She began to lick your cunt while you kissed Francesca, and I eased my cock slowly into her arse.

It was tight, very tight, and at first I thought I would never be able to get in. Then she relaxed, and opened up, and you began to suck her nipples, soft at first, then harder. Francesca and you kissed each other with Katie’s breast between your mouths, sucking on her nipples while kissing each other and slowly slipping fingers into each other’s cunts.

You slipped one, then two fingers into Francesca’s cunt, and she echoed you, and then she began to give you love bites in your shaven armpits. You whispered into her ear “follow me, whatever I do to you, you do to me,” and she followed. You found the firm wet nub of her G spot and began to stroke, one finger, then two fingers, and she found yours, the feeling was exquisite, building, as her tongue sought out your mouth and you kissed deeply.

Then Katie moaned and said “kiss me, Liz, kiss me, Francesca” and you both turned and the three of you slid tongues together as I slowly slid my cock into Katie’s arse, it was incredibly tight, then she relaxed and began to clench her muscles, then relax them, then clench them, then relax them, and then she said “please suck my clit, Liz, please, please, please, please,” and you and Francesca slid down and her clit was enormous, the size of a small finger, and you and Francesca began to tongue kiss each other with Katie’s clit in your mouths and sucked and licked and tongued and Katie’s body began to rock and Francesca had two fingers inside your cunt and you had two inside her and you could feel the orgasm building and my cock was deep inside Katie’s arse and she was screaming “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” and I was sliding in and out, very slowly very slowly and then her arse clenched and contracted and she came in a wet gushing ejaculating stream of cum and drenched you and Francesca as Francesca pressed up on your G spot and you came in a wet gush and you slid your index finger into Francesca’s arse with your other finger on her G spot and she said “fuck fuck fuck fuck Liz I’m coming” and lowered her mouth on your clit and sucked you into a huge, wet orgasm, and Katie’s arse clenched hard around my cock and I came and came inside her arse,

We all lay back, spent, relaxed, happy.

I got up, and poured us all a glass of wine. We had a few more hits on the hookah. You said “shall we go for a swim?” and we all agreed that was a brilliant idea. We grabbed various kikois and sarongs and ran down to the beach, and dived naked into the surf, soon our bodies were covered with phosphorescence, we were glowing green in the night.

We were all lying back on the coconut matting, staring at the stars, when a voice said “jambo, are you alright.” We sat up, aware of our naked state, and there was Joe, the hotel manager, a Maasai man who was taller than me, beautifully built, chiselled features, a sculpture rather than a person.

“Hey Joe,” I said, “we’re having a party — do you want to join us?” He smiled and said “Why not, but not on the beach, the tourists might see us.”

We wandered back to Francesca’s suite. We had all managed to wrap ourselves in the kikois and sarongs so at least we had some semblance of decency. Francesca hit the switch and the salsa started playing again.

You and I started dancing in one corner, Katie and Joe in another, Francesca sat back and beamed at us all, the perfect hostess. The lights were very low, and the scent of the night jasmine overwhelming. Francesca joined us, and the three of us began a slow, sensuous salsa. Francesca slid her arms around us, and pulled down our kikois and sarongs, then, naked, she began to kiss us both, sliding her tongue between our lips. We responded, kissing her, kissing each other, slipping hips and crotches together, I was getting hard, you were both getting wet again, our hands were all together, feeling each other.

Joe and Katie were also naked, and we turned and watched them. Joe’s cock was rock hard, enormous, you whispered to me “fuck, it’s true what they say about black men’s cocks, look at the size of that!” Katie sank down to her knees and began to suck his cock. Her lips were slick with saliva and as she sank down, she knelt and spread her hips, and from behind, we could see that her cunt was wet and her clit erect. “Go for it,” I whispered to you.

You slid across and began to lick her from behind, sliding your fingers inside her. She sank lower on her haunches, embracing your tongue and opening her hips. You were kneeling, crouching, and your own wetness was wide and enticing. Francesca looked at me, and mouthed “can I lick Liz?”, and I nodded, and she slid down, and started licking you, tonguing you from your clit to your arse, long, slow, wet kisses, lingering on your clit, then pushing a hard tongue first into your wet cunt, then into your arse, where first you resisted, then relaxed and opened up for a delicious, slow penetration.

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