Jonathan Everest - The tortured tourists

Oh-h! I wish it were me! To have those lips and that tongue in my cunt would drive me wild! Darla's hand was covered now with the hot liquid of her passion's lubricant. Her breath was labored, and a jellylike weakness was creeping through her thighs and loins.

"Chuck! Oh, lover, drink me! Drink me dry!" Ann's trembling voice on Darla's ears excited her even more. She saw the wiggling hips moving in spasms as the climax built. Then a shuddering jerk of the moonlit body gave Darla the knowledge that her mother had found release. At that moment, her own orgasm began, and she shook under the intensity of its effect on her body.

Darla took her weight off one knee, and moved her thighs close together. It squeezed her hand in place, nestling it tight in the sloppy, swollen lips, and maintaining a glowing feeling with its pressure on her most sensitive spot.

Chuck had changed his position, and Darla could see the rigid tool of his loving art. The three-quarter view afforded her all too clearly a complete awareness of what took place.

Ann's thighs were drawn back and even farther apart, now. The gleaming pink meat of her womanhood was vulnerably spread wide, and Darla could see the juices flowing down it. Then Chuck's body hid the pulsing love-mouth as he positioned himself over his wife.

Darla moved quietly to place herself in another position, not able to make herself leave, knowing that she had to see everything. Then she watched as the purplish pink head of the rigid lance lay lightly in the wet lips Ann's hips raised, and Chuck's hips went forward. The shaft buried itself in the depths, and the sight of its hairy luggage swinging against the wet portals below it was too much for Darla.

Again, she worked feverishly in the sloppy heat of her crotch. Now, the anxious massage seemed not enough. As she watched the slow strokes of the plunging rod, she thrust a finger of her other hand into the tightness of her own virginal passage. The pain almost made her cry out, but she retained enough awareness in the midst of her extreme passion to bite back the sound.

She gave up the attempt, afraid of betraying her presence, and contented herself with massaging her hard bud and rolling her nipples – first one, then the other – between the fingers of her other hand.

Oh-h! If just watching can do this to me, what would it toe like to have a wonderful prick like that inside me? It looked so good, I almost crawled over there and put it in my mouth! My God! What kind of a nymphomaniac am I, anyhow? Her breath was sobbing in her throat as she worked her fingers in the slippery swollen meat of her nether lips.

Then she watched her father cease his plunging, grab her mother's buttocks, and press hard against her. Ann's husky voice was pleading.

"Fuck me deep, Chuck! Ohhhhhh! Now! Squirt the goodies in me! My cunt's so hungry for you!" The coarse words from the normally refined and quiet woman seemed to excite her husband tremendously. He cried out softly, and his buttocks squeezed together.

Darla had all she could do to keep from crying out herself, as she watched his muscles spasm, knowing that he was pumping some delightfully exciting elixir into the hot, female depths. She smothered her sounds as she moaned softly to herself, feeling the huge wave of heat tear through her body. A warm extra flow of juice poured over her hand, and she fell over backward and lay, trembling in the cool grass.

It was lucky that Chuck and Ann took their time about getting up off the mat. Darla's legs were like water as she tried to get to her feet, and they barely supported her as she slipped through the shadows back to the house. By the time she reached the French windows of her room, and entered, little streams of fluid were running down both thighs, tickling the sensitive skin.

She rushed into her shower and bathed quickly, ending up with a cold needle-spray. It seemed to help calm her down.

But, lying in bed, afterward, she kept seeing the actions she had witnessed, and before she realized it was happening, her hand was again seeking the heated and swollen lips. When she found how slippery and wet they had become from those recalled sights, she gave up all hope of restraint, and worked herself through another fevered climax, until she lay spent, panting for breath. Then she had to shower all over again.

Recalling the shameful episode had affected her strongly, Darla knew. She could feel the flow of her juices running down the crevice of her crotch, and wetting her tense anus before it added to the stains on the soiled linen. She twitched her hips and moved upward to shake off the flies, again, and to try to relieve the hot, tingling feeling around her genitals.

She fought back the sobs again, as she remembered how she had spied on her parents that night. They were wonderful parents. The mother who was so like her daughter in appearance, and apparently in passion, and the handsome, virile, accomplished father, who was so proud of his girls. She remembered how pleased he was the other morning – was it only two days ago?

They had left the hotel and started to see the sights of Marseilles. They intended to spend only two days there, until Chuck could make contact with a French competitor whose firm he considered buying to merge with his owes European company.

Darla and Ann were dressed exactly alike, in matching blouses and miniskirts, even to the sexy little boots. Chuck walked between them, and his pride in their beauty was evident to all who looked, including the girls themselves.

Tired as they were when they returned to the hotel, they were laughing and full of enjoyment from the novelty of the visit. Tommy had awakened from a nap in his room, and had joined them for a few minutes before going off on his own to look up a friend who had been an exchange student at his school.

Then Chuck and Ann flaked out in their room, and Darla rested for a short while. But she became restless, and decided to take a walk in the little park she could see from her window. She left a note on her table, and headed for the cool-looking greenery.

Looking back, she cursed herself for the hundredth time for her foolhardiness.

Walking through the park, which turned out to be quite small, shabby, and very dusty, when she once was inside it, she had seen a curious little shop across the boulevard, and had walked over to window shop.

Later, when she realized that she had waled several blocks down the street, and was entering a rather disreputable-looking neighborhood, she turned and crossed the boulevard and started back to the hotel.

When the car first pulled up beside her, she thought it was a taxi, and leaned down to the window, telling the driver she didn't need him, but thanks just the same. She realized that her French was quite good. As her head lowered to look into the window of the vehicle, the back door opened, and she was pulled into the car before she could make a sound. Then it was too late.

Something soft was pushed against her face, then she choked on acrid fumes. Trying to hold her breath was useless, for her captor had arms of steel, and she couldn't fight away to get a breath of pure air. The fog closed over her, and she knew nothing else until she awakened in the dirty bed, roped into submission, and gagged on a handkerchief from her own purse. Her head hurt, and her ears were ringing strangely.

The sun had gone down, but a dim bulb burned in a ceiling fixture, and she could finally focus her eyes well enough to see two people in the room with her.

The woman who sat on the bed beside her could have been any age from sixteen to thirty-six. The impression given by her too-plentiful makeup and frowzy dress was one of coarseness. Darla had the thought that this could be a very young girl who had lived a very hard and fast life. Her black hair was done up in Spanish style, with a cheap comb which was studded with phony gems. The gaudy and equally phony ring on one finger was turning the skin brassy green, and under the hand with the ring, a knee showed whitely where a neglected run had opened a black stocking.