Chapter 10

The Casa del Sol was a disappointment when they first saw it from the back as they came upon it along the narrow, cluttered old main street of Fuengirola. It wasn't named Main Street, of course, but it was Fuengirola's main street, Lynn knew, by any other name.

But when the cab had brought them around front, with the beach and the blue Mediterranean stretched out on one side of the--car, the place looked considerably better. It was almost modern--a low, spread-out system of wings and walkways.

"Looks like a brand-new plastic luxury motel in jersey City," Chris grumbled as he paid the cab driver. "One of the more deluxe hot-sheet joints.'

"Why don't you wait until you've really had a chance to look the place over," Rita asked him, "be-fore you start bitching?"

Lynn was disappointed in the looks of the place, too--she'd pictured something more exotic or picturesque or at least old, in picturesque old Spain--but she didn't say anything. She had something else very much on her mind. Or, rather, on the area embraced by her upper thighs. The combination of the conversation in the cafe and Chris's fond finger while they were in the cab had inflamed her, and the last ten minutes in the cab hadn't been nearly enough time to cool her off.

And Rita was apparently in the same frame of mind. Amazing, sometimes, how she and Rita seemed to think alike. While they were going through the doors into the little lobby, Rita brought up the subject, stopping Chris with a hand on his arm.

I know you've lost interest in this," she said, "but remember that little service we performed for you in the cab a little while ago?"

"Fondly," Chris said, smiling benignly.

"Well, when we were doing that, we were forming a tacit understanding with you."

"Is that what you were doing? I thought you were sucking my cock."

"Sshh," Rita said, frowning and looking around. Like in the Delmont public library, Lynn thought. But no one was listening. The lobby was deserted, except for the girl behind the desk.

"We were forming a tacit understanding," Rita said firmly. "What we were doing for you, you will do for us."

"Certainly," Chris said.

"Both of us," Rita said, looking at Lynn. Bless the girl.

"Certainly."

"And as soon as possible."

"Absolutely. Right here, if you like."

"Not right here, you asshole. But as soon as we get to the rooms."

"Absolutely," Chris said again.

The bellboy trundled his cart up and down an inclined walkway for what seemed like a long distance, until they arrived at 212, Lynn's room. He took the bags she indicated and went in ahead of her to turn on the lights or open windows or what-ever bellboys did.

"We're in two sixteen," Chris said, looking at the key in his hand. "It should be on the same wing, two doors down. I told the man over the phone we wanted to be close."

"Did you, now?" Rita 'said.

"So join us as soon as you can," Chris said, ignoring Rita's gentle dig.

"But slip into something more comfortable," Rita said, smiling.

"If I don't slip in the shower first," Lynn said. "I'm all nerves. All ending you know where."

"Easy, girl," Rita said, patting her on the shoulder. "It'll be worth waiting for."

When the bellboy came out, she tipped him with a fifty-peseta piece she'd picked up in Malaga, waved fleetingly at Rita and Chris, went into the room, and closed the door behind her.

It was a bigger room than she needed, and looked comfortable enough. It was noisily air-conditioned and had two twin beds and a door that opened, she saw through the Venetian blinds, onto a terrace. No wonder they'd had room for her in Casa del Sol in Fuengirola, she thought. Nobody'd ever heard of it. From what she'd seen so far, she and Rita and Chris were the only guests in the place.

Well, she could have done worse. She took off her clothes in nervous haste and tossed them with abandon onto one of the beds.

The bathroom was big, with a counter along one wall. On the counter was an ice bucket, filled, and a corkscrew. Evidently, the management expected guests to arrive with a thirst. But hardly the kind of thirst she had.

After she'd showered and rubbed herself dry, she walked out into the room naked except for her sandals, lifted her big bag up onto the bed that wasn't strewn with her newly discarded clothes, and unzipped the middle section so the bag lay flat on the bed.

Folded in the middle was a short terry-cloth beach robe she'd almost forgotten, and had packed at the last minute. She debated a moment, then shrugged into it. The hem barely reached the tops of her thighs, and as she drew it around her to belt it, she noticed that her pussy seemed to be peeping moistly up at her, the damp fur gleaming darkly. If she stood up straight, she noticed, looking into the mirror over the dresser, no one could see anything, or would know that she was wearing nothing underneath. And she wouldn't have to stand up straight very long. Room 216 was only two doors away.

There was no one in sight as she left the room and closed the door tightly behind her, slipping the key into the pocket of her robe. She walked the few steps to Room 216, shivering with a strange excitement in the soft, warm breeze that seemed to reach insinuating hands under her robe to caress her nakedness. She was still shivering as she tapped softly on the door numbered 216.

Chris opened it as she raised her hand to tap again. He stood framed in the light for a second, grinning, before he stepped aside and bowed her in. He was wearing a terry-cloth robe like her own, only longer. Without touching him or even looking hard, she knew that he was wearing nothing underneath, either.

Rita was sitting in an armchair wearing an almost transparent negligee. Her nipples showed through, a startling shade of pink, but her knees under the long gown were demurely together. She was holding a drink. So was Chris. So was she a moment later as Chris slipped a cold glass into her hand.

She stood awkwardly, conscious of the short robe now, and sipped. She looked around. The room was much like hers, only bigger, and the two beds were double beds, rather than twin. So that's the difference between a double room and a single. Double beds.

"Sit down, for God's sake," Chris said. "What are you shivering about? I've got the air-conditioner turned way down."

"Nervous," Lynn said simply.

Chris grinned.

"I'd forgotten I affected women that way," he said.

"Balls," Rita said. "You've just got two horny girls on your hands."

Lynn sat, trying to make the robe cover her in front, keeping her legs together. But Chris saw what he was looking for, anyway. He grinned again.

"Lovely," he said.

"You're wasting time, dear," Rita said. "Either kiss her hello or come over here."

"Where is her hello?" Chris said, but as he was saying it, looking at Rita, the tall girl languorously raised one long white leg and draped it over the arm of her chair, slowly drawing up the hem of her negligee. From where Lynn sat, across from her, she saw the long white V of Rita's thighs open to expose a dark pink, long slit of pussy, framed in jet-black "Dear," Chris said, and crossed to her in two long steps. As he dropped to his knees in front of her, the pink slit opened, and the lips of her pussy seemed to purse to meet his deep, licking kiss.

"Aahh," Rita said. "Dear heart."

Chris interrupted his activities for a fleeting second.

"Dear heart, yourself," he said.

"Don't talk while you're eating," Rita told him sternly.

"And don't talk dirty," Chris said, going back to his labor of love. Like that old joke about the Chinese muff diver, Lynn thought, named Lickety Split.

She found the whole scene enormously exciting. From the way Rita was squirming and undulating, to her it was the supreme sensation, the ultimate intimacy. Lynn crossed and uncrossed her legs, squeezed her thighs together, but nothing helped the torment between them. Then Rita noticed her evident excitement, and put a hand to Chris's forehead and pushed him gently away. Rita noticed everything.

"We have a guest, dear," she said. "You're being most inhospitable. Ladies first, you know." She laughed. What was that supposed to mean, Lynn thought. Nobody'd ever called her a lady. Not that she could remember.

Chris turned his head and smiled wetly at her. His hair was in wild disarray but there was some-thing charming in his smile.

He crossed the room toward Lynn and sank to his knees. She kept her own knees primly together, feeling as shy as a six-year-old at her first somebody-else's birthday party.

Gently, Chris slipped his fingers between her knees, his fingertips stroking the softness there. Some of her tenseness went away, and her knees began to part all by themselves. She felt Chris's mouth, then, just inside and above one knee, moving slowly upward, with tiny, soft, sucking kisses.

She felt herself trembling slightly, and as the tip of Chris's tongue slipped lightly up between the opening lips of her pussy and tenderly touched the swollen bud of her clitoris, she shuddered all over. Then his mouth took her in, her whole quivering being, and his tongue went to work in earnest on and in her cunt.

"Oh God," she said.

"Now you're getting religious all of a sudden," Rita said from across the room. "First Chris in the cab, and now you. What is it with this group?"

"I've . . . never . . . been . . . so . . . devout . . . in . . . my . . . life," Lynn said, her hips pumping almost imperceptibly, her thighs squeezed tight around Chris's tousled head.

"I'm "sorry, Lynn," Rita said, after watching for another minute. "I can't stand it anymore."

She got to her feet and pulled the negligee over her head. She had a gorgeously slender, long white body.

"Let's all get up on the bed."

"He . . . can't . . . hear . . . you," Lynn said, flailing toward her first Spanish orgasm.

"Tap out the message on his forehead." Rita was standing by the bed, one foot up on the edge of it. Her twat was wide open, a deep glistening pink.

With deep reluctance, Lynn pressed her fingertips against Chris' forehead. When he took his mouth away and looked up, there was a deep question mark between his eyebrows.

"On the bed, dear heart," Rita said. "On your back, on the bed. You can take care of both of us."

Without a word, Chris did as he was told. The well-trained husband, Lynn thought idiotically. She had been on the mindless edge of coming.

Rita got up on the bed, straddling Chris, her knees on either side of his hips, her open cunt directly above his slender, pointing spear. Without hesitation, she let herself down, and Lynn watched in fixed fascination as the tall girl's twat mouth devoured first the head, then the entire shaft. With the base of Chris's cock deep in her dark underbrush, Rita looked over at Lynn and smiled.

"Climb aboard," she said.

Obediently, if awkwardly, Lynn got up on the bed, letting her robe fall to the floor, and straddled Chris's face. She was burning with the need for that tongue again. As she lowered the open walls of her sensation, to Chris's waiting, open mouth, she felt Rita starting to ride up and down behind her, with a regular practiced rhythm, like someone posting on a trotting horse.

"Ooooh," Lynn said, as the tongue probed deep, and that was all she said for several long, mindless moments.

Then she was coming, in a strange series of fluttering waves, and Rita, at full gallop behind her, was coming too. Lynn could hear her moaning, from close behind her somewhere.

Lynn leaned forward on her elbows and rested, feeling suddenly very tired. Rita was leaning for-ward, too, and Lynn heard her whisper into her ear.

"His cock's still up," Rita breathed. "He didn't come yet. I told you he'd last a long time after that cab ride."

"Umm," Lynn said. Just for the moment, she wasn't interested. She freed Chris's face from the embrace of her thighs and stretched out beside him, resting.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Rita got up from the bed and went back to her chair and her drink. Lynn closed her eyes. But Chris had other ideas.

Lynn felt a hand under her, raising her, and there was a pillow under her ass. She was completely compliant as a second pillow joined the first. Then Chris was on his knees between her spread legs, and she felt the hard point of his cock probing in the crevice of her ass.

She started to wriggle away, but it was too late. With one strong forward thrust, Chris had her impaled. She opened her eyes, then, and wriggled furiously, but Chris only grinned. She stopped wriggling, then; it didn't feel bad at all, being fucked up the ass. Not this time, after Mr. Denthos, just the other night.

"I told you he was an ass man," Rita said, setting her drink on an end table. She got up and crossed the room and lay the palm of one hand on Chris's ass.

"Go, man," she said.

And, with Rita's hand encouraging him, Chris went, man. And went and went and went, with furiously pumping strokes. Then, without warning, he came, with a spasmodic burst of energy and warm fluid.

Lynn didn't mind much, being fucked up the ass. Didn't mind at all. She discovered, and the discovery amused her, that she actually enjoyed it.

And anyway, as Chris had first said on the plane, he was only being friendly.

They sat around afterward, balls-ass naked, wearily but contentedly sipping their drinks.

"We forgot about lunch," Rita said. "I wonder if we're too late to get something in the hotel dining room, or whatever they call it."

"I've eaten," Chris said.

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm not hungry," Lynn said. "I'm just sleepy."

"Well, I guess I'm not really hungry either," Rita said. "Why don't you just stick around with us for a while?"

"I'm just plain sleepy. That plane ride and the change in time, and all. I think I'll go back to my room and take a nap."

"Ho," Lynn said, and laughed. "Anyway, I have an old-fashioned notion that a married couple should have a little time just to themselves, once in a while."

"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch," Chris said.

"You are," Rita said. "Some time soon, though, Lynn, will you spend a night with us?"

"Of course," Lynn said, and finished her drink and stood up. "See you later. After siesta."

Five minutes after she got back to her own room she was deep in a dreamless sleep.