Chapter 9

Lynn was deep in conversation with Rita when Chris came back to the table, and didn't even see him until after he'd slid back into his seat.

"It's all set," Chris said, looking hungrily at Lynn. 'They have a room for you. But the conversation was a hell of a strain on my Spanish."

"Well, I thank you, if that's any reward," Lynn said, smiling at him.

"Let's get a cab," Rita said, "and at least find out where Fuengirola is."

"How 'm I going to go out and look for a cab in this condition?" Chris asked plaintively, looking down at the small mountain his erection was making in his lap.

"You can't, with that hard-on," Rita said. "We'll get a cab and come back for you."

Without another word, Lynn followed her out to the street. They found a cab after walking about two blocks, around a large, open, park-like square, and with hand motions instructed the driver where to go to pick up Chris and their luggage.

He came out to the cab as he saw them pull up at the curb. He was carrying two large bags at his side and one small suitcase in front of him. He left the luggage behind the car with the driver, who was outside to open the trunk, and got into the cab and sat down between Rita and Lynn.

"It would save me some embarrassment," he said, "if you girls got the rest of the luggage."

Giggling like schoolgirls, they got out and went into the cafe and brought the rest of the luggage back to the car.

"You're very considerate, both of you," Chris said. "It's probably against the law in Spain to have hard-ons in the daytime."

"What about during siesta?" Lynn asked.

"Then it's all right," Rita said. "That's probably what the siesta was for, in the first place."

"Fuengirola," Chris told the driver. "Casa del Sol."

The driver nodded and slid closed the old, clouded glass partition that separated the driver from his passengers in the ancient vehicle. From the back seat, all they could see was the fuzzy outline of his head. He couldn't see them, Lynn knew, even if he turned around and stared. Rita's mind was evidently working in the same direction as Lynn's, but Rita was just as evidently more cautious, or discreet, or proper, or some damn thing.

"Put your head down, Lynn," she said in a low voice, "between me and the driver. I have to do something for Chris, after all that horny conversation."

"It wasn't all my fault," Lynn said, leaning for-ward past Chris and talking into Rita's ear. Girl talk, for the driver's benefit. As if he could see anything or hear anything.

Rita's slender fingers had Chris unzipped already. Lynn watched as the fingers reached in deftly, and suddenly Chris's privacy was no longer private. It popped stiffly into full exposure, very long and slender and hard, with a triangular pointed head. Like a spear, Lynn thought, feeling Chris's hand going under her skirt in back as she leaned, stroking the smoothness of her ass.

Tenderly, slowly, Rita's warm mouth engulfed the head of Chris's cock, and her head began to move up and down. Chris's finger was pressing into the slippery wet nylon between Lynn's legs, and she raised her top leg slightly. Chris's finger found its way around and inside the nylon, into the wet warmth of her slit.

"Let me have a lick," Lynn heard herself saying into Rita's ear. Like two little girls with one ice cream cone between them, she thought.

Rita's mouth left its employment with a soft sucking sound of farewell, and her head moved until it was between Lynn and the driver. Lynn leaned further, extending her tongue. Using only the tip, touching lightly, she worked her way deliberately up the long obelisk of muscle along the velvety underside, from the rock-hard base up to the pointed, expectant tip.

Shifting her position, feeling Chris's probing finger slide deeper inside her cunt, she took the head of his cock into her mouth and let her tongue flutter down-ward along the route it had taken up.

"Good God in heaven," Chris moaned.

"This is a hell of a time to get religion," Rita said.

"Oh, shee-it," Chris said.

"That's better."

Lynn felt Rita's hand touch her shoulder. She was too busy to stop what she was doing, but she could hear Rita's voice in her ear.

"Don't finish him off," Rita whispered. "Let's save him for later."

Reluctantly, Lynn took her mouth away, giving the spearhead one soft, sucking farewell kiss. Chris was quiet for a long moment while the girls kept their heads between him and the driver.

"For Christ's sake," he said, arching his hips. "Don't leave me like this."

"You can wait till later," Rita said.

"How'm I going to get out of the cab and into the hotel? How'm I even going to get this back in my pants?"

Lynn had never heard such desperate urgency in a whisper.

"He has a point," she said.

"He sure has," Rita said. "Oh, well. He'll last longer later."

Her mouth went back to where it had been, and her head began to bob again. It wasn't long before Chris's hips arched violently, and he groaned, deep in his throat somewhere. Lynn could see Rita's Adam's apple moving as she swallowed, and swallowed again, and again, but she didn't take her mouth away from Chris's cock for a long time.

When she finally did, Chris's prick, limp and drained and wan and shriveled looking, was ready to be tucked back in his pants without any resistance. Rita took care of the chore with wifely efficiency, and zipped him up carefully when she'd finished.

Lynn was touched. So was Chris, evidently.

"You're a good girl, dear," he said.

He patted his wife on the shoulder and settled back for the rest of the ride. His finger had left Lynn's cunt minutes before; and left Lynn in a mood to rape the driver.