Weekend at Byron with Greg and Kate

Weekend at Byron with Greg and Kate Weekend at Byron with Greg and Kate

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


A weekend away lets Karen recover her sexual energy


A weekend away lets Karen recover her sexual energy


Submitted: April 27, 2014

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 27, 2014



Weekend at Byron

The shared Easter with Kate had been special, even setting aside the threesome we’d finally allowed ourselves.

As the June long weekend approached I felt the need both to get away somewhere with Greg and to catch up with Kate again.

Going to Uni every day together with Greg meant we certainly weren’t lacking in each other’s company. But our sex life was considerably inhibited compared to the summer we’d shared in his home town. Without the great outdoors as a place to unleash our passions, we were constrained by the limitations of doing it at my family’s house or Greg’s shared unit. At the very least it meant we had to curtail the noise we made and limited the variety. But it also limited the amount of sex we seemed to be able to get in.

During the holiday I’d worked out later we averaged well over than twice a day; not bad for beginners over a three month period I thought. Now we were struggling to make it four or five times a week, and that included what we came to call our ‘wicked Wednesdays’ where thanks to a bit of good programming of our Uni classes on our part and the rest of my family being at work, we finally got my family’s house to ourselves for most of the day. 

The drop off in the sex certainly wasn’t due to any lesser desire on my or Greg’s part. If these things have a honeymoon period where you go at it hammer and tongs before dropping back to something more sustainable it wasn’t over yet. I wanted more. Much more than I was getting and much more uninhibited sex too. Plus I just wanted more of that feeling of being exposed to a naked Greg in broad daylight and exposing myself to him in return; and the intimacy that goes with that.

Now winter was coming on I even missed the opportunity to lie awake and just look at his naked body lying asleep beside me – something I knew he did too. Doonas might be warm, but they’re not transparent.

But because of a lack of somewhere private and opportunity I was missing all of this. I thought a weekend away might offer a break from that.

I wanted to include Kate because I knew she was missing us as much as we were missing her. I certainly pined for the intimate morning teas we had shared together; somewhere I could download all my innermost thoughts on someone I loved and trusted; which was strange given I’d never had that sort of friend in my life before meeting Kate. Since she’d broken up with Wayne it was obvious from her emails that she also was missing us – Greg no less than me. She had plenty of Uni friends to hang out with but it was obvious it just wasn’t the same

I’m a summer person; I much prefer to be warm than cold and I enjoy the beach and all the exposed flesh that goes with it. With just three days to get away and a restricted budget that goes with being a Uni student it had to be somewhere we could fly directly to from both cities on cheap flights.

From my city the choice was unlimited. But from Canberra where Kate was it was a different matter. In terms of purely holiday destinations it was Coolangatta airport or no-where. As somewhere to stay, that sort of left us with anywhere from Byron Bay in the South to the Gold Coast in the North as places accessible from the airport.

I did a bit of research and pushed for Byron for a number of reasons. First of all it seemed like more of an international backpacker destination, rather than the family holiday location more typified by the Gold Coast strip. So maybe more entertainment for our age group and better pickings for Kate; since I didn’t wanted to allow for the possibility she’d be looking for a bit of sexual entertainment too. Secondly, from what I could read, the large headland to the South protected the beach from the southerly winds and created a warmer micro-climate for this time of year. After all it would be winter up there too; just a warmer winter than we were getting.

With a bit of deft reorganisation of our Uni programme we managed to get most of Friday and Tuesday morning off, opening up the prospect of extending the holiday mood a bit. I found we could fly into Ballina, which was a shorter transfer and the flight got us there late morning, so booked us on that for the flight up, but leaving to go home from Coolangatta at about the same time as Kate’s flight early Tuesday. Kate was due to fly in mid-afternoon Friday.

We wanted more privacy than a straight backpackers offered so found ourselves a hotel/motel not too far from the beach at a reasonable price. Fortunately, being winter and therefore off season, there didn’t seem to be too much of a long weekend premium.

Winter is a relative term. At this time in Byron a nice winter’s day could get up to 25 degrees Celsius and the ocean water hadn’t yet started to cool too much, still being well over 20. Not bad really and that is the sort of day we flew in to.

After we checked in we had a choice. Sex or beach? It was of course tempting just to strip each other and go at it. But there were conflicting factors. The peak warmth of the day is relatively short and it was lunch time. By the time we’d had a good roll about and something to eat after, we might miss out on the chance for a swim before meeting up with Kate.

So instead we changed into swimmers and prepared for the beach. If you read my Summer I Fell Off a Log series, then you’ll know that for Greg and me part of that preparation includes creaming each other with sunscreen and that we do it in such a way that, to say we leave each other somewhat aroused is a massive understatement.

So it was this time. By the time I’d finished with Greg he had a rock hard boner that had burst out of the waist band of his speedos and was trying to stretch itself up towards his navel while I was left with a less visible but no less demanding swollen clit. I couldn’t help myself. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, pushed myself against him and my clit against his thigh and buried my tongue in his mouth. It felt good. It felt free again; maybe in a way it hadn’t since our summer holiday had finished.

I savoured the closeness of his body and the raw sexuality of the moment. It was tempting to change our plans. When we teased up each other this way it always was.  But we didn’t. After a moment we managed to peel ourselves physically apart and continued down to the beach, stopping for a quick bite along the way.

For a few hours we swam and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on our bodies; missing the ability to sneak into the bushes and screw each other silly that we had on the more private beaches of Greg’s home town but still frolicking in the water as much as the laws of public decency would allow. Just having him there beside me nearly naked was fun enough, the shape of his cock clearly visible under his swimmers, my wet bikini moulding itself around my breasts and the engorged nipples sitting atop them and camel-toeing deeply into my crutch: a sort of sexual energy transmitting freely between our bodies promising things to come and keeping us both at a constant low level of arousal.

As the afternoon wore on the time of the arrival of Kate’s bus approached and we put on our beach cover-ups to go and meet her.

As she got off the bus it was immediately apparent that Kate was still Kate. Dressed in a bright yellow pair of hot pants that barely covered what they needed to cover and were so tight they might as well have been spray painted on, topped with a deeply plunging close fitting tee shirt which struggled to contain her breasts, you could sense the eyes of every male within a 200 metre radius immediately focus in on her.

She beamed a gorgeous smile as she ran towards us squealing in delight, wrapping me in her arms, pressing her full body against mine and kissing me on the cheek before doing the same to Greg, except this time planting her kiss on his lips.

As we walked up to the motel with her, every male who passed could be seen to track her with his eyes, just about twisting their neck off their head as they turned to keep looking as they went past. I even saw one walk into a lamp post and another trip over a seat. Kate might have looked nonchalant about the attention she was attracting, but I knew she was just as much checking out the talent in return. She smiled at one or two who took her fancy, but there was a natural tendency for males to dissolve into jelly when Kate did that to them and neither of them was quick enough to take up on the opportunity the smile implicitly offered. Since she’d broken up with Wayne she gone back to finding her sexual satisfaction in the way she knew best; even if at the same time she was looking for a better quality replacement.

Our room was on the corner of the building, down the end of the corridor and Kate’s was next door. While she checked in and unpacked Greg and I retired to our room to have a post swim shower and get changed for the evening.

One of the things I’d most missed about the last few months was just the chance to check out Greg while he was naked, so I offered him first shower while, after stripping back down to my bikini, I found excuses to loiter in the bathroom. At first I just unpacked our bathroom stuff from our bag, but when that quickly ran out, I stood holding the glass door of the shower screen open finding something to talk to him about as he went about his shower. I actually don’t recall what the conversation was about. It had to be a sensible enough conversation that it gave me an excuse to be there, but not something so significant as to stop him from going through the motions of showering; especially those where he turned to face the flow of water and gave me a chance to check out his naked butt – a favourite perspective of mine since he had such a great one.

Poor Greg. He was happy to admit he found me cock burstingly sexy and loved having as much sex with me as he could get but was always concerned to make sure I didn’t think it was just all about sex. So at times like this he tended to take me at face value and just think I wanted to talk when in actual fact my crutch was throbbing with desire and I was standing there waiting to be taken. Once when he turned away I repositioned the top triangles so the nipples were barely covered by them, trying to tease him with them.

I’ll somehow have to improve on my come fuck me look because for a while he stayed flaccid going about washing himself down as we chatted. Then maybe my conversation faltered and my intention became more transparent. Suddenly he started to grow. When he saw me transfixed on that it positively exploded; rising to its full hardness and height in an instant.

He hooked his finger under the tie of my bikini top between my breasts and pulled me into him under the shower and kissed me. Turning me against the wall he quickly undid every tie of the bikini and let the parts be washed off my body by the flow of the water. A moment later and his cock was throbbing against my clit between my legs; not indicating a lack of foreplay on his part since I’d put it there – more the fact I’d gone through my own arousal process while I’d been watching him.

In an act of lovemaking that let us get back to the passionate noisy sex of our holiday he brought me to a screaming climax by rubbing his shaft against my clit before penetrating me and just about lifting me off the ground with the enthusiasm of his thrusting as he found his own orgasm. It was a fantastic start to the holiday weekend.

Then he helped me finish my own shower, standing there washing my back and hair.

You tend to assume motels have fairly noise proof walls. Not so. As we finished getting dressed I could hear Kate chooking about her room; unpacking and getting dressed. So she’d heard everything. Yet somehow that didn’t matter. She knew what we were like.

We met up with Kate in the reception as we’d arranged, a wink from her confirming our activities had been well and truly overheard. Predictably she was dressed to kill; a plunging neckline sheath mini dress, boobs thrust out with the hem of the push up bra just visible along the line of her cleavage. Mind you I wasn’t exactly demurely dressed myself and I suppose you could describe my own dress using the same words; even if my target was more to please Greg than attract general attention

Kate had been in charge of choosing our venue for the evening; firstly because she showed more imagination about it than Greg and me and secondly because, since I allowed she might be on the hunt, she had a bigger stake in the decision.

We started at the Byron Hotel on the beachfront, enjoying the view and the ambience and of an outside seat, taking the chance to catch up with all the gossip that hadn’t been included in the email traffic between us.

We were regularly interrupted by hopeful males who had noted the disparity in the gender balance in our group and tried to round out the numbers; no doubt hoping Kate was the odd one out, but careful to not offend either way. I’m sure I was back to being the consolation prize. Kate always took control of these situations, sizing the guy up, working out whether she had any interest in him, engaging him in a slightly longer conversation if she felt a spark of attraction to see what he was like and then either politely declining any further offers of drink or attention or on the one occasion she thought he was worth a try, letting him know he could buy the table a drink and join us while we consumed it.

It was like a job interview; one he too failed and so was gently thanked for the drink and sent packing back to his mates.

I have to say I admired the confidence and grace with which she handled the situation. On the one hand she knew the value of what was on offer. On the other she knew how difficult a role the guy had to play and never put him down or treated him in a way that would have offended an average person; even if they might have been disappointed by the outcome. Only one overly persistent pest was given a firmer treatment. All the while she made us feel as though we were the only company she really cared about.

From there we moved on to the dinner location she’d picked.

As we walked in the door a sign flashed past my line of vision. Something about “defend the flag competitions”. My brain momentarily wondered what that might be before forgetting it as we walked in and I noticed the unusual layout. It seemed more like a theatre restaurant, the dining area being a series of tiered raised floors. It was all bustle and busy and we were quickly shown to the table Kate had booked; a four seater.

I quite deliberately, but in as subtle manner as I could, arranged our seating so it was obvious Kate was the single person; not so as to avoid any embarrassment on my part, rather so that Kate had the best chance of finding company that suited her if that what she wanted. So Kate sat on one side of the table, Greg and myself on the other with me directly facing Kate. It also helped Greg not get too distracted by the view of her cleavage which even I found difficult not to stare at. Mind you facilitating his lack of distraction was intended for my benefit – he might have preferred to have to deal with it!

Here again we were constantly interrupted by random males now more certain of who the target was. Until dinner arrived Kate dealt with them in the same way; only another one scoring the prize of being permitted to buy the table a drink but also failing the subsequent interview.

We were half way through dinner and a pleasant conversation when some activity started in what I might have referred to as the theatre pit. There was a smallish inflatable pool set up and an announcer started asking for contestants.

At first I just tuned out being more interested in catching up with Kate.

But as things started to move forward in the pit, the activity became harder to ignore. Two girls came out dressed in a one piece swimming costume in national flag patterns – one Australian and one Kiwi. The costumes themselves were pretty brief; high cut legs, a plunging v neckline and equally low cut back. The front piece was held up by the slimmest of cross over straps which rejoined the sides of the costume near the hips. The sides of the front also plunged vertically down to the hips showing a lot of underboob at the side with everything coming together at a very narrow little seam on each hip.

Actually in shape they looked a lot like Kate’s sexy one piece, even if obviously very flimsily made.

Then the girls oiled themselves up and started to wrestle in the inflatable pool.

If I thought it was nothing more than some sort of oil wrestling match to entertain the guys I was quickly disabused as they fairly determinably tried to rip each other’s costumes off. So now at least the ‘defend the flag’ started to make some sense.

Kate nudged me across the table “hey kiddo, you’re an expert at strip wrestling, you should challenge” in obvious reference to the bikini hogtie wrestling match I’d lost against Merc.

I politely declined although only then noticed a laminated folded notice on the table indicating what it was all about. Apart from the obvious fact whoever stripped the costume off the other won, it also told me they were wearing g strings swimmer bottoms underneath to preserve some modesty and the wrestling was organised in weight divisions. Plus there was a mixed division where two girls took on a guy, although within certain weight restrictions. Unfortunately there didn’t seem to be a purely male division, although I could see that might bring a different sort of clientele.

Swimwear in your own national flag was provided, as was the g string and a wrap dress if you didn’t want to put on your good clothes afterwards; although showers were available.

By the time I’d finished reading the notice and looked up again, both girls had their breasts exposed; fairly predictably give the nature of their costume. They were sitting squat on their knees, each trying to work the bottoms off the other without leaving themselves vulnerable, but neither getting anywhere, given they had their legs apart.

Then the Kiwi did a surprise launch at the Aussie, lying her flat on the bottom of the oily pool and managing to pull her swimmers most of the way down her legs with one hand while holding onto her own swimmers with the other. With her legs now tangled the Aussie lost the initiative and as the Kiwi repositioned herself to finish the job was unable to keep challenging her modesty, leaving the Kiwi two hands to get them right off and throw them out of the pool; winning the game. It was all over in less than 10 minutes; although there was something about them made me think that rather than random volunteer customers they might have been ringers to get the whole thing started.

A few girls challenged the Kiwi, but she declined, leaving the field for a new pair; or in this case trio, since it was a mixed match. Italian girls against what I took to be a Danish guy.

Here the dynamics were interesting. It was strength against a greater number of hands. The girls were all over the guy, leaving him little chance and managed to win in short order.

They in turn were challenged by an English guy. He simply tried to use pure strength to rip the costumes off the girls even though they remained in the defensive squat position. Initially one had a front seam of her swimmers split from her nipple to her crutch where the colours joined, then both had the straps down the back torn from their mountings leaving their breasts exposed as the front piece flopped down and then finally one had the side seam ripped apart, leaving her only one leg in the swimmers and making it easy for him to side them off her leg.

All the while they’re were trying to fight back in the same manner, pulling his swimmers well away from his body and giving him a giant wedgie while trying to tear them, but not succeeding. It seemed the male swimmers had a stronger side seam than the female ones

The rules allowed both girls to stay in the competition until both their swimmers were off. They battled on until the second girl’s swimmers were also destroyed and thrown out of the ring, leaving him the winner.

We sort of half watched a few more matches as we talked and ate; the matches providing a distraction for the guys so there were less of them trying to hit on Kate. On the whole they were good natured competitions; the contestants laughing even as they struggled to win.

Some of the girls were a bit cheeky with the guys, sitting over his hips and rubbing their crutch up and down on his cock and generally doing other things to visibly arouse them; although just all the highly intimate contact involved in trying to wrestle the swimmers off two strange girls in an oil pool must have been arousing enough. For the guys it must have been a battle between the body’s natural tendency to respond to that stimulation and their brain’s inhibiting fear of ridicule if it did. All I can say is the body often won. On the other hand the girls could enjoy themselves as much as they wanted winning applause and encouragement for overtly sexual moves without any arousal being obvious.

Most matches ended with the girls breasts exposed whether they won or lost and the constant flash of cameras was a reminder there was no guarantee that what happened here stayed here.

Perhaps the most amusing sight was that of losing guys left in their tiny oil soaked g strings simply moulded around their cock; it’s not a sight I’d seen before – even more so given a degree of arousal was often obvious. I wondered if Greg might allow them as a sex toy.

None of this was something I’d normally be exposed to or a participant in; my hogtie wrestling episode notwithstanding. Trust Kate to lead us down such a corrupting, if unusual and amusing path! Still I did wonder if she’d factored in the guys being distracted from her by the activities.

One match did however change the mood of the night – and for us the whole outcome

There was a mixed match between a pair of French girls and a German guy.

The girls were nothing special. A medium height somewhat overweight one and a quite petite one who still seemed to show the effect of too many croissants. They were obviously friends. The guy also was fairly ordinary; more than a bit pudgy for his age – certainly not a looker.

We hadn’t really being paying much attention to it until something caught my eye. The guy had the larger girl pinned under him; sitting across the top of her shoulders, her chin and her enormous breasts between them stopping her from sliding either forward or back to slip out from under him. The petite girl was behind him, pushing his shoulders to try and knock him off; the top part of her swimmers already down to her waist.

Suddenly he grabbed both her hands and dragged her forward over his shoulder. As she overbalanced and gravity took over from his pull in bringing her forward, he hooked his fingers under her swimmers so that as she fell and flipped over onto her back they were dragged off her body. It would have been a very neat and clever manoeuvre except for the fact I saw him quite deliberately hook his fingers under her g string too, so that they came off with the other swimmers.

It left the girl completely naked, face up, her bum over the edge of the pool, legs apart and her fanny open to the audience. Immediately camera flashes came to life to record her indignity; compounded as he lent forward, pulled one knee even further to the side to expose her more and did a victory pose over her for another round of shots.

(Fanny has a different meaning in Australia to that in the US. It equates more with the slang “pussy”)

With her back arched awkwardly, she struggled to regain her balance and extract herself from the position she was in, something he hindered as much as he could while he threw both her swimmers and g string deeply into the audience.

Now exposed to a much greater extent than she’d expected, even when she did regain her balance she became totally focused on recovering her g string, begging the audience to return it; something the yobbos were in no hurry to do.

That left her partner wrestling alone with the guy; although wrestling’s a generous word – it was too lop sided.

The larger girl had started with a good hold on the guys swimmers. No longer having to worry about the smaller girl, he used his greater strength to pull her hands away from it which permitted him to stand over her, his pants now out of her reach. Then he bent down, lifted her feet and dragged them around to face the audience. In a single action he hooked his fingers under both the g string and her swimmers and flipped off her bottom, lifting her legs skyward as he slid them down her legs – and threw them into the audience. In a final insulting action he dragged the girl’s legs over the side of the pool so she too was left arched backwards with her bum on the side wall and her fanny exposed.

Then he put his foot up on her stomach and did a victory pose; once again inhibiting her attempts to recover some dignity.

The yobbos went wild with excitement and camera flashes. But a good part of the more sensible section of the audience was appalled and started booing. What had been a good humoured competition had taken on another side.

When Kate got to her feet I thought she was just trying to get a better look. Then I heard the fateful words. “We want to challenge him”. I think the MC, Greg and I all had the same question in mind, but he put it into words “Who is we?”

Without even looking around, Kate pointed behind her – straight at me.

There were a few different reactions to Kate’s challenge around the room. The German took one look at Kate (and yes OK, a look at me too) and readily accepted, just about growing a boner in anticipation. Kate was well out of any league this guy had got to play in before. Kate would say I’m in the same league as her; I’ll reserve on that, but acknowledge I was probably well outside his usual league as well. I doubt he’d even got to touch girls like us before.

The yobbos were equally enthusiastic; probably looking forward to an equally intimate view of the fannies of both of us to that they’d just been given of the French girls and already blowing loads into their pants in anticipation. After all, neither Kate nor I looked like big girls. I was no more than 50 kg, Kate maybe in the low 60’s – and it’s only a slight exaggeration to say most of the difference is in her breasts. The larger French girl was much bigger and he’d just demolished her.

I was like “no way!” But I knew I was stuck and would now have to go along with Kate’s challenge. Kate was an interventionist; something she shared with Greg. If they saw something wrong, they set out to fix it, even if others might take a “it’s not my problem” approach. They’d prefer to risk looking silly by overreacting than leave a situation where someone was in distress.

That’s part of why they’d both originally joined the lifesavers in the first place.

Me; I was a bit too shy to throw myself into situations the same way; more worried I be misreading things and interfering where I shouldn’t.

Kate saw the guy as needing putting in his place and was setting out to do it; even if she risked a similar humiliation (for her and me – thanks Kate).

But what neither he nor the yobbos were to know was that Kate certainly wasn’t the weak pretty girl female she appeared to be. She was a serious athlete. Her iron man training – involving as it does multiple disciplines – might not have left her beefed up and muscular looking, but like a long distance runner, the strength was there just the same. And with all the cross training I’d done with Greg I was nearly in the same boat.

Trying to avoid long delays in proceedings we were hustled into the change rooms and given our swimwear. The G string was strongly enough made, even if very minimalist and I made sure I picked the smallest size I could get on to make them harder to get off. The flag costume was as flimsy as it looked from a distance, even if tight fitting and very sexy. Completely unlined it was lucky I didn’t have any inhibitions about nips showing through, though I wasn’t looking forward to the virtual certainty of having my breasts exposed to the audience and their cameras.

Still, I liked the look and feel of it on my body and, given my swimwear fetish, was sure I could have some fun with Greg with it. I hoped it survived the match unscathed.

I wondered if Kate should have picked a bigger size. The ones she had just barely covered her nipples. They weren’t going to stay hidden for long, even if he didn’t manage to pull off a shoulder strap.

We had a brief discussion about the tactic Kate had in mind, trusting to fate to set it up for us. As we emerged the German just about burst out of his pants; he was clearly anxious to start and probably in no hurry to finish the match. That might work in our favour.

For a while the match followed a familiar pattern. Lots of sliding and rolling around in a puddle of oil, lots of pulling at swimwear. In the course of it all I let one of the side straps be pulled off my shoulder rather than risk it being torn, thus exposing one breast, although I did get a chance shortly after to slip it back on. He seemed particularly keen on getting the top part of Kate’s swimmers down, so she was soon exposed to the waist, delighting the audience with the view but Kate not being the least concerned about it.

Eventually Kate set up the situation she wanted; she was pinned under his legs like the French girl – except this time he was sitting further back, below her breasts. I made sure not to tackle him from behind and suffer the same fate as the smaller French girl; instead wrestling with his arms from in front of me.

He had hooked his fingers under the back of my swimwear – both the outer one and the G string. I could see he wanted to put me over the shoulder like the other girl and just demolish the top straps and rip everything off in one movement – except this time front to back.

He expected me to pull back against this movement – which is what I did – causing him to tense himself backwards. But then, as arranged with Kate, I suddenly threw myself forward towards him, aiming my body for his head. Caught off guard and already pulling backwards, he flopped down on his back between Kate’s legs, his knees rising and legs pivoting around the folded up balls of his toes since he wasn’t flexible enough to keep his knees folded under him.

I deliberately smothered him with my breasts, burying his nose in my cleavage, hoping the cheap thrill might just slightly delay the speed with which he recovered from the shock of being pushed down on his back.

Then Kate sprang into action. Using her core body strength, she rose up from under him, effectively rolling his lower body and legs over his head as she extradited herself. With her fingers already firmly gripping the back waist hem of both his pairs of swimmers, as his bum lifted to the roll she’d induced she was able to rip them down his legs initially without any real resistance.

At the end he did realise what was about to happen and tried to resist. His hands were basically entangled in my swimwear from when he’d being trying to slip them off; so suddenly there was a lot of movement dislodging the top part of it and whether deliberately or not, fondling my breasts at the same time. I just tried to bundle his arms up and resist their movement while at the same time repositioning one of my now exposed nipples into his eye socket to again try to pacify him with a cheap thrill.

At the same time he started to thrash his feet about to stop Kate from completely removing his pants. But by now they were down to his ankle. The pants themselves inhibited his movements and it wasn’t too hard for Kate to finally slip them over his feet and toss them to the audience.

With a final flourish Kate grabbed his feet and dragged them over the side of the pool, effectively dragging me across the pool at the same time. Now he was the one fully exposed, with his back arched over the side and his penis uppermost.

While I couldn’t see it, Kate tells me he was already partly aroused when she stripped him. Sitting over his stomach she played with him a bit to induce a more obvious erection, then facing the audience, she held up two fingers spaced only a small distance apart and shook her head, indicating she wasn’t very impressed with the size of what she saw.

The audience dissolved into laughter.

Then she just stood up, helped me off him as I readjusted my swimmers to a more modest position, shook his hand and thanked him for the match and we both exited the ring. You could sense a lighter mood had been restored; those upset by what had happened to the girls feeling justice had been done, the yobbos having had some amusement, even if not at Kate’s and my expense as they’d expected.

Many guys stepped forward wanting a match with us. Kate put an arm around me and pointing to Greg said “that’s the only guy were willing to match”

Greg was caught completely off guard and came out with something like “we can do that when we get home”, causing another round of laughter with those who thought Greg was playing a pun and had an unusual domestic situation that would offer him some interesting threeway tangles later in the night. It certainly raised his status among parts of the audience and even induced a couple of girls to try and hit on him while we were getting dressed again.

Me, I parked the thought away as something I might actually take him up on one day. I’d enjoyed the match and had found it all massively arousing even against the jerk and could see it might make an interesting bit of sexual play with him. I might even include Kate in the more innocent part of it; if you can call rolling around trying to strip each other naked innocent.

Still, at the end we were a pair of girls now thoroughly soaked in some sort of vegetable oil. Both our swimmers had survived undamaged, but they too were soaked through. On the swimmer front, I was the one with a bit of a fetish about them; I doubt Kate was all that worried about hers. When I got under the shower I made a point of the fact I initially got under with the swimmers on and gave them a good soaping and a rinse to try and get the oil out before completing the task of washing myself; hinting they might be handy if we do have a game with Greg.

Fifteen minutes later we were restored to some semblance of order and rejoined Greg, wet swimmers in a plastic bag and a free thankyou bottle of champers waiting on the table from the management. The French girls came up and thanked us too. Even the German guy came up and congratulated us; which lifted my opinion of him off the rock bottom place it had been.

But now of course we’d attracted the attention of the whole place. We’d been sitting out of the way somewhat so had been overlooked by a good percentage of the more amorous males in the audience. Now, even if they did have some doubts about Greg’s domestic arrangements they were set aside as it seemed every guy in the room tried to hit on us as if Greg wasn’t there.

I wasn’t used to this sort of attention, but Kate just went about dealing with it as she always does; maybe applying a somewhat more judgemental filter to narrow down the field more quickly.

In the end there was a winner – if you want to call him that (although there’s no doubt he felt like one latter in the night) – and a surprising one at that. Until sometime towards the end of the Christmas holiday, Kate’s typical partner had been what I referred to as the Neanderthal type. A solid body builder’s figure and square jawed; your classical model from the front cover of a bodice ripper novel. I would add small brained, and to that even Kate – after she came to realise the error of her ways – added “limited penis focused needs”. It was Kate’s way of avoiding romantic attachments – attachments she desperately wanted but that the damage caused to her by the ugliness of her parent’s marriage had created a barrier against.

Then – she will admit – inspired by the love Greg and I had found, she changed her ways and her tastes. If I wanted to be blunt about what she now looked for in a guy I’d have to sum it up as Greg. Tall, slim, muscular, intelligent and sensitive. After all, deep down that’s probably why they’d been such close friends for so many years.

Getting all of that isn’t easy. Tonight she settled for four out of five. He was someone who approached us shyly towards the end of the night; I suspect egged on by a group of mates he’d been sitting with. Even though he struck me as something of your video playing nerd, he passed Kate’s first evaluation and was permitted to buy us a drink.

And then for the next ten minutes he charmed the pants off all of us; not in a smarmy sort of way, just by being genuinely interested in us – even if especially Kate – and keeping us laughing with a great sense of humour.

Steve – that was his name - was impressed by the fact Kate was studying medicine, fascinated by her dedication to lifesaving and teased out a lot of the stories of our Christmas holidays in a way that added to the humorous mood he’d created. He was willing to give insights into himself – he was an architect student from Brisbane and yes he was a grade A computer nerd – without making himself the focus. I liked him, and I could see Kate did too. He was encouraged to join our group. I could see his mates would have liked to have joined us too; but this was first and foremost a catch-up between Kate, Greg and myself. He understood they needed to be cast adrift and he did so with good humour to them too.

Let’s cut a long story short. At the end of the night he was invited back to Kate’s room.

 Greg and I had retired to our room and then to bed and started getting amorous when the noise of Kate’s activities started coming through the wall between our rooms.

After deep scientific analysis, based on the evidence of overhearing three other people, I have come to the view that everyone has their own distinctive ‘sex voice’; the noise they make when they have sex. It might be quieter or louder as the circumstances require, but the nature of it is the same unless you make a strong attempt to focus on it enough to change.

Mine I think is a bit like a grunt; not a nasty guttural noise – much more feminine than that (in my opinion anyway), but a grunt just the same. But if I think the noise might be mistaken by Greg for an indication of discomfort or pain, I can change it to a more clichéd “yes, yes, yes” or “more, more, more” or any one of a number of instructions (“harder!”). Plus I’m a bit of a screamer; my natural sex voice is loud.

Greg’s is a cross between a grunt and a groan; although with a deeper male voice. He also can be pretty loud.

My mother I know sounds like me; and on the basis of that irrefutable scientific evidence, I also hold that your sex voice is genetically inherited.

We’ve heard Kate three times. Once when we put her to bed after she passed out and she got all frisky on Greg, once at Zoe’s sex party and once during our threesome. Her sex voice is the cutest, most femininely sexy and barely audible “ohh”. It’s much more delightful on the ear than it appears in print, but it’s an ‘ohhing’ sound just the same. There’s so much to be jealous about with Kate; I think I’m jealous of her sex voice too.

Not tonight. What was coming through the wall sounded more like me. From the sound of her she was obviously doing the work; on top. Both times I’d seen Kate in action she straddled the guy cow girl style so it wasn’t hard to picture her in that position now. Nor was it hard to picture her breasts bouncing up and down like I’d seen them do; at least until Steve got hold of them and all but tried to swallow one of them while playing with the other – the natural guy reaction.

It was easy to guess she was giving Greg and me a taste of what we’d served up to her while we were in the shower. Steve didn’t know it, but half the performance was for us.

If we were starting to run hot before Kate started up, then we really started to boil now. Hearing other people have sex can do that too you; especially if it’s someone you know as well as Kate and can form such a mental picture of them doing it. So fairly soon we too were going at it; me on top and making all the noise I usually make; maybe even a bit more for good measure. Greg was more than willing to contribute to the party; and since we both knew full well what was happening it was hard sometimes not to just dissolve into laughter at it all. Goodness only knows what Steve thought of all this; although I could clearly enough hear his grunts too.

I had a sneaking suspicion that Steve may not have been all that experienced sexually. A bit like Greg; a really nice guy but not pushy enough to rack up a tally of girls he’s actually bedded. Good on him for that, but I figured there was a good chance he was going to go early especially if Kate was pulsing her pussy around him as Greg told me she did with him during our threesome. So it was. Far too early the sound of him climaxing could be heard. That didn’t stop Kate. Instead you could hear her become more vigorous, looking for her own orgasm while she still had something to work with.

She found it too; doing a full Meg Ryan performance through the wall.

Shortly after I screamed out mine before rolling Greg over on top of me to let him finish too. And then there was just a quietly panting silence as the four of us cuddled against our respective partners and went to sleep.

At two in the morning Kate and Steve started at it again. This time it was just Kate’s normal sex voice; although a bit louder than I’d heard before.

Of course it woke both Greg and me up and made us a bit randy. But instead of starting up ourselves, Greg just penetrated me for a bit of couplin harvesting tantric sex; trying to fall back to sleep in that position while resisting the temptation to start thrusting and turn it into climatic sex. Each of Greg and I gave a single loud cough, just to let Kate know we were there; not to quieten her, just to make a “ I know what you’re up to” statement. But we weren’t really going to get back to sleep – coupled or not – until they’d finished. 

Predictably Steve went early again. For a short while you could tell Kate was going at it harder, but then there was a momentary break in proceedings before you could hear a quieter, less energetic Kate rising to her own climax. I figured Steve must have gone sufficiently flaccid that he’d rolled Kate over on her back and fingered or licked her to her orgasm.

We’d found that if you just turned off the air conditioning, the room maintained a nice summer like temperature which let you sleep with just a sheet over you or maybe nothing at all. I’d been looking forward to waking a little early and just being able to stare at a naked sleeping Greg; a favourite pastime the cooling temperatures at home had been depriving me of.

Greg beat me to it. As I drifted back to wakefulness in the morning light I found myself on my back, no longer coupled to Greg and no sheet covering me. I turned my head and there was Greg lying on his side, propped up on his elbow staring at me with a grin on his face and an erection bisecting his stomach.

I rolled over and cuddled him and gave him a kiss, the mint taste of his breath indicating he’d already attended to certain morning functions. There’s just something about crispy hotel sheets that promotes sex in the morning. Then again there something about wanting to pee and morning breath that discourages it. Much as I might have liked to just start up from my semi-wakefulness, I decided it was better to get up and attend to the latter.

I climbed back on the bed and over my man now reclining on his back; straddling his body with his erection pushing into my stomach as I kissed him. We weren’t in a hurry. Being naked and warm and frolicking about on a bed with Greg was a treat in itself.

So we rolled about and kissed and cuddled for a while before getting down to the more serious part of it, me finishing as usual with a fairly noisy orgasm.

As we’re lying there – me draped over Greg in our post orgasmic bliss – Kate couldn’t help herself and gave a single loud cough of her own.

It was fortunate that I’d arranged for Kate to have a room next to ours. Had anyone else been in that room it would have been just as inhibiting as being back at home in my family’s house – probably more so. Maybe because we knew Kate so well, she knew what our sex life was like and so we had nothing to hide from her and she was indulging in her own liaison it all just didn’t seem to matter. If it had any effect it spurred our own arousal to hear Kate indulging, so the effect might even have been positive.

I did wonder how it might have been if instead we knew Kate was lying next door alone; even wondered if I might have been tempted to then invite her in to share a bit; but tried – not entirely successfully - to dismiss that thought quickly from my mind. Once had been an incredible intimate experience I never thought I would have indulged in, but once ought to be enough.

We got down to breakfast first and so were sitting there as Kate and Steve approached us hand in hand. When Kate saw us she smiled at us like a Cheshire cat and as she approached the table asked

“Morning. Did you sleep well last night?”

I replied with a perfectly straight face “Yep; went out like a light the minute we hit the bed. What about you, was your sleep undisturbed?”

“Yer, don’t remember a thing until I woke up this morning. Did you get to sleep in?”

“Sure did. It was lovely; I could barely get my eyes to open to come down to breakfast”

“Great. Hope we can have as good a night tonight”

Steve had stood there bemused as we went through this routine of patent lies until we all couldn’t keep a straight face any more and dissolved into laughter, the people around us no doubt wondering what was so funny about the soundness of our sleeping.

As we had breakfast we talked about the day ahead; planning to spend a good part of it at the beach while allowing Kate and me some time to look around the shops too.

Steve’s part in all of this had been ambiguous, until Kate turned to him.

“Do you want to go back to your own hotel and get some beach gear? We’ll meet you back here if you’re quick enough. And while there’s not the slightest promise in my next statement, I’m not going to think any less of you if you happen to bring a backpack with a change of clothes for going out tonight and a toothbrush”




















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