A Summer with Gina

Impressions struck me, fleeting snapshots of clarity that will stay with me forever. I took in the look on Gina's face; the sounds coming out of her; the reality of actually being inside her body. I felt the sun on my shoulders while sweat began to run down my back.

With Gina's skin getting more and more slippery against my hands I had to constantly refresh my grip on her backside, her squirming around not helping the cause while Gina leaked my earlier deposit, her own desire mixing with that goo making our conjunction a greasy slide.

It was all going on, my head full of the experience while the physicality was there around my dick, Gina's body in my palms. She kissed me again and again, the intensity of Gina's attention telling me she was so close.

"I needed to fuck, Andrew," she groaned, grinning at me, her eyes glistening.

"I'm glad you did," I panted back at her. "It's amazing, Gina -- You're amazing."

"I can't come like this," I was informed. "I am so near but I can't get it." Gina eased off me, staggering until she turned and braced her hands against the fence, pelvis angled to offer her rear to me. "From behind," she moaned, squirming again.

And that was how she got there, standing on tiptoe so I didn't have to crouch too low, mewling and thrusting back against me, both of us coming together.

Six

August

Gina might as well have moved in. She became a near permanent fixture, even taking Buster out for a run in the evenings. The dog loved her, and I suppose I did too, which made it all the more difficult when I realised Gina would be leaving in the not too distant future.

In an attempt to stave off melancholy whenever I thought about her going I arranged a weekend in Brighton. Gina was thrilled when I told her, clapping her hands and bouncing her bottom off the settee while I simply hoped for decent weather.

We took the train on Friday afternoon, as soon as Gina's English lesson had finished. Buster stayed at my sister's, not that he wouldn't have enjoyed himself coming with us, but I didn't want to leave him alone in a strange place when Gina and I went out in the evening.

Gina loved the guesthouse, a boutique hotel in Hove, one of those tall terraced places with an imposing Regency façade converted into small yet plush accommodation for weekenders. We checked in, showered together and then took a walk along the length of the promenade, all the way to the pier.

I'd gone for boots, jeans and a blue shirt while Gina wore her pink Skechers, a denim mini and one of her signature flimsy tops with bootlace straps. We were just going past the picture postcard beach huts, the doors painted in a glorious celebration of pastel colours especially for summer, when I noticed we were getting a few looks. It was the first time Gina and I had been out together properly, and I couldn't work out if the glances we received from passers-by were envious, disapproving, or both.

I found the attention disconcerting and, sensing my discomfit, Gina cuddled in close, her arm hooked through mine as we walked.

"Don't worry, Andrew," she reassured me, squeezing my arm. "They think I am too young for you." Gina shrugged and clicked her tongue.

I glanced at her and saw her roll her eyes.

"I am almost twenty," the girl said. "I can make up my own mind. If they don't like it, that is their problem. I am happy. You make me feel good."

We walked past the old West Pier, the skeletal ruin a little more depleted than the last time I'd seen it, a few more struts lost to the tides. I wondered how long it would be before it finally broke up, the physical reminder of time's passage dampening my mood a little. Despite Gina's encouraging words, and regardless of the jolly summer atmosphere, I couldn't help but feel the gloomy slide of Gina's departure dampening my mood.

"Hey, you want fish and chips?" I asked in an attempt to buoy my spirits. "We can eat them on the beach."

A few minutes later we were sat on the pebbles, open paper wrappers of cod and deep-fried potato in hand, trying not to burn our mouths on hot chips that were slathered in vinegar and dusted in salt.

"This is very good," Gina mumbled through a mouthful, her mouth dangling open like a pelican's pouch as she tried to cool the food.

I had to agree. In fact, recovered from my earlier wobble, I thought the afternoon-cum-evening was shaping up well. Damn near perfect: fish and chips in a paper wrapper; the tang of vinegar wafting up with the steam as they cooled; a beautiful girl and the ocean whispering over the pebbles.

How much better could it get?

Then I jumped when I heard Gina shriek.

"You bastard!" the girl called after an opportunist seagull swooped in and snatched the battered fish from her fingers.

"You fucking bastard!" the girl yelped again, incensed.

All I could do was laugh.

"Got you," I said, offering Gina a piece of fish. "Here we can share. Just don't wave any food around."

"I cannot believe what that bird did," Gina replied, incredulous at the cheek of it.

After the picnic I took Gina along St James Street, the occasional local oddity causing her great delight.

"The people are so ... colourful," she said, also enthused by a New Age shop with an interesting window display.

"It all goes on here, Gina," I informed her. "Wait 'til I show you The Lanes."

"It is wonderful," Gina responded, squeezing my arm again.

I liked it too. The atmosphere was so relaxed, much more live and let live than home. Up in that part of town, all along St James Street, I didn't feel such an old letch.

We were outside the Ranelagh pub. "Fancy a drink?" I asked.

Gina did, so we went inside, a John Hiatt blues riff hitting us when we entered. The feeling of contentment spread through me. There I was with a gorgeous companion, enjoying a balmy evening with a pint of real ale on the table in front of me. It was a fulfilling prospect to consider we had two more days of it.

I put Gina's departure out of my mind. After all, it was still six weeks away. An age.

Sitting there for that half an hour was a magical time, an endearing and enduring memory. Gina sat with her one leg crossed over the other while she sipped red wine and alternated between chattering away to me and looking through the railings towards the street.

Pub patrons came and went, the clientele ranging from weekend tourists like us to more flamboyant locals. Gina watched them passing by, folk of all shapes and sizes, ages, modes of dress and sexual orientation.

"This is fun," she beamed at me as I drained the last of my beer. "I like it here." Then Gina heaved a huge sigh of satisfaction.

"No," she replied when I asked her if she wanted another drink. "Take me somewhere else. I want to see everything."

By the time we crossed Old Steine and walked up through Pavillion Gardens it was getting busy. We paused for a few minutes while Gina commented on the onion domes of the Pavilion itself, marvelling at the incongruous architecture in such a setting as an English seaside town.

Next stop was a drink in the Mash Tun pub, its blue fascia bringing another comment from Gina before we crossed the road to the Waggon and Horses.

Life was all around us: street music; touts and tramps; people making the most of the balmy evening and drinking al fresco.

We were outside at one of the big picnic style tables when the woman approached.

I looked up to see a dark-haired beauty, a mid-thirties lady with gypsy eyes and sticky red lipstick smiling at us, her attention mainly fixed on Gina.

"Hi," the woman said while I quickly surveyed her generous bosom, superb breasts barely contained by a thin jacket made of black leather. It turned out, as I'd discover later, that leather jacket was all she was wearing on top, her breasts bubbling through the gap of a zipper unfastened almost to her navel.

The woman's greeting brought Gina's attention away from the crowd.

"May I?" the gypsy asked, nudging her chin at the bench.

****

I could tell from the off that Claire Reynolds had her eye on Gina. She sat down and immediately launched into a potted life history, offering to buy the next round.

She fetched the drinks and continued with her spiel, directing her comments to the younger woman and throwing an occasional glance my way.

"So, you're together?" Claire asked, grinding the stub of her cigarette into the pavement beneath the sole of her shoe.

I didn't pick up disapproval in Claire's tone, but certainly caught the hungry way she gazed at Gina.

"Yes," Gina replied, nodding as she reached for my hand to give it a squeeze.

I saw Claire clock the gesture, and I was grateful to Gina for the outward show of affection.

"You lucky bugger," Claire said to me, the twist to her mouth conveying envy at my luck rather than any resentment. She heaved a sigh and drained the remaining cider in her glass. "I don't suppose you'd share her?" she asked, apparently in jest.

I think Claire had been joking. She certainly looked as surprised as I felt when Gina caught us both off guard and said, "I don't mind if we share. What do you think, Andrew?"

It was a question that had a complex answer, not that I could do much in the way of clear thinking in the aftermath of Gina's causal delivery.

I was still processing the fact a threesome may have just dropped into my lap when Claire blurted, "Really?"

Gina was nodding and looking from me to Claire and back again. "Yes, the three of us together. I wouldn't mind it."

"But," I spluttered, unable to articulate the mix of emotions that jumbled inside me at that moment.

On one hand the prospect thrilled me -- After all, two attractive ladies and me? One dark, one fair, both absolutely gorgeous, was a fantasy come true. But I was also torn by the feelings I had for Gina. Somehow it didn't seem right. I thought I was in love with the girl, and if you love someone, you don't share -- No?

Then, being the perennial introspective that I am, I also considered Claire -- Why would she fancy me? She possessed sex appeal in spades. She was stunning, so ripe and voluptuous; a dark-eyed Bohemian beauty any man would drool over. Not only did Claire have it all going on -- she dressed to emphasise her sexuality: tight leather skirt with a high hem, her boobs bursting out of her jacket -- she could choose a lover from a number of offers if the mood struck. Besides, it was Gina she was after, not the girl's late middle-aged boyfriend.

Gina leaned into me, smirking. I could see her excitement in the glint of her eyes, her taut rump squirming against the wooden bench.

"It would be fun," she breathed, questioning me with raised eyebrows. "What do you think, Claire?" Gina added, turning to face the woman on the other side of the table.

"Well," I felt Claire's eyes on me, "he's not bad looking..."

"I would like you to watch him fuck me," Gina informed us. The older woman's jaw dropped at such candour. "I would enjoy watching you two together, also."

I saw Claire's throat work. She gulped and looked at me. "Oh, God," she murmured, her next words making my stomach flip. "Let's go."

****

I sat in the front seat of the taxi, the women in the rear.

When the driver glanced at me I saw something like amusement in his face, the reason becoming apparent when I turned to look over my shoulder to find Gina and Claire kissing, their ardour giving rise to an uncomfortable erection.

"Have a good night, mate," the taxi driver said when we arrived in front of a large semi-detached place near the Greyhound track. He dropped an eyelid onto one cheek in a lascivious wink and added, "Half your luck." Next he cast a covetous eye at Gina, nodding to himself when his eyes then slid to the unfastened zip of Claire's leather jacket, her big breasts unfettered and swaying as she moved.

Without comment I handed over a twenty and closed the door, leaving the cabbie loitering at the kerb as I followed Gina and Claire through the gate and up the drive.

"Another drink? Coffee?" Claire offered when the front door closed behind us.

"No," Gina replied, apparently on my behalf as well as her own. "I want to fuck."

****

To me it was a strange dynamic: Claire was obviously more interested in Gina than me, and although the younger woman paid Claire a lot of attention, she still directed the lion's share of her focus to me.

Of course I was still reeling from the unexpected twist the seaside visit had taken, and not only that but I was also dealing with mixed emotions, with my personal moral code balking in the face of being involved with a third party while I had such strong feelings for Gina.

Still, I reconciled within myself, it was what Gina wanted. So I decided to let events run their course. I could sift through the embers of sentiment in the morning and figure out how I felt.

We were in the bedroom after a quick scramble up the stairs. I watched Claire undress, a simple matter of shrugging out of the leather jacket and hiking her skirt up around her waist.

"You're breasts are so big," Gina enthused, weighing those pillows in her palms. "So beautiful."

"And you're lovely," Claire replied, leaning in to kiss Gina's mouth.

I stood there gawping, completely entranced by the gentle way the girls loved one another. There were gasps and low moans as their tongues entwined, their palms sliding over bare skin.

"Let's get you out of these clothes," Claire sighed, slipping one bootlace over Gina's shoulder. "Oh, God," she whined, "you're exquisite, Gina."

The girl stepped out of her skirt, abandoning it in the middle of the carpet as she threw a look at me. She eased away from Claire, the gypsy-eyed woman watching Gina's rump, her expression avid.

"You must undress," Gina said to me with a peck of her lips against my cheek. "Come on, Andrew, take off your clothes. We will help you."

She directed the last to Claire, who took the hint. Gina's fingers were at my belt and zip, her tongue in my mouth while, at the girl's direction, Claire unlaced my boots.

"You two kiss," breathed Gina, one fist working my erection. She had just disengaged from Claire when she issued the instruction, jacking my dick while urging Claire and me to make contact. "Go on," she sighed, reaching for Claire's large breasts, "I want to see you two kissing."

Claire moved in close, blinking as she approached. She offered me an odd kind of smirk and a shrug of one shoulder.

"Well, Andrew," she murmured. "What about it?"

During that first kiss I heard Gina mutter something indistinct. Then my jeans were around my ankles, a warm mouth closing around my cock. A moment later, after pulling her mouth away from mine, Claire was down there too.

It was yet another surreal moment, seeing the two of them working at me with their lips and tongues and hands. I curled my fingers through Gina's hair, groaning while the two of them concentrated on each other for a few seconds, the girl's fist continuing to stroke my length.

They eased away from me, giving me the chance to remove my shirt and kick my jeans free of my feet.

When I pulled off my socks Claire was busy with her tongue at Gina's vulva, the girl mewling at me to put my dick in her mouth.

So it went on, Gina including me while Claire concentrated her efforts on the lithe, writhing form of the younger woman. I wasn't complaining, not since Gina did a lot of moaning and grunting around a mouthful of my cock. Even my reticence at involving myself with Claire had faded. That threesome stuff was fun!

A few minutes passed and then Gina levered herself up onto one elbow, rolling onto her side. "I want you two to fuck," she gasped, wide-eyed and breathless, a hand sloshing through her vulva, her sex smeared with desire.

Not only had I fully accepted the new arrangement, but it seemed my earlier assessment about Claire's potential reluctance to involve me was unfounded. She was all fired up and ready to agree to whatever Gina suggested, with me soon finding myself on my back with a condom rolled over my cock while Gina held me upright and Claire straddled me.

The voluptuous wench bounced eagerly, tits swinging and swaying, her generous rump slapping against my skin as Gina shared her time between the pair of us, moaning on about seeing people fucking and how she loved to watch.

For me it was a matter of recovering from the jolt of the unexpected, the surprises just kept on coming with Gina. I ran my hands over the unfamiliar contours of Claire's body, her bottom fleshy in my palms, the feminine softness of her as my fingers moved over her waist and up to her breasts just as arousing as the younger woman's tight packaging.

"You like her?" a voice whispered.

I opened my eyes and saw Gina's face hovering over mine. "She's lovely," I groaned, meaning it. "Really sexy, Gina."

"Good," the girl grinned. She planted a kiss on my lips and then rose to offer her hungry mouth to Claire.

Claire grunted and rode me harder while Gina massaged those heavy tits. She gasped and groaned, whining at Gina to suck nipples distended with lust.

"My clit," Claire squeaked, her palms sliding over Gina's body. "Rub my clitty, Gina. Please, baby, rub me."

It got to be quite urgent. Claire was grinding her pubis against me while Gina concentrated her attention on the excited woman's clitoris. I had one hand mauling Claire's breasts while I searched blindly for Gina's opening with the other, my fingers finding her sodden.

My efforts brought a gasp and a cry of delight from the girl. I rubbed at her, my fingers alternating between probing her insides and working her nub.

Gina moaned, Claire groaned, the bed protested, and the surge threatened to fill the condom.

"Fuck," I heard Claire hiss. "I can't do it. I'm so close," she gasped, "but I can't get there."

She dismounted, throwing a leg over me before collapsing onto the bed. Claire's fingers were at her sex, circling wildly, sobs bursting out of her as she fought towards a climax.

"Let me help," Gina said, scrambling round, quickly moving between Claire's legs.

Claire's eyes opened and the distracted expression vanished. Her eyes focussed on Gina. "God, yes," she squeaked, shifting her rump and forcing her thighs wider. "You do that, Gina. Good girl. Lick me, darling. Yes, oh yes..."

When Claire reached for me I rolled into her sudden need, kissing her mouth as I went up onto my knees.

"Your girlfriend's gorgeous," she grunted at me. She seemed manic to me, wild with what was going on, her fingers clamped around my forearm, eyes gleaming, her stare fixed on my face. "She's fantastic," the woman added with a gurgle. Then Claire craned to look down over her body, chin on chest as she gazed at Gina and chewed on her lower lip.

Eyes glinting with mischief and a devilish smirk on her face, Gina disengaged briefly. She crawled up the bed over Claire's body and slipped her tongue into the other woman's mouth, kissing her with great passion before returning to continue lapping at Claire's sex.

On the way back down Gina looked at me. She pointed behind herself, wriggling her rear-end to emphasise her meaning.

"You go back there and fuck me," Gina murmured. "I want to feel you inside me, Andrew. You know what to do."

I yanked the johnny off my cock and clambered behind Gina, sliding into her molten embrace with a long sigh coming out of me.

It ended with me crying out in delight, semen pumping into Gina while Claire clawed at the bed and bellowed she was coming as well. It felt like the stuff would never stop pouring out, my orgasm rocking me while Gina mumbled and babbled about everything she was experiencing in that moment.

That climax saw my involvement over for the time being. The two ladies carried on while all I could do was sit there, cock drooping and oozing cum, transfixed by the sight of Claire fingering Gina's gloopy opening.