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I met these two boys recently. Mark and Phillip were brothers and they were both honeys. Both of them were the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, and they were both interested in me. One was nineteen, the same age as me, and the other was twenty.

Normally I’d have gone for the older brother like a shot, especially if I’d met them one at a time, but I met them at the same time and they were both absolutely charming. I couldn’t decide which one I wanted as a boyfriend and which would be just a friend. A delicious situation to be in.

I finished up teasing them both, leading them both on to a certain extent, creating a little friendly rivalry between them. It did wonders for my ego to have them competing for me.

On one fine Saturday I was around at their place. The reason was quite simple. The Saturday wasn’t just a fine and sunny day; it was a really hot sunny day, and the boys had a pool at their place. I was swanning around in a demure little bikini, having an occasional swim and having the boys chat me up. Question – can you call any bikini demure? I suspect not, but that’s how it was described at the shop.

Anyway, the boys were flirting wildly and I was teasing and we were having fun generally. I finally had to go into the house to attend to nature’s needs and I was going to grab some cold drinks out of the fridge for me and the boys. After the pit-stop I wandered into the kitchen and it was a case of, “Oh, crap.”

The boy’s father was sitting in the kitchen. From the look of it he’d just been having a cup of coffee and reading the paper. One look at Ron and you knew the boys had to take after their mother. (My understanding was that she was now deceased, which was why I’d never met her.) But, if you remember, I called the boys tall, dark and handsome. They were also reasonable slender. The same could not be said to apply to their father.

You’ve heard of diamonds in the rough? A bit of polish and they sparkle. Ron was more like a lump of granite in the rough. A bit of polish and he’d be a polished lump of granite. He was tall, which was undoubtedly where the boys inherited their height, but he was also blonde, solid, and ugly. OK, maybe ugly is a harsh word. Let’s just say he might be considered unhandsome.

I also had this funny impression that he disapproved of me. I don’t know why that was so, but I sensed it.

“Ah, Katherine,” he said, smiling. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

Have you ever noticed the smile on a shark or a crocodile? They have these great big wide smiles and they don’t mean a thing. Ron was wearing one of those smiles now.

“I want you to stop leading the boys on,” he stated flatly. “Your teasing of them is starting to develop a rivalry between them and it could get nasty, so cut it out.”

Well, really? I wasn’t doing anything wrong. What harm was there in a bit of playful flirting and teasing? I went all innocent.

“Excuse me?” I said, trying to sound bewildered. “I’m not sure what you mean. We’re all just friends.”

“I mean that you’re keeping them both on a string while you try to decide which one to go for,” Ron said, plainly not believing my innocent act. “Why not just make your choice and drag the lucky winner off to a bedroom to seal the deal.”

Well, that was a bit crude I thought.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” I protested, all shocked and embarrassed. “How could you possibly suggest such a thing?”

“You’re not going to take this seriously, are you?” he growled, no longer smiling.

“What is there to take seriously?” I asked. “We’re all just friends. You couldn’t possibly expect me to sleep with one of them just because you think it would be a good idea.”

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered. “Maybe I should explain it in a different İstanbul Escort manner.”

I cocked my head to one side to show I was willing to listen while he struggled to convince me of his meaning. Stupid of me, in hindsight.

Ron shifted his chair slightly, turning it a bit further away from the table. That was the warning that I completely missed. His hand snaked over, grabbed my arm and pulled. I went sailing across his lap, taken totally by surprise.

“What I’m saying is stop stirring up my boys,” he said firmly, and his hand came down upon my bottom with a spank. It wasn’t what you would call a firm spank. It was more of a damned hard spank and it hurt. I gave a cry of pain and Ron turned all solicitous.

“Oh, dear, did that hurt?” he asked me, his voice oozing sympathy. “Did you know it’s the fact that you have material covering your bottom that makes spanks hurt? Without the material it doesn’t hurt nearly so much.”

That was his stance and he was prepared to prove it. Before I fully caught on to what he meant the bottom half of my bikini wasn’t the bottom part and longer. It was more the knees part of my bikini with my bottom shining white and on display.

One hand was resting on my back, holding me down, and the other came down firmly on my bottom. You notice I said firmly, not hard. The spanks were stinging but not hurting like that first one. Not that I really appreciated the difference. I opened my mouth to scream when a nasty little thought occurred.

If I screamed, the boys would probably hear and come in. I’d be caught getting a spanking from their father. They’d probably think it hilarious but I’d never live it down. I didn’t dare scream.

All I could really do was wriggle and protest, kicking my legs up and down, and trying to hit him. I had all the success of a kitten attacking a large dog. The next thing I knew my bikini bra fell off.

It didn’t fall right off. The back strap came undone and the bra fell away from my breasts, dangling from around my neck. Gee, I wonder how that catch came undone.

Why was I not surprised when Ron reached for my breasts? His hand slid under me and found them and started rubbing them. The up side was that he was no longer spanking me. The down side was that his hands were massaging me, one rubbing my breasts and one rubbing my bottom. At least, it started off rubbing my bottom.

I now had a real problem. I’ve always found my breasts to be very sensitive. A man touching my nipples was a real turn on. It was like they were two little on buttons. Press one and I’m turned on. Only mildly, but I would be starting to get excited. Normally a turn on button is pressed, then pressed again to turn it off. My nipples had no off setting. They had on, more on, on even more, really on, etc., and Ron was pressing them. And rolling them around in the palm of his hand. And massaging my breasts.

You will notice I haven’t mentioned the things that his other hand was doing, where it was busy not rubbing my bottom.

Ron kept on touching me up, apparently enjoying the way I was reacting, squirming about under his touch. I was making what were supposed to be sounds of protest, but I’m not sure Ron took them that way, especially when a couple of fingers started stroking the area around my clitoris and actually brushed against it a couple of times.

My protests when that happened were loud and incoherent, and that swine just laughed.

I was both relieved and aroused when Ron suddenly swung me back onto my feet, standing me in front of him. I was so relieved that I didn’t even care that I was naked. A bikini top dangling from my neck with the bottom section tastefully decorating my ankles couldn’t really be described as covering me in any manner, shape, Anadolu Yakası Escort or form.

Ron just looked at me and I knew damn well he was seeing all of me, even if he did seem to be looking at my face.

“Sit down,” he said, patting his lap.

I glanced down at his lap, wondering why he wanted me to sit on it. I was rather shocked to find he’d had time to unzip and expose himself. I wasn’t the only one aroused, that was painfully evident. If I sat on his lap his erection would be rubbing against me. No way was that going to happen.

“I am not going to sit on your lap and have that thing rubbing against me,” I said defiantly.

Ron blinked, looking surprised.

“Ah, you’re not really that stupid, are you?” he asked, sounding concerned.

What the hell did he mean stupid? Why was it stupid not to want to go rubbing myself against his cock? I mean, if I sat down straddling him that thing would be pressed right against the length of my slit. No thanks.

I was about to open my mouth to object again when the light dawned. My god, I wanted to slap myself for being so idiotic. He didn’t mean me to sit next to his cock.

I stared at him, horrified that he could suggest such a thing. I was really quite shocked. I was even more shocked to find that I was going to do what he wanted. Was I quite mad?

I found myself easing closer to him and then I was sinking down. I felt his cock brush between my legs and knew he was adjusting its position slightly. Then I could feel myself pressing down against it. I was watching Ron, waiting for a sign that I should stop, but not really expecting one. Good thing, too, because I didn’t get one.

I found myself pressing down onto him, my lips parting of their own accord and wrapping around him, and I was sinking down, feeling his cock moving up inside me. I, I realised, was controlling this. I was deciding how far he’d be able to push into me, and how fast. I slowed down and stopped, concentrating on the feel of him, half in, half out.

I couldn’t stop myself smirking a little. I was supposed to sit, was I?

I moved back up a little, feeling him rise a little off the chair, trying to maintain the contact. Then I stopped and sank down a little further.

This was fun. I’d sink down a little, taking him slightly deeper, then rise a little. I kept doing this. Even though I knew I was going to finish up screwed it was both fun and exciting to tease him like this. He was sweating slightly, his face tense. I think what he wanted to do was to grab my hips and just jam me down onto his cock. He was actually showing quite a good strength of character in refraining from doing so. (I just wished he’d shown that same strength of character by refraining from spanking me.)

When I finally settled down onto his lap, his cock fully inside me, I actually felt quite smug about it. And horny and ferociously aroused. My god, I’d never felt so eager for sex in my life.

I just sat there, straddling him, enjoying the feel of him inside me. After a few moments Ron had a word of advice for me.

“Start bouncing, damn you,” he said through gritted teeth.

Reprehensible of me, I know, but I couldn’t help giggling. However, I did concede that his suggestion had merit, and started doing my best to bounce. That’s actually harder than you realise. What with him being on the chair and all, my feet just barely reached the ground. If you want to bounce you need something to push off from and I was missing that. All I could do was tense my hips and bottom and hope that that would work.

It sort of worked, with me starting to slide up and down on him and it felt marvellous. Then he got into the act and he had more freedom to do his bouncing. It wasn’t long before Üsküdar Escort I found that he was driving into me quite furiously, somehow managing to give himself room to thrust up into me.

I know I wasn’t really in control of what we were doing but, as I was sitting straddling him, it felt as though I was. I was a woman, pleasuring my man, and I was feeling absolutely full of myself. Full of Ron, too. You know how people say they’ve had it up to here, and give a throat cutting gesture? Well that’s how I felt with Ron. His cock was so far inside me I could feel it right up to here. (Throat cutting gesture.)

Mind you, after we’d been going for a while, I got a little distracted. I could hear these odd noises, and they were going on and on, like someone burbling away and almost singing. I was horribly mortified when it dawned on me that it was me making those noises. I was sounding off, telling Ron how I liked what he was doing and demanding more. I tried to shut up but couldn’t seem to help myself. I finally thought, fuck it, and didn’t worry about it. After all, I really needed to keep my attention on what Ron was doing to me.

It wasn’t just that his cock was pounding into me and driving me wild with delight. His hands and mouth were also making free of my body, especially my breasts and bottom. Either his hands were on my breasts, mauling them in a most delicious manner, while his mouth was wandering over my face and neck, or his hands would be groping and squeezing my bottom while his mouth was happily chewing on my breasts. I knew damn well I was going to have a whole bunch of bruises there and I didn’t give a damn.

I don’t know how long I was sitting on his lap but it seemed like forever, not that I was complaining. Did I climax? Did I ever. I would have been absolutely livid if I hadn’t. I mean, after all that build up, to fail to reach the big O would have been such a let-down. Didn’t happen. I climaxed and Ron actually slapped his hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. I don’t think he wanted the boys coming in to find him bonking their putative girlfriend.

After I came down from my high he chased me into the bathroom, telling me to take a shower. While I was in the shower Ron came in with the rest of my clothes.

“I told the boys that you’d received a call requiring your presence at home,” Ron told me. “I said you were having a quick shower to get rid of the chlorine from the pool and then you had to run.”

I gave him a cold look, thinking he was dismissing me in rather a high-handed fashion. He just smirked at me.

“Of course, if you want to slip back into your bikini and continue flirting with them, go right ahead,” he said, looking pointedly at my breasts.

I glanced down and I could already see red marks that would probably develop into bruises and they weren’t in places where the bikini would cover them. Ron had a point. I wasn’t going to be parading in front of the boys with love marks showing. This time I gave Ron a heated glare, but he just laughed. Bastard.

The boys were waiting when I came out of the bathroom, neatly dressed and looking all demure.

“I’m sorry I have to run,” I told them regretfully. “Something unexpected came up. You know how these things are.”

“They quite understand,” chipped in Ron. “Things happen that you never expect and you have to handle them. But do come back. I’d like to see more of you.”

The boys walked me to my car.

“Dad seems to have warmed to you,” observed Mark. “From the way he was speaking earlier I thought he might give you a hard time.”

Um, well, yes, I suppose you could say that, after a fashion, he had. I simply shrugged.

“He’s OK,” I said. “You just have to know how to deal with him.”

At least he’d solved one problem for me. I couldn’t, in all fairness, pick either Mark or Phillip for a boyfriend. He’d also created one problem. If Ron made moves on me again did I fight him off or lose my panties? A delicate decision to make. I’d have to wait and see what developed.

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