Not surprisingly, my dreams that night were filled with disturbing fantasies of sex with my brother and Abi, not to mention Sally, both my parents, and several of the hotel staff. I woke up with a start to find the top sheet on the floor and me sprawled naked on top of the bed with my legs apart, showing off everything I’d got. I put my hand between my legs and slipped a couple of fingers into my vagina. I was very wet, and feeling horny. I looked over at Matt’s bed and saw him lying on his back, still asleep.
Like me, he had slept naked under just a sheet, and I could see the bulge of his cock clearly outlined by the thin layer of cotton. I slipped quietly off my bed and went over. Carefully, I lifted the sheet and pulled it right off his body, holding my breath and hoping he wouldn’t wake up quite yet. I gazed at the flaccid curled-up organ, remembering how big it had been last night in the pub garden; how good it had tasted; and how much thick semen had spurted into my mouth when he ejaculated.
Oh God, I know he was my brother, but I wanted it again. Leaning over, I raised his penis gently and put the soft warm knob-head in my mouth. I licked over the tip with my tongue, and felt it start to harden. I eased the rest of the shaft into my mouth so it expanded into my mouth as it became erect. I tasted a little blob of salty pre-cum squirt out.
Matt stirred and let out a little moan. “Oh Sally, yes,” he mumbled, still only half awake. I stopped sucking and looked at him, my lips still wrapped tightly around his erection. Then his eyes opened and he was looking straight at me, an expression first of confusion, then surprise, and finally amusement crossing his face. Unable to speak, I gave his cock an extra vigorous slurp as a sort of greeting.
“Oh Jesus fuck, Annie,” he managed to say at last, “Are you never satisfied?”
I let his cock slip out of my mouth and sat back with a giggle, my little tits jiggling.
“I’m sorry,” I smiled, “But you looked so sweet lying there asleep, and I wanted to see if you tasted as good as you did last night.”
“And did I?”
“So far, yes, but I haven’t finished yet.”
To my annoyance, he grabbed the sheet and pulled it over his crotch.
“Oh no you don’t,” he laughed. “The next helping’s for Sally. I promised her a fuck down by the rocks this morning, and I don’t want you swilling it all first.
I pouted. “Spoilsport. Where am I going to get a mouthful of spunk now?”
He shrugged. “You’ll just have to go and find some up in the village,” he suggested. “Go stand outside the pub with your skirt up. I’m sure some dirty old local’ll let you suck him off for a fiver.”
“I’m not in it for the money,” I retorted grumpily.
“I was thinking of you giving him the fiver,” he snorted, then rushed into the bathroom and bolted the door before I could thump him.
I sighed. It was all right for him, but despite all the sexual activity of the last few days I still hadn’t had a proper fuck. And I was feeling very horny. I couldn’t face putting on any underwear either, so I just slipped on an oversized t-shirt over my bare top half (I didn’t want it to be too obvious that I had no bra on) and a summery skirt that was long enough to protect my modesty when I was sitting down (as long as I kept my knees together).
By the time we’d both finished dressing and wandered downstairs, my parents had almost finished breakfast. They then announced that they were going to drive to the local cider farm to stock up with a few bottles to take home as presents for friends before we went home. I perked up at this. Although I’d planned to go on the beach again, I’d recently developed a bit of a taste for proper cider, as opposed to the watered-down muck that’s served in most English pubs outside the West Country. And I wouldn’t be driving so there would be nothing to stop me sampling a few of the different brews that would hopefully be available to taste.
“That sounds fun. Do you mind if I come too?” I asked.
My dad laughed. “Of course, just as long as you don’t drink too much. How about you, Matt, do you want to tag along?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “No, I think I’ll stay here,” he said. “There’s no point in me coming if I can’t drink anything.”
“You could try some of the apple juice,” said my mum, though I knew she’d have let him have a taste of cider as well, under supervision.
“No thanks,” he said. “I’ll go on the beach instead. The surf doesn’t look too bad this morning.”
I knew what he was really looking forward to: a good fuck with Sally, although it would be just his luck if she went off with her mum instead. But that was his problem, not mine.
“Well, don’t stay in too long,” said my mum.
“And don’t drown,” I added, and Matt stuck his tongue out at me.
“Do you need to get anything?” said my mum. She’d probably noticed I hadn’t got a bra on, but I didn’t think it was that obvious in my loose t-shirt, and besides, we weren’t going anywhere posh. Anyway, she didn’t always wear one herself: I’d definitely taken after her in the boob department. Small but perfectly formed, and well able to pass the pencil test.
“No, I think I’m fine,” I said, and she didn’t say anything else, so that was okay.
So off we went, my dad driving, probably hoping that my mum would drive back if he had a drink.
It was only about 20 minutes’ drive to the cider farm. I say cider farm, but it was really just an ordinary farm that made a bit of cider on the side. There wasn’t even a proper shop, but one corner of a big hay-barn by the farmhouse had been fitted out with a basic serving area, behind which a row of barrels of cider were racked up. There were a few tables, benches and bales of hay lined up for those people who wanted to sit and have a few drinks right there, but most of their business came from take-outs sold to passing trade. They sold the cider in plain plastic containers (like milk), in one, two and four litre sizes, which were filled straight from the barrel. It was very low-tech, but the cider was lovely, even if some of it was rather strong.
When we rolled up, the farmer himself was busy tasting the latest batch with a lad who looked about twenty, and who I guessed must be his son. As soon as it was obvious that we were actually going to buy something (rather than just try a few freebies and then bugger off), he was very happy to let us taste the different brews on offer. I sampled a couple that were a bit dry for me, but there was a sweetish one that was absolutely delicious, and my dad bought me a pint of it.
There obviously wasn’t much proper farming that needed doing that morning, because the farmer soon got chatting with my parents about the cider business, and how his family had been making it for years and years, using apples from their own orchard. It was obviously his pride and joy.
“Do you fancy a quick look at the orchard?” he said. “It’s only a few minutes’ walk away, just round the back of the barn. Bring your drinks. John here can mind the shop for half an hour or so.”
My parents made the right sort of enthusiastic noises (well, my dad did).
“It’s a bit muddy, mind,” the farmer went on, looking at my flimsy footwear, which wasn’t really designed for tramping around fields.
“Oh, I’ll wait here,” I said. “I’ve got my drink and a book in my bag; I’ll be fine.”
I sat myself down on one of the benches, got out my book, and had another swig of cider. But I’m afraid my mind kept getting distracted by watching John, the farmer’s son, as he idled about behind the serving counter, sorting out the take-out containers.
Not beating about the bush, he was a real hunk. He was wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off his abs, and when he turned his back I couldn’t help admiring his trim bum in his jeans. Not only that, but I noticed that he kept glancing up at me as I sat at the table sipping my cider.
Maybe it was the effect of the cider, or maybe I was just feeling horny, but I wondered just how closely he was looking at me. It might give him a little treat if I let him see that I was going commando. I casually pulled my skirt a little further up my legs, then parted my thighs just enough, so I knew that my plump mound and the line of my labia would be visible. Next time he looked my way, he’d get an eyeful.
I pretended to be looking at my book, but I saw him almost do a comedy double-take when he noticed my knicker-less state. He very quickly began finding “work” to do that meant he could keep looking over at me. Then I noticed his hand seemed to be getting a bit active at crotch level, out of sight behind the counter. It looked very much as if he was having a wank down there.
Well, two could play at that game. I casually slipped my hand down between my legs and pulled my skirt right up so that my hand could get at my pussy. Gently, I began to rub at my labia, then slipped a finger between them, up into the sticky wet depths of my tight vagina. I looked at him as I was doing it, deliberately challenging him to catch my eye. As soon as he saw me looking, I smiled, to let him know that I was enjoying the fun. Judging by his arm movements, he was enjoying himself too.
