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The Festival

Making love in a crowd


I received the call from my agent just after lunch on a Friday. Fridays aren’t days that I normally allocate for work and especially Friday afternoons. On this particular day, I was leaving Maximilian’s my favourite lunchtime restaurant with a soon to be favourite blond on my arm.


Greta was waiting for a friend to join her and got tired of waiting, I was there to enjoy Chef Max’s famous Seafood platter and not to be distract from an important task like that by a blond in distress.


In retrospect, I have to admit that it was Greta’s tight bum in a pair of shorts that caused my attention to wander from a crayfish leg that I was busy sucking on. She was tall and her fine behind was definitely not her only asset. Her boobs were firm and she didn’t wear a bra on the day. A little diamond stud glistened in her navel above the low cut shorts.


To save her from any more embarrassment I stood up and after calming, her down invited her to join me for lunch. It took several glasses of wine before she relaxed but eventually she sat back in her chair, smiled at me and said:


“So tell me why the fuck you cared enough to come and rescue me?”


An hour or so and a bottle of wine later we left the restaurant with the intention of screwing each other’s brains out. It was refreshing to be so mutually clear on our intentions and the fact that it was only that – no string attached.


It was when we stepped out of the lift in my apartment building that my phone rang. Greta had her tongue in my ear and a hand down my pants tickling my dick, which made it very difficult to focus on the voice on the other end of the line. It was Cameron my Agent and he said something about getting to the airport where my ticket and details of a job was waiting. The critical part of the conversation was that I had to be at the airport in an hour.


Talk about bad timing! Here I was about to be ravaged by a Viking blond and I had to get to the fucking airport. Time to change my agent but that would have to wait. Groping for my keys that were stuck in my pocket, I calculated that I had enough time to screw Greta, pack my bag and make it to the airport. That was if there was no traffic on the way…..


Greta was even better without clothes. Her body was soft and hard in all the right places. A pair of legs that loved wrapping themselves around my neck when I stuck my tongue into her pussy and a pair of tits that bounced when she sat on top of me and rode me like a wild mustang.


It was with great regret that I rolled her of me and started looking for my travel bag. While I was packing, she remained in bed playing with herself complaining that I didn’t make her cum enough. I realised that she had a case when she leant across and took a small vibrator out of her bag. She came with the toy deep in her throbbing cunt. The thought of a woman playing herself while I was busy packing to leave nearly made me unpack there and then. I resisted and in no part because I was looking forward to the job that was waiting for me.


The job was one that I was waiting for, for a long time. It was in the Seychelles a small island group in the Indian Ocean . It is particularly popular with French tourists and was famous for its beautiful white beaches, food and annual festival. I was on my way to do a story on the festival. The reason I wanted to do the story so badly and was prepared to leave a hot, horny and sopping wet blond in my apartment was the festival.


The annual Harvest festival stems from the days when the Seychelles were a major sugar exporter and most of the workers slaves. It was the one occasion in the year when nobility, slaves and other inhabitants of the island relaxed and got together for a good time.


Over the years and with the sugar trade being replaced by tourism as the major source of income on the islands, the festival changed as well and became a celebration of life. This was according to the brochure in my hands, which I was studying as the plane circled the airport to approach the runway from the ocean. Thoughts of Greta still lingered but it was soon replaced when I saw the turquoise ocean and white beaches flashing by during the landing.


I was whisked away by the hotel staff and before I realised what had happened I was in my room with the breeze coming from the ocean lifting the curtains just enough to cool the room down. According to my Job brief that I received back home, I was to meet my guide later that evening to join the opening of the festival. In the meantime, I was free to explore and get some info for my story. It was hard to imagine that anyone worked in this paradise but that was why I was there and I dutifully took my camera and notepad and set of to explore.


The entrance of the hotel was packed with tourists, guides and staff when I arrived there later that evening to meet up with my guide. The guides in general seemed to be old men that have spent their lives showing holidaymakers and tourist what the islands hold in store. Most of them were enthusiastic and keen but I spotted the odd grumpy one. I prayed that mine wasn’t one of them as I scanned the crowd for my name on a little board.


I am sure all of us have experienced that sensation of seeing something but not realising that its true. That was the feeling I had when I saw my name or rather the guide that held the board with my name on. Were Greta was tall and ripe, she was small and compact.


Her name was Louis and she was French. A firm grip and level look reinforced the image of a no nonsense lady that knew what she had to do. Our introductions were brief and I thanked my angels that I didn’t get an old grumpy guide as she strode ahead of me to a jeep standing amongst other cars in the parking lot.


Her legs were firm without being muscular; a short skirt covered a very pert ass. The way her ass moved as she walked had me gaping like a teenager. Her body spoke of a confident woman that knew she affected men but couldn’t be bothered.


“I believe you are here to write a story on the festival” she said as we headed out of the parking lot and joined a stream of traffic heading towards the town centre.


I was busy looking at her tanned legs trying not to be to obvious and realised that I must have come across like an absolute idiot since our introductions in the hotel lobby.


“Yes” I said “and I hope you can give me some angles on what’s good and what you think would work”


The traffic made for a stop start journey and Louis’s legs were busy working the brakes and gas pedals. In the process, her skirt was riding up and a blast of air from a passing truck blew it right up into her lap exposing a pair of very flimsy white knickers.


Without blinking or taking her eyes of the road, she smoothed her skirt down but I noticed a blush creeping up her neck. I wasn’t sure if it was the wind or the embarrassment that made her nipples pucker but they were clearly visible through her T-shirt.


We arrived at the festival grounds shortly after and without any more incidents. By that stage, I had recovered my composure as well and started to think of the festival. The festival was renowned for its food, drink and above all gorgeous woman that were caught up in the mood and dressed almost like their more famous counterparts in the Rio carnival in Brazil .


The moment we got out of the jeep, we were caught up in the throng of bodies surging towards the main parade. Louis grabbed my arm and pulled me through the bodies towards an area that was slightly elevated so that we had a clear view of the parade. The floats, dancers, jugglers and costumed partygoers filed past as we found a place amongst the crowds.


Louis’s hand was still on my arm and I noticed that she kept it there although we were now standing still. As the area filled with people, she was forced to stand in front of me and soon she backed up to make space for more people. The music was pulsating across the crowd and one couldn’t help but move with the captivating beat.


I could sense her warm body just in front of me her hair smelled of floral shampoo. A thin gold chain around her neck accentuated the honey colour of her skin and as her body started to move with the music, I found myself moving closer to her.


Her hips were moving in synch with the beat as my body touched hers and she leant into mine. Ours hips started to move together and I could feel her tight arse grinding back into my semi erect cock. Was it my imagination or was she pushing back when she felt my bulge?


Carefully and with a bit of apprehension, I slid my hands around her waist and to my relief she wrapped her arms around mine. My hands were on her flat belly and I could feel the muscles ripple under my fingers.


Our hips were moving in perfect harmony and her bum was busy working my dick into an enormous erection.   We were in our own bubble and oblivious of the crowds around us. It was only natural that my hands wandered up under her shirt to find the firmness of her breasts. The nipples were rock hard as my fingers touched them.


As we swayed, I felt her hand reaching back. Her nimble fingers undid my zipper and without hesitation slid inside grabbing my hard penis. The crowds around us were to close to see what was going on as her fingers started sliding up and down. Soon I was ready to burst.


There are many advantages to a skirt and in this case, I only had to lift the back. Keeping my one hand on her stomach controlling her swaying hips I used the other to move her thong aside. She was wet and I could feel the coarseness of her pussy hair between my fingers before I slid two in to her.


The tempo of the music was increasing and the crowds were moving in unison to the beat. My hard cock moved between her cheeks without any guidance and as we swayed, I slipped into her wet folds. The tip of my dick was nestled in the opening of her vagina and as we moved, it rubbed upwards to her clit.


I could feel us tense up for mutual orgasms and as the music reached fever pitch our groins contracted and I spurted my load into her. Louie’s orgasm was short but hard and her pussy and bum muscles clamped down on my dick keeping it there until she settled.


The rest of the festival was a blur but I recall making love to Louis on the beach under the palm trees, she sucking me whilst driving back to the hotel and waking up the next morning with a Hibiscus flower on the pillow next to me.


A note on the dresser said:


“The final parade is tonight at 8PM.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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