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Gemma blanched slightly and took a deep breath. “I will try to—”
“Not try. Do. Without thought or over analysing. Switch the brain off.” He tapped her temple with his finger. “Now, we should be good hosts soon. That orgasm was mine, the next are yours. Twenty minutes of this.”
He held up the Hitachi massager. In her excitement, she went to grab at it, but Jason shook his head and held it away.
“Twenty minutes!”
He switched it on. “High setting, don’t you think?”
The buzzing grew louder and faster.
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” she gushed, lying back and parting her legs.
Jason propped the Hitachi’s vibrating head on her clitoris. Gemma jumped slightly at its intensity. Wriggling her hips she let out a tiny groan.
Lying next to her, with his hands behind his head, he shut his eyes. “I’m sure the orgasm count is way in your favour. I can’t believe how generous I’m being with you.”
***
While the two couples had a break, Enrique sketched out a new picture. Maria sat at his feet, sharing an orange with him while he quickly captured the image in his mind. The man would be standing over the woman. She would be kneeling at the man’s feet, back arched and mouth wide open. Her glorious head of hair would be clutched tightly in the man’s hands while he filled her mouth with his gargantuan erection. Colossal in size, it would suffocate her with its dimensions. All about his imaginary couple, water cascaded and bouncing off their bodies. Not a shower. He had decided to place the couple under a waterfall where hard rocks would surround them and turbulent water froth at their feet.
The sketch completed he showed Maria.
“Perfecto!” She smiled and offered him another segment of orange.
Chapter 18. Voyeurs
Day Nine
Framed by the archway, Andrea stopped dead in her sneaking tracks.
It was as if she and John watched from an auditorium. The archway transformed into the promontory of a theatre, and the bed-shaped lounger now became the stage. The morning sunlight reflected off the angular white awning, dazzling but insufficient to blind her nor prevent her from seeing what was happening underneath. Even in the shadows, she could clearly see it all. What they were doing.
The view before the riveted Andrea seemed like pornography, the kind she unintentionally came across on the Internet. She dare not shift her eyes to John’s face. From him, she heard a sharp intake of breath. Even from a distance, she could see the detail, the blatant kinkery.
Jason wore shorts, which hung low on his hips. A naked Gemma knelt with her bottom pressed against Jason’s groin. Blindfolded and gagged, her bound wrists attached by a rope to the pole holding up the awning.
From Gemma, small muted cries of, “uh, uh”. From him, low grunts of exertion. His hands held her flesh in a pincer grip. Andrea thought Gemma’s tightly gripped hips barely sufficient for his needs. He banged into her vigorously, slapping against her buttocks.
With quiet footsteps, she and John crept closer until they halted by the archway. Now, they could see and hear more clearly. Gemma made guttural noises, words spoken in desperate tones.
“Please, please,” she muttered, pulling on the rope.
“Fuck, yes,” Jason growled back. “You’ll take it. Come again for me!”
Gemma tossed her head back, and he picked up his pace into a relentless energetic act of fucking. Broad shoulders encased her from behind, and his hips gyrated back and forth, smacking into her rear. Her fingers grasped the rope tightly, and her arms stretched in front of her as Jason pulled her back onto him.
Biting her lip, Andrea glanced at her boyfriend. John turned a fiery red, chest expanding as he drew back his shoulders. His fists clenched, screwed up into tight balls. Andrea thought he was about to explode with rage.
“Stay silent!” Enrique crept up behind them, whispering as he tiptoed. “Move very quietly away. Back off.”
She started to step backwards, but John remained frozen to the decking.
“Señor Marshall, you must go. To interrupt them would be dangerous. You must believe me.”
To Andrea’s relief, John did as he was asked, and the three of them snuck away to the stern’s stairwell. Enrique led them, not back to the main deck, but to the private upper deck. Leaning down, John threw a pile of magazines onto the polished floor with a sweep of his arm.
“What the hell was he doing to my little sister? There was me thinking they did a little kinky sex, and I find he is torturing her!” He kicked a magazine across the polished floor.
