Six Nights at the Purple Orchid

“I want to do everything,” Cecelia tells me as Gabe, our dedicated surf butler, rambles on about ocean reading and wave mechanics.

“There's an art to popping up,” Gabe says.

We are way out in the Aegean Sea on a catamaran, getting a rare glimpse of square waves and wind-driven surf spots, but our minds are on each other's bodies.

“What constitutes everything?” I ask.

“Everything I was never able to do with your father.”

Gabe's ears prick up. Cecelia offers him a sly smile. He swallows hard and looks away awkwardly, umming and aahing his way through an inventory of his surfing gear.

Cecelia stretches her rosy legs across my lap and scrunches the soles of her big, beautiful feet. She is wearing a black sheer bikini that shimmers in the afternoon sun. She runs one sole up her opposite calf, flexing her muscles and wiggling her Roman toes.

She brings her arms up over her head, stretching and yawning, her tail of Spence unspooling to showcase the smoothness of her underarms. I am in Greek Heaven and she knows it.

“I've never done anal,” she whispers in an innocent tone.

Gabe turns up his transistor radio, drowning out our indecency with some old Allman Brothers song.

“You don't really do anal,” I say. “It's done to you.”

“I want that,” she purrs, pressing her mouth to my ear. “I want you to fuck my ass.”

I have to collect my jaw. She sees my shock and responds by feigning embarrassment.

“God, I can't believe I'm saying this,” she says, combing tendrils of creamy blonde hair from her face and hooking them behind her perfectly rounded ear. “I want to know how it feels.”

“It's an acquired taste,” I admit.

“I want to feel you in my ass. I want to feel you in my ass through my pussy.”

The bright turquoise waters lap lazily at the sides of the catamaran as the charter captain brings it to a standstill and Gabe waddles over to us with scuba gear in hand.

“This is it,” he says. “With our tanks, we'll be able to venture far enough to observe the ancient Peristera shipwreck.”

“We're not feeling so good,” I lie. “I think you two should go on without us.”

“But this is what you paid for,” the captain argues in his gruff sun drunk voice. “Came all this goddamn way out.”

“I'm sorry,” Cecelia interjects. “I get sea sick, you understand.”

The captain makes a face and whirls around angrily, sighing.

“What do ya say, Gabe? Take a tour?”

“Cowabunga,” Gabe says, strapping on his goggles.

“I'm taking my keys.” The captain yanks the key from the ignition and drops it down the front of his wetsuit.

After the two men have dived deep enough to be undetectable, Cecelia rises from the cushioned bench. Her round ass has swallowed the back of her sheer black bikini bottoms. She pulls them free with two fingers and daintily pads her way over to the cockpit.

“What do you say?” she asks. “Think you can pop my backdoor cherry?”

“It would be my honor,” I say, supping at the side of her neck.

Cecelia pitches forward and shuts her eyes as I drop to my knees and slip off her bikini bottoms. I suck on her ass cheek, enjoying their heft.

She gasps as I introduce my tongue to her cleft, fanning it out over her starfish and feeling a shiver run through her core. Cecelia clenches the wheel as I drill into her snug spot with my apex.

She giggles as my tongue tickles her o ring. She squeezes the wheel tighter and the catamaran rocks this way and that.

I spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of her puckered pinhole. Then I spit on her asshole and stand up, gripping my ventral surface and carefully fitting myself into her skintight slot.

Cecelia looses a high-pitched yelp, which turns to a gasp as I gradually introduce my hard cock to her cavity, my engorged head inching its way over her inflamed tissue. Her asshole hugs me like a hydraulic press, searing my veins with its blazing heat.

I pipe her faster, pumping forcefully as Cecelia moans, licking her fingers and inserting them in her sodden snatch. I can feel her fingers through the thin tissue that divides her pussy from her asshole, and she can feel my cock as I work it against her anal wall.

She curls her fingers as I thrust harder, and now I'm the one crying out. Her asshole contracts and I feel like I'm gonna lose it. She squeezes tighter and I'm ready to bust.

“I'm gonna cum,” I warn.

“Not... yet.”

Cecelia curls and uncurls her fingers, her pussy juices running down her inner thighs. I pump her faster, harder, feeling her fingers frantically flopping around inside her like excited eels.

I pipe her violently and she lets go with a wail that could rouse a coma patient. I blow my load in her ass as her muscles fluctuate around me.

I wrap an arm around her, holding her belly tight and catching my breath as my cock oozes out of her ass. Cecelia's knees buckle and she catches herself against the steering wheel.

I reach down, fingering Cecelia's gleaming asshole. She whimpers as I stuff two fingers inside her and scoop out my cum, bringing my slick digits to her lips.

She puts them in her mouth, suctioning off my load and murmuring blissfully. Cecelia cranes her neck and clamps down on my bottom lip.

My hot mom releases her hold on my mouth and smiles.

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” I ask.

“It was painful and hot. I love it. What other tricks do you know?”

“What other tricks do you want?”

“Surprise me,” she says, collecting her bikini bottoms between her toes and flinging them in the air. She catches them and arches an eyebrow, staring at me hungrily as she climbs into her underwear and I think of all the shameful things I'm going to do to her.

* * *

Later on, when we are back in our suite, enjoying a light lunch, I ask Cecelia what she really thought.

“You were a little rough,” she admits.

“Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“No,” she says, “it's not like that. It's just... I guess I wasn't really ready for it.”

“I tried to take it slow.”

“