Chapter 18: Two Sisters

When I woke up the next morning, I felt rested. It was sometime around early to mid morning, and I was on my side, with Sarah spooning behind me, her soft breath warming my back. She was sound asleep. As usual, after all the drinks last night, I needed a pit stop. That was going to be a problem, because I was sporting a morning woody, which surprised me after all the activity of last night. I had had a good night's sleep and was fully awake, feeling very much relaxed, and wanted to start the day. Because of the early hours I woke up on the rig-site, it took me a few days before my body adapted to the vacation mode. I must have been tired from all the activity and the alcohol I had consumed to sleep this late. I decided to get up, put on some coffee, and prepare something light to eat. I was in a domestic mood, wanting to pamper Sarah. I took the tray with the glasses and the bottles of water, and headed to the kitchen.

Passing the living room, I turned up the thermostat to warm the flat. In the kitchen I put the bottles of water in the fridge and set the coffee maker on. While the coffee was perking, I did my morning ablutions, with a quick shower in the bathroom. A half hour later I was back in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around me. The flat was still a bit cold, but warming up fast. Rummaging in the fridge, I checked what Sarah had that I could use to prepare something light. She had some fruit, which I could use to prepare a fruit salad, but I was looking for something salty, like cheese. Finally, tucked in a corner I located feta cheese, and... surprise, surprise... a box of olives; not the green cocktail olives, but black olives.

Black olives. A girl after my heart. She's a true child of the Mediterranean.

Taking stock of my finds I decided to prepare a fruit salad using apples, mandarins, oranges, and of all things, bergamot (another surprising find, which confirmed my suspicions that she was really a child of the Mediterranean). Because bergamot was a bitter fruit (almost like grapefruit, with a great aroma), I decided to use a few slices of it to give flavor and aroma to the whole concoction. I cut off a small chunk and peeled it. I also cleaned a few apples, oranges and mandarins, chopped everything into small pieces and mixed the whole lot in a big bowl. It was quite bitter so, to sweeten the mix, I sliced two bananas, put a dollop of honey on them, and mixed them in. I liked the taste, sweet and sour with a bitter bite that lingered, and juicy at the same time. I wondered whether Sarah's taste buds would agree with mine, because it was a unique and unorthodox mixture.

Well, she can put the bergamot pieces aside. The rest still tastes great.

Getting myself a cup of coffee, I started on the toast. When it was ready, I buttered the slices, distributed them between two plates, and added cheese and olives on the side. Getting two small bowls from the cupboard, I filled them with the fruit salad. The last item was cups of coffee. Putting everything on a tray, I took it to her bedroom.

When I placed the tray on the nightstand, she was awakening. Leaning over, I kissed her to wake her up. She stretched, then ran her hand through her hair and grimaced. Her hair was tousled, well, more than tousled, but she looked beautiful. I never understood the female obsession with how they looked in the morning. Maybe some of them had cause for concern, but Sarah definitely didn't belong in that group. Sure, she looked sleepy, her hair was messed up, but she also had a rested, relaxed look, with a beautiful glow to her skin.

When she sat up, I said, "Good morning, beautiful. Breakfast is served."

"Beautiful? I must look like a scarecrow, Mitch. Get your eyes checked."

"Ahh! Already fishing for compliments, I see."

That quip got a smile, and woke her up completely.

"Coffee?"

"Mmm hmm."

After a few sips of her coffee she said, "A good morning to you too. What a way to wake up."

"Part of the service, Ma'am," I retorted, with a grin.

"I'm not going to ask what service that is," she replied, flashing me an amused smile. "What's on the menu?"

"A fruit salad, and toast with cheese and olives."

"Sounds good."

After she finished her cup, she took her fruit salad. Giving it a sniff, she gave me a look, questioning.

"You'll not be poisoned. I can guarantee that," I said, digging into my own bowl of fruit salad.

She took a spoonful, doing a taste test, and finding it satisfactory, she started to eat. When she was finished, she asked, "Did you use the bergamot?"

"A small chunk. Why?"

"I thought I tasted it. Interesting choice. I liked what you did with it. I hope there's enough bergamot left."

"You were going to use it for something else?"

"No, it was for your sister. She's going to make orange jam, but she needs the bergamot to give it a bite. Makes it taste less sweet. Last year she gave me a jar of it, and it was delicious, so I thought I would get her the bergamot and get another jar of her orange jam."

"Oh, I didn't know she did that. That's Mom's recipe. She knows I don't eat jam, because it's too sweet for my taste, even though she uses very little sugar. When she discovered the bergamot, she came up with that recipe, and it was great. I think the only sweet thing I can eat at breakfast is honey."

"Me, too. I can eat honey, but not any of the jams, especially from the supermarkets. Too sweet and not enough fruit. Maybe I should take the bergamot to your mom," she replied with a smile.

"Sure, if you have a death wish."

"Your mom still teases Kathy about her cooking?"

I nodded. "They're on each other's case whenever one of them comes up with something new."

"Kathy is a very good cook."

"That maybe so, but she learned it all from Mom."

"You're prejudiced."

"I won't deny that. But then, I'm a better cook than Kathy."

"I remember. You used to spend hours in the kitchen with your mom. I always thought how strange to see you there, instead of Kathy. What got you interested in cooking?"

"Self preservation," I quipped, making her laugh.

"Come on, be serious," she responded, when she caught her breath.

"I liked Mom's cooking, and I didn't want to rely on a second hand imitation of her cooking from somebody less skilled. So, I decided to learn. It's a pretty relaxing activity; as long as you don't have to do it every day."

"Yeah. If you have to cook every day, it turns into a chore."

While we were chatting, she was finishing her toast with the cheese and olives. Seeing me watch her eat, she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm curious. You seem to like olives, for breakfast. I don't know any people that do that."

"I like them, but mostly in a salad. Same with the feta. I don't mind them for breakfast. Next time, try a bit of oregano on feta, it tastes much better. You know, my grandpa is from the islands. He uses oregano, olive oil and lemon twist on the olives. I guess I got used to olives and feta from him, when I was very young."

"I'll keep that in mind. So, you're a child of the Mediterranean."

She laughed. "Kind of. I wasn't even born along the coast. But it's in the blood."

"Hmmm... Talking about blood... Is that why you're so hot blooded?"

"Maybe," she replied, letting out another soft laughter. "No, not really. It depends on the person and how much they turn me on. With you there was pent up lust and hunger as well. I've never been like that before."

She ran her hand through her hair, and then her nostrils flared as if she got a whiff of something. She bent her head sniffing, trying to find if she smelled, then grimaced. "God, I look like a scarecrow, and I smell like a brothel. I need a shower."

"Sarah, you look beautiful, and you smell like you, as the room does."

She colored, even though I wasn't trying to embarrass her.

"Baby, come on. If you bottle and sell it as air freshener, I'm going to get a dozen."

"Uhh. Please. Don't remind me," she replied softly, still feeling a bit embarrassed.

"How were you with history lessons?" I asked, throwing a non sequitur.

As I expected, she gave me a confused look, before replying. "Not very good. I hated the stuff. All those battles and dates and stupid names."

"Heh... You missed out on the fun stuff. It's not all boring stuff. There were always colorful characters and colorful incidents, little anecdotes."

"Like what?"

"Take Napoleon for example. There's a story about him sending a messenger from the battle field to Josephine, about his return home."

"So?"

"Well, he still had to travel a week before he'd arrive at Paris. The message said: 'Don't wash up until I arrive'. There was a man who knew what he liked," I quipped, giving her a lecherous grin.

Sarah crinkled her nose. "Ugghh. I should have known something like that was coming. You men are beasts." Then with a smile, she asked, "I never read that in any of the history books. You sure you're not making it up?"

"That's the kind of thing they seem to forget to include in the history books. At least, the ones they use in the classrooms. I wonder when they'll wake up and realize they would get the students more enthusiastic about history if they included the juicy bits."

"God, you're such a perv, Mitch. When did that happen?"

"Well... There was this blonde girl I met. Hot and juicy and--"

"You rat! Don't put the blame on me," she retorted indignantly, but her eyes were smiling.

"OK. But I wasn't putting anything on you. In you... that's something else," I quipped.

She started to laugh. "My, my, my. You must be a morning person. Already getting frisky?"

"I can wait. How about you?" I replied, with a snort.

"Oh, I love a morning quickie, but I really want to take a quick shower."

That little exchange was already getting to her; her skin was flushed with excitement.

"Sarah, you don't have to on my account. I told you, you look beautiful and I love your smell. You are not smelly. It's you, all of you, and I love all of that when it touches my senses," I said, with a more serious tone.

"OK, stud. Give me a kiss and help me out of bed."

Putting my cup on the tray, I collected her plate and cup, and put them on the tray. Then I sat by her side, and pulled her in for a kiss. After the kiss, I didn't release her, but started to kiss her neck, inhaling her womanly smell. She felt what I was doing, and tried to wiggle out from my embrace, but I had her secured in my arms. There was no way she could break free, even with her strength, and her struggles started to work against her, as her tits rubbed on my chest, getting her nipples hard. I was pretty sure she would be starting to leak around her pussy in a while. When she realized she couldn't escape, she ceased her struggles, and I released her, giving her a long kiss. After the kiss, I nuzzled her neck, inhaling her smell again, and this time, she sighed softly, accepting and enjoying my attention. When I looked up, her eyes were soft.

"You make me feel so good and wet, Mitch," she said, before kissing me hungrily again.

Breaking the kiss, I trailed my tongue down her neck to her collarbone, and all the way between her tits, inhaling her. She clutched my head, cooing her appreciation. When I looked up, her eyes were getting that strange hue they had when she was aroused. I didn't know if she wanted to have a quickie now, because she had asked me to help her out of the bed, so I ceased my teasing to let her make up her mind.

When she felt me stop, she smiled. "Mitch, I want a morning quickie, but I really want to go to the bathroom and have another cup of coffee."

"OK. I'll start a fresh batch of coffee."

"It's warm here. Did you turn up the thermostat?"

"Yep. I didn't want to bother with clothes."

"Good. I'll join you in the kitchen."

She went to the bathroom, and I collected the tray and took it to the kitchen. Filling my cup with the remaining coffee, I prepared a new batch. As I was taking a seat, she came in and headed straight for me. She pulled my towel off, draping it at the back of the chair. When I sat down, she straddled me and plastered herself against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. I realized she hadn't taken a shower or cleaned her self; just washed her face and brushed her teeth. I wrapped my arms around her, running my hands along her spine, making her shiver with my soft touches. I loved how responsive she was.

"The coffee will be ready in another ten minutes. You want a sip from my cup?" I asked.

"I'll wait. I like this more than coffee."

While we waited for the coffee, we kept teasing each other, kissing, touching. She was already juicing up, and I felt my cock getting wet. Her nipples were hard, digging into my chest. A few minutes later, she rose up, guided my hard cock into her pussy, and sat down slowly. Somehow, she felt hotter than last night. She started a slow rocking motion, teasing both of us, stoking the fires slowly. And then the percolator gurgled, announcing that the coffee was ready.

"Are you still hungry?" I quipped.

Getting my joke, she laughed. "You're such a clown, Mitch. The things you say." Then she added, "Yes, I'm hungry. Hungry for your cock. The coffee can wait. I want to have some fresh cream with it."

With that quip, she stood up. Picking up my cup from the table, she put it on the counter, emptying the table. Turning her back to me, she bent over the table, supporting herself on her elbows, and lowered her upper body. When her tits and stomach made contact with the table surface she hissed and shivered, from the cold surface. Looking back, she gave a smoldering look.

"Come on, Stud. I want some cream." She punctuated her words by shaking her ass.

I stood up and guided myself into her hot box, and taking hold of her hips, I started to stroke.

"That's good, Mitch. Keep the same pace but make it harder."

I increased the force, and we could hear the wet, slapping sound my balls made, accompanied by her small cries, each time I bottomed in her. I realized my balls were hitting her clitoral hood. Reaching down, I started to massage her clitoris, and she pushed her ass back, giving me more space to work, moaning her pleasure. Due to the force of my strokes, her tits were rubbing on the table, and she must have been enjoying that, because she allowed her body to be pushed back and forth along the surface of the table. I felt her tighten inside. She was almost there. I eased my efforts on her clitoris, not wanting to bring her too quickly, and slowed my pace.

"Faster... ugh... I'm almost there..."

"Easy, Sarah. I want you to enjoy this."

"I... ahh... am... more... please..."

When I pulled back I saw her little brown hole winking at me, which gave me an idea. Wetting the thumb of my free hand with spit, I placed it gently over her hole, and massaged it, getting a shriek. She pushed her ass back to get more stimulation. As her pussy got tighter, I increased the pace of my strokes. Capturing the folds of her clitoral hood between two fingers, I squeezed it lightly and started an up and down milking action. Sarah responded with a soft scream of pleasure. As she started to come and her pussy started its milking actions, I pressed my thumb inside her little hole, drawing another scream from her. Then, her back arched, her upper body coming off from the table. She started to tremble, and pushed her ass back, trying to fuck herself faster on my cock, increasing my own arousal. I kept working her clitoris, and increased the pace of my strokes, wanting to come. Feeling her come so strongly did something to me and I quickly found myself on the brink. A few more strokes, and I was ready to blow. As she was coming down, I took several brutal strokes, getting fresh moans and yelps with each of them. When my first spurt burst, I buried myself as deeply as possible. Feeling me come inside her, she started to roll her ass, trying to pleasure me.

"Oh, Mitch! It's... ahhh... hot... you're burning me..." she cried, as I continued to throb and spurt inside her.

Her asshole was tightening and relaxing around my thumb, but I couldn't do much because it was trapped between her ass and my belly, in an awkward position. I eased my attentions on her clitoris, playing around her pussy lips, getting my fingers wet with our combined juices that were leaking around my shaft. I moved my hand to her belly, tracing soft teasing patterns with my fingers, making her moan and shiver with the new stimulation. Leaning back, I managed to withdraw my thumb from her little hole, getting a moan, before pushing my cock back inside her. I felt her legs tremble, and leaned over her to slide both of my hands around her sides, caressing the outer swells of her breasts. I urged her to rise up a bit, so I could slip my hands under her tits. When she lifted her chest off the table, I cupped her tits, and teased her nipples mercilessly, and received moans of appreciation.

Releasing my hold on her tits, I slid my arm to her belly and gently urged her to stand up. Getting the hint, she stood, taking care not to uncouple us, and back stepped with me. Allowing me to support her weight, she spread her legs, and I sat down on the chair with her on my lap. Leaning against me, she sighed softly, before turning her head to kiss me. I kept running my hands around her arms, sides, and played with her tits for a short while, before moving them down to her pussy. She broke the kiss with a moan, and closing her eyes, gave herself to my gentle caresses, letting me bring her down.