Chapter 3

Lunch was a strange affair - if you can call hacking slices of bread from a large loaf and covering them with butter and whatever one could lay hands on from ham and cheese to salad items to bananas and apples lunch. The talk was easy, the laughter free yet, underneath, ran a peculiar current of tension and excitement. We all seemed to know, without a word having been said, that I would take up their offer. Indeed, sitting round that lunch table, it was easy to forget that Heather and Isobel were young teenagers. They made it clear with touches and glance that they were ready and willing. I only had to say the word.

In fact this added to the excitement. It was no longer a question of 'if', it was a question of 'when'. The right time would come, I knew. Now that I had made the decision I was content to let things develop as they would. I would know when the time was right.

After lunch I stood and stretched. "After that, I need some exercise," I said.

"Did you not get enough of that this morning," asked Isobel tartly.

"Different sort of exercise," I said, leering at Mary.

"Take the girls," she laughed. "It'll keep them out of my hair for a while."

I raised an eyebrow at her unintentional double entendre and she giggled, her hand covering her mouth like a schoolgirl.

I turned to the girls. "You up for it? A walk that is?"

"We'll need to get dressed," they giggled. "Fifteen minutes."

I pretended to be astonished. "Fifteen minutes? No way. I've never known a woman to take less than half an hour."

"Betcha."

"No hurry. I'll help your mother with the dishes."

"There's no need, Paul," Mary objected.

"I want to."

We washed and dried in easy silence. Somehow we didn't need to say much to communicate. The girls came clattering down the stairs.

Mary laid a hand on my arm. "Go easy on them."

The obvious retort died on my lips. "Trust me." I covered her hand in mine.

Into the kitchen came two visions. Isobel was wearing a short, pleated skirt and a skinny-rib tank top while Heather had gone for a pair of tight terry shorts and a loose short-sleeved blouse. I suspected she might have forgotten her bra.

I gave an appreciative whistle. "Perhaps we could forget the walk after all."

The girls blushed and giggled but they eyed me coyly.

I offered a gallant arm to each. "Now which sights of this fair city shall we explore," I enquired.

"Dressed like that you'd best avoid the town altogether," Mary said tartly.

"Och, we'll take him up the hill. There's a fine view from there," Heather said.

"There's a fine view from here, too," I responded.

"Get away," Isobel said but she gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine.

We went out the back way; down an alley across a backstreet and in between a gap between the houses. There a track led away from the village. I slipped an arm over the girls' shoulders and their arms curled around my waist. We walked side-by-side, hips and thighs touching easily.

It was warm and at this time of year the countryside was at its best. Everything was bursting with green vitality, the yellow gorse and the white dog roses standing out sharply in contrast. Bees and other insects hummed busily and I was glad it was still too early for midges. Birds chirruped and trilled in trees and bushes. Yet amidst the fresh smell of a late spring afternoon, I was conscious of the scent of newly-washed hair and the tantalising fragrance of young girls.

The track narrowed to a path and we were forced to walk in single file, the girls leading the way. I watched the sway of their hips and the rolling of their bottoms with fascination, almost tripping over a tree root as a result.

We climbed the hill: not particularly steep but we were out of breath by the time we reached the top. We sat, the girls snuggled up to me and caught our breath.

"It's a fine view," I said.

"Yes, but we can see it any time," giggled Heather.

I laughed and lay back, pulling them down with me. I pulled Heather into a kiss. She came eagerly. The kiss was long and deep and full of tongues. I was very aware of her full breasts pressing against my side and the hand that was working it's way up the inside of my thigh. I was equally aware of Isobel on my other side. Her hand was also busy on my other thigh.

I abandoned Heather and turned to Isobel. If Heather's kiss had been hot, Isobel's was searing. Fourteen or not, there was something about her that pressed all my buttons. The kiss ended with both of us seriously overheated and gasping for air.

"I thought you two were going to swallow each other," Heather said a trifle petulantly.

"I can think of something else to swallow," I replied.

They giggled. Their hands were now almost at my crotch and they knew fine well what I meant. I put a hand on each shapely knee and began to fingertip caress the insides of their thighs. The skin was warm, soft and elastic. As I worked my way higher, their hands felt for my cock. With delicate fingers they traced it's outline.

"It feels nice," Heather said. "But you can't tell inside all this wrapping."

"You'll just have to pretend it's Christmas and unwrap your present," I said.

"Mmm," Isobel said, pressing her breasts against me and breathing in my ear. "Is it a nice big Christmas present?"

"You'll just have to unwrap it and see."

"I like Christmas presents," Heather said, reaching for my zip. "Even in the summer time."

"I like this sort of present any time of the year," Isobel said, giving my cock a squeeze.

"You won't get any if you don't let it go," Heather complained.

I sucked in my stomach as Heather undid my zip and Isobel my belt. Between them they tugged my trousers and pants down to my knees.

"Oh, yes," Isobel breathed. "A nice big present."

"Mmm," Heather agreed. "I wonder if it gets any bigger."

They pushed me back on the grass and knelt, one on either side. With delicate hands they toyed with my cock; lifting it and dropping it, weighing it, caressing it, squeezing it, all the while making little cooing noises.

"Does it pass muster?" I asked.

They pretended to consider.

"Well, it's nice and firm."

"And it's quite long."

"And it's quite thick, too."

"But not too thick."

"No, not too thick. And it's warm."

They started to slide their hands up and down my shaft.

"And it moves nicely."

"I wonder what it tastes like."

"Oh, do we get to eat it, too?"

They looked at each other and giggled.

Heather pushed her hair behind her ear with a gesture just like her mother's and bent over my cock. She licked her lips then closed them over the tip. Her tongue circled round and round sending shivers up my spine. Isobel stretched out alongside me.

"She's very good," she whispered.

I put my arm around her and pulled her into a kiss. The effect was just like the first one: every time our tongues clashed jolts of electricity seemed to jump between them. She felt it too for I could feel her nipples, hard as nuts, pressing against my side. She began to moan softly and rub herself against me. With the small part of my mind that wasn't absorbed with the twin sensations of being kissed and sucked at the same time, I marvelled at how I could be so ecstatic about kissing a fourteen-year-old girl.

Isobel was right. Her sister was very good. For a while I fought to split my attention on the twin stimuli. In the end I gave up and lay back with a groan. Heather was expertly milking me with lips and tongue and hands. She would suck me deep, her cheeks hollow, then she would slowly remover her mouth and run the tip of her tongue round the very tip of my cock. She would vary that by kissing or licking all the way up and down my shaft. Then it was back to the sucking. Isobel contented herself with slipping a hand inside my shirt and teasing my nipples and chest hair, a smug smile on her face.

I could feel the cum rising. I looked at Isobel who answered my unspoken question with a nod.

"It's okay," she mouthed.

Heather, sensing I was about to cum increased her efforts. Her hand flew up and down my shaft and her head bobbed up and down as she fucked the tip of my cock with her mouth. I was sweating and I my stomach was beginning to convulse.

"Oh God, Heather. Yes," I gasped.

I clutched the grass and thrust upwards, my cock jamming into the back of her mouth as my cum squirted out. Heather sucked like a vacuum cleaner and swallowed and swallowed. She kept her lips clamped around me and missed not a drop. With a sated sigh, I flopped back on the grass. Heather knelt up with a satisfied smile on her face.

"That was good," she said, licking her lips.

"I told you she was good," Isobel announced.

"Good?" I panted. "Bloody amazing. Come here, Heather." Ignoring the slimy, salty taste of my own cum, I hugged her tightly and gave her a big kiss.

When, at last, I felt I could stand without falling over, I levered myself to my feet and stripped off my clothes. I would probably get sunburnt but nothing looks sillier than a man with his shirt tails flapping, unless it's a man with nothing on but a pair of socks.

The girls reclined on the grass and shaded their eyes to look up at me.