Jinn Rummy

Leslie looked at his alarm clock, it was 11:03; during this day off, Leslie would recover from his alcohol and cocaine intake by lazing around the pool. He would have loved a lazy afternoon with Sandra but she had vanished without a trace. The pool was the favourite haunt of most on their days off as it was a voyeur's paradise; exposed flesh everywhere with the opportunity to trawl a solitary female for a quiet afternoon liaison. It was as Leslie spied a bronzed derriere barely concealed by a black bikini, his voyage took an even more sinister turn for the worst. His diary, revealed accounts of satiety and conquest but today as he fought to placate the tension developing in his shorts, he felt strangely nauseous. Drink in hand, he made his way to the beautiful female form laying face down next to the pool, noting that her bikini top was untied; revealing the bulge of her ample bosom squashed beneath her. “Hi would you like some block on your back madam?” The female laid face down had cascading, long brown hair and in response to his question, she turned onto her side to face him. Intentionally or otherwise, her bikini top fell and as she faced him, her breasts were brazenly displayed; they seemed to smile at him. He squatted down beside her; as to remain stood would have betrayed his desires. She was older than her body had portrayed and as she looked him up and down she made no attempt to hide her modesty. It looked like he had found another Sandra but he wasn't sure how to tackle such a woman; being used to inexperienced girls easily seduced by the prospect of a quick fumble with the possibility of going all the way. After the hot and sticky silence, the woman finally spoke. “I knew you’d come.” Leslie shuddered, there was harmful intent in that statement but as she passed him her bottle of sun block, she turned to lie down inviting him to fulfil his earlier offer. Leslie pulsing with anticipation, poured the cream onto his hands, warming it up as he rubbed them together and after a quick preparatory breath, he applied his trembling hands to her body. “What’s your name?” The woman moaning, volunteered her name. “Emelia.” Leslie opened his mouth but even before he could speak. “Don’t talk; just massage me………...all over.” Leslie grew harder and positioned himself so that as he rocked forward his ample member would alert Emelia to its readiness, making her moan; encouraging him to go further but in such a public place, he felt self-conscious. If spotted by one of the QE2’s regular staff, he would definitely be reprimanded. All the student types had been promised a letter of recommendation from Captain Lambert provided they kept their noses clean; apart from his oral activities with Sandra, Leslie had managed thus far to keep his nose clean. “Lower………….lower……………..….lower…………………..lower.” Leslie was burning with excitement, finding it impossible to resist Emelia and insatiably keen to instigate the next stage of activity. As his hands traversed her waist and glided under her bikini onto her buttocks, her moans spurred him on to undo the ties of her bikini bottoms. He was on autopilot, irretrievably driven by his libido and the moans of this Sandra analogue. His hands reached areas where there most certainly was no need for sun block and his advances met with no resistance. She moaned, and in tune with her seductive sounds, her entire pelvis rotated and rocked slowly and sensually, further accentuating his digital provocations. “Stop!” Leslie stopped dead in his tracks fearing that he had gone too far, he froze but forgot to remove his hand from the place that required no introduction. “Take your hand out.” Leslie sensed he was in trouble and as he started to panic, he looked up to see if anyone familiar could see what he was up to but fear turned to abject dread as he found himself sinking once again into the eyes of the bearded fellow from dinner two nights ago. Emelia retied her bikini and turned to face Leslie who knew he had but a few seconds to think of something to say but all that would come into his mind was the totally inadequate cliché: "sorry". Emelia turned onto her side staring at her pubescent caresser. She herself was a raging torrent down below and was dripping with anticipation; it was a good job her bikini was black in colour or else her moisture levels would have been displayed for all to see. It had been ages since she had experienced the vigour of youth and she slowly rubbed her foot over Leslie’s chest and under his chin. She was getting hotter and wetter as she realised that at her disposal sat a male that she could use for her purposes. Leslie meanwhile had felt his tool flop immediately on spying the bearded fellow but Emelia’s actions were compelling. After another few seconds of devouring him with her eyes, her foot reached below and with her toes she caressed Leslie’s probe. From a state of frightened floppiness, it rose majestically again announcing to Emelia that he was ready and certainly qualified to give her what she craved. The sudden increase in pressure made her laugh and she kicked it playfully causing it to bobble up and down under its elastic resistance; she collected her towel and sun cream, “Don’t make a fuss, just follow me.” Like a moth to a flame and with the bulge in his shorts proudly displayed in front of him, he followed the intensely horny Emelia. As she passed the bearded fellow, she reached over and whispered something in his ear but life was moving in slow motion and all Leslie could think about was the pleasures he was about to indulge in. He barely even noticed the bearded fellow as he walked straight past him following his wife.