The Ffitch Nortons Ch. 04

Chapter 4

The Holiday: Part 2

We stood under the lukewarm power jets, faces upturned to the spray, bombarded and refreshed by the high speed tingling water droplets. We were silent. We stood apart. All of my doubts and uncertainties flowed over my consciousness as surely as the water flowed over my aching, well fucked body. Was John just using me? Did it simply amuse him to use me? How could he be so nonchalant, so dismissive after what we had just done? Didn't he realise that it was a big deal for me? A big confusing, life altering, brain freezing deal.

"John. I need to........."

"Cum?" he cut in with a marked lack of sensitivity. Or was I being too sensitive?

"No. Talk. I need to talk to you. Properly. Seriously. No fucking about," I said somewhat sharply.

John shut off his shower and turned to face me, the clear water still coursing down his beautifully defined, muscular body. "What is it Georgie?" he asked in a half caring tone.

"Calling me Georgie for a start. I love it when you call me Georgie when we're...............when we're..............you know.........doing things......."

"You mean sucking and fucking and kissing and drinking my piss Georgie?" he said with a giggle.

"Yes. All of those things. Shit. I'm confused John. I don't know what the fuck is happening to me. I was in turmoil on the plane. And in the car and at the airport. I can't get you, what we have done out of my head. I fancy you like fuck. But I fancy girls too. Did you see that black girl at the far end of the pool? The one with the fantastic thighs?" Before John could open his mouth I continued with my rapid, staccato monologue. I felt I had to get it all out in the open before he could distract me with one of his flippant cock sure remarks.

"Well she turned me on. My cock was hard just looking at her. And her friend. And the older girl who was with her. I got a hard on at the airport looking at a cock teasing hottie who went to Gate 3."

"Gate 3?" John interjected. " What the fu........" I cut him off as my babbling, stream of consciousness continued.

"Pilar excites me........"

"Who the fuck is Pilar?"

"It doesn't fucking matter. What matters, you prick, is how I fucking feel. And at the moment I feel well and truly fucked up."

"You mean well and truly fucked............by me?" John said smiling. But his smile didn't appear dazzling or cheeky. It appeared to be smug.

"No you arrogant fucker. I mean fucked up. Head gone. Morals gone. Everything..........gone. Yesterday I was in the pub with the lads having a few beers and thinking about all the pussy I was going to get on holiday. Less than twenty four hours later I've been sucked off, fucked in the arse and pissed on by my best friend. I feel like I'm out of control for fucks sake." This last part came out in a sob as by now I had started crying tears of frustration.

John, at last, realised that this was serious. He leaned over and knocked my shower off and pulled a big, fluffy white towel off the rack. John wrapped me up in it and made soothing noises.

"George it's okay. It's all okay. Believe me I was exactly the same. Well maybe not exactly to be fair. This has all happened quickly for you. Maybe, it's happened too quickly. But it's happened and it's still okay."

"Really John. Can you promise me that? Can you guarantee it?"

"Yes George. I think I can. But not now. We've both had a drink. We both need some kip. But tomorrow we'll sneak off somewhere quiet and I'll tell you how it was for me and a couple of other things too. I promise you'll feel better about yourself. All I can say for now, for tonight is.....go with the flow. Go with your instincts, your urges and I can tell you those urges will point you towards hot, holiday pussy."

At that John led me to my room, laid me on my bed, pulled the light cotton covers over me, kissed me on the forehead and said, "I'll call you in a couple of hours."

I slept like a baby and after two hours that felt like two days I was given a shake by John. He was already dressed, groomed and smelling of after shave.

"Are we okay?" I asked with some trepidation.

"We are more than okay mate. And we'll get better and better. Stop worrying, stop analysing, get your arse in the shower and let's go and eat."

As he said the word 'arse' I immediately concentrated on mine. It felt a little tender but in a nice way. In a pleasantly used way. By the time I stepped under the shower my poor, unsatisfied penis was at half-mast. Again. I spent a very peaceful five minutes soaping my aching dick to its full majesty. I toyed with my cock and with the idea of cumming right there in the shower simply to relieve the dull ache in my balls. But I decided to save it for a lucky girl...............or boy!

Twenty minutes later we were all in the hotel restaurant swigging lager from the bottle and getting stuck into steak and chips. Apart from Diego who tried the paella. Big Joe was taking bets on how many hours it would be before the paella made another appearance. The banter was sharp and relentless. The boys were in good form. It was going to be a good night.

As I glanced over Little Joes shoulder I spotted the black girl that I had seen at the pool earlier. She was facing me and was in an animated conversation with the same two fit friends. Perhaps she had that feeling she was being watched because suddenly she looked straight at me and, without interrupting her conversation, flashed me a big smile and gave a little wave. Forgetting who I was with I gave her a smile and a little girly finger wave in return. Apart from Little Joe, who thought I was waving at him and waved back at me, the others, led by John who exclaimed "What the fuck?", turned in their chairs and craned their necks to see who the wave recipient was. There was a chorus of "Aye, ayes" and "Helloooo Ladies" and I buried my head in my hands.

When I looked again, blushing like a virgin bride, my ebony beauty and her friends were looking straight back at us shaking their heads. But they were laughing in what I took to be a good natured way at the same time. As if they thought we were cheeky, slightly mad but harmless.

I lip synched "Sorry" to the lovely threesome and went back to my steak. We finished off with another beer and as we left the restaurant we all waved to the girls and Little Joe shouted "Til I return good ladies" whilst bowing at the waist. This brought snorts of laughter at our expense. Big Joe cuffed his diminutive namesake around the back of the head and dragged him out.

We went on a crawl of the main street which was packed with bars pumping out loud music whilst hiding their tattiness and tackiness behind a blinding array of neon lights. The bars themselves were full of young people whose clothing was so minimal they couldn't fill a wardrobe and a chest of three drawers between them. It was fantastic. So much bare, sweat glistened flesh ranging from golden tan to lobster red. Yet nobody seemed to care. Everybody was having a great time singing, dancing, drinking and grinding. People were laughing and shouting, whooping and screaming, groping and petting, kissing and snogging. We were all grinning like Cheshire Cats as we pushed our way into bar after bar. Conversation was all but impossible and we communicated by hand signal and facial expression as we danced with and kissed more girls in a couple of hours than any of us had in our entire short lives.

Finally, at about three in the morning, we staggered onto the beach to visit Mojito's Banyan Bar. Mojito's had been recommended to us by countless boys and girls during the night as the place to finish off the night. The bar itself appeared to be no more than a timber fronted shack that served simply as the bar itself. The sound system that flanked it on either side was almost as big as the bar. In front of Mojito's was an expanse of smooth, cool sand and the focal point was a circular, gas flamed fire on a podium. Above the fire a cage, the size of a transport container, entrapped scantily clad dancers, male and female, was suspended. The dancers were illuminated by the flame flicker from the fire below and angled spotlights positioned on the bar. As the lights strobed them it was obvious that they were putting on a very erotic show. Diego and Big Joe got the drinks in and we moved onto the sand and grabbed seats at one of the few available tables.

As we sat down we heard a shout of "Well helloooo Newbies". We all turned around and walking towards us were the three girls from the hotel restaurant that we had embarrassed ourselves in front of earlier. Little Joe shouted back "Well hellooooo ladies" as we all waved and muttered a jumble of insightful comments and phrases such as "Wow", "Fucking Hell", "Fuck Me", "Arooga" and "Aye Caramba". These last two came from Robbie. They could only have come from Robbie. To our eternal shame, as they approached, the tallest of the blonde girls said, "Did one of you just say Aye Caramba? Tell me you didn't say Aye Caramba!"

As a group we had quickly done the maths or, as Jethro Bodine might say, the 'gizzintas'. We quickly established that six didn't go into, or gizzinta, three. At least not in our world as it existed then. Therefore, the competition began and we all immediately set about reducing the competition. To a man we all pointed at Robbie and informed 'tall stunning blonde', 'shorter stunning blonde' and 'stunning black' girls that indeed it was he that had uttered the cringe worthy statement. The girls all started laughing and began to mercilessly tease Robbie and the rest of us. John stood up and sent Little Joe to get three more chairs and I went to get the drinks including three Mojito's for the ladies. When we returned John formally introduced us to our three stunning table guests which involved a brief mickey take of each of us and an explanation of nick names. 'Shorter stunning blonde' introduced herself as Dervla and her friends as Caitlin, the taller blonde and Karimu the black girl. All the girls' names were unusual although we had heard Caitlin and Dervla before and guessed correctly that there was a strong Irish heritage there although the girls themselves did not speak with Irish accents. Karimu was different and she immediately held our attention as she explained the origins of her name. She told us that it was pronounced Kaah-Ree-Moo with the emphasis on Kaah Ree. And that was what she liked to be called -- Kari. She told us that her name meant 'generous' and 'liberal' and that it was of Swahili origin although she herself was of mixed race. The six of us jostled for position but Little Joe, John and I were in pole position by virtue of the fact that John made the introductions, I got the drinks and Little Joe had got the extra chairs and placed them at our end of the table.

Caitlin was beautiful. She was about 5'8", straight blonde hair styled in a shoulder length bob, lovely white, slightly uneven teeth, a button nose and a wide, pleasant, smiling mouth. Caitlin had long, tanned, toned legs and a high firm bottom. This much was evident due to the silver, sequinned, micro shorts that she was wearing beneath a tight, cropped similarly sequinned top that showed off a flat stomach and a pierced bejewelled navel and perky, firm smallish, breasts.

Kari was stunning. She had straight, jet black, glossy hair worn in a lop sided, combed over style to just below her shoulders. Whatever the exact mixture of her genealogy was it had produced a truly beautiful face. Think Halle Berry meets Beyoncé. Her skin was flawless and glowing with a satin sheen. She was wearing a dress, I think. It was duck egg blue. The top was of a tight, form fitting material connected to a short, shiny, flared skirt by a mesh panel that exposed her midriff tantalisingly. Kari also had a pierced belly button. She also had nice perky boobs, slightly larger than Caitlins, that were tipped with huge nipples that were clearly showing through her top. Kari's legs were amazing. Shorter than Caitlins but obviously powerful. Her calf and thigh muscles were very well defined. Her thighs were magnificently delta shaped, tapering nicely to her knees and flaring out and upwards to her hem line.

Dervla was altogether different. Although she too was blonde, her hair cascaded in curly locks to the base of her elegantly postured, evenly tanned, toned back. She was wearing a tight fitting, backless, mini dress that clung to every contour of her trim yet voluptuous body. Dervlas breasts were noticeably bigger than her friends. They were very big in fact and as there was no sign of a bra strap across her back they were obviously very firm and self supporting. Dervla and Kari were around the same height at about 5'6". Dervla was also obviously older than Caitlin and Kari and I had inwardly decided that she was Caitlins older sister and perhaps the younger girls chaperone.

"So," I said, "How did you guess we were newbies? Was it our little boy lost look or our pale, pasty looking skin?"

"Nope. We spotted you when you arrived at our hotel with your cases this afternoon," said Caitlin before Dervla added "I think Miss Marple is safe for now," much to the amusement of her friends.

"You spotted us?" asked Little Joe. "Yeah. We're always on the lookout for fresh meat."

That came from Kari who leaned forward and blew in Little Joes hair as she said it. That led to a series of innuendo and double entendres until we began to sound like a 'Carry On' film script. All we were missing was Kenneth Williams exclaiming "Ooooh, Matron." Until Robbie chipped in with "Ooooh, Matron," to Dervla who nearly choked on her mojito. In amongst all the seaside postcard humour Caitlin asked why Little Joe was called 'little'. As Big Joe began to explain, Diego blurted out in his drunken drawl, "Becosh he's got a huuuuge ner, ner, knob." The girls eyes all widened, there was a split second of embarrassed silence, broken only by the sound made by Big Joe slapping Diego around the back of the head, before the girls exploded with shrieks of laughter. Little Joe had no sooner buried his face in his hands when Dervla grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out onto the beach dance floor. Caitlin asked mischievously, "What does that say about Big Joe then?" John, quick as a flash, quipped, "Nothing at all. The inverse rule applies." More laughter followed at the same time as a dead arm for John from Big Joe.

Suddenly, Diego lifted his head far enough to look at the cage dancers and to shout, "Jeeshus. Look at those danshers go. Fuckshake!" Big Joe threatened him with another slap if he didn't mind his language in front of the ladies and we all warned him to pack it in. Our indignation faded into jaw dropping silence though as we all focused in on the cage. There were five girls and two guys in the cage gyrating, bumping and grinding furiously. Their bodies were bathed in sweat. We knew this because all of the dancers were almost naked. The girls were wearing only panties or bikini bottoms and the guys were down to their briefs. They were dancing so close to each other it looked in the flashing strobe lights as if they were having sex in front of everyone. There was certainly groping and fondling of each other including the girls squeezing each other's boobs.

As we all foamed at the mouth like Homer Simpson weighing up a doughnut Kari and Caitlin whooped and shouted "WooooWoo. You go girls," and "Shake that thing Lisandro."

"You know the dancers?" quizzed Robbie a tad too eagerly, probably sensing a way in.

"Oh yeah," said Caitlin as if to suggest that anyone who was anyone knew the dancers. "Are they professionals?" pressed Robbie. "Nooooo. Don't be daft," Kari replied, "They're all from our hotel." "Fuc......sorry. Flippin' 'eck," gulped Robbie. "Yeah. That's Lisandro and Jarek. They're the guys and they're on the Animation Team. And the girls are Megan, with the long brown hair, Nicole, the blonde with the big boobs and Victoria, the one with the tattoos. They're Geordies here on holiday. We've got to know them around the pool."

Caitlin added, "They're wild. The whole hotel is wild. Everyone seems to get on really, really well." She glanced at Kari and communicated with a look that led to them bursting out in a fit of giggles. "I wonder where Amanda is," Caitlin wondered aloud to her friend. "Who's Amanda?" I asked. "She's the fourth Geordie girl. You'll know her when you see her," Kari replied knowingly. "What do you mean? Is she famous or something?" more to engage Kari in conversation than out of any interest in the missing Amanda. "No. Silly. Nothing like that. It's just that she's.......Well she's......." she paused as she mulled over a suitable description. Caitlin stepped in with "She's a big titted, muscled, Amazon that's what she is. Amandazon. You can't miss her. And she's lovely and wild and loud and fucking outrageous." At this Diego lifted his head an inch from the table and muttered "Hey I gotta shlap for lesh than tha'." Big Joe gently pushed his head back down and this time we all started giggling.

We finished our drinks and Big Joe said it was time he carried Diego home. Robbie said he would help him and that left John and I with Caitlin and Kari. John asked the girls if they would like one for the road but they declined. "Let's dance instead," Kari said as she jumped up and grabbed my arm. Caitlin quickly added "And then you can escort us back to our hotel kind Sirs."

And so we danced. Or was it heavy petting? It certainly wasn't like any kind of dancing I had done at school dances or family weddings. It was very..........physical. It felt like Kari had brought her fabulous body into contact with every inch of my body. She had certainly come into contact with a certain seven inches of it in a grinding, gyrating kind of way. This wasn't 'Dirty Dancing'. This was downright filthy dancing.

And she didn't scream, appear shocked, slap me, push me away or call me a pervert. My brain was having difficulty in computing this type of female behaviour. Kari wasn't conforming to any preconceived protocols that were imprinted in every teenaged boys DNA. I was fully expecting that I would conform to the following six point, five date plan;

1. Ask a girl out on a date.

2.Go on a date during daylight hours in a public/neutral place e.g. walk in park.

3.Go on second date to a restaurant. Risk a 'good night' kiss.

4.Go on a third date to a pub/club. Risk some gentle kissing and a 'roaming hands' exploration whilst dancing. Perhaps feel her bum.

5.Go on a fourth date to see a movie. Pick a RomCom chick flick. Risk some serious snogging and a surreptitious bit of boob action.

6.Go on a fifth date in her parents house; your parents house; ideally arrange to baby sit for someone/anyone. Risk a home run.

Kari had dispensed with points one to three and had gone straight to 'roaming hands' with the implied caveat that the next step, if it were to be included on my plan, would appear between points ten to fifteen.

We changed partners and I got similar treatment from Caitlin until the music stopped.

"Right boys. Take us home," commanded Caitlin. John looked quite calm. I don't know how I looked. Probably like an inanely, grinning buffoon as my mind raced ahead to the hotel room. If that was only dancing my mind boggled at what these two stunning, sexy sirens would do behind closed doors.

But there was a fly in the ointment. Little Joe and Dervla were nowhere to be found.

"Do you think they've gone back to the hotel?" I asked.

"Possibly. Or for another drink," Caitlin replied.

"Knowing Dervla they'll either be skinny dipping or in one of the islands," remarked Kari with a giggle.

"What do you mean 'islands'?" asked John.

Caitlin pointed down the beach at several large, square silhouettes. "Those are where the sun lounger and deck chair attendants stack all the stuff at sunset. They're big squares of beach furniture made up of several stacks with little gaps between them. People use them for all kinds of naughtiness. They're known as the islands," she explained as we made our way towards the nearest island.