Grace was at an all time low
and her period wasn't helping. Inspiration had dried up and she felt dry and
useless. The chain of hits she had enjoyed over twenty years seemed distant and
even coming to her favourite retreat, one of four she owned worldwide, on the
coast near Bezier in the south of France had not created any of the special
thrills that spawned in her mind that were transferred into wonderful soaring
great rock and pop hits that generated her fortune and adulation world
wide.
As she sat on the bidet Grace could hear superb birdsong filtering
through the heavy overgrowth of bougainvillea and other scented shrubs that grew
in profusion round the luxurious and sprawling villa. She concentrated on her
morning toilet and reached between her slender legs and seek the gnarled dry
tampon string that was curled within her labia.
She sighed as her arm
created fat folds on her stomach and self consciously straightened her posture
as she grabbed the string. Easing the bloated tampon out of her cunt, Grace
budged her butt on the bidet edge and peered into the bowl at the dangling lump
of cotton and saw thankfully she was light in discharge, knowing she was nearly
at the end of her menstruation. She transferred the tampon into its bag and
carefully deposited it into the bin alongside, then Grace sluiced her crotch
thoroughly and dabbed and powdered herself dry. She inserted another
tampon.
Standing before the full length mirror, she saw the reflection of
a tall, shaven headed, olive skinned woman in her forties, with large breasts
which sagged dramatically low. She smoothed her hands over her belly finding
spare flesh and she pinched it with a grimace before sliding her long fingered
artistic hands up to her tits. She cupped them with some tenderness, after all
they had been her initial ticket to stardom, gaining attention by never wearing
a bra.
She had performed on Top of The Pops, The Old Grey Whistle Test
and Later with Jools on the British TV as well as starring in her own shows,
Royal Variety Shows, tribute shows, celebrity shows and on and on. Countless
interviews on countless international shows like Carson, Garry Shandling and
Letterman had kept her image to the fore and MTV and dozens of other names
snapped her up whenever she had a date free. She had shared the stage with
Bowie, duetted with Diana Ross, George Michael, Tom Jones, Jagger, rapped with
Puff Daddy and sung with hundreds of others. Amphitheatres, stadiums, gardens,
halls, clubs, she had filled with her glamorous and talent filled image backed
by an irrepressible band.
She had won Emmies, Grammies and the like in
just about every country and her studio was decked out wall to wall with gold
and platinum discs. But it had started with Jed, her boyfriend turned manager
who fashioned a great talent into a great diva using her undoubted skills on a
guitar and keyboard, coupled with a most spectacular pair of unfettered
boobs.
Jed had been killed in an air crash three years ago in Germany,
travelling back from a meeting. Now the acknowledged assets were less
spectacular although still huge, hung on a frame which was generally spare,
apart from the flesh gathering round her waist and hips.
Grace hefted
each tit in turn, checking as she did every day for the thing that had killed
her mother and breathed a sigh as she found nothing to alert her. She grimaced
as she always did at the massive saucer like size of her nipples or rather her
areolae. There was no bud in the middle, just the slightest gathering of
membrane surrounded by a three inch diameter circle of dark brown flesh with the
odd permanent soft pimple. Her eyes swept downwards and she pulled a face at her
pubes.
She had endured a bikini line wax two weeks ago, much against her
wishes preferring to let the light fluff of hair grow free. It wasn't a rampant
growth spreading across her belly and thighs, just a neat bush, but the producer
of her new video had ruling on what she wore and the costume design demanded
that she had a trim. Now there was stubble and she grabbed talcum powder and
smothered her crotch with it.
She decided that she would be pantyless
again today, to try and allay the itchy irritation of hair growing back. The new
video and a single produced six months ago was supposed to be the launch of a
new phase of her career when it came out in a few weeks, but she was pessimistic
and down beat about it.
Hearing a bark downstairs then another, Grace
flung on one of her ethnic print silk shifts, decided that she didn't need one
of her many wigs as disguise, put on her Oakley shades and wandered through the
airy space of the villa to find Boris and Benita the two Rottweiler guard dogs
happily rumbling about in the patio area. They did not seem disturbed and often
barked at passing scooters and cars. She took a drink of fresh orange juice and
gathered a purse and left the villa, with the hounds on a lead for the short
stroll into the village. Both stopped and dumped taking quite a while to deposit
their loads on the edge of the pavement. Grace allowed them, it wasn't an
offence in France.
At the boulangerie, with the dogs snuffling around on
the floor for tasty crumbs, she bought two sticks of bread and an evil looking
tarte and chatted amiably to to the owner a lechorous grizzled man who talked to
her swaying tits rather than her fine boned face, but this was something Grace
encountered virtually all day every day. Monsieur Platini watched as she exited
the bakery, ogling her undulating hip accentuated saunter until Madamme Platini
fussed through with another tray of bread.
Grace's fame was known in the
village but no one bothered about it and few tourists ventured in as it wasn't a
particularly attractive village. Although with her trademark shaven head and big
earrings, no one approached her. She wore no glamorous makeup, no outrageously
high stilettos and no tight revealing clothes. The high domed forehead, her head
shorn of her tawny curls and full sensual lips were the giveaway normally, but
today and all the time in the village she remained thankfully
anonymous.
Grace found the walk really helped her attitude knowing her
menstruation was finishing and she loved the way the balmy morning air wafted
through her shift and caressed her unsheathed cunt. She passed a farm by taking
a different route back to her villa and watched a massive white Charollaise bull
mount one of his small harem of cows. It excited her mildly and Grace realised
she hadn't had sex for over two months, since the French rock star, Gilles
Deschampe and her had got mildly drunk in Orange after their concert at the
Amphitheatre. She chuckled as she left the bull to his sex, recalling Gilles
desire to be tied up and teased with her tits for hours. The actual fuck had
resulted in good fast and furious action and he was extremely well hung if
incredibly hairy, which Grace hated but tolerated.
Jed and Gilles had
been great pals and they had enjoyed several threesomes when they met up and had
privacy. Several paparazzi based papers had published candid shots of her naked
or half undressed, attached to wild stories, many of which were true, but she
didn't care and generally the heat was taken out by her passive non
confrontational attitude to them.
The day passed uneventfully and she
tried some writing and tinkered on her keyboard. She pottered in the rambling
gardens but knew little about the plants. She sunbathed and caught up her
reading, including a novel called Memoirs of a Geisha. Several international
phone calls interrupted the easy pace she set herself, but nothing buzzed life
into her inspirational mode. Maurice and his wife Elise who looked after the
place while Grace was away, called in at 8pm to see if there was anything she
wanted. Maurice explained that he thought Benita was coming into season so he
would take her down to his farm away from Boris. He had a lock up compound where
she would be safe from his own two dogs and any strays.
Boris was allowed
into the villa as he would be peaceful without Benita to aggravate him. He
wandered about quietly, sniffing the air round Grace's legs, licking her ring
toed feet as she reclined naked on the sofa. She knew he would be disturbed to a
point about his soul mate going away and probably fancied his chances at
covering Benita, but Grace didn't want any more pups as she idly pondered on
Boris's fat fertile balls flopping between his legs. She scratched the itch of
her pussy and realised it was a yearning itch, rather than an irritation. Idly
lifting her legs she let Boris try to find his own way to the scent. Her creamed
and smooth long limbs were offered to him. Boris whined and snuffled around her
knees as she teased him, by opening her thighs and closing them again, knowing
how we would pick up her scent, tainted with monthly secretions.
It had
been some time since she had used a canine lover to ease the ache of hungry
fanny. In fact it had been in Tokyo and the little lap dogs of her publicist out
there had proved very successful at soothing and then inflaming her citoris,
making her seek out a man - and quickly.
The black blind soul musician
she was starring alongside and sharing the top floor of hotel suites with, had
proved a wonderful lover. His introduction of Hershey bars, especially into her
arse had revived memories of when news of Marianne and Mick in the UK and the
Mars bar scandal seeped out to the press.
Little Stevie had worked on the
premise of smell and taste in his handicapped way and his thick tongue had
lapped and pierced her ring before his very considerable cock had filled
it.
Now in the privacy of her own space, Grace contemplated an evening of
canine sex with the tried and tested and completely discreet Boris. She pulled
him to her side as he licked her legs and felt under his belly. The thick
dangling pouch of his sheath was damp and within seconds she had teased the tip
of his penis out.
It was then she heard guitar sounds drifting through
the open patio doors. Intrigued, Grace pushed Boris away, but he followed her as
she stepped out to the balcony to listen. The dog sniffed around then lay and
dozed. The chords were sometimes strummed loudly, then the most delicate
sequences fluttered by. It was amazing stuff and she wanted to know who it was.
As far as she knew, there were no other well known musicians in the
vicinity.
She leaned on the balcony wall, nude and relaxed, letting the
warm air from the lower sweet scented terraces sift round her limbs, wrap round
her trim ankles and wind its way up her toned legs, send shivers across her cunt
lips and then flirt with her belly before undulating over her lush bosoms and
drift upwards into the starlit sky.
The guitar sound was from the east,
she determined that. Boris whined and snuggled close to her, brushing his coat
against her legs until he curled up and snoozed It was mostly sensual stuff, the
sort one would expect to hear on a late night specialist programme for lovers,
but it had an edge, a rawness that surely came from a youthful mind, someone
perhaps yearning for love.
Grace knew everyone of the eastern neighbours,
there being only two in close proximity and the music, yes music, not random
sounds or dissonant chords was generated from nearby. It was acoustic too and
suddenly on a whim, Grace ran inside and grabbed a guitar.
Back at the
balcony, she was disappointed to find the music had stopped, but she clasped the
Spanish guitar to her breasts, cocked a leg on the balcony wall to support the
instrument and strummed, then started to finger gentle sounds that curled off
into the night. There was no response, but she played on finding something
inside which had a core, a meaning, a tremor of inspiration. She had to stop
suddenly as Boris had woken. That wasn't a problem, he padded about regardless,
but this time he took her by surprise, by approaching from behind and sticking
his enquiring friendly snout into her crotch. Grace nearly shrieked out with the
cold wet surprise, but she merely shooed the dog away and continued her
music.
Dramatically, almost on cue to one of her chords, fashioned from
deep inside her, the other music started but this time it was a piano. She had
to lean dangerously close to the edge of the wall to crane her neck and seek the
source but couldn't. There were no obvious lights, but she knew one particular
residence was to the side of hers and she wouldn't see it. Grace played on,
tinkering with ideas, developing them, releasing whole bars of notes which she
found were fitting very comfortably together.
The accompaniment from her
neighbour added to the overall scene she was trying to create and she was
excited. But as abruptly as it had started, the piano finished. Grace played on,
maybe her partner was resting, gone to the toilet, taking a drink, maybe trying
to see who she was, but there were no further notes and Grace finally put her
guitar away and went to bed.
Very early the next morning, she was
delighted to find her period had indeed ceased and she made a quick phone call,
then showered before her customary trip to the boulangerie. Monsieur Platini's
eyes nearly flew out of his head when she flounced in wearing a see through
white shirt and tight jeans over flat yellow sandals with back buckled straps.
She bent low over the counter to look at the treats he would have baked during
the night, giving him fantastic views of her immense cleavage. She bent away
from him so that her jeans would seem to nearly split as she put her purchases
into a bag.
Back at the villa, a good breakfast of croissant, jam and
coffee was enjoyed until Marianne Clemente, the village hairdresser arrived to
shave her head and they chatted amiably in French. She could trust Marianne with
this simple task each week and paid her handsomely. She checked some papers that
Irving, her manager had faxed and checked her emails and answered what was
necessary, but she was impatient and fluffed several spellings and did them
again being a fanatic on accuracy.
Full makeup and body oiling was next,
it took almost an hour, changing her plain white and slightly tatty panties for
a black silk thong. She creamed her head and chose a different, less sheer
shirt, although revealing plenty of the famous cleavage and then some different
earings. The sandals fitted the jeans ensemble and finally Grace could leave the
villa in Boris's care and at 9.30am she set off on her short journey to seek out
the night musician. She had eliminated the one villa she could see from the
balcony. It was boarded up and there were no signs of life, no break ins or
workmen as she passed.
Up the lane she could see a car outside the villa
she suspected. She heard music but recognised it as radio as she
approached.
The front ornamental iron gate was unlocked which was unusual
for the elderly Madame and Monsieur Lebouef. But Pierre and Chloe were away,
reasoned Grace and she was sure there was no one in two days before.
She
peeked into the courtyard, loving the scents of the many thick shrubs. No one
around, but she ventured in daringly. She would be welcomed if by chance the
Lebouefs were in, but their car was not the vehicle parked below. Stealthily,
her heart bumping noisily under the cushion of her heaving tits, Grace mounted
the stone stair to the balcony.
Why was she doing this crazy thing?
Coming to a window, knowing it was the kitchen and peering in, she heard the pop
music blaring from a radio perched on the sill. No one habited the rustic charm
of the room, but there were the remains of meals and a lot of unwashed cooking
pots and utensils scattered about. The international rock diva crept onwards to
the next window which she knew was the huge corner lounge.
She heard
squeals and laughs, but they weren't kids noises. Even before reaching the
glass, she could see an acoustic guitar and another - a Martin, then a superb
Fender Strata propped up just inside the floor to ceiling window. This must be
the place she heard those wondrous sounds.
Grace took a deep breath and
tensed her lithe body and suddenly realised she was very wet in her crotch. She
suddenly stopped, aware of the risk she was taking. There would be no youngsters
normally at the residence. She had known the occupants for over eight years,
they were extremely quiet and had a reputation for keeping themselves to
themselves.
Grace also knew they had no children and to her knowledge
there'd never been child visitors.
Giggles filtered to her from the part
open doors as she considered her position. There was no one in the garden as far
as she could see and she hadn't seen a soul as she walked the short distance
between her place and the Lebouef's pad.
She could claim a neighbourhood
watch responsibility if challenged and spoke fluent French and Italian to
fortify any argument. Trembling but hyped up, she stepped forward, grasping the
rough rendered wall to lean round and peep through the window. She gasped at the
scene and froze thinking she would be heard, but the room occupants just
continued fucking on an enormous sofa.
A muscular male was on top of a
small girl, whose legs could not girdle the man's waist. His smooth toned arse
was pumping vigorously at the girl who was moaning and scratching his back.
Grace noticed black painted finger and toenails on delicate fingers and tiny
feet. She also spotted wispy armpit hair and labelled the girl as French at
least. A tattoo was evident on the girl's left ankle and then she moved her head
from the far side of the man and long blonde tresses splayed across the
cushions.
On the pretty face, wide staring eyes and a grimacing mouth
contrasted weirdly with the cooing ecstatic sounds she was making, as the man
shunted relentlessly over her. Muscles rippled over his back and when he raised
his head, Grace could see wild floppy black hair. He shifted position, pulling
the girl with him, letting one of his knees slide to the plush carpetted floor,
giving Grace the wide open view up his rear. Curly black hair coated his arse
crack, but his balls reminded Grace of the bull in the neighbouring farm. The
were being slammed towards the girl's hidden fanny, but dangled so low and
heavily they were being pummelled against the side of the sofa.
She loved
the rear view sight of a man fucking, where his balls seemed to shuttle up and
down the shaft of his dick, from where it grew from just ahead of his anus. The
girl's cries of delight echoed the man's grunts of satisfaction as he continued
to screw her.
Grace realised that she was soaking her pants, already damp
with the excitement and daring of her venture and now by the erotic scene and
the man's screwing prowess. The sex athletes decided to try another position and
the girl sat up, flinging her arms round his shoulders. Her partner's arms
wrapped her waist, his other knee dropped to the floor and with a great effort
and a roar, he stood lifting the girl bodily, still impaled on his dick. The
girl cried out in alarm, staring at Grace over the man's shoulder.
Grace
stupidly stared back and then horror-struck she backed off and ran along the
balcony. A sandal came loose and she momentarily paused to correct the
uncomfortable buckle that had slid under her heel.
Shouts in French and
English called after her and she whirled to see the two sexy fuckers approaching
her. Momentarily mesmerised by the blatant unperturbed full frontals, Grace
seemed rooted to the spot, then she fled again. In her mind were the man's thick
penis dangling wetly in front of solid legs and the girl's tiny fragile body
with barely any breasts and minimal pubes.
Heavy footsteps pursued her
and halfway down the steps a hand grabbed her arm and flung her against the
wall. She grunted almost winded with the force and turned to see the man's
moustachioed face glaring up at her. He was considerably smaller in height but
was powerfully built. The girl skipped lightly down and joined
them.
"What do you think you're playing at?" asked the girl in French.
"Getting your kicks eh?"
"No no, please I can explain," answered Grace in
the language, still trapped by the man's hand. She glanced back at him. He was
studying her closely.
"You one of that posh bunch of thieves down from
Montpelier, doing the empty villas I'll bet," snarled the girl who looked
nothing more than a kid. She spoke a rustic patois and had recognised Grace's
cultured Parisian tones.
"No please, I really can explain. I live nearby,
it was the... last night... the music....." stammered Grace.
"It can't
be...no," muttered the man.
"Yeah so what if we partied. Wake the old
girl up did we?" sneered the girl.
"It was so beautif--" started
Grace.
"Hang on, it is, it fucking is. Jesus Christ!" exploded the man,
in a broad South London accent. "You're fucking Grace Everson aren't
you?"
Grace nodded and bit her lip. Oh shit! This is real scandal she
thought. He dropped her arm and backed off, naked, hot, breathing garlic, his
cock now dangling small under a washboard muscled belly against the heavyweight
sac of his gonads.
"Fuck me," the man declared, tapping his female
companion on her shoulder. " tine, tine, Ernestine...Don't you recognise her?
Grace, The Divine Grace, Graceful Rock, Grace of the Ages, Gratefully
Grace...Shit! I've got all your albums. Wow! I'm so sorry if I hurt you
but..."
"Sorry? You stupid cunt," growled Ernestine, her tiny tits
bristling with very erect sharp nipples. "She was peeping on us fucking for
Christ's sake John. Do you know how much trouble we could be in?"
"No no
I wasn't peeping for that. I came to find out who was.....How old is
she?"
Grace suddenly turned to John. His face clouded and he bit his lip
and he scratched his balls, then he cupped his hands over them self consciously
in front of the famous star. His eyes flickered back and forth from Ernestine to
Grace.
Grace took time out to study the girl. Maybe five feet tall if
that, wiry little light body, long graceful neck half covered by thick blonde
sun streaked locks, legs up to her armpits, two small cones high on her chest
topped by pink erect buds the size of a10 centime piece, flat belly and just the
tiniest fluttering of pale pubes on her mound.
The girl glared fixedly at
John who was clearly churning inside, her eyes daring him to reveal what Grace
was sure to be quite a small number. The silence was broken only by their
communal heavy breathing, warbling birds and the distant whine of a small
engined motor bike.
"Don't you fucking tell her John," said Ernestine,
now in English.
"Look look, it doesn't matter. Can I explain and
maybe..er you might want to put some clothes on?" Grace butted in, her eyes
sweeping down over their naked torsos.
John gulped and peered down to his
nudity. He grabbed his lover and dragged her up the stairs, telling Grace to
follow. They scuttled into the villa and she followed them into the lounge,
initially amused by the wobble of their contrasting bums, but then her eyes
homed in on the instruments.
She had seen the Fender earlier and the
Martin which matched the one she tinkered with last night. Now she saw the
Gibson and realised she was in the presence of either extremely knowledgable
musicians or plebs with too much money.
John disappeared but Ernestine
blatantly picked up a pair of scanty white panties from the piano stool and
stepped neatly into them. Grace stood arms folded watching, noticing the tattoo.
It was just an elaborate ankle pattern. The girl threw a black, all covering tee
shirt over her head, flounced to the sofa and threw herself onto it, her hand
reaching out and swiping at something, maybe a cum stain or some pubic hairs
Grace guessed with amusement.
"I've never heard of you," said Ernestine
bluntly. "Dress like a tart all the time?"
Grace gasped at the rude
insults. "When you're old enough maybe you will learn some manners. Shouldn't
you be in school?" she countered in French.
"It's summer isn't it?"
snarled the girl, who then bit her lip as if realising she had reacted too
swiftly.
"I thought so," murmured Grace, sitting opposite on a large
wooden carved chair.
John entered, wearing very tight jeans and a white
tee shirt. His feet were bare were also very large and he stared quickly at the
sofa, as if too checking the marks.
He apologised again and again to
Grace who was quite amused by the switch of power. The girl glowered and picked
at her toe nails. Grace took a last glance at John's genital bulge, wondering on
the old adage about men's feet and cocks and decided to take the initiative. She
needed to get some things straight.
"Look, just who are you?" asked
Grace. "I know the Lebouefs and I've never seen you here before."
John
explained that he was an old friend of Pierre's from when Monsiuer Lebouef
lectured French art and literature in London and ate at the restaurant where
John trained at in Camden Town.
While the old couple were in Cannes for a
few days, John had borrowed their villa to write up his new cooking book, using
recipes and ideas from his experience as head chef at a restaurant in
Montpelier. Pierre was going to illustrate the book in his light watercolour
style. He befriended Ernestine who was on the run from a violent boyfriend who
worked as commis chef for John.
The girl having turned up at John's
apartment door with three pieces of luggage, the guitars, had pleaded to get
away from the cultured city and the dangers she saw there.
"So the
music...it was her?" asked Grace quietly studying the sulking face of the
girl.
"Yeah! Isn't she good?" enthused John sitting down with Ernestine
and stroking her leg. The girl smiled briefly.
"She's as you would say
John, fucking brilliant. I want to hear more," chuckled Grace. "Tell me, is she
as young as she looks?"
John lifted an eyelid and quizzed Ernestine
silently. She sulked and shrugged her shoulders. He took a deep breath and
spoke.
"Well it's my problem really Grace. You see she's fourteen. I mean
she's so grown up, but she's been on the run for two years from her father and
of course the Gendarmerie. I've only known, well had her with me for two weeks
but you can imagine the consequences...?"
"Yeah! Especially if you get
her pregnant," said Grace, leaning forward deliberately.
Her shirt front
parted to the limit of the buttons and John's eyes blinked at the dark crease
between her mammoth tits. Grace had noticed that he had generally talked to her
face, which she liked, although knowing that sometime he would be bound to peek
at her bust.
"Hmm! yes. She told me not to wear a johnny," he confessed.
"Didn't you 'tine?" He tenderly stroked the girl's leg up her thigh to the edge
of her tee shirt and shifted his position and Grace saw a growing bulge in his
crotch.
Ernestine nodded and grinned cheekily, placing her hand on
his.
"Oui Johnny. I told you no Johnny," she giggled, lighting up her
sullen face. "But I am the pill I told you, they are in my bag if you want.
Anyway you are famous?" she squeaked shyly to Grace.
The diva didn't
answer, but rose majestically from her chair, drawing herself up to her full
height and they stared as she thrust out her chest and parted her legs as if
stretching. It was actually to try and release the stickiness of her thong which
had gathered tightly through her cunt lips. Grace took the two paces to the sofa
and sat next to Ernestine. She saw John lick his lips.
"I'm going to make
you both a proposition," she breathed.
Part Two
The music
scorched through the villa. Heady, searching, romantic, lilting, rocking,
lifting spirits and seemingly brightening the already sparkling mid morning
light.
Grace and Ernestine fed each other, improvising, jamming, crying
out chord changes, stamping heavily to change beat, switching from the guitars
and the piano in a frenzy.
John lounged on the sofa, a hand on his denim
clad crotch, not blatantly playing with his dick, but Grace glimpsed him often
making surreptitious squeezes. His head waggled to the beat, his huge feet
jabbed the air and his spare hand slammed on the sofa. He peered alternately at
the two females, seeing the young one's bare legs bending and flexing, the older
one's boobs bouncing.
Ernestine's wild hair like a halo round her as she
shook her head, contrasting with the smooth patina of a now sweaty Grace. The
diva glanced at Ernestine, whose eyes were closed and her mouth hung open,
trancelike as they played a latin riff. Grace nodded and shuddered her body
forward with the beat, her face gleaming with sweat, her ear rings jangling
wildly as she picked the lead. Her nipples were aggravated by the body of the
Martin which was her favourite acoustic, as she felt a climatic surge to the
riff.
"No no more," cried Ernestine, tossing the Gibson onto a
chair.
Grace couldn't believe the way the girl treated her instruments,
but was distracted from her concern by the girl flinging herself bodily onto
John, tearing at his jeans, pulling down his zip and prising out his very large
dick.
It sprung out, surprising and thrilling Grace with its strength and
urgency so soon after his albeit interrupted fuck with Ernestine. Then she
considered the youthful prime of his twenty nine years comparing it gladly to
some of the much younger but drug shot, slack cocked characters she had dallied
with in her colourful past.
The girl leapt at it latching her mouth onto
his knob and sucking hungrily until Grace, who was still not up to speed into
sex since what was for her, a long layoff, realised what was happening. She
unbuttoned her straining shirt and let her mountainous mammaries wobble
free.
John had been watching her even though the youngster was devouring
his cock. He spluttered as the fullness of Grace's upper torso was hefted by her
caressing hands. Tits he had dreamed of holding for years, leered at over
countless videos, were being rolled and squeezed together, pushed up to her
searching tongue, flattened and pulled sideways, being subject to all the things
he would often fantasize of doing with his idol and whose tits were suddenly his
and approaching him across the room.
Grace stood close, her thighs level
with his head, his eyes peering up at the huge globes that hung quivering over
him. His hand reached up and he stroked their undersides until Grace unfastened
her gold belt and unhitched her jeans. As she slowly peeled them down, letting
her thong ride down, rolling its elastic over her thighs until freed from her
hands, John explored all of their sumptuous curves as she stooped letting them
hang over him.
The tiny silk triangle lopsidely remained over the front
of her quim, masking it from John's view, but he was in raptures just watching
the super star's nudity becoming near complete. Grace kicked off her sandals,
stepped out of the denim and stood over him again. Statuesque, commanding as if
it was Madison Square Gardens under her control, she oozed sex appeal. Shaven
shining head, expert makeup, oiled lightly tanned body, smooth skin, enormous
tits with their vast areolae, fleshy but toned hips and waist and long legs, all
made the vision of sexiness complete.
Her body warmth alerted the French
girl who stopped deep throating John and knelt over him gazing at the erotic
sight next to them. John took the initiative and cupped his hand into Grace's
crotch, murmuring appreciatively as he felt the soggy strip of silk and cotton
mix. He grasped the miniscule garment and drew it down, Grace helping by
undulating and wriggling her legs and feet to allow the tight elastic to pass
downwards. He grabbed Grace's thong and rubbed it over his face breathing in her
odours, licking her secretions and groaning with desire.
Grace liked his
tactile approach and stooped. Putting her hand on Ernestine's shoulder letting
the kid snuggle her face into her caresses like a cat wanting to be stroked and
pampered. Words weren't needed now as Grace smoothed her hand over the girl's
face then down over her tiny tits, momentarily envying the hard erections of her
nipples. She felt John's hand feel between her legs and widened her stance to
allow him to clutch her cunt. His finger went straight in and he gave out a
stifled groan from under the threads of silk over his face.
Grace's
breasts swung heavily over Ernestine who caressed the bulk of her massive
milkers. Grace swept her hand down to John's erection that lay along his belly
and grasped it, lifting it vertical and at the same time nudging Ernestine
aside. The French kid slid away compliantly and Grace swung her leg over John,
signalling her intentions to Ernestine, as two frontline players in the group,
now in tune with each others thoughts.
Ernestine groped for John's cock
and held it upright as the diva sank onto it. Grace sighed as she let her sloppy
cunt devour his cock in one movement, letting her achingly hungry mott satisfy
itself with his meat. She sat full weight on John, loving the tenses and
twitches he made it perform inside her cunt as he fondled her hips and stroked
her back whilst Ernestine straddled his knees and embraced Grace.
The two
females caressed and kissed, tongues intertwined, experienced lovers, both at
different ends of the age spectrum but totally in tune. Grace stroked down
Ernestine's belly, seeking her pudenda. A few wisps of hair stimulated Grace's
hand until she groped further to cup the girl's sex. A smooth slit with minimal
labia gave way to her probing fingers and she found the orifice slimy, almost
sucking her finger into its heat. She slipped it out and upwards to feel for
Ernestine's clitty as John started to buck up at her rump.
The little
cherry bud was easily found and Grace flicked it causing Ernestine to jump in
delight as Grace raised herself slightly to join the fuck. Her buttocks slapped
noisily down on John's belly, her fanny sloshed its juices freely over his
crotch as Ernestine cooed, moving with Grace's up and down motions, still
managing to embrace and suckle Grace's wobbling great jugs. The tiny wiry body
of the French girl assisted the coupling allowing the older woman's hand to
fondle her cunt whilst getting seriously fucked.
Revelling in the sudden
upsurge in her sex life, Grace enjoyed the wonderfully stiff prick prodding
every crevice inside her twat. She pondered on the illegality of the moment,
knowing French laws were the same as English in that the girl was a minor. A
very switched on little demon of a minor, Grace chuckled inwardly, watching with
an almost motherly eye as Ernestine wallowed in the pillows of her boobs, which
glistened wetly with the kid's saliva.
But it was not the first minor the
rockstar had known intimately.
There had been the fifteen year old son of
promoter in Johannesburg who she had screwed as his birthday present, at a
request through his father.
The black as coal fourteen year old son of a
roadie in Dallas and more recently a shy twelve year old boy she had literally
bumped into in a hotel corridor in Sydney who looked like he was sixteen. He had
been hung like a sixteen year old Grace remembered and that's what had mattered.
Dressed in his bathers and coming out of the elevator behind two very fetching
teenage girls who swept away from him giggling and without a look in her
direction, she initially wondered if they had been touching him up whilst on the
way up twentyfour floors, such was the bulge at his groin. He had been leering
at their disappearing tight butted rears as he left the elevator, not seeing
Grace and gaped at her without recognition, as if embarrassed at walking
straight into her bosom. He had delayed his exit and she thought the elevator
was empty. Her eyes had swept automatically over him, seeing the swing of some
tasty tackle in the light loose shorts.
Few words were needed to tempt
him into her suite as if to run an errand for her and the rest as they say is
history. It dawned on a now seriously bucking, fucking, wobbling, trembling,
sweating Grace Everson that Ernestine was the first female minor she had had sex
with.
Female lovers yes. Some famous, others not. There had been the
supermodels Naomi and Elle, two PAs particularly an outstandingly beautiful
Russian scholarly girl, Madonna, the three Latino backing singers who had been
all she needed as her sole sex stimulus on her South American tour, Brooke, the
pouting preening but hot Liz in London, but no fourteen year old bitches like
John's waif.
New delights had entered the threesome by way of Ernestine's
hand finding Grace's loaded snatch and flicking at her engorged clitoris. John
suddenly roared and spluttered and she felt his scorching fountain of cum hit
her inner membranes. He certainly was a noisy cummer she thought, but she joined
in with shouts to Ernestine to frig her as fast as possible.
Grace could
cum to order and she rocked her groin down on John's still spouting cock,
milking all she could of his precious sperm. It hit her. Rolling through her fit
body, searing her nerves, stars appearing as she felt like losing consciousness.
Grace clasped Ernestine's head into her cleavage, urging her to keep frigging as
the waves of climax swept through. John was still now, soaking in their combined
cum, groaning as Grace's body rolled on his crotch, obscene almost flatulant
noises were coming from the soaking joint of their sex.
The point came as
always to Grace where she wanted to piss. It signalled the climax of her climax
and some men she had known liked her to piss on them, but it wasn't something
she indulged in without knowing her partner and of course the Lebouef's probably
wouldn't like their expensive sofa to be soiled in such a way.
"Enough,"
she cried, leaning back over John. Her breasts heaved and wallowed round her
sides, making them seem even bigger to Ernestine who had been pushed away from
them. Grace supported herself on stiff arms as Ernestine disappointedly mewed,
her mouth hanging open, her eyes pleading.
"But I aven't cum," she
moaned, in deliciously French accented English, rubbing her own titties, nipping
her teats viciously and then sticking her hand between her legs and furiously
fingering her teenie minge.
"Come and sit on my face 'tine," said John,
beckoning her with a crooked finger. Ernestine jumped round as Grace slid off
his cock which flopped wet and heavily onto his thigh.
Seconds later, he
was munching on the girl's tormented cunt as she rocked on him, driving her
clitty into his lips. Grace turned and backed down the sofa until she levelled
her face with his shaft and delicately she picked it up.
Its soggy weight
comforting in her hand, the glans dribbling still, slicked with white deposits,
the wrinkles of his foreskin gathering round the base of his helmet as its
length diminished. Lovingly she bent to kiss it, pecking at the whole soft
surface, tasting the rich secretions, smelling its powerful odours. Her cunt was
luckily clean and free of the bloody mess she had endured until yesterday, yet
she recalled the Japanese record executive who loved nothing better than to
prise out her tampons with his lips, searching for it amongst her labia and then
slowly munch the swollen wad until he had reduced it to a chewed lump of cotton
then spitting it out.
By then his little cock had grown stiff and Grace
could indulge herself riding it, for hours as his staying power was
exceptionally long. John's cock was shrivelling quickly now, but he was
unconcerned, lapping at his teenage lover's cunt as she built to her own climax.
Grace held his balls and squeezed them lightly, rolling the two inch globes in
her hand until they flopped away alternately, held together by the loose flesh
of his large sac. Ernestine squealed and lurched, her thin frame racked with
spasms as John sucked her to orgasm. She fell forward to join Grace worshipping
John's flaccidity, two females happily licking and sucking on a spent cock.
Sticking his fingers into the French girl's cunt, John happily returned the
complement until he remembered stupidly that he had a super star sucking his
dick. He patted Ernestine's hard rump.
"Darling move please," he
murmured. She did as told, but not without French mutterings and curses which he
and Grace chuckled pleasantly at. Grace wondered what he wanted next and soon
found out.
"Kneel up here Grace," he confidently told her, patting the
sofa. She moved round and placed her arms on the back of the sofa, and arching
her back, presented her butt to the mesmerised John. He gazed at the rich
offering, not believing his luck. His greatest female idol was showing - no,
displaying her cunt and arsehole to him like thoroughbred mare and he bent close
to take in the beauty of a mature woman's genitals.
Full blown labia
folded in crinkly wadges each side of a long slit, which reached almost to the
pronounced lump of her sphincter. Scattered light hair and stubble framed the
gorgeous cunt which was cocooned in the overall darker hollow of her crotch.
Ernestine wriggled round to join him and he indicated with his eyes how pleased
and excited he was.
"Merde!" she whispered in the classic Gallic
expletive and then switched to English. "We must taste it at once."
"No
Ernestine," growled Grace huskily. "I want you here, to taste you."
She
patted the back of the sofa and the kid obediently slithered back up and sat
splaying her legs towards Grace's eager face.
As she dipped her head to
lap at the delicate folds of Ernestine's tender but experienced twat, Grace
shuddered as she felt John's tongue lick through her snatch, finally settling on
her ring. She loved anal, the best exponent she had found so far being Eric the
poetic French soccer player who retired early from playing in England. She had
hopes.
Grace let John explore as she in turn marvelled on the wondrous
variations of pussies. A fourteen year old one had so many years ahead of it
still yet here was Ernestine's neat but well used hole, lips like petals hanging
gently open with all the pink folds and crevices exposed to the mature
diva.
Grace opened it further with her fingers, clearly spotting her
urethra and the dark tight orifice below. The girl cooed, peering down over her
flat chest and belly to see how Grace would use her. She ventured a hand lightly
onto Grace's bald pate, finding it sexily smooth and warm. Grace pressed her
head up to the girl's hand in a gentle recognition of the caress.
Then
she dipped her mouth and sought out her cherry. Ernestine yelped as Grace found
it erect and tender, nibbling it with her trained singers lips. Grace felt
John's fingers penetrate her cunt and pushed back, wanting as much of them
inside her as possible.
Then he pulled them out, but continued to suck on
her pussy flaps. He was quite hesitant she felt. She was right. The fact that
she was a goddess amongst performers and such a big star was making him feel
uneasy about letting go in the manner he normally would. He still wondered if
this was a dream.
"Look John darling," she turned to him, her elegant
creamy tones soothing and encouraging. "You've fucked me already. So what's the
problem? You can shove your fist or your dick anywhere in there you want to, I
don't mind. Or if you just want to lick me out, but do something. This bitch
needs shagging."
He chuckled back at her crudity and realised he was with
a full blooded woman who wanted his sex, no matter who he was. How many of his
other idols had been in this position, worshipping at one of the most desired
cunts in the world he wondered. Had Bowie or Puff Daddy fucked her, had Jagger
or Springsteen sucked her, had Clapton or Santana rimmed her?
He took a
deep breath and smothered his face in her oozing cunt. The menage a" trois
continued silently apart from the lewd sounds of flesh being sucked and licked.
Oohs and Aahs escaped all of the lips.
John found Grace's cunt opened
into quite a cavernous hole and pushed his nose and tongue in as far as he
could. His eyebrows stimulated her clitoris as he twisted and turned getting as
much penetration as he could. It felt at one point she would probably have
sucked his head in and he wondered if she'd been fisted. Yeah! Course she would
have.
Grace meanwhile had a much more delicate approach, which initially
made Ernestine impatient, but gradually the searching lips and tongue of the
much older woman in her worship of the teenager's cute vagina seduced her and
she nipped her teats viciously, at the same time smoothing her hand over Grace's
head.
"Shit I'm nearly hard again," gasped an astonished John. "You're
amazing, both of you to get me going again this quickly."
Ernestine
opened her eyes and leaned over to see. His triumphant face, glossy with Grace's
cunt juice was ecstatic as he proudly waggled his dick to the kid.
"Can I
'ave it this time Grace?" asked Ernestine.
An agreeing nod came from
Grace as the girl was already eagerly clambering down off the sofa. Grace turned
to one side watching her kneel on the sofa, her legs wide as John stood and
hefted his cock at her crotch.
With expert hands, Grace grasped his dick
and washed it round the smooth pussy pouch, at the same time gripping it
strongly as she kissed John. He appreciated this surprisingly tender and
intimate touch and found his strength was growing, feeling that there was
genuine affection for him from the great star. As he aimed his cock head at
Ernestine's teenie twat, Grace crudely stuck her finger into the girl's
arsehole.
"You fucked her there yet?" Grace murmured, ignoring the
recipient's lurch and squeal.
He shook his head and told Grace he had
never fucked anyone in their butt.
She expressed her amazement and then
asked if he wanted to and he nodded keenly, but asked about Ernestine's
feelings.
Grace's response was not verbal. All the time they had chatted
about it, she had been urgently reaming the tightly wrinkled knot of the girl's
anus. It had relaxed and was quite the most tasty looking piece of ring muscle,
Grace had seen for some time. She moved John's dick head to it and pressed it in
as he thrust willingly, excited and ever harder.
His cock bent alarmingly
and suddenly shot in about two inches, making Ernestine squeal like a stuck pig.
She wriggled and cursed, but John aided by Grace's urging and strong hold pushed
on into her fundament. Grace bent and licked round the perimeter of his shaft as
he gradually eased it into Ernestine's asshole.
She whispered to him that
they should have cleaned her first and he gulped, realising what he was
thrusting his precious cock into, but Grace nodded him on, her face expressing
keen-ness for him to pursue their goal. John found the pleasure of sticking his
dick into to a totally new orifice enormous and also guiltily enjoyed the yelps
and squeals of his youthful partner as he pushed further in to her bum. Grace
purred as she helped him enter and start to work up a pace and once satisfied,
she slunk below his sturdy legs and fingered his great ballocks as they walloped
into Ernestin'e's vacant pussy.
The diva's manicured nails sensitised his
sac and made him thrust harder, but he found that the buggerised girl was fast
learning to relax her ring allowing him easier access. Grace's fingers also
traced round Ernestine's cunt lips and pierced them in time to John's swinging
sac and occasionally she would dip her fingers down to the kid's clitty and make
her lurch with surprising joy at the extra stimulation.
From below, Grace
studied John's powerful buttocks flexing, as he rammed into Ernestine's turd
tunnel. She managed to stuff one her fingers between the lurching bundles of
muscle and find his arsehole. John gasped at this new intrusion, as he felt her
digit invade his fundament too.
This made him shove harder at the French
girl's rear and soon he was giving her full length action and realised they were
both enjoying this new venture. Grace salivered at the sight and dipped her
spare hand to her groin, rubbing her cunt with the flat of her hand and flicking
her clitty. She extended the rub through her groin into her ass and quickly
slicked her butt hole with her foaming juices. She had never felt this wet for a
long time and she wanted to be butt fucked too. She stood and tapped John's
shoulder as she watched with satisfaction how hard he had become. The veins on
his cock were hard and pulsing and she also noticed that his gleaming shaft was
clean, showing no residue from Ernestine's bowels.
"I want some of that,"
she growled into his ear.
"Shit! Yes," he gasped, delighted with the
idea.
This was getting better every minute. To be asked, indeed told by
her to give one of the world's greatest rock stars one up the arse was a dream
come true. He pulled slowly out of Ernestine's shitter watching her ring curl
and adjust back to somewhere near its regular shape. As Grace joined the kid, to
kneel on the sofa, John saw small muscular formations, pink and purple in colour
remain in a distorted pattern round the orifice he had just
exited.
Ernestine moaned in protest at her sudden emptiness until she
realised what was happening. She had actually enjoyed the act, once she'd got
used to it. Beside her, Grace's body arched, as she had when John had shagged
her cunt. Her huge bazongers swayed like udders, as she adjusted her butt height
to John's movement. Ernestine slithered under Grace and suckled her teats,
finding there was no bud to grip on, but the massive milkers gave so much scope
for licking. John used his knob end to brush some of Grace's cunt flow up to her
butt hole.
"Give me it hard John," she murmured.
"No fucking
about, straight and hard. I love it."
He gulped at her lewd instructions
and stuck his cock on her ring. The dark crater it was cushioned in was deeply
wrinkled and light matted hairs sprouted over its whole area. Now experienced,
to the point that he knew how easy it was, he took a breath and shoved. His knob
met resistance for a second making his shaft bend banana-like, then in it shot
as Grace suddenly let her muscles go.
The force John was pushing with,
surprised even the anally practised diva, who found she was virtually filled
with his tool. She grunted as it hit the top of her rectum. John stopped on the
first shunt and she was grateful for a couple of seconds, realising it had been
some time since she was stretched to that extent. Ernestine's constant attention
at her gravity dropped boobs was exciting in itself and now she urged John on to
fuck her hard.
He took up the task and shafted steadily, finding the
diva's much more used brown eye allowed him more freedom in varying the pace and
depth, being frightened of hurting the delicate youngster. Ramming energetically
he loved the sheer excitement and exclusivity of what he was doing and how his
mates would never believe him. How could he prove it? He gained courage and
withdrew completely from Grace's gripping sphincter and transferred his dick
into her very greasy cunt. She yelped with surprise and delight as he gave a few
fuck strokes, then again as he reverted to her arsehole.
"You evil dirty
bastard," she groaned lazily.
"I've got to try it Grace," he responded.
"Its all new to me."
"Yeah! I can believe that," she muttered cynically,
but pleasantly. "Just don't stop doing that Okay?"
Minutes later John had
cum, shooting globs of his spunk deep inside his idol's butt hole. She sighed as
he crumpled over her, gasps of his breath proving the effort he had put in to
the anal job. Grace sighed within at the speed with which he had cum, but for
the moments he had lasted it had been pure heaven.
There was a muffled
cry from below and Grace chuckled realising Ernestine was being smothered by the
huge billowing pillows of her boobs where John had increased the weight. She
budged and John slid onto the sofa, to let Grace unveil a flustered and flushed
little French girl. She felt a fart coming on and scuttled to the toilet in the
hall way.
On the way she shouted that Ernestine and John had better clean
up a bit before soiling the furniture any more than it had been. She ruefully
remembered she had seen the odd spot as she saved her own explosion of air
blasted sperm for the bowl rather than the Lebouef's sofa. On joining the other
two, Grace found them cuddled peacefully in each others arms, grinning a welcome
to her as her stately presence loomed over them. They confirmed they had swabbed
around with some tissues and she joined them in a mutual display of caresses and
fondles. They went outside and snoozed and sun bathed and drank some wine and
ate some salad, as they relaxed naked by the pool.
"Now we are on
intimate terms, which usually comes a little later after a deal," giggled Grace,
smoothing factor 10 over her breasts.
"I think we should discuss our
music and how it will develop. I told you earlier I had a proposition. We've had
the fuck now about our music."
"You say our music Grace," said John,
swatting an insect buzzing nearby and leering at the magnificent motions on her
chest. "You mean you want to collaborate with Ernestine straight
away?"
"Of course there is not time like the present and I live on
inspiration such as the last few hours, though I'm not saying sex is at the root
of all my songs, but I feel wonderfully invigorated and the stuff we played
earlier started it. What do you say Ernestine? Are we going to be
partners?"