Chapter Three

Their First Evening Together

It was a sultry evening in the twilight so they walked, talked, found an al fresco place by the waterside and sat down. Table service came; first, they ordered ales and then looked over the menus.

Sappho chose a seafood salad followed by a burger, heavy-on-the-fries, and Jackson followed suit.

“Do you want an ice cream?”

“Yeah, let’s have one scoop of vanilla, one chocolate and one pistachio with butterscotch sauce!”

“Anything else?”

“Erm, yeah, another pint will go down well; hey, Buddy, don’t smirk: I’m eating for both of us ‘coz we’ve got a long haul ahead!!! So, join me, huh?”

“Ok, count me in! Ga’ad, Sappho, you are something else; I’ve never known anyone so real or so much fun to be around.”

“Jackson, you’re helping me and you’re something else, too; so, c’mon, lean over and kiss me!”

Once again, the Regional President followed instructions and, as he leant in, Sappho slid her hand along his thigh, touched the edge of his ball-sac with the tip of her middle finger and, to distract attention, hooked her other arm over his shoulder.

“Let’s finish eating then go: we need to walk-off a few carbs before we work-off the rest!”

They left the diner holding hands but were soon hanging around each other’s waist and their stroll beside the waterfront was cooling on the outside but warming on the inside.

They walked towards the apartment along a shoreline that dipped in-and-out of built-up areas, barred zones, inlets and coves and, on one of them, Sappho urged Jackson towards the railings.

This stand faced the water and, as he moved towards the ledge, she stood behind him pressing her body against his back; it only took a moment for the penny to drop as Sappho reached around and undid his zipper.

Soon, she’d scooped out his manhood, exposed it to the breeze, cupped his big black balls in her small white hand and had taken hold of his cock with the other: then, with her nipples spiking his spine, she started work.

There was no danger of them being seen so, after sliding along his member and feeling it fatten, lengthen and harden, Sappho gave a few long- and a few short-strokes before Jackson spasmed and splashed his coagulate over the edge where it landed in the water with a soft ploop.

“Now, that was original! Sappho, you just did a first on me and I love your mind; where in the hell do you get your ideas and what’ve you got in store for me? Am I safe in your hands, girl?”

“You’re my lover; there’s more where that came from and, pretty soon, most of it’ll be swilling ‘round in my belly. You wanna give it a go?”

“Sure; I wanna give it a go.”

More walking, less talking, more touching got them home where nothing much happened except Jackson spent the next six hours fucking Sappho in every-which-way.

When they woke, Sappho was sore: her pudendum was red and swollen and her man-hole was full of Jackson’s reproductive-lode; beyond, her groin was starched with dried semen and so were her breasts, her belly and her throat. Her back and her thighs were stiff and her arms felt as though she’d wrestled a horse; otherwise, it had been business-as-usual on her lips which had taken a lot of attention.

Jackson smiled as she surfaced; he’d been awake for a while; watching, waiting for her to come back into his world and his todger was behaving like a puppy-on-a-leash; straining to get a run at its new playmate!

“Down boy!” smiled Sappho, “there’s plenty of time for that; good morning, Sir Jackson, how are you today? Did your steed behave like a thoroughbred? Because you sure-as-hell behaved like a jockey!”

“Sappho, you’re complete and a fine addition to a stallion’s stable, except I have only one mare: and it’s you!”

They kissed for a while; held one-another close and wallowed in the comfort they brought to each other.

“Ga’ad, I’m glad I had those extra fries; are we having any breakfast?”

“Sure, let’s hit the shower and go downstairs.”

Sappho wore a flower-patterned micro-dress and trainers and Jackson took chinos, deck-shoes and a polo shirt then, over eggs, bacon, and what the Brits call a ‘plate of heart attack’, they drank lots of coffee and orange juice and felt the world-coming-to-rights again.

“Do you wanna overnight at Timber Lakeside? We’ve got a Lodge up there and it’s only an hour up the road?”

“Ok, that sounds pretty good. Y’ah, let’s do it!”

So, they backed-up to the Penthouse, stowed a few things and Jackson led the way to the Ferrari.

As he opened the door Sappho instinctively raised her dress above her hips and sat with her bare backside on the seat. Jackson said nothing but, by the time he’d got round to the driver-side, Sappho had unzipped the front of her micro-dress, tucked-in the fabric, and let her tits fall out.

“That’s different?”

“Yeah, force of habit; your mare has been well-trained and thoroughly pre-conditioned: you’re getting the benefit. Do you have a temperature control for the seat?”

“Sure”

“Turn it down so you can slip into something cool at the other end!”