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I hate it when he puts his hand on the back of my neck. Usually it means the person I am with doesn’t want me to stop. With my boyfriend Jack, it means he has had enough.

“Don’t overdo it, Keren. Too much of a good thing, eh?”

I pull off him, wanting just once to feel his sticky jizz cascade down over my face and breasts. It has been far too long since that happened. I also wish he would go down on me — I love oral sex — but the admittedly handsome lad who is my latest squeeze thinks it is dirty and demeaning.

He fumbles the condom on as usual — I don’t even get the pleasure myself. I am barely wet and it hurts. Luckily for me it is over in a flash and the thing I wanted to spray all over me is safely contained in its latex wrapping.

Another fumble to get it off, a quick kiss on the cheek and he is asleep within seconds. At least he doesn’t tell me how good it was. As ever, I wipe one out through gritted teeth. It isn’t earth shattering but it is the best I am going to get.

Not for the first time this summer, I silently cry myself to sleep. Another long day of waitressing lies ahead tomorrow, followed by more passionless sex that can barely be described as ‘vanilla’.

Not for the first time this summer, I think, ‘There has to be more than this.’

I wake the next morning to the same thought.

‘There has to be something more than this.’

I ask the same thing each night and each morning.

But it never gets any better.


The end of the summer season was always hell. Things were busy before, but the last few weeks seemed utterly manic as people without kids took advantage of the schools going back and flocked to the area for some late summer sun.

Then there would be a couple of weeks to recuperate and catch our breath before two months of nothing leading up to the festive season. Then all hell would break loose again.

I worked as a waitress in a reasonably upmarket Cornish hotel. I had a degree in modern languages, but no-one seemed interested in giving me a decent, meaningful job so aged twenty-three, I was stuck living at home, doing long shifts and earning a smidge over the minimum wage. I hated living at home — my step-father was a drunken ne’er-do-well and my mother was downtrodden and in his thrall. My friend Tasha and I had briefly lived together in a small flat, but we couldn’t afford the rent, so reluctantly went back to our respective private hells.

Factor in my boyfriend Jack, and it was the perfect storm.

One night, after the madness of the end of season had died down, Tasha and I were sitting in a Newquay curry house, drinking Kingfisher and scoffing lamb pasanda and keema naan. Feeling low, I trotted out my twice-daily mantra to her.

“There has to be something more than this, Tash.”

She shook her shaggy blonde mane. “Not sure there is, Keren. Not for us, anyway. You’ve got an idiot boyfriend who barely knows what it’s for and I’m single again.”

“Thought you and that guy Kieran were all loved up.”

“We were, but he buggered off back to Liverpool. They let him go at the arse-end of the season. Nice bloke, but I couldn’t understand a word he said.”

I laughed. “And that’s a problem because?”

Then Tasha had her moment of genius. “Tell ya what, let’s take off down the south of France until the Christmas season. A few weeks of all the sun, sand and sex two hard-working Cornish lasses richly deserve!”

I thought she was serious, but she was only joking.

I wasn’t joking when I said it was a great idea and ten days later we flew into Nice on a cheap flight in an orange aeroplane, headed east along the coast and settled into a basic but liveable AirBnB.

For three weeks, we got plenty of the ‘Three S’s,’ as we had come to know them. We strolled around town and along the seafront pretending we were sophisticated ladies ogling handsome Frenchmen, then dined on pizza and burgers and drank wine at the cheaper end of the spectrum. In that time, Tasha had five different partners, I had six. I was always the greedy one and after all, I was making up for my lost time with Jack. It was great to feel a cock go off in my hand again after so long and I had almost forgotten how addicted I was to the feel of cum on my skin.

One night, Tasha and I even swapped our partners, though we did it by sneaking into each other’s room in darkness and giving the guys a nice little surprise. My one regret was beach sex. I had never had the courage in Cornwall, despite the numerous opportunities, but here it felt different. However I soon found out that sand and seawater have a particularly abrasive effect on delicate parts of the anatomy and was subsequently out of action for a few days.

During week four, Tasha began to worry about her limited finances and spent almost as much time checking her dwindling bank balance and the cost of flights home as she did on her back, which was saying something. It soon ankara evi olan escortlar became apparent that ten weeks was insanely optimistic and it was going to be five at a push. We would probably have to walk to the airport and pay for the flights on credit cards – or more likely hitchhike home.

At the start of week five, we knew we were a busted flush and decided to go out in style in a restaurant in an upmarket hotel that was probably too expensive for us, but we didn’t care. Whilst our diet had thus far been mainly restricted to things that had lots of toppings or came in a bun, we did know our food. It was only money — or the lack thereof – that kept us from dining in slightly better style. The hotel restaurant back home was well regarded for food and was decorated with numerous rosettes and awards. As waitresses we were given samples of the dishes so we could inform the discerning diners with some sort of authority, so we had expensive tastes but just couldn’t afford them.

We dined on moules mariniere, Chateaubriand and enough Tarte Tatin to sink a battleship. The Chablis was lovely but just about broke the bank. We left sated, with the intention of finding a nightclub, dancing into the early hours and getting laid.

As we left the restaurant, Tasha saw a laminated notice on the window saying they required waiting and bar staff urgently. Experience was necessary, fluent French an essential and other European languages an advantage.

She pointed at the sign. “Fucking no-brainer, Keren!”

I had to agree with her and instead of heading on the pull, we ran back to our digs to e-mail home and ask our folks to send our CVs across forthwith.

We were both fluent in French and passable in Italian and Spanish. And of course, we spoke English — albeit in a strange Cornish accent — but in these parts, it qualified as a European language. We had the necessary experience, an essential language and three other advantageous ones. I could also say a few words in German thanks to a brief fling with a holidaymaker from Munich when I was nineteen, so if ‘fick mich’ and ‘lech mich’ were required, I was the go-to girl.

Our CVs were with us the next morning and we found a computer shop to print them off for a small cost.

We had identical experience and language skills. I got a job offer, Tasha never even got an interview. I said I would turn down the offer and she wagged a finger in my face.

“Don’t you bloody dare, Keren Green. Take the job, give it big ones and have a load of fun and I’ll see you for Christmas.”

I saw her off at the airport and made my way back into town to take up my new post.

I never got back for Christmas and it was a long time before I saw her again.


The work was familiar even if the hotel was a little more genteel than I was used to. That was no bad thing. When stag- or hen-do’s get out of hand it gets messy and this wasn’t the sort of place for that. My new colleagues were friendly and welcoming and I was the sixth nationality on the roster. I was soon well-versed in the little quirks that made the place stand out from my previous places of employment. I enjoyed doing the same old job but in nicer surroundings and in a foreign language in which I was reasonably fluent to start with but was now speaking like a native.

Staff accommodation was in a converted stable block away from the main building, behind a bank of trees. We shared and my roomie was a bubbly, friendly Ukrainian girl a couple of years younger than me named Danica Antonova. We immediately hit it off, which was a relief given the slightly cramped conditions and I took to her husky Eastern European accent and her almost flawless English. She even had a decent attempt at mimicking my Cornish accent, though I struggled with hers.

On our occasional mutual days off we spent days out together in town and she was great fun to be with and helped me settle in quite nicely.

However, my horizontal activity had ceased in the few weeks since Tasha headed home and a shared room was not exactly conducive to bringing people back, even though our shifts were often polar opposites. I had a few potential candidates in mind and wondered if Robert the cocktail waiter would be able to shake me as well as he did a Margarita.

I got my chance to find out when Danica was on night duty and I finished at ten in the evening. I waited for Robert to finish cleaning his station and engaged him on the way back to the staff quarters. He liked to speak English with me to practice and we chatted amiably on the way. His room was on the upper floor and we had to pass my room to get there. As we reached the door, I invited him in for a coffee.

He gave me a hopeful glance. “Maybe a little late for coffee, Keren. I may not get to sleep.”

I opened the door and dragged him inside by the arm. “Exactly the plan, Robert but I don’t mind — means we get to fuck all the quicker.”

It was great to be back in the elvankent olgun escortlar saddle, even after a short break and he certainly gave me a good shaking. So much so, we did it again the next week when shifts permitted.

Our first time had been somewhat frantic, so I decided to take it a little slower and treat him to my almost forgotten oral skills. I had just got into my work when the room door opened and a small figure was silhouetted in the doorway.

A hand flew to her mouth, her sparkling blue eyes wider than usual. “Oops, sorry Keren. They changed my shift!”

If I expected her to close the door, I was disappointed. I lay with my mouth open, hovering over Robert’s erection, not knowing what to say or do. She broke the tension by taking a step into the room and peering over my shoulder.

“Ooh, hello Robert. Wondered who the lucky guy was. Got room for a little one?”

His fingers were stroking me gently but I was barely aware of them and barely heard his whispered, “Oh oui, Mon Dieu!”

I stared at her in horror and amazement as she calmly divested herself of her uniform and smiling benignly, threw her little cap onto her bed. She stepped out of her panties and knelt down beside me, giving me one of her best smiles. They usually lit up the day but at that moment it was the last thing I wanted to see.

She pointed to the erection in my hand. “May I?”

In shock, I held it towards her. “Erm, yeah — knock yourself out, Danica!”

To say she went at it with feral abandon was an understatement. Despite my shock, I registered that she was extremely accomplished and her innocent look was just that — a look. The girl could give head and Robert’s moans attested to her skills as she took him all the way, something I struggled to do. Her bare arm rubbed against mine as she worked and I moved away a little, disturbed at her proximity. She was oblivious as first a thigh, then her shoulder again made contact with me as I was pinned between her and the bedside table. After a couple of minutes of frantic action, she pulled off and held him up to me once more with a little nod.

As I went back down, I suppressed a little shudder as I realised I was sucking up her thick, gooey saliva. My stomach turned over as I tried to match her throating achievement and I pulled off him, gagging. Thinking I was done, she went back to her task at the same time as I did. We both flicked our tongues out at the same time and inevitably there was a brief coming together. We rocked back, staring at each other with wide eyes, mumbling apologies.

There was a moment of confusion as we both indicated to each other to continue on the hapless Robert and this time when we both ducked down in unison, there was a real coming together. My attempt to take his glans in my mouth coincided with hers and we met in an inadvertent wet kiss that had Robert moaning in ecstasy and me recoiling once more in horror. Her hair had brushed my face and our lips and tongues had met.

We both said, “Sorry” at the same time. To cover our embarrassment, she indicated for me to get on board.

“You were here first…”

Relieved, I picked up the condom from the bed and rolled it down on his erection. I straddled it as Danica held him up for me and sank down hoping she would back off and leave me to it for a while. Then I hit her small hand on the way down and stopped dead. “Erm, Danica…”

“Ooh sorry! Just trying to help!”

Her hand seemed to take an age to unravel from Robert’s shaft and her fingers lingered far longer than I liked against my wet folds. At last she moved away and I sank down with a long, satisfied sigh. I tried to put her out of my mind as I warmed to my task again and Robert responded by thrusting up off the bed as he had done the first time.

I froze in sheer horror as small hands gripped my hips and slid up over my ribs before gently squeezing my breasts. I hissed her name through gritted teeth and she let go, her head bowed, trapping her hands under her armpits as though trying to stop them from roaming.

“Sorry, Keren. It felt… nice.”

I took a deep breath. “Maybe for you. Look Danica you can have your turn in a minute. Why not sit on your bed like a good girl until I’ve had a nice ride, eh?”

She nodded nervously and sat down behind me. I resumed my grinding with diminished enthusiasm, now feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Barely thirty seconds later, she did it again, except this time, she put her head on my shoulder. Her hands squeezed gently once more and I felt her hot breath on my neck and in my ear. I was about to elbow her in the chest when she whispered to me, almost in desperation.

“Please don’t make me stop, Keren. It feels so good. I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to stop. I want you to do it to me too.” She gently tweaked my nipples between her fingers and thumbs. “Please let me convince you!”

Despite the situation, I almost laughed as Robert moaned etimesgut sar─▒┼č─▒n escortlar below me. “I am not wanting stop either! Deux jolies filles! Oh mon Dieu, ne t’arrete pas!”

I shivered for a moment then forced myself to admit that her tiny hands felt good against my breasts and when she tweaked my nipples, a little electric shock had run all the way down to my nether regions. Her body was soft and warm as she held me and the smell of her newly-washed hair and musky perfume assailed my senses.

Decision made, I looked at the digital bedroom clock. It had just ticked over to 22:27. “Ok, Danica — you have until 22:30 to convince me. If I then tell you to stop, please stop.”

At 22:35, Danica Antonova straddled Robert’s face and I took her in my arms for the softest, gentlest kiss imaginable. It felt like a butterfly’s breath and I was so glad I had not told her to stop.

She took my face in her hands. “Thank you, Keren. Does it feel good now?”

I kissed her on her cute little snub nose and grinned. “Not sure. Let’s do it a bit longer — in the interests of science, you understand. Would you care to swap places?”

“Keren – can I… can I lick you while Robert takes me from behind?”

Robert and Danica’s moans of delight as he sank into her was matched by mine as a tiny, shaggy-haired blonde girl lapped at me with a long, flexible tongue. Her hair was so soft against my thighs, her fingers so gentle on my labia and clit. It was all too much for Robert. Given the circumstances, he had lasted well and apologised to Danica as he shot his load into her as she bucked back against his insistent thrusts before being rammed back hard against me.

He pulled out and Danica slid up my body for a sticky, wet kiss. I tasted myself on her lips then went down on her for my first taste of another girl. From the first moment I lapped at her slippery wetness, I knew it would not be my last.

We came in unison, mouths clamped together, fingers darting down below while Robert watched on in sheer astonishment.

Later, when he was gone, we lay in each other’s arms. She touched my face. “Thank you for letting me go on. I’ve wanted to do that for so long but never had the opportunity. You’re so pretty, Keren. It was wonderful and I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”

I held her to me. “I’m glad I did, Danica. It was wonderful for me too, and you are so lovely. I think tonight has been a bit of a revelation.”

We kissed for a long time. When we parted, she gave me a shy little smile. “My friends call me Danni. I’d like it if you called me that.”

I thought for a moment. “My schoolfriends had a nickname for me and I quite liked it. You can call me Greenie if you like.”

Her big eyes glazed over as she stroked my face. “Hello, Greenie!”

A little shiver went through me as I reciprocated. “Hello, Danni. Shall we do it again?”

Over the next few weeks, we did it again and again and it just got better and better. I had never even thought about doing it with another girl and when she came on to me, I was appalled. Then I realised just how good it felt and went with it. Thereafter we were barely parted and each night I was on duty with Robert, he would watch me like a little puppy-dog in the hope that I would whisper two words to him.

“Ce soir.”

We still had the odd night with him alone when our shifts clashed and the threesomes got better as we got more used to the dynamic, but I relished the time we spent together more. Two girls getting to know each other and the joys of Sapphic sex from watching things on the internet and copying what we saw. We soon outgrew our little travelling comforters and began to order more robust forms of female entertainment from discreet sites. Within a month, our favourite pastime was scissoring with a magic wand clamped between us. If Robert was there to suck on while we did it, all the better.

I never got home at Christmas and I apologised to Tasha. She was not too bothered — she had landed herself a plumb job at a ‘restaurant with rooms’ on Dartmoor in Devon and boasted that it had a Michelin star. She was the assistant manageress and had a new boyfriend — the junior sommelier.

She laughed down the phone line. “Seems weird, Keren, don’t it? Off we go down to France and I come home and you stay. I fall for a Frenchman on me own doorstep and you end up with a girl from bloody Russia or somewhere!”

Although I loved Cornwall, surfing on the Cote d’Azur on Boxing Day just about edged a cold dip at Newquay. The festive season was much nicer in France and it rekindled my enthusiasm after the soulless, commercialised circus it had become back home.

As the New Year was upon us, Danica and I were inseparable, but I detected an undercurrent. Something was not quite right and she was not her usual, bubbly self. I let it ride and didn’t want to press her, so put it on the back burner.

Then one night, as I lay waiting for her to return, the room door opened and I heard muffled giggling and shushing noises. She was up to something. She sat on the bed and took my hand, her face illuminated by soft moonlight.

“Hey, Greenie — got a little present for you.”

“Ooh, I like pressies. Watcha got?”

In answer, she wrapped my fingers around an erect penis.

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