Brown, Berengaria - Vivienne's Vacation (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 4

  Frank came out of the bathroom saying, “The hot tub is on and filling up. Let me just grab some supplies, and what do you say we move this party into the hot tub?”

  “Good plan,” said George, helping Vivi out of her chair and leading her into the other room.

  While Frank put the laptop bag in easy reach of the tub and tipped bubbles and scented bath oil into the water, George drew Vivi into his arms and gently kissed her lips. Then with hands so slow and gentle and completely different from the raw scene of a few moments ago, he unzipped her dress and helped her out of it. As he kissed the sensitive place where her neck and shoulders joined, Frank moved behind her and unfastened her bra. George’s mouth moved down to kiss the hollow of her throat, and his hands slid over her shoulders, pushing the bra strap off her arms and dropping it to the floor.

  Meanwhile, Frank pulled her thong down her legs then off over her feet. George turned her slightly so she could watch Frank hold the scrap of lace up to his nose and inhale deeply. Vivi blushed as Frank said, “Delicious.”

  The men settled her in the tub with her leaning back against the side and themselves cross-legged in front of her.

  Frank took her hand in his and smoothed circles across her palm with his thumb then lifted her wrist to his mouth and kissed it. Slowly, he sucked one finger after the other into his mouth, sucking firmly on each one before letting it go and sucking in the next one.

  Vivi was surprised to feel her stomach muscles clench at the promise in his eyes of what else he would be kissing and sucking just like this, but later.

  Meanwhile, George picked up her foot and mimicked Frank’s motions with her toes. Vivi’s heart beat faster as the men trailed their fingers along her skin, one up her arm and the other up her leg. Two male heads bent and placed soft butterfly kisses along her limbs, and Vivi’s breathing hitched as need coiled tight inside her and her pulse rate accelerated even further.

  Just when she was expecting fingers or even a cock in her pussy, the men let go of her and moved back to the other side of the tub.

  “W-What? I would have come the moment you entered me,” she said.

  “That’s the whole point, Vivi,” explained Frank. “The longer you hold off having an orgasm, the higher you will fly when you eventually come. Each time we build you up toward release, you will start off from a higher place and go still farther. When you finally climax, it will be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.”

  “Guaranteed,” added George.

  Oh, yes. Eli said that, too. And someone else. Caleb, maybe? Or David?

  And the men proceeded to lean back in the tub and talk to Vivi about everyday things.

  Five minutes later, they resumed their touching and caressing, and just as they had promised, she was instantly hot, wet, and needy. This time, they each took a breast, kissing, licking, sucking, teasing the slopes of her globes and then the nipples. But once again, when she was on the brink of coming, they moved away.

  They repeated the procedure a third time, and then when they came to her the fourth time, she grabbed a handful of each man’s hair and said, “So help me, if you don’t fuck me this time, you’ll both be bald!”

  Laughing, they flipped her against the side of the tub, pressing her cunt over the jet so the bubbles hit her right on the clit, then they proceeded to tease and stretch her anus, to play with her pussy lips, and to slide their fingers inside her cunt. But they never gave her enough to let her come.

  Vivi was shaking and sobbing with need when Frank sat in the center of the tub, slid a condom on his wide, fat cock, then pulled her down over it, sliding deep inside her, stretching her walls and making her sigh with the relief of being filled.

  Meanwhile, George slathered his condom-covered cock with waterproof lube and squeezed more of it into her ass as Frank held her tilted onto his chest, his cock still firmly ensconced inside her pussy.

  Then George pushed past the tight ring of anal muscles and into the hot depths of her rectum. Frank held very still while George worked his way right inside, and Vivi reveled in the hot, tight feeling of being full to bursting with two cocks.

  Very slowly, they started to move inside her, occasionally kissing her neck, shoulders, breasts, or lips, sometimes touching her ribs or breasts or nipples, but always stopping before she reached a peak. Gradually, the men moved a little faster, a little harder, touched her more purposefully, while Vivi thrashed and moaned, desperate for release. Finally, they both plunged hard into her, slamming to the hilt, and two hands pinched her nipples. With a long, loud scream, Vivi came, shaking so hard she thought her bones would break, in an orgasm that powered through her for what seemed like minutes. Her toes curled, her entire body shook like a tree in a storm, and Vivi almost passed out under the intense pleasure.

  She recovered to find herself being held by one man and patted dry with a big, fluffy towel by the other. Then she was carried into the bedroom and tucked under the comforter, and two men pressed kisses to her eyelids, saying, “Sleep now. You’ve earned it.”

  * * * *

  When Vivi woke late that morning, it was to find no evidence of the night before. And she realized there never had been. Each morning when she’d awoken, the room had been spotless. No discarded condoms or empty tubes of lube. No towels dropped on the floor. Her room was always left perfectly neat, so she almost might have imagined the night before, except for a certain amount of soreness in various overworked but oh-so-grateful muscles.

  * * * *

  Later, sitting in the restaurant eating a delayed but delicious breakfast, Vivi acknowledged she’d come to some decisions about her life over this past week. She would go ahead with a piercing, but of her bellybutton, not her nipple. She wanted something she could display to friends as a sign of this vacation. A visible symbol of the emotional progress she’d made.

  And she would look for a man to form a relationship with. Maybe just a fuck buddy, but maybe also someone she could talk with and share her life with. Or maybe two men—one for fucking and one for talking.

  Whomever she met, she knew that she’d passed some kind of test and was ready to really live her life from now on, not just to watch life pass her by.

  Vivi raised her glass of orange juice in a toast. “To Adam, Ben, Caleb, David, Eli, Frank, and George. You wonderful men gave me a truly superior vacation, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.”

  PART II

  Chapter Five

  Vivi sighed and stared at the faces of the teenagers sitting with her around the dining table in their shared house. She had a new batch of young women and was trying to teach them the basics of budgeting and cooking cheap, nutritious meals. All of them were stick-thin, and every one of them was terrified of gaining an ounce of weight.

  “I understand all that, but if you want to be healthy, you need to get a certain level of nutrients each day. Taking a stack of multivitamin pills will do that, but it’s quite expensive and can be a worry, as taking some pills make other pills not work properly and can even make you sick.” Vivi looked at the young faces again and was relieved to see at least some of the girls nodding.

  “So a much cheaper and safer way of getting the nutrition you need is to eat one meal every day that’s got a lot of the vitamins you need in it, and I can teach you some recipes that will do that. Also, we can make up a batch of recipes one day a week and freeze them in meal-sized servings, so you only need to grab a box out of the freezer and put it in the microwave for a few minutes, and you’re good for the day, all the rest of the week.”

  “But won’t we need to buy all sorts of fancy stuff at the store to do that?” asked Rylee, a sixteen-year-old Vivienne hoped would return to school next semester. She was a bright girl and deserved a chance to pass enough classes to graduate.

  “Not necessarily. Pasta, rice, vegetables, and some lean meat are what we need. We have a range of herbs and spices here in the pantry and can add a few shakes of this and that if you want to.”

  Vivi
dropped a pile of recipes into the center of the table and watched the young women start to look at them and become animated. They really were quite good kids. They simply needed someone to give them a gentle push in the right direction.

  Sitting next to Rylee was Mikayla, another sixteen-year-old, but one who had seen far too much of life thanks to an abusive family situation.

  Chloe, Payton, and Genesis sat on the opposite side of the table—all seventeen and not one of them with the literacy and numeracy skills of an average fourth grader. The hardest part of teaching them to cook would be getting them to understand the words and quantities involved in even simple recipes. Teaching them to budget was going to be even trickier. Thank God they all had cell phones with a calculator function.

  At the end of the table was Neveah. A tiny little thing, she was supposedly fifteen, but Vivi doubted that. Still, with regular meals and a safe place to sleep, maybe she’d grow some and talk a little more, too. Vivi wasn’t sure about her story, but she was willing to bet it hadn’t included much time at school or guidance in life skills.

  Nice kids, but this batch is gonna be a hell of a lot of work!

  * * * *

  Vivi’s job required her to be on call for the young women in her care 24/7, but once a month, a relief couple moved into the house, and she had four days and nights of freedom either in a place of her own choosing or in one of the apartments provided by the organization that employed her.

  A new charity had recently been established where troubled young people would live on a farm out in the country, a long way from any town, and learn how to get their lives back on track after recovering from addictions, abuse, or leaving the juvenile justice system. Vivi had been offered the chance to spend her four days off there this month and was excited at meeting colleagues and seeing new possibilities for “her” kids.

  It was only a four-hour drive, but the property was not signposted—deliberately, Vivi guessed—and instructions like “the third track on the right about ten miles from the T intersection” were not all that helpful.

  “Dammit, is that the road I need or just someone’s driveway?” cursed Vivi as she drove slowly past a pair of gates. Another mile on, with no more potential tracks, Vivi realized she should have turned and had to travel yet another mile before the one-lane road was wide enough for her to safely turn a one eighty and go back.

  Once through the gates, Vivi drove slowly along a narrow dirt track for what seemed like forever but was probably only another couple of miles until she passed a tumbled-down shack, which was her signal to go to the right.

  She’d followed a pair of barely visible wheel ruts for maybe a mile when she crested a low hill and a large house came into view. It looked very pretty, with a lake on one side of it and a large barn on the other. Neat vegetable gardens were laid out behind the house, and rows of fruit trees were farther back still.

  Vivi drove down the hill and into a courtyard area in front of the house. A wide-roofed porch had comfy chairs, a porch-swing, and several small tables on it. And standing up from one of the chairs was the yummiest man Vivi had seen in a very long time. Such a shame he was way too young for her, though. He had to be twelve or fifteen years younger than she, at least six feet tall, and a solid wall of muscle from the clearly defined calves underneath his knee-length shorts to the top of his shaggy black hair that was just begging her to run her fingers through it.

  Unbuckling her seatbelt, Vivienne glanced in the rearview mirror to check she wasn’t drooling before opening her car door and climbing out.

  Mr. Yummilicious bounced down the porch steps and extended his hand to her. A big, strong, tanned hand with sturdy fingers that enveloped her smaller hand infused her with a heat that soaked right through to her bones.

  “Vivienne Carstairs? I’m Ryan Elliott. My partner, Boyd Williams, and I have been looking forward to your visit. We want to show you all around the property and hope our venture will help you in your work.”

  Partner! Well, damn! They way he said that word it can only mean one thing. Why are all the best-looking ones always gay! And just when I’m ready for some sexy action and he makes every one of my cylinders rev right up, too.

  Vivi dragged her mind back to the present and her hand out of his clasp. “Hi, Ryan. Good to meet you. The program you’ve got here sounds really interesting. I’m looking forward to everything you’ll show me.” Damn, that sounds a bit double entendre-ish! Get your mind out of his pants, woman!

  But she couldn’t miss seeing the rather large package he had tucked inside those long shorts. Or the muscles rippling across his chest under the tight T-shirt he wore. Not to mention the ones in his arms as he gathered her luggage and easily lifted it up the steps onto the porch.

  The house was large and rambling, like so many old buildings, with hallways and rooms leading off at odd angles with no apparent logic, but it still had an aura of warm welcome. The polished hardwood floors shone, bright, cheery rugs were scattered here and there, and the living area included a circle of deep, soft, squishy armchairs.

  The kitchen gleamed with modern appliances and was presided over by a smiling, middle-aged woman with gray hair, twinkling blue eyes, and an ample waistline hidden behind a crisp white apron. “Call me Molly, dear. Coffee is always hot, those muffins are just out of the oven this morning, and there’s plenty of fresh fruit in that bowl,” she said, waving her hand at the various items as she mentioned them.

  “Thanks, Molly. When I’ve put my luggage away, I’ll be back for some of your coffee. And a muffin,” she added, seeing how much Ryan was enjoying the one he’d snagged off the platter.

  “The north wing is for the guys, and their bathroom and bedrooms are over there. The girls are all in the south wing,” said Ryan, heading to the lake side of the house. “The living areas with the kitchen and dining room are in the middle. Boyd and I have our rooms at the front of the house with the business office.”

  Ryan stopped at one of the rooms. “We’re trying to establish trust here. The door has a bolt, so you can bolt yourself inside if you wish. The desk drawer has a lock, so you can put your valuables in there. But we don’t have security cameras or external locks on the rooms. The pantry is never locked. Non-prescription drugs, tobacco, and alcohol are absolutely banned on the property—all the property not just inside the house. But if someone wants to leave, they are free to do so. However, should they choose to leave, for many of them it means they forfeit their chances of assisted rehabilitation and will have to go it alone. Integrating back into society, finding a job, supporting yourself without advice and help is tough. But if the young people make that choice, we’re not going to stop them or report them to the authorities.”

  “Yes, I noticed there wasn’t even a cattle grid on the track in here. I wondered how you’d stop someone driving off.”

  “We lock our own cars, but the tractor and other farm equipment keys are hanging on a hook in the office, so anyone can access them as they need. It’s all about building trust, responsibility, and self-esteem. Anyway, we’ll talk about all that later, and at length. For now, unpack your suitcase, have your coffee, then come back to the living room, and I’ll take you around the rest of the property and show you what we’re attempting to do here.”

  * * * *

  Vivi unpacked her small suitcase, feeling grateful that she didn’t smoke and could live without alcohol. In fact, the rules were similar to those in the house she ran. Their aim was to build into the young people self-confidence and a sense of self-esteem, and that was better achieved without using crutches like hard or soft drugs.

  And just looking at Ryan was giving her a buzz much stronger than one she’d get from a glass of wine, anyway.

  “I wonder what the other man, Boyd, looks like?” she mused as she put her underwear in the chest of drawers. “Lucky I brought my swimsuit. That was a fluke, but the lake looks pretty, and the weather is warm enough at the moment to swim.” For a brief second, she rested her hand on h
er bellybutton, feeling the little heart jewel she had on her piercing.

  Vivi placed her empty luggage in the closet, locked her purse in the desk drawer, tucked her pajamas neatly under the pillow, then walked back to the kitchen.

  A gangling youth of some seventeen years was sitting at the big table, three muffins on a plate in front of him and a huge glass of milk in his hand. He swallowed hastily, bobbed his head, and mumbled, “Hi, I’m Freddy,” before taking another gulp from his milk.

  “Hi, Freddy. My name’s Vivienne. I’m here for a few days to look around.”

  “Yeah, Boyd said you were coming. I’m learning all about fruit trees. You treat an apple tree quite different from a grapefruit tree, ya know. I’ll take you out on the tractor and show you tomorrow, if you’d like,” he said earnestly before shoving half a muffin into his mouth.

  “I’d like that very much. I don’t know much about fruit trees at all. What other trees do you have?”

  Vivi filled a mug with coffee from the pot, took a plate and a muffin, and sat beside Freddy as he talked about the orchard. As well as three different types of apple trees and the grapefruit, they had oranges, apricots, and macadamia nut trees and were planning to extend the orchard and try out some more varieties of trees.

  Freddy gulped the last of his milk, took his glass and plate over to the sink, thanked Molly, nodded to Vivi, and loped back outside. Vivi finished her coffee then copied his actions before going back to the living room to meet up with Ryan.

  Vivi paused on the threshold of the living room as her breath caught in her throat. Ryan might be Mr. Yummilicious personified, but the man who was standing beside him, likely Boyd, was Mr. Sex on a Stick. Maybe an inch or so shorter than Ryan’s six foot plus, this man was a little leaner but with defined muscles, very fair hair, and light blue eyes sparkling out of a tanned face and framed by the crinkles of laugh lines stretching from the corners of his eyes almost to his ears.