MF/MF (Consensual)

By Kim Couples

Copyright 2003

You hear so many stories about how things go horribly wrong. Rachel had heard them too of course but there was something irresistible about an adventure so outrageous. If the worst happened, her friends and her colleagues at the polytechnic would be stunned. "So unlike her, so out of character", they'd tell each other. "Had no idea she was like that." Her family? Well her mother didn't really understand the Internet anyway and an Internet assignation on this scale would have been such a shock to her that it didn't bear thinking about. Anyway, this was private; a new dimension in her life and she spent much more time on the possibilities she'd day dreamed about for weeks.

She checked in and the clerk asked, "Have you visited New Caledonia before Madame?" in such a routine way that she just muttered "No" and left it at that. As the porter took her single suitcase to the elevator, her eyes searched the lobby incessantly. "Could that be him? It could be. Perhaps he's grown a beard since the photograph. That must be him!" Her heart raced. The only acknowledgements were brief stares or moments of roving eye. Nothing unusual.

She was delighted to find that her room overlooked the sea. The beach was just across the road and she was shocked to see that all the women in sight were bare-breasted. She knew the custom but she'd hoped that a bikini bra wouldn't be out of place. It was the same around the hotel pool below the other window. It was another turning point. If that's what the women did, she would too. Time to be outrageous. Anyway even at 32, her firm, small breasts still looked more attractive than some she could see being paraded below her. She glanced at hers in the mirror, and tossed her head in a way that on old flame once described as "incredibly sexy".

Unpacking took a disappointingly short time, so she picked up the hotel folder, read the bit about the spa and gym but flicked through the rest. Suddenly, with just four minutes to go, the anxiety took over. "He'll turn out to be some smooth manipulator, or have horrible breath or stubble, or, worse, be nice but boring." She revised the 'escape' plan and the clock made a slight click as it moved to 2pm. He must be there, waiting for her now.

She edged through the door at the poolside five minutes later. There were several families and couples near the poolside bar and her spirits rose when she discovered a man sitting alone on the other side. He just looked a bit like Alan. It had to be Alan. But he merely glanced at her. She asked for an orange juice, all the while turning to make herself fully visible. No response. She sat, her throat dry, her heart pounding, staring at the man on the other side while he returned to the local newspaper. Alan spoke a little French, perhaps he could read a French newspaper! But the doubts were too much. He looked older than in the photograph - perhaps mid thirties. Had he lied to her about his age? No it wasn't him. Then he looked up, sought her out and stared for a moment, not exactly in expectation, but it was enough for her to stand and cover what seemed like a mile between them. "Alan?" The response was crushing.

"No. Sorry." He glanced back at the paper.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm waiting for someone. I haven't met him yet. I thought you might be him."

He smiled. "Well I wish I was him but my name's James. You on holiday?"

"Yes. I'm from England."

"I can tell. Ah Suffolk, I think."

"Surrey, I guess that's close."

"I'm Australian - Sydney."

She relaxed a little, but she was still embarrassed and wasn't sure why. "I know", she almost whispered as she left him. "Sorry to have disturbed you." It was now half past two. She felt that cold fainting feeling of shock. He wasn't coming and she'd come so far.

In her room she poured a brandy. If he did come, he'd check for her at reception. But it seemed unlikely that he would now. Much more likely, she was the victim of a cruel and pointless hoax.

At three in the afternoon of the next day she gave up. He wasn't at the poolside, so he hadn't just confused the day. James the Australian wasn't there either but he smiled at her when they passed each other in the lobby.

"Did your friend arrive?" It was the obvious thing to ask but she found it humiliating.

"No. I don't know what's happened to him."

There was an awkward pause. He must have seen that she was upset.

"I was going for a drink", he said looking her in the eyes. "Like to join me?"

"Thanks but I have to go out." Her voice was wavering.

"Okay but anytime. You alright?"

"Yes, fine. Thanks."

She chose the promenade above the beach, struggling to be positive. She still had five days in this wonderful place. She was alone, but she could handle that, and anyway she hadn't had to change hotels to evade a disastrous relationship. And there was James. She marvelled at the speed of the windsurfers, some of them turning end over end, but she was back inside within ten minutes.

"That offer of a drink still going?" He looked genuinely delighted to see her and put aside some official-looking papers he'd been reading. The papers surprised her. They just didn't go with the sandals and Hawaiian shirt.

She introduced herself and he offered his hand with a grin, but remained seated.

They were almost alone and the conversation began easily. Before long, she sensed a shared and unspoken surprise that two people from such different countries, who'd met so briefly could talk with such ease about so many things. He was some sort of business adviser, combining business with a few days holiday. Divorced. (It was the travel.) She enjoyed the conversation, his interest in her and his maleness; his eyes, the soothing voice and easy smile, even the regular glances at her breasts. Yet at the end, she was disappointed. She'd hoped he'd invite her to dinner and bed was definitely in her mind, but he suddenly looked at his watch and said. "I had no idea how late is. I've an appointment. Great talking to you. Hope I'll see you again soon." The touch of his hand on her arm excited her for a moment, and she was alone.

She ordered room service and decided that, as a romantic adventure, the trip had so far been a failure. She was depressed. After dinner, the television offered her the strange experience of an English soap opera with French subtitles. She turned it off to re-focus on being positive.

By nine, she was in the bar again. It wasn't something she would have contemplated doing alone at home but this was different. James might come in, and if he didn't, she could always compromise her plans for adventure with what her English girlfriends called window-shopping. A table of Australian couples invited her to join them. They were easy company. After about an hour she found herself deep in conversation with Paul, who seemed to be part of their group, but alone. He was about 10 years younger than Rachel, full of energy and good humour. She began to warm to him. He seemed to know things but to have experienced little. Like an academic, but younger, she thought. Before long, they were shutting everyone else out; answering their interruptions courteously but as if they were pre-occupied. And they were.

Paul's foot touched Rachel's. She pressed back and they grinned at each other. He touched her hand tentatively and the understanding between them was complete.

They were in the lift within minutes. Leaving together had made it perfectly obvious to everyone what they had in mind. She even noticed a smirk or two, but on that night she didn't care. She wasn't in Noumea for the life she lived at home and Alan had let her down. James, who'd shown so much promise, hadn't returned. Anyway, these were people she would never see again.

"I feel like the older woman," she said as the electronic lock to her room turned the light to green. "your Mrs Robinson." She saw it as establishing her authority rather than putting herself down.

"Come off it," he said, "You're not that old."

His confidence seemed unreal, like a series of moves he had planned. He drew her towards him and they hugged. His kisses were on her cheek and neck, but affectionate. She could feel him harden against her and her own excitement was rising. She wanted him and she could sense his lust for her. He would probably come within minutes, but surely this young buck could be encouraged to rise again if needed. She would teach him how to satisfy a woman.

He began to undo her tight red top. She smiled and undid his shirt. She had his shirt off and belt undone by the time he had revealed her black lacy bra. He stepped out of his jeans and she turned to let him unfasten her. He slipped his hands under the cups without removing them.

"Nice." He hugged her, still holding her breasts and she snuggled into him feeling the bulge. She began to tingle inside. Her nipples hardened and he parted his fingers to accommodate them.

He whispered in her ear. "Let's do it."

She faced him. "Don't be so impatient. Let's have a shower together first." She had other plans too but thought it best not to give him the full list.

"Okay." He stripped off self-consciously and she reached down. He stiffened as she touched, stroking the head, then the muscle underneath. She said nothing but smiled approvingly.

The shower relaxed him. The conversation became animated again. They enjoyed soaping each other and the laughter, especially when she tried to straddle his firm erection so that they could embrace from head to foot. It worked until she couldn't stay up on her toes any longer.

Her plans for a drink, conversation and music came to nothing. Soon they were on the bed with the sheets pulled back. She sensed suddenly that his awkwardness wasn't just because she was so much older.

"Know what to do?" she asked, handing him a condom.

"Sure." But he was clumsy. When he had it on, he moved over as if he was about to enter her.

"First time?"

"No. Well, it depends on what you mean by sex really."

"I was a virgin once too you know. You have a lovely male body but you need to slow it down a bit. Do you know how to use your tongue on a woman?"

"I've never had any complaints." She smiled at the ambiguity and guided him down. With some help, he did well. She held his head as the tingling returned. He kept going.

"That's good. That's good. Don't stop." She ran her palms over his smooth shoulders and back then through his hair. She began to pant, rocking her legs to grip his body then release it. Now she wanted him to fill her. The tingle had become an ache. But she wanted release too and it was close. He began to kiss and suck her, as if committed to her pleasure. She arched her back and came.

"How'd I do?"

"Brilliantly."

"Big one?"

"Not huge, but it was exciting sharing it with you." He was hard against her leg and obviously desperate to mark his rite of passage by sliding into her. She was about to encourage him but thought better of it.

"A woman needs time to recover."

"Sure. I'm not desperate or anything."

She pulled him up towards him and they kissed on the lips. "Was that really the first time you've done that", she asked.

"No, I did it in my Mum's car with a girlfriend once. She didn't come but she liked it."

"And then you just drove home?"

"No, she got herself off with her finger while she watched me do the same with my hand. It was real sexy."

"And you didn't go all the way?"

"Didn't have a condom. And we split up after that."

She squeezed him. "You're a gentleman."

"Not really."

She held his head so that she could look into his eyes. "Ready to come into me?" He nodded. "Take it slowly." She was enjoying being the coach and felt it best to play it cool rather than show how much his smooth skin and firmness were exciting her.

His tip was at her entrance. She parted her lips for him and he slid in surprisingly slowly, then stopped.

"What does that feel like for a woman?"

"It's not easy to describe. Kind of complete, very full, especially when a man's as big and hard as you are." She realised that it sounded patronising. He didn't seem to notice. "Stroke me for a bit. Try not to come just yet. You'll enjoy it more if you take it quietly."

He was commendably controlled, but it was his first time. She loved the stroking, but she knew he couldn't last and just lay back to take satisfaction from his ecstasy. Within a couple of minutes he was sweating, then his eyes gave him away. He paused, and she felt the spurts inside her.

After a few minutes he withdrew from her, slid the condom off and held it up to the light; clearly impressed with his achievement. She almost laughed.

They sat together propped up with pillows and talked. Around midnight he seemed in no hurry to return to his room and she put her hand down to find that he was hard again.

They coupled hungrily. Panting, thrusting, kissing, sweating; their bodies slapping together. He came first of course and well before she had a chance to peak. They lay together for only a few minutes before he slipped out of her, then the bed and bent to kiss her breasts. As he dressed he said, almost formally, "That was great. I'll remember being with you for the rest of my life."

"I should think so. When do you go back to Melbourne?"

"Tomorrow. Early."

"Good luck. You're a sexy young man." She turned over exhausted as the door closed behind him.

The telephone woke her just after eight. In the haze of tiredness she thought of Alan first. She imagined a string of apologies. But it was James. She sat up quickly.

"I'm off to a village about 50 kilometres from here. I was wondering if you'd like to come along. We'd have to leave about nine."

They chatted happily as his rented Peugeot negotiated the narrow sealed roads. Driving on the right was an unnerving experience for her at first but she was buoyed by the lust of the night before and James made her welcome in his own casual way. She'd decided that Australians don't tell you how much they enjoy your company, they just treat you like a mate - in the Aussie sense of the word. It was all very comforting.

The village seemed like several they had passed and his business there took less than 10 minutes. She stayed in the car and he didn't mention anything about his conversation the elderly villagers.

He took her to a deserted sandy beach for a picnic lunch. They sat on a rug from the car, eating sandwiches and sipping champagne. He was so different from young Paul. Genuinely confident, relaxed, with a modest authority. She could imagine him at a boardroom table giving advice to Pacific businesses - but in his sandals and shorts. He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, openly admiring her face and breasts, without saying so. Her own glances were almost furtive.

"Bring your cossie?" Then sensing she might not understand him added, "For a swim."

She had. The full bikini, and she would swim too. Not just because the water was invitingly clear. She wanted to shed clothes with him. Well, some clothes anyway.

"The locals usually don't wear anything." He smiled, leaving her to decide.

Behind the car, she slipped the bikini on, but she was tempted to toss it back in the bag and run naked into the water. He kept his revealing underwear on and they cavorted happily in the warm, crystal surf without mentioning the local custom again.

They sang along with the American songs on the radio on the way back to the hotel. He had another meeting that night but as she was about to return to her room he said, "I'm taking a special trip tomorrow. It's to an island and it will take all day. Like to come?"

The tiny island was ringed with white sand. On the northern end, an old lighthouse with its patchy white paint provided an odd contrast. The island was beautiful. So was the yacht. A friend's, he said. The same friend owned the northern half of the island. The rest was open to public access, though they hadn't seen anyone else about or even other boats anchored. They fished side-by-side at the stern, about 50 yards offshore.

"Is there a lighthouse keeper?"

"No, it's not used now. My mate and his business partner decided to keep it. Well, it's not any easy thing to dispose of is it?"

She caught the first substantial fish and he pronounced it big enough for two.

Instead of cooking it on the yacht as she'd expected, he ushered her into the dingy and within a few minutes they were climbing the worn concrete stairs of the lighthouse; with him carrying the fish and a hamper he'd brought from the hotel.

He'd given her no warning of what was ahead and she'd wondered why they would take the fish up to what she pictured would be a stack of broken lenses. But the lenses were long gone. Instead, the new owner had installed a small but luxurious apartment, complete with moveable blinds, and, obviously, air conditioning. It was open-plan to preserve the view.

She sat in one of the leather recliner chairs and gazed around her while he prepared lunch. She noticed he knew where things were. The other striking observation was the bed. Now, it seemed to dominate the apartment.

"Come here often Mister?" she asked, only partly playfully.

"Many times," and he paused, "I've done a lot of writing on that table."

Lunch was memorable. He'd overcooked the fish but the hotel's contribution was superb and as they sat close together looking out to the sea and islands, it occurred to her that she was blissfully happy.

After their coffee, the conversation seemed forced and trivial. Perhaps he was as preoccupied as she was. Then he touched her arm, as he'd done in the hotel. She turned, and it happened. Immediately they were lovers. Lips on lips. Their arms around each other. She was almost tearful. They stood to clear the barrier of the table.

"I want you to make love to me," she blurted, stepping back for a moment.

"I'd like that." Then strangely, it seemed to her, he pulled away and cleared the dishes from the table. But she used the moment to find her bag and handed him a condom.

They stripped and cuddled naked, still standing. "Let's do it right here," she said, pointing to make it clear that she meant near the windows not on the bed."

"Someone might see us." He was obviously amused at the prospect.

She thought it possible, but unlikely. "They'd need a boat, and anyway, so what, a man and a woman making love. It's the most natural thing... Come into me," Her juices were flowing and the need to have him inside her as she looked out over this magical place had taken over everything. She put her hands on the window frame and reached under her to help him in.

He was holding her breasts as he stroked her gently inside. She felt she was displaying her nakedness to the world. He leaned down and kissed her shoulders and neck, still stroking her. His warm breath, the repeated tender kisses and the exciting, but faint, possibility of being seen, aroused a passion and energy she had never felt with a man before. She was torn between wanting to wrap her arms around him and continuing this experience she would remember forever. She felt the heat inside her, spreading throughout.

He stood straight, took her hips and thrust into her. Not vigorously, but sliding fully in, then out, over and over again. Neither said a word. They were experienced love-makers practising the art they knew well.

Eventually he asked, "How's that?"

"Great. Keep doing it." They were now wet with exertion.

She helped him bring herself to her peak, determined that she would experience the full pleasure of sex before the lighthouse, the island and the gentle Australian were taken from her. The climax was enormous and followed closely by his vigorous thrusts and the spasms of his body inside her.

They made love again later that afternoon and spent most of the journey back to Noumea with their arms around each other.

As you might expect, they slept together in her room over night and even talked of meeting again, perhaps in England.

Then it happened. She had ordered breakfast and the phone rang almost the moment she replaced the handset. This time it was Alan. She mumbled hello in a flat, unwelcoming way, then just listened.

"I'm real sorry. Bit of a misunderstanding over my passport when I got to Singapore. I'm still here. Spent a few days in Changi jail. Sorry. Is it too late?

"Yes, it is." And she put the phone down.