Chac Mool – Part 4

By | December 10, 2007

AlexSuze.comFour centuries gives a house character, charm and the kind of beauty that gets tourist camera shutters clicking. It does not make for a warm house, especially in an English winter. The windows are draughty and the doors never quite fit the frames. Which is why all manor houses have fires with hearths that would accommodate half the daemons in Hades.

It was November, clear cold nights and chill north winds made the nights cold and eerily bright. The days were short and chill, the pale yellow sun seemed to barely raise itself above the horizon. The fires in Moorcroft Manor blazed with an intensity that threatened to melt the grates.

It was late afternoon, Jane paced around the house. Being away from Bill was even more unbearable than last time. In New York they had been apart only a few hours. Today Bill had been gone since early morning and she felt like she might explode. She had started the day by kissing Bill goodbye, then burying herself into documenting the scrolls from Mexico for the museum. But by noon her attention span had contracted to a point where any scholastic endeavour was impossible.

So now she waited, restlessly roaming the manor.


Bill had waited in the terminal for far longer than he would have liked. He missed Jane. Not being able to reach out and touch her, smell her, taste her whenever the feeling took him was beginning to drive him wild. The flight was delayed, headwinds apparently.

Airports are bad enough at the best of times, but if you’re heading off, embarking on a journey, there’s a reason for you to enter those secular cathedrals of concrete and duty-free consumerism. If you’ve just landed your only concern is that the baggage handlers didn’t choose to play football with your luggage before dumping it onto the carousel. You snatch it as soon as you can and make your exit.

But waiting for the arrival of a late flight is the height of tedium. Bill’s mood turned from mild displeasure to hissing anger as the minutes ticked by. He wanted, no needed, to be back at the manor with Jane. So when he spotted the blonde-haired girl lugging her suitcase through customs it was to his credit that he managed a smiling welcome, even if it was through gritted teeth.

Bill persuaded her suitcase into the boot of his DB4 with a combination of brute force and persistence, then they were off. She gripped the sides of the seat as the car slewed around on the narrow country roads just out of London. The smooth leather of the upholstery affording little purchase. Her short skirt kept riding up her nyloned thighs, Bill smiled lasciviously at each flash of white flesh.

Bill drove like one possessed, he misjudged a left-hand bend, the Aston’s back wheels breaking away, tyres complaining as they lost adhesion. Bill caught the slide, caressing the walnut and aluminium steering wheel, feet dancing on the pedals. It was only the deep transmission tunnel that stopped his passenger sliding across into his lap. He reached for the gear knob and brushed against her knee, she withdrew it, but only after hesitating.

Bill exuded dangerous animal energy. The sensible half of her wanted him to slow down and stop soliciting disapproving looks from the residents of the sleepy villages they sped through. The other half, the half that had been reawakened in her only two weeks before wanted him to thrill her.

It was that part of her that lifted her right hand and slowly slid it into his lap. Her left hand slid her skirt up exposing white panties, moist with anticipation. Her fingers dipped inside massaging her tingling clit. Bill watched the shape of her hand move under the cotton of her underwear and savoured the sensation of his own hardening sex being massaged by her fingers. He sniffed the air, it was heavy with the scent of her arousal.

She smiled. Her hand left her crotch and entered her mouth.

Bill’s right foot almost pushed the pedal through the floor.


Gravel showered the steps of the porch as the Aston Martin shuddered to a halt at Moorcroft Manor.

Jane had been listening for the distinctive note of the engine and already stood in the doorway.

Bill and his passenger got out and greeted her. Bill kissed Jane, running one hand through her hair, the other squeezing a breast. “We got back as soon as we could.” He said, eyes betraying a fevered desire.

Jane looked over his shoulder to his passenger, “We’re so glad you took us up on our offer. Welcome to Moorcroft, Kathy.”


Bill and Jane led Kathy upstairs to her room. It had been furnished when the house was built and little had changed in four hundred years. Dark wood predominated making the room dim and moody, the fire burning in the wide hearth bathed the room in flickering yellow-orange light. The sun was setting, its red glow adding to the warm syrupy light.

Jane led Kathy to the window by her hand. “It’s a beautiful view.” said Kathy. Jane’s hand slipped around Kathy’s waist. Kathy felt an electric tingle run up her spine, her breathing became more rapid. Kathy turned towards Jane and placed her hands behind Jane’s shoulders. Jane pulled her close, their lips met.

They undressed each other in the deep red glow of the setting sun, watched by Bill. His already rampant desire welling up, the animal half of his mind overwhelming the intellectual to leave only primitive carnal urges.

The two naked female forms walked hand in hand to the bed. Bill’s clothes too were gone an irrelevance to his primeval mind a barrier to sensation, unnecessary adornment to an already powerful deeply masculine form.

Jane and Kathy kissed each other, running their hands over every inch of each other’s bodies. Bills arrival on the bed separated them. He divided his attention between them, tasting both of them as they in turn tasted him, smelled him.

His hands ran over backs, buttocks and thighs, probing feeling and squeezing. Fingers dipped into moist warm pussies, he tasted their wetness and so did they. A mouth encircled his cock as another drew out his nipple with painful suction, teeth biting then a tongues caress.

Shudders of contained passion rocked the mass of limbs and torsos that they had become. They ceased to be individuals, they were now a single being of three bodies, one third male two thirds female.

He was hard and huge the first pussy to accept him had never been filled so fully. She lay on her back, heels against her buttocks screamed her appreciation. Her pussy stretched as his huge member was pushed slowly but remorselessly inward. He thrust, slowly at first but eventually with a power and speed that rocked the bed. His other lover clambered onto his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder, arms around his chest, riding him like a bucking beast.

Soon she came, impaled on him, but he was not sated. She quivered and moaned as her climax filled her like an explosion in slow motion, waves of sensation rippling back and forth through her body. He withdrew from one lover and turned to the other who had slid from his back. She lay on her side. He lifted one of her legs and slid into her. Wet as she was she too found his size a challenge to receive but a challenge she eagerly accepted.

His hips drove his cock into her. He felt alive, invigorated, reborn. At first it had been only at dawn when this overwhelming energy had filled him, now it was every minute of the day, and it was becoming stronger. Her hands clawed at the bedsheets, her eyes rolled. She came, covering his cock in a river of glistening fluid. He pumped wave after gushing wave of cum into her. Their groins welded together as he ground into her. His cock was hugely sensitive, painfully so because of his orgasm, but his lust compelled him to continue to grind into her, rubbing himself inside her swollen sex growling deep in his throat.

He lay between the two women, recovering from his exertions. He was not tired, his new found boundless energy meant that he hardly slept now and was never still when he was awake. He was content for now and could find peace simply staring at the whitewashed ceiling and letting his mind drift. But the desire would return soon enough.

His contemplation was only disturbed when two tongues began to lick the mingled fluids from his still semi-turgid cock.


By eleven that evening Kathy was alone in the house, her new home. She looked out of her bedroom window and watched the two dark feline shapes in the moonlight disappear into the wood at the end of the garden. They would return by morning.

Until then she could amuse herself with a little solo play. She was content as she slid into bed and sought out the pink bud between her legs, and found herself purring gently.