Buying the Virgin Box Set Two Read online

  My Master steps out of the car, and Michael almost bounces out, sweeping me into his arms giving me a long, enthusiastic kiss before remembering himself and standing back to allow my Master to greet me.

  My Master is more circumspect, lifting my hand to kiss the fingers. “Charlotte, it’s lovely to see you. Michael has talked about nothing else since your phone call last week.”

  He takes both my hands, standing back to look at me. “You look marvellous, Charlotte.” He winks. “Good enough to eat.”

  Michael says nothing, but the look in his eyes is beyond admiring. He looks almost adoring. but the last time we met, Michael’s parting words, were to say that he loves me.

  My Master, I know, does not love me, which is just as well. Our relationship could become simply too complicated. He is though, my ever-caring Master, and I know that I can trust him utterly.

  “So where are we going?” I ask, like a kid asking for candy. “What are we going to do?”

  My Master grins wickedly. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re going to enjoy our evening together.”

  “Where? What?”

  “I’ve booked the lodge up in the mountains again.” he grins. “But this time I’ve arranged that it will be decked up for Christmas when we get there.”

  “Christmas tree?” I ask, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Yup.”

  “Log fire? Candles?”

  “Yup.”

  “Mince pies and crackers?”

  “Yes, and Michael has packed up a few treats into the back of the wagon here.” Michael beams at this, looking smug.

  I look again at the vehicle. “That’s not your usual car, is it? I don’t remember you driving a station wagon.”

  “No, not usually, but the weather forecast isn’t all that good. I thought if we’re going up the mountains, we’d go in something with four-wheel drive and a decent engine, just in case the snow comes down.”

  Squinting up at brilliant sunshine in a peerless blue sky, this does not seem very likely, but I am not about to argue about it. Changing the subject, I turn to Michael. “So, what are these ‘treats’ you have packed up.”

  Michael seldom says much, but always, his eyes speak volumes. Eyes slightly cast down, but smiling, he simply says “Wait and see.”

  “Come on.” says my Master, rubbing his arms with his hands. “Snow or not, it’s a bit brisk just standing here. Let’s get going.”

  The three of us pile into the cab of the wagon, with me in the middle, sandwiched between the two men. It feels like coming home.

  Above us is a matchless vault of blue, and the sun is warm. Driving through and out of the city, nothing seems less likely than bad weather, but as we get out into the countryside there is the sparkle of frost on grass, and leafless trees stand silhouetted naked against the sunlit sky.

  Up into the mountains, and the weather is colder. Climbing up into the pine forests, the firs are coated with a thick rime and the car crunches over ice rimmed puddles. A little further along the route, and there is patchy snow on the ground, still sparkling in the sunshine.

  But now, the clouds gather and lower, becoming darker, more threatening. Fat snowflakes begin to splat onto the windscreen. At first, they melt, to be swept away by the wipers, but as we drive further along the now rough track, they stick and stay, simply being pushed to one side by the wipers, gathering on the bonnet before melting away from the heat of the engine. Ahead of us, the track vanishes under a deepening white layer.

  My Master smiles at me reassuringly. “Nearly there now. It’s only about another five miles.”

  But as he speaks, the wind is beginning to wail and the snow falls ever thicker. Our headlights simply reflect back from the white-out ahead of us, and as my Master drops into four-wheel drive, I hear the engine crank up harder.

  Michael speaks from the rear. “James……”

  “I know. I know.” mutters my Master. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. But I think we should turn around. We’re so close now, but it’s becoming dangerous, and I’m not even sure I would see the turn off to the lodge. We could drive right past it in these conditions.”

  “That’s alright.” I say. “There will be other times. We’ll stay in the city somewhere overnight. A hotel perhaps. We can still enjoy ourselves together.”

  “That’s my girl.” he grins. And he starts to pivot the steering wheel to turn around.

  The wheels screech and spin, but the car goes nowhere. He reverses gear and tries again, with the same result. Around us, the snow howls by in a fully-fledged blizzard. Night is falling, and visibility is close to zero.

  “Looks like we need some help.” My Master taps a number on his phone and after a moment says “Bob? Yes? It’s James here. We’re trying to get to you, but we’re stuck in the snow. I don’t think we can make it, but we can’t get out either. Any idea on what’s happening out there?” He nods occasionally, listening to the voice on the other end. “Yes…. Yes? Oh, right…. Thanks anyway, Bob. Yes, we’ll stay in contact. No, we’re fine. We have plenty in the car to stay warm with, food, blankets and such.”

  He turns to me and Michael. “Well, folks. It looks as though we’re stuck here for the night. They’ll be clearing the track, but they can’t get through until daylight.” Looking at me. “Charlotte, I’m so sorry. Michael and I had all sorts of plans for this evening, but it looks as though we’re scuppered by the weather. I think we’re going to be sleeping in the back of the wagon, until the snow plough gets through in the morning.”

  Biting my lip, and try my best to seem brave, I ask “Have we got plenty of blankets and things?”

  “Oh yes, Charlotte. Really, don’t worry.” says Michael, placing a reassuring hand on mine. “I packed plenty, just in case. We have everything we need; hot drinks, food, blankets. We’ll be fine.”

  “Speaking of hot drinks.” interrupts my Master. “Why don’t we all have some coffee? You brought coffee didn’t you, Michael?”

  “Oh yes.” Michael rummages in the back and produces a flask, then another. “Coffee…. and hot chocolate and…” He rummages again, and with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “…. hot buttered rum.”

  “Well.” I say, impressed. “We’ve got the situation we’ve got. We’re not going anywhere. So, let’s enjoy it.”

  Michael and my Master both look at me, a little disbelievingly.

  I continue. “We have food and drinks to keep us going. Blankets…. there’s three of us. I bet we can think of a way of keeping warm eh?” I wink at them and they both crack out laughing. They know exactly what I am suggesting.

  I am trying to make light of our situation. However, whilst the car engine was running, the cab was warm and comfortable, but now, with the engine off, the temperature is dropping fast. My breath hangs in front of me in frosty clouds, and my fingers are chilling, the ends white and numb. I rub my hands together, blowing on them to get the blood flowing.

  “Let’s get the blankets out and snuggle up together in the back.” I suggest.

  Michael and my Master have not been exaggerating when they say that we have everything we need. The trunk, accessed from the back seat, because going outside now is unthinkable, produces enough warm rugs and covers for an Eskimo’s convention. With the seats down, and the rugs spread out, we all wriggle under together thick, fleecy layers, still fully clothed. Despite the car rocking in the wind, the whistling blizzard outside, we are snugly inside a kind of furry tent.

  Michael’s provisions include a flask of soup, hot mulled wine, most of a Christmas dinner and, despite having to eat turkey and Christmas pudding cold, after a few minutes, a kind of party atmosphere develops. Hot buttered rum penetrates my cold fingers, and I am toasty and warm right to my toes.

  We lie together under the rugs, Michael to one side of me, my Master to the other. There is not quite enough room for my Master’s long frame to stretch out, but Michael and I are very comfortable. Sandwiched between my two lovers, I am positively c
osy. We are all still fully dressed, but where there is a will….

  My Master is pressed tight up against my back, one hand caressing the curve of my hip and waist through my clothes. Michael, facing me, has one hand on a breast, the other cupping my face as he kisses me. His fingers tangling into my long red locks, his kiss is languorous, leisurely. I enjoy the touch of his sensitive tongue exploring my teeth and lips; the slight roughness of a trace of his stubble, against my softer skin.

  Feeling safe and secure, my libido informs me that it is time for some action. My pussy growing moist, my breathing growing deeper, I want my lovers inside me.

  Behind me, my Master’s erection is pressing into the small of my back. A tall man, he is ‘big all over’ as they say, and everything is in proportion. Under the covers, he hitches up my skirt to reach my panties, tugging them down as I flex my hips and bend up my knees to allow their removal. He pulls them down past my ankles, and they vanish somewhere into the hinterland of our warm nest.

  Despite the cold outside, I am flushing hot, the blush of arousal spreading upwards over my breasts, and a shimmer of sweat washing my skin. In the enclosed space, I can smell both Michael’s piny, spicy scent and my Master’s more earthy, musky perfume, but most of all, I can smell myself, and my own growing arousal, as my pussy wells up hot, feeling loose and fluid.

  Michael is trembling, his heart drumming against my chest. He lifts the front of my pullover and, his cheek resting on my breasts, slips a hand down between my legs to tease my clit from hiding. The blankets fall to one side for a moment, exposing my breasts to the bitter cold outside, and causing my nipples to harden deliciously, puckering to stiff nubs.

  Behind me, my Master is kneading and massaging my ass, his fingers digging in deeply, and with ravishing bites from his fingernails, pulling open the cheeks. A single finger circles my rear entrance, working me, relaxing the muscles before gradually easing inside.

  My pussy is burning, clutching and jerking, and my hips are a-tremble. Michael eases his fingers in further, scissoring open my labia with parted fingers, and stroking my pulsing sex.

  My Master lifts my leg, then eases it forward to rest over Michael’s thigh, allowing them both easier access to me, from front and rear, then slips a second finger inside me. Still working me gently, stretching the skin and the ring of muscle, he makes circles with the fingers, widening me further. A momentary wet chill tells me he had lube with him - in his pocket? - before the two fingers continue their orbits and are joined by a third, stretching me wider and more open all the time.

  Finally, the fingers are withdrawn, and I feel him close up behind me again, probing at me with his cock-head.

  He plunges deep into me and with a gasp, I release the breath I’d not known I was holding. The sound of my own blood rushing in my ears, I wail in time to his thrusting, to the rapturous pain of his penetration of me.

  Michael is working my clit to the rhythm of my Master’s thrusting, with each thrust, tweaking my bud hard enough to match the incandescent pain of my Master’s fucking. The pain shoots through my core, and juices flow freely over my thighs, coating his hand.

  With a grunt and a gasp, my Master comes into me, grinding his hips against mine as he pumps and shudders his release. He almost growls his climax, the sound of it vibrating through me.

  He does not withdraw. His softening shaft still inside me, instead he wraps his arms around me, reaching to lift my leg further, supporting me, splayed open for Michael. Completely pliable now, utterly placid, I simply let it happen. My two lovers may do what they will with me. I am theirs completely.

  But within, the pain still shimmering through me from my Master’s work, consumes me. I want to be fucked again, now by Michael.

  With the easy access given him by my Master, Michael plunges two fingers deep into my sodden cunt, pushing hard inside, reaching forward and scraping over my g-spot. His other hand continues its ravishment of my tortured clit. I want to purr, gasp and scream all at the same time. What comes out is a kind of spluttered yell as waves of electric pleasure ripple through me, in an excruciating climb to orgasm.

  With a savage convulsion, I come and as climax surges through me, I feel the heat of my pussy flooding, scalding juices washing over my thighs as my cunt and belly throb and pulse. Almost before it dies away, Michael is inside me, his exquisite cock spearing me deep and hard, stopping only as it strikes my inner walls. Again and again, he impales me, slamming in hard enough to hurt, but my still simmering orgasm takes the pain and gives me only desire, a sheer lust for more of this. I want only to be fucked, impaled over and again, until this man has fulfilled his need inside me.

  Vice-like, my cunt clenches and clutches around him until, with a hoarse cry, he presses deep into me, hips quivering and jerking, muscled thighs taut against me. I can hear his hammering heartbeat, even over the howl of the blizzard outside.

  As he relaxes and draws back, my Master also withdraws his now flaccid cock, releases my straining leg, and I ease aching hips back into line. Michael kisses me, then lying limply against me, falls almost immediately asleep.

  My Master whispers from behind, close by my ear. “Are you alright Charlotte?”

  “Yes, Master. I am always alright with you.”

  ________________

  I wake to air crisp, and bitingly cold, still layered between my two lovers. The windows are completely frosted over and, when I scrape at the frost with a fingernail, I realise that they are still white on the outside. For a moment, I panic. Are we buried under the snow? But then I recover myself. Brilliant morning sunshine shines whitely through. It is no more than a covering.

  Sure enough, when Michael tries to open a door, we discover that the car, whilst half buried in snow, is by no means inescapable. Brushing frozen snowy chunks away from where they drop down inside, he peers through the small gap of the semi-open door then snaps back around to me. “Get your clothes on Charlotte. There’s a snow plough and people out there.”

  My ‘clothes’ do not take too much getting back on. The only thing I removed in the night was my panties. Finding them is more of an issue in the tumble of our bedding. Nonetheless, in the confined space I locate them, then struggle them on, as a voice shouts out “Hey there. You folks okay?”

  My Master makes a quick check of my state of dress and then winds down a window, more flurries of snow trickling over the edge as he does so. Sticking his head out he yells back. “Hi there. Yes, we’re fine. We could just use a little help to get out.”

  ___________________

  Back at the railway station, my Master bends to kiss me on the top of the head. “See you soon I hope, Charlotte. Sorry it didn’t work out this time.”

  “It wasn’t your fault Master. And yes, of course you will see me soon.”

  I turn to Michael, who looks as though he is about to burst into tears. “You too, Michael. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

  “Soon.” he says. “Yes, soon.” And wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me full on the mouth, only reluctantly breaking away as my Master taps him on the shoulder.

  “She has a train to catch, Michael.” he says softly.

  Brimming with a surge of affection for my golden-haired angel “No Master, it’s alright. I have a few minutes.”

  Stroking my fingers over his lips “Yes Michael. Soon. I promise. I need to visit my family now, but in the New Year perhaps? Before I go back to college?”

  He brightens visibly and looks over at my Master. “New Year?”

  “Perfect!” he replies. “We’ll see you in a couple of weeks then, Charlotte.”

  Turning to go to the station, I smile, reflecting that it looks as though it will be a good Christmas and a very Happy New Year.

  _______________

  Author’s Note:

  You might like to know that there is an audio version of ‘The Virgin’s Christmas’, narrated by Joan Barbara Simon.

  It’s a Freebie, just something we did as a bit of
Christmas fun, and you can find it HERE

  And if you think that ‘When Harry Met Sally’ produced the best ever orgasm, wait ‘til you hear Joan in action….

  One more thing: If you do enjoy Joan’s performance, you may well enjoy her BLOG POST about it, titled: “Why I Have a Woman to Thank for my Best Orgasm Ever.” When I read what she sent it to me, I nearly choked over my lunch. Hint: She was talking about me….

  Part Eight

  The Virgin’s Valentines

  And so, it is Valentine’s Day, and who would I spend it with except my Master and Michael?

  “Charlotte.” says my Master. “You look like trouble, trying to find somewhere to happen.”