The Anniversary

Written by molly2610@hotmail.com (October 2000)

The invitation was printed in an elaborately scrolled hand on thick, cream-coloured card. The paper was warm and velvety to my touch. Despite having read them many times already I scanned the words once more:

As two of our most valued customers we would like to wish you congratulations on your Anniversary and offer complementary massages at our private rooms. Please arrive promptly at 5.30pm.

Conran & Associates


I scrutinised Bernadette closely: "Are you sure you want to go ahead with this? It�s not too late to cancel."

"I�m sure," she nodded. There was an excited flush accentuating her high cheekbones and a ruddy gloss to her full lips. She looked serenely beautiful in her simple printed cotton dress. Her glossy hair was brushed clear of her bare shoulders, revealing a milky gleam of semi-baroque pearls strung around her throat.
I smiled wanly: "Okay. Just as long as you�re sure."
I put the car into gear, looked over my shoulder and pulled out into the rush hour traffic. We were both silent during the short drive. As I drove, I thought back to our last visit to Conran�s. Of course, we had talked about it many times. Ending each conversation with torrid lovemaking that left us breathless and too tired to speak

As if by consensus we had never mentioned the first visit to Conran�s. Not even when the discussions had degenerated into argument and accusation. Somehow we both sensed that topic was "no-go" territory. I was not even certain that Bernadette knew that I had observed her first adventure. Finally, after weeks of arguing we had come to the agreement that we would not return to Conran�s.
Neither of us regretted the events which had already happened. Far from it. It had all been an incredibly powerful stimulant to our love life. But the sexual energies we had unleashed that day seemed too overwhelming, too dangerous to risk releasing again. Who knew where they might lead us?

So we had agreed to forget about Conran. At least until the invitation had arrived this morning. We had struggled with it all day. Each of us suspicious that the other had reneged on our decision and secretly arranged a further rendezvous. Eventually we had convinced one another of our innocence. The offer appeared to be a spontaneous gesture from Conran himself. No matter how much we tried to deny it, the idea intrigued us both. We both wondered what he had planned. The decision was inevitable really. Conran probably knew that from the moment he put fountain pen to hand-made paper.

We would return to Conran�s.
We would follow wherever he intended to take us.
Give ourselves over to events.
One final time.

The tyres scrunched on the gravel as we pulled into the drive. The villa looked unoccupied. Wooden blinds were pulled close and the panelled door closed tight. We looked at each other quizzically. Had we misunderstood the invitation? The clunk of the car doors closing caused one blind to twitch. The door opened as we approached. Rachel, the young woman we had briefly met at our last visit stood framed in the doorway, nervously waiting to greet us. Rachel was in her mid to late twenties, standing only slightly taller than my wife�s five foot two. Height was where the resemblance ended.

For other than that they were polar opposites. Rachel�s hair was strawberry blonde with golden sunstreaks. She wore it pulled back from her sharply attractive features in a shiny ponytail. A sprinkling of freckles peppered her nose, bringing an air of robust health and vitality to her smooth skin. Her eyes were an unremarkable blue-grey, but large and filled with an easy warmth as she smiled a greeting. Her body was taut and boyish where my wife was deliciously curved and undeniably feminine. Most of all, Rachel�s breasts barely formed twin bulges in her crisp white uniform whilst Bernadette�s lacy bra, visible through the thin cotton of her dress, struggled to contain her bounty.

Rachel�s voice was soft and mellow: "We�re so glad you could make it. Conran asked me to keep an eye out for you. Come on inside. We�re waiting." We entered the dim coolness of the hallway and turned left into the waiting room. There was a metallic snick as Rachel chained the front door behind us.
It seemed a symbolic gesture. We were both committed now.
Like it or not.

Conran waited at the reception desk. His lanky frame clothed in a charcoal grey, v-necked sweater and beige slacks. It seemed strange to see him out of uniform. His smile gleamed whiter than white against his dark features and two glasses of chilled sauvignon blanc were held in his outstretched hands. We took them eagerly. I could not help but notice that Conran�s fingers brushed against Bernadette�s hand in the process of handing over the wine. "Happy Anniversary," he toasted, picking up his own glass from a silver tray and gesturing Rachel to follow suit.
Our four crystal glasses chimed together. "We thought it appropriate to invite you for a joint massage. We were so pleased you could accept. So relax and enjoy. Everything is organised."

The wine was all gooseberry and blackcurrants in my mouth. It was a welcome respite to the dryness that had started the moment Bernadette had agreed to come with me. We made nervous small talk together. Rachel explained that she had recently become a junior partner in the practice, and understood from Conran that we were two of his most valued clients. Bernadette and myself exchanged knowing glances.

How much did Rachel know about our relationship with Conran? Conran�s expression was totally inscrutable. I examined Rachel more intensely. Was she really as innocent as she seemed? I remembered the flash I had seen behind the two-way mirror at our last visit. Despite my scrutiny, her glowing smile remained ingenuous.

We sipped and chatted until our glasses were drained. Eventually Conran suggested that we retire to the treatment room. Rachel took me gently by the arm and led me away, continuing a barrage of small talk as we walked down the corridor. I could hear footsteps and intimate murmurings behind us as Conran followed with my wife. Rachel opened the familiar door. The room had changed little.

The custom-made massage couch was once again pushed to one side, and the two foam mattresses were laid out parallel to one another - this time placed a few metres further apart. Tatami mats were spread over the wooden floor between them and a large, calico covered beanbag formed a partial visual barrier. I could not imagine the purpose of it, but it had clearly been deliberately placed there.

Rachel distracted me from my pondering: "If you could just slip behind the screen and undress."

My knees were wobbling as I followed her immaculately manicured, pointing finger. A few minutes later I re-emerged, wearing nothing but the Clinic�s robe and a blush. Bernadette was still behind her screen - I could just see her shadow as she took her time undressing. Conran stood by the dresser, eyes narrowed in quiet contemplation.

Rachel knelt by my mattress, a bottle of massage oil beside her. She indicated that I should lie before her. Trying my hardest to hide a burgeoning erection, I opened the gown, lay face down and allowed her to slip it from my arms and shoulders. Making a pillow of my arms I rested my head, facing away from Rachel and the mattress where my wife was soon to lay. The usual towel was draped over my buttocks.

Rachel�s touch was surprisingly firm on the tense muscles of my lower back. She pushed the whole of her weight down through the heels of her palms and into my lumbar spine. A delicious pressure transmitted through my body and into my now very hard penis. I murmured my approval as she continued up through the muscle groups. I stopped trying to analyse what Conran had planned for the two of us and began to enjoy the simple sensuality of the massage.

Time passed. Rachel�s hands reached my thoracic spine, between my shoulder blades. They soon discovered little knots of tensed muscle. She used her thumbs to break up the trigger point. I groaned with the pain.
Knew from past experience that it was a good pain. A pain that would soon pass. Leaving in its wake a new found muscular freedom. She relentlessly pursued each agonising point. My groans continued.

I became aware of an echo in the room. Soft, breathy gasps emerging from behind my head. I recognised Bernadette�s tone and smiled to myself. Conran must be working on her trigger points too. Rachel pressed down hard and a long drawn out "Owww," of my own emerged. When the pain lifted I became aware of a second echo. A husky, decidedly masculine one. Rachel had heard it too. I could feel her grip shift as she turned to look over her shoulder. Her hands froze on my suddenly goose-pimpled skin. Even before I turned my head I knew what I would see. With newly attuned ears the syncopated heavy breathing was glaringly obvious. My neck rotated and the second mat drifted into my field of view.

Bernadette was lying on her back, her legs lifted high and bent at the knees. Her lower limbs encircled a naked, gleaming Conran.
He supported the weight of his body on his outstretched left hand and with his right held Bernadette�s two wrists extended above her head. His slender hips moved in an easy back and forth motion. The breath was eased out of Bernadette at the apex of each stroke. Her back arched high enough to reveal a gleam of light. Conran�s mouth moved in an unheard whisper. She shook her head violently. Lips now parted. Breasts undulating. Conran continued his measured movements in and out of her. Blatantly ignoring her urging feet, tucked behind his knees. She shook her head. Again and again. Struggling to free her pinioned hands. In and out he moved. In and out. He leant forward and spoke close to her ear. Emphasising his point with a sharp thrust of his pelvis. Bernadette closed her eyes and bit her lip. She gave a short, reluctant nod. I suddenly became aware of Rachel�s fingertips rubbing against my skin.

She was unconsciously matching the rhythm of the lovemaking happening before us. Her fingers moved faster and faster, harder and harder. I turned to examine my masseuse�s reactions. Her eyes were opened even wider. Her nostrils flared slightly with every deepening breath. She was plainly aroused by the drama unfolding before us. I could guess at the stage of the plot simply by observing the reactions playing across her features.

Bernadette reclined on the floor. Naked. Eagerly waiting for Conran to start. She glanced over to where her husband squirmed under Rachel�s expert hands. He seemed to be enjoying himself already. She wriggled her buttocks against the cool mat, seeking a more comfortable position and closed her eyes. Conran knelt at her side. She patiently awaited his touch, knowing all too well where this massage must eventually end. The anticipation made her mouth dry. She wished she had another glass of wine.

But once again Conran surprised her. This time there was no familiar chill of oil against her tingling skin. No long foreplay of coaxing rubs over stiff muscles. His palm brushed through the nest of hair between her legs as he confidently slipped his middle finger between her labia. She gasped at his unaccustomed forwardness, lifting her a hand to forcibly brush him away. She never completed her movement.

Conran�s still probing finger had made her acutely aware of her wetness. Despite her best attempts to deny it, her arousal had grown steadily from the moment they had stepped into the villa. The wine and whispered confidences had only added further to it. Her body betrayed its need. She knew that she was already ready for him. And now he knew it too.

So she offered no resistance as he parted her thighs. Scratching the super-sensitised skin with his fingernails in the process. She felt him shift position. Her hand fell limply onto her belly. It lay there. Passively feeling the rise and fall of her breathing.

The restless churning of her stomach. She was once again losing herself in heightened senses and evolving responses. She felt each pearl of her necklace as a separate pressure against her throat. Each exhalation against her nostrils. The heat and male presence stirring between her legs.

The relative coarseness of the woollen pullover as he leant over her to remove it. The pressure of his left hand on the mat as he took up his weight. The roundness of the head of his penis as he guided it between her vulva�s lips. Her pelvis automatically tilted. Adjusting the angle. Allowing him to glide smoothly into her.

She felt her insides stretching. Conforming to his size and shape. Each millimetre of his entry caused her vaginal walls to part before him in a welcoming rush. She contemplated how much pleasure this intense fullness had brought in the past. How much lay ahead of her now. She found herself comparing her body�s reactions. With her husband, they built gradually to immense heights.

With Conran it was just a tempest of hard sensations. All clamouring for her immediate attention. The thoughts of her husband reminded her of where she was. Who else was in the room. What was happening between her legs.

To her great surprise, awareness of an audience only added to her sharp edged excitement. Not to guilt or shame. She knew that it should not. But it did. She turned her head as Conran pulled out from his initial penetration. She opened her eyes to look over at her husband. Unbelievably, he had failed to notice what Conran was doing to her.
The penis slid inside once more. This time tugging at her clitoris as it buried its thick head far into her fornix. Stretching her moistened tissues longitudinally as well as laterally.

A resurgence of intimate pleasure contrasted sharply with the image of Rachel and her husband absorbed in their innocent massage. The disparity added a sense of unreality. For a second she wondered if she was dreaming. "How could anyone be oblivious to this?" she wondered, before a further withdrawal drew her attention back to the figure moving between her legs. In magnificent black and white Technicolor reality. She caught Conran staring at her.

His gaze seemed to bury into her even deeper than his penis. It reached for her soul. Seeking to capture her hidden, most illicit fantasies. To demand that she surrender herself to those desires. Surrender herself to him. Her dreamlike state made capitulation easy. She broke free from his hypnotic gaze and looked down past his broad nose, full lips and firm chin.

She followed the line of his throat to his hairless chest, pectorals bulging at the strain of supporting his own weight. His arms were locked extended, holding his gleaming torso clear of her.
She admired his rippling abdomen, noting the stark contrast between his mahogany skin and her own paleness. She lifted her head from the mat, drawn to see the point of their conjunction.

Past the silky curls of her own pubic hair she saw his shaft sliding in and out of her inner darkness. It glistened and shone. Liberally coated with her own sweet juices. She could not stop herself from reaching out to grasp the shank.

She allowed it to slide between her fingers and nestle back into the confines of her aching body. The springy coils of his pubic hair tickled the dorsum of her hand. His balls bounced against her little finger as she caressed the tender juncture between their two fleshes. She formed her thumb and forefinger into a ring.
A ring that held his penis as tightly as her pelvic muscles the next time he pulled free of her hot cavern. Her slim fingers could scarcely enclose his girth. Conran�s breath caught at her bold action.

Her gaze flicked back to his face in time to catch a fleeting expression of surprise and delight. She grinned like a tigress baring her teeth. Growled deep in her throat. With constant pressure wrapped around his hard dick wherever he put it, he would find it hard to regulate his own arousal. She hated the control Conran wielded over his body and via it hers. She intended doing everything she could think of to break that control down.

Next she lifted her head further, grabbing his breast in her free hand, pulling him down to pursed lips and nibbling teeth. She sucked hard at his nipple, rotating her tongue in tight spirals. Simultaneously, she began to thrust her pubis against her fingers and him. The tactics were working.

Conran�s breathing and thrusting were surely speeding up. Despite himself he was losing control. She increased the pace. Wanting him to come inside her in reckless haste. Wanting to watch his dismay as his careful plans all unravelled. She wanted to come herself. She wanted to both come together. Right now. The first surges began in her groin and she realised that her own orgasm was imminent.

All it would take was a few deep thrusts from Conran. Her fingers moved rhythmically up and down, begging him to ejaculate into her during the impending peak. His penis felt rock-hard to her touch. Heavily engorged with blood and ready to contract. She knew he could not hold off any longer. Her triumph was right at hand. And then it was gone. At the zenith of a thrust Conran came to a sudden halt.

His penis twitched between her fingers and inside her vagina. He had stopped right at the point of coming. And he was not the only one. Her body screamed for release. Felt painfully tumescent and oversensitised at their now stationary point of union. She hissed her dismay. Tossed her head back onto the mattress. Her hips gave little agitated, urging movements. All to no avail. He rose like an obsidian statue above her. Motionless and impassive. She released his penis. Raked her fingernails across his chest as she reached up for his pillar like arms.

Her stalled orgasm left her pained and seeking revenge. If she could not have him now, then she did not want him at all. His weight pressing against her inflamed clitoris was unbearable. She grabbed for him and Conran moved. Faster than she ever could. He shifted his weight to the left side and grabbed both of her wrists in his right hand. The grip was just firm enough to overcome her struggles.

He relentlessly lifted both of her hands above her head, stretching her spine out into full extension. His eyes met hers again, instantly quelling the protest welling up in her throat. His movements might be swift and violent but his eyes were soft and reassuring. She barely heard his whispered: "Let me," but the resumption of pelvic movement immediately soothed her raw nerve endings. She lifted her knees and tucked her heels into the crook of his knees. Widening her opening even further for him. Silently encouraging him to continue.

His swaying gradually increased its arc. Soon it encompassed the full length of his penis. The full stretch of her expanded, fluttering vagina. Her arousal burgeoned again. But the pace of his lovemaking was still agonisingly slow. She conveyed her frustration with tiny pushes of her hips, but he just seemed to ignore her signals. She urged him on faster with her eyes, but still he held back. Finally she abandoned all pretence at subtlety and mouthed:
"Come on."
She feared to raise her voice further in case Rachel and her husband heard her lasciviousness .
"First you agree to whatever I ask," Was his hushed reply.

She shook her head in disbelief. There was no way she was going to do that. But the constant lubricious friction between her legs was intolerably, painfully sweet. She kicked him with her heels. Her actions invoked memories of their first explosive encounter on the massage table. But still he persisted.

She wrestled against his grip. Her every muscle from groin to fingertips tensed and ready to detonate. Her restricted movements served only to increase her torment. She wanted to come. Had to come. Her breath was gasping. Her cheeks were burning. Her insides were turgid and wet beyond belief. She had to come. Conran leant towards her and whispered in her ear, "I�ll come in you when you promise." His words were barely audible amidst the din of rushing blood in her ears.

This time he stressed his point with a foin of his penis. Her vagina convulsed helplessly and with it her resistance crumbled. She nodded in acquiescence. Anything, if only he would go faster. Her eyes closed. Anything he asked of her had to be better than this lingering torture at the edge of release. She waited. But not for long. Conran�s responded enthusiastically. He pistoned into her harder and faster. At long last meeting the rhythm her body craved. The tension in her stretched frame crescendoed. An intense urge to urinate formed between her legs.

She opened unfocussed eyes. Her lips formed a snarl. Teeth grinding together. Fingernails bit into palms. A tsunami of pleasure surged out from the impact site. It engulfed her thighs and belly. Still gathering force, it fanned out over her breasts. Her shoulders. Her throat. Travelling swiftly down the lengths of her limbs it broke into frothy curlicues at the tips of fingers and toes. She gulped for breath as the regular vaginal contractions began.

They glissandoed down the length of her rippling tube. Burst into a symphony of self-indulgence at her clitoris. Her sight went dim. The world became distant. Her heart stopped.
The pleasure had claimed so much of her that she hovered on the edge of none existence. Lost in her petit mort. But her eyesight gradually cleared and a ragged intake of breath started her heart beating faster than ever. She discovered that the repetitive "Oh. Oh. Oh" originated from her own lips.

Any chance of secrecy had long vanished. She just wanted to curl around the delicious feeling filling her body, but Conran was still moving. Still fucking her. Sometime during her orgasm, Conran had released her hands and dropped onto his elbows. Spreading more of his weight over her. She grasped his shoulders and pulled him closer. Close enough to smell his spicy scent. Close enough to taste the salt on his skin. Close enough to bite as a second volley of constrictions flittered across her pelvic muscles.

She sucked and chewed and licked as orgasm after orgasm claimed her. One following another so quickly that they blurred together into one long come. She fought for oxygen. Her head spinning wildly. Her peripheral vision was dancing with silver stars by the time Conran pumped his long hot gushes into her waiting hollow. He retreated, still rhythmically emptying himself into her. Coating every square centimetre of her vagina with his ejaculate. Depleted, he finally came to a rest back inside her depths.

He collapsed onto her. Exhausted. His breath was warm against her ear. Their sweat formed a slippery, cooling meniscus between them. She could feel the aftershocks of her multiple orgasm still trying to milk his emptied penis. Ever so often Conran would respond with an aftershock of his own. His spine flexing galvanically, trying to bury his penis even deeper than it had already been.

Her heart began to slow its pounding. It was over. A scarlet flush tinged Rachel�s cheeks. It spread in a blotchy pattern down her throat and upper chest. Two new buttons appeared on her tunic as her nipples pushed against the soft fabric. Her lips parted slightly, revealing just a tip of pink tongue as she witnessed the final stages of Conran�s lovemaking. The sounds from the other mat turned lusty and totally uninhibited as the pair orgasmed into and around each other. The effect on Rachel was profound. I could feel the tremor in her firm hands.

She looked both excited and embarrassed. Fearful of being caught peeking, yet unable to take her eyes from the scene. At last the sounds stopped. She turned, deliberately avoiding looking at my face and continued the massage where she had left off. She tried her best to pretend that nothing extraordinary had happened. But the flush on her face darkened and spread all the same. I watched Conran clamber first to his knees and then to his feet. Bernadette turned onto her left side. Curled into a tight ball, hugging her knees. Her eyes shut.

Holding inside herself the last, fleeting remnants of gratification. Her hair was tousled and unruly. It fell forward to tickle her nose. She brushed the strand away with an irritated swipe of her hand. Opened her eyes to meet my stare. Her expression was unfathomable. I was distracted by Conran coming towards me with sure-footed purpose.

I regarded his naked form with a degree of envy. His nubian skin gleamed as he walked, his belly flat and taut, his penis still semi-erect. Shiny with secreted desire. He stopped behind Rachel. Even before he placed a hand on each of her shoulders, I could tell that she sensed his presence by the faltering of her massage. His fingertips rested against her without force or pressure, but never the less she rose to her feet as if pulled up by invisible strings. She stood paralysed before him as his fingers continued moving.

Brushing lightly against the cool cotton of her uniform, they followed her shoulders� curves to find the bare skin of her upper arms. She shivered at that first touch of skin against skin. I knew there and then that she was already lost. Just like us. Rachel leant back against Conran as he tenderly stroked her neck and throat. Tracing the contours of her vagal flush with a single finger. Her eyes closed as he systematically began unfastening her buttons. One by one they fell open. Her tunic parted from stiff collar to modest hem. I caught a tantalising glimpse of smooth, golden skin and pale blue panties.

Her belly button was elongated and pierced with a gold ring. A green gemstone gleamed in its centre. Conran�s left hand slipped inside her open dress. It skimmed across her lower ribs and over her flat belly. It teased at the edge of her panties before climbing to fondle her right breast. Rachel sighed. Conran�s other hand grasped the collar of her dress and slipped it over her right shoulder. He leant over to nibble the nape of her neck as he reached to do the same on the other side. Her tunic dress fell in a casual heap at her feet. She appeared impossibly fragile held cradled in his arms.

Her breasts were small and conical with the deepest pink nipples. I could count every one of her ribs on her slender chest, but her ass was well rounded and her legs muscular. Conran�s hands now flowed across her breasts, over her shoulders and down her two sides to rest on her hips. His mouth soon followed, raining delicate kisses down her spine as he knelt down behind her. With Rachel pleasantly distracted, he hooked four fingers into the waist band of her high-legged panties. In one smooth sweep he slipped them down her legs to her ankles. Rachel stood totally naked before me. Her pubic hair was fair and wispy, crisply shaved into an elongated triangle. Sensing my probing eyes, her left hand shifted to modestly cover her pubis.

Her free hand fondled the back of Conran�s head as he nipped at the sensitive skin at the apex of her two buttocks. Conran beckoned for Bernadette to join him. She hesitated so he signalled more forcibly, never taking his mouth from Rachel�s body. Bernadette climbed slowly to her feet. She came towards us. Her bare hips swayed alluringly. Her unfettered breasts bobbed gently up and down.

The string of pearls gleamed and tumbled against her glowing skin. Just before she reached us Conran lifted his lips to speak:
"Sit down on the bean-bag," he ordered.

Rachel started to move but he stopped her with his hand, indicating that it was Bernadette he was speaking to.
Bernadette stopped, obviously unsure about complying.
She looked to me for guidance. I shrugged, unable to offer any suggestions. I was also puzzled. So after a moment�s hesitation, she sat down perched self-consciously on the form-fitting beanbag. She stretched out her legs and primly pressed them together. Her lips were pursed and I realised that she was close to losing her patience.

She hated being ordered around. Conran took his time. His kisses climbed back up Rachel�s torso and neck. He whispered in her ear. Then slowly turned her around and escorted her to where Bernadette sat waiting. He left Rachel standing whilst he bent down to speak to Bernadette. Rachel looked shy and uncertain, not knowing where to put her hands.

Conran adjusted Bernadette�s sitting position, separating her legs slightly and bending them at the knees so that her weight was evenly supported against the beanbag and two firmly planted feet. The thin, angry look had gone from her lips. She was curious again. Next Conran took hold of Rachel�s hands and lowered her gently on top of Bernadette. Her buttocks neatly filled the hollow of my wife�s lap.

Her lithe legs dangled outside Bernadette�s own. Rachel snuggled back into her warm cradle. Their two bodies moulded even closer together. Conran reclined against the edge of the beanbag and began to stroke the younger woman. He caressed and tickled until she giggled uncontrollably. Rachel batted at his hand, pretending to resist. Bernadette too began to laugh, taken up in the childish innocence of their actions. It was a strange sensation having another woman writhing in her lap like this.

The surface of her skin was still tender and exposed after her lovemaking with Conran and although the sliding of their nakedness against each another was definitely sensual, it was not erotic. On a whim, she decided to join in and rapidly located at least one of Rachel�s ticklish spots. Soon both of them were laughing so hard that they had to struggle to catch their breath. It was a while before she noticed that Rachel had stopped laughing. That her squirming buttocks moved with a different quality. Her breathing too had changed. Bernadette could feel the rise and fall of her chest against her compressed breasts.

Suddenly Rachel�s threw back her head, neck extended over Bernadette�s right shoulder. A long, drawn out moan fell from her open lips. Bernadette looked down to see Conran�s hand firmly ensconced between Rachel�s thighs. She already knew for herself what that hand was capable of. A confusing mix of emotions played through her as she found herself an enforced voyeur to this developing liaison.

Then she saw it was her face Conran was watching. Not Rachel�s. She felt even more flustered. As if the nuns had caught her stealing glances at her girlfriends� naked bodies in the school changing rooms. Her cheeks grew hot. Somehow it was more intimate to watch Conran�s lovemaking than to experience it firsthand. For the first time she understood what these encounters had been like for her husband. It was a strange, exotic experience. She was not at all sure that she liked it. Conran pressed his face close to hers: "Remember your promise. I want you to get her ready for me." His free hand took hold of her right wrist and led it implacably downwards. Leaving her little doubt what he meant.

She felt the sharp bones on the back of his probing hand, the tendons moving rapidly as he played a sonata across Rachel. Suddenly his hand shifted from under, leaving her fingertips pressed against moistened folds of female flesh. Flesh that was startlingly familiar but certainly not hers. Bernadette froze. She really was uncertain about this. Rachel, however, showed no such reluctance.

Her breath scorched hot against Bernadette�s neck and earlobe. Her soft: "Mmmm.Mmmm." a regular acoustic encouragement. Her hips flexed. Sending Bernadette�s cautious fingers skittering back and forth across eager wetness. Rachel librated like she had not noticed or did not care about the change of hand ownership. Despite her inhibitions, Bernadette found this responsiveness exciting. So she explored further. Moving her fingers as if she was touching herself. Pubic hair crushed against her sweating palm. Its texture was fine and downy.

Quite unlike her own. She brushed the sensitive nub of an erect clitoris and began to rub her middle finger just below it. Occasionally she dipped further down into the narrow crevice. Briefly extracting fresh lubrication from the warm pool forming there. Rachel�s vagina sucked hungrily on even a single finger.

It was odd, feeling familiar shapes and textures at her fingertips without experiencing the expected volcanic urges. Rachel seemed to like it though. Her responses were just what Bernadette would have expected. She began biting the inside of her lower lip. Reaching up to knead her own breasts. Vainly attempting to bring her thighs together to trap the sensation between. She was panting hard and palpably turned on. Bernadette kept up a steady rhythm, preventing Rachel from closing her legs with her own.

Rachel pushed harder and the increased resistance caused a contraction in Bernadette�s own groin. Their two bodies were linked in a sympathetic synchronicity of motion and sensation. I watched enthralled as my wife deftly masturbated Rachel. Her middle finger regularly vanished into Rachel�s deep cleft. Returning glistening with dew. It vanished and returned. Vanished and returned. Keeping up a firm and insistent rhythm. Under Bernadette�s skilful coaxing Rachel�s vulva unfurled like a pink blossom.

Now, I could clearly see Bernadette�s fingertip flicking into the dark recess of her vaginal opening. My gaze dropped further to where Rachel�s buttocks flattened against my wife�s pubis. I enjoyed the stark contrast between Rachel�s trimmed blonde lawn and Bernadette�s exuberant sable tangle. The planes of their parted thighs cast dark shadows that hid further details. I pulled myself closer. Bernadette�s vulva now unfolded before my curious gaze. It seemed reddened and engorged from her recent sex. Her darker, innermost lips peeked out inquisitively. They were swollen and purple Almost looked bruised.

As I watched a trickle of opalescent semen spilled out from their nadir. Another man�s semen. Conran�s semen. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Conran�s hand on my shoulder was not entirely unexpected. He helped me to my knees, my erection now laid bare. He smiled knowingly.

I knew that I was not the only one relishing the vision before us. "Why don�t you help?" He suggested, pushing me towards the two sybarites. I shuffled forward until my legs brushed the walls of their inner thighs. The milky girl-scent of their arousal filled my nostrils as I leant forward. Conran�s hand pushed my face down to Rachel�s breast. Before I could object a hard nipple squeezed between my lips. Not that objection was ever in my mind. I teased the nipple with my tongue. Sucking gently.

It was much longer than Bernadette�s and the taste was quite different. Sharper, more piquant. Rachel pushed against me as I reached up to squeeze her small breast. I closed my eyes and relaxed. Enjoying the sounds and smells and tastes of our intimate threesome. I could feel Rachel�s heart pounding against my cheek.

A hand, Bernadette�s I thought, briefly stroked my hair. As my belly pressed against Rachel�s, I could feel both the cold edges of her belly-ring and the restless movements of Bernadette�s hand. She continued to masturbate our sandwiched captive. Suddenly sharp fingernails dug into my shoulder. I opened my eyes with the shock. Rachel had again tilted her face towards Bernadette. They were locked in a fierce French kiss. Tongues flicking and exploring each other�s opened mouths. Their eyes were closed. Totally absorbed in their passion.

It was like I was not even there. I felt both jealous and thrilled by their complete enmeshment. Bernadette�s hand rubbed faster. I could feel it trapped between us. My penis responded with a strong muscular contraction that only added further to the aching heaviness in my testicles. As the contraction subsided I felt cool fingers encompass my erection.

I jumped but did not withdraw. The fingers formed a loose circle just below my glans that tugged me relentlessly forward. Who was I to resist as they pulled me closer and closer to the two women lying beneath me? My penis was brushing across female pubic hair before I realised from the angle that it had to be Bernadette who held me. I had little time to relish the experience before a frictionless funnel of flesh enclosed me. Bernadette�s fingers released me. Instead of their light pressure, an elastic tube now slithered over my penis. Clasping its whole surface uniformly tight.

It felt like I was wrapped in warm, vaselined silk. I belatedly realised that the sensation was totally unlike the usual experience of entering my wife. Bernadette had inexorably lead me directly into Rachel�s ravening vagina. I searched the faces of the two women but they were still totally absorbed in their own kiss. I tried to withdraw, but Rachel�s hands grabbed my buttocks and Bernadette now held onto my right shoulder. Sensing my reluctance they acted in unison to pull me closer.

The snug silkiness sucked me even deeper. I knew it was already too late. The buttery warmth and tightness were too much for me. I managed two short thrusts and moaned and spurted. Moaned and spurted. Each pulse of my resisted orgasm seemed to last forever. Waves of pleasure and shame alternated through me as I shuddered and ejaculated into another woman. Staring directly into the face of my own wife.

Suddenly an earthquake began beneath me. I could feel the quivering storm spread across Rachel�s belly. Her thighs gripped against my sides. Her red lips opened wide against Bernadette�s. Her mouth demanding to be penetrated by another�s tongue. She pressed hard against Bernadette�s palm and now still fingers.

I sucked on her nipple as she bucked and railed against me. Even as the last drops of semen and pleasure poured out of me, Rachel�s inner spasms gripped me closer than I had ever dreamed possible. Bernadette ended her long kiss with a now quiescent Rachel. The smile tingeing her lips confirmed my suspicions. She had planned for us both to come at the same time. Using her clever fingers to ensure that I had no choice but to empty myself into Rachel�s irresistible tightness.

We were even, now. Much later, I lay with my wife snuggled close.

Our bodies formed a jig-saw puzzle fit of her back curled against my front. Both of us were replete with post-coital warmth and langour. My hand rested between her legs. Cupping her vulva. It was still slippery with Conran�s semen. My flaccid penis, coated with Rachel�s drying secretions nestled against her warm buttocks. We watched as Conran and Rachel swayed against each other. Conran sat cross-legged with Rachel facing him. Sitting on his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist. She snaked sinuously up and down. Her erect nipples brushed against his chest. Her blonde hair tickled his shoulders as she moved.

It fell in a curtain to cover their faces. Warm blood soon flowed to fill my organ again. Its new-found hardness pushed insistently into Bernadette�s buttock cleft. She responded by rubbing against me and parting her legs. Still transfixed by Conran and Rachel�s lovemaking, she reached down and separated my fingers. Satisfied, she coaxed my penis through the narrow gap. Into her familiar softness.

I lay completely still. Allowing her to slowly penetrate herself with me. I could feel the last remnants of Conran�s cum leaking out past my girth.
It ran down my scrotum as she filled herself to the hilt.

She moved lazily over and against me.
I could feel my penis sliding between my fingers and into her body. When she squeezed me with her strong pelvic muscles I knew I would soon add to the sticky wetness commingled inside her. The thought pleased me.

We had both come full circle and found each other again. We watched and came as Rachel and Conran caressed each other inside and out to a lingering orgasm of their own.
Their backs bowed, pelvises thrusting together, arms outstretched behind them in the final throes. Blonde on Black in perfect harmony.
We both knew it then.
Knew it without speaking.
Our days at Conran�s were finally over.