Written by Molly (August 2000) firstname.lastname@example.org
My tentative footsteps echoed on the bare boards of the wooden floor. For a moment they seemed loud enough to drown the sound of my pounding heartbeat. The room we had entered was very familiar, but not from this particular angle.
The lissom, blonde receptionist who had greeted us at the front desk was anything but familiar. A nametag on her crisp white tunic top indicated that she was called Rachel. Rachel had ticked off our appointment in a heavy, leather-bound journal and escorted us through the empty waiting room with a welcoming if curious smile.
Excitement tinged Bernadette's words: "Isn't it wonderful?"
She grasped my hand and pulled me further into Conran's treatment room. Rachel closed the heavy panelled door behind us with a decisive snick. The pastel walls, the antique dresser, the tall cast-iron candelabras, even the silvered mirror on the vaulted ceiling were all instantly recognisable.
Only one thing had changed. The complex massage couch had been rolled against one wall and replaced by two parallel, sponge mats on the floor. Two towels were neatly folded at their heads next to two flat pillows. I tried to look suitably surprised and impressed under Bernadette's questioning gaze.
I nodded as she added: "This will be the best present ever. You'll see�"
Her fingers reassuringly squeezed mine.
Conran stood by his dresser. Silently observing our interactions, the expression on his striking, sable features totally unfathomable. He lifted one, long fingered hand and indicated the pair of Japanese paper screens. "Please step behind the screens and change whenever ready."
There was a mahogany, Edwardian coat stand behind my screen. Hanging from it were two brass coat-hangers and a thick towelling robe. I kicked off my shoes and balancing on one leg at a time, slipped off my socks. My hands were shaking as I unbuttoned my shirt and draped it over one of the coat hooks. The belt buckle defied my clumsiness, and I forced myself to pause and take three slow, deep breaths.
"What is Bernadette up to?" I wondered, for the umpteenth time since she first told me of her plans for a joint massage at Conran's.
I was not going to find out by hiding behind this screen. Shaking myself free of indecision, the jeans rapidly joined the shirt. The air was pleasantly warm. An unexpected surge of modesty led me to put on the towelling robe before divesting myself of my tight underwear. I could not resist a furtive look up at the ceiling mirror, but no matter how hard I squinted I could see nothing but the room's reflection.
The lights dimmed. I heard match-heads scratch on sandpaper as Conran lit the candles. The mellifluous Voice of Enigma flowed from hidden speakers. By the time I emerged from behind the shielding screen a hypnotic drumbeat was already going strong. Bernadette had beaten me to it and was already at her mat.
She lay on her back, hands casually entwined behind her head. Her voluptuous breasts gleamed unashamedly golden in the soft flickering light. A towel was draped over her pubis. Her robe was nowhere to be seen.
Bernadette's easy nakedness only served to make me even more self-conscious. I held my own robe tightly closed as I crossed to the other mat, a scant metre or so away from hers. I was acutely aware of two sets of eyes on me as I slumped down on my stomach, untied my robe's belt and undulated out of it. I threw the robe to one side in a crumpled bundle and hurriedly used the towel to cover my naked rear. I hoped the candlelight hid my blush. Bernadette smiled a Cheshire Cat smile.
"Who would wish to go first?" asked Conran.
"I will," said Bernadette. Her voice was quiet and sure. Her almond-shaped eyes pierced me with an intensity that I had never seen before. For a moment I felt like a moth spiralling into one of the candle-flames. Then her gaze flicked onto Conran, her expression becoming softer and more inviting. She spread her arms wide and rested her head on the pillow. Her breathing was slow and measured. I could not take my eyes from her. I knew that she knew that.
It was all part of her plans.
Conran moved across the room with the grace and effortless power of a caged black leopard. An electric tension filled the narrowing space between them. I was relegated to the status of a clumsy, earthbound spectator of their numinous linkage.
Conran stood astride her like some Nubian colossus. He looked down on her nakedness with proprietorial interest. Her eyes confidently held his gaze as he lowered himself to a kneeling position. His taut butt pressed lightly against her. His legs folded neatly each side of her body, holding her clasped in a supine position.
Bernadette experienced his confining weight as a welcomed burden. She had no intention of trying to escape. Instead she closed her eyes, wishing to focus her whole attention on what was to follow. She was confident that her husband would be doing enough looking for both of them. His eyes had positively bulged when she first told him of the Birthday present she had organised. The first drops of oil dribbled onto her d�colletage were surprisingly cold. A small shiver of shock and excitement rippled through her.
She could feel Conran's weight shifting against her pelvis as he worked. The earthy scent of the essential oils filled her nostrils as it warmed on her skin. When his first touch came, it was achingly erotic. It engendered vivid memories of her unexpected reactions last time they had been together. Her nipples formed twin rosebuds and a sweet warmth began to swell between her tightly pinned thighs.
His first sweeping effleurage strokes brushed the scented oil into a thin tide that washed over her breasts and swirled around her twitching belly. His touch became more resolute as the lubrication spread. His fingertips seemed to sink below the surface of her skin and meld with the underlying muscles. Her whole body began to pulsate as he moved relentlessly up and down her torso. Her breathing slowed and she found herself suspended in a dreamlike reverie of tactile sensuality and sybaritic memory. A delicious wetness threatened to quench the fire that had grown between her legs.
I watched as her seduction continued. My head rested comfortably on a pillow formed by my forearms. From my close observation position I could see every nuance, every frisson, every tumescence of their coupling. I could witness Bernadette's distracted look. Her brown nipples standing proud of her oiled breasts.
Her head nodding synchronous encouragement to his massage. I could see Conran's laconic smile as he adapted himself to her responses, allowing his hands to linger on her most erogenous areas. He tilted his body forward, allowing himself to slide suggestively back and forth against her pubis. Her pelvis responded with strong upward thrusts, and for a moment I thought they were going to lose their last remnants of self-control. I became acutely aware of my own erectio
n, pinioned uncomfortably beneath me. I looked down, wondering if I might discretely reach down and adjust myself. But before I could move I realised that they had already parted company. Conran climbed to his feet, stretching his long limbs. Bernadette turned to face me with that intensely piercing look again.
Her glistening breasts were heaving but her voice was rock steady: "Now it's your turn."
I decided that perhaps this was not the time to be fiddling with myself and gave her a weak smile in return. What was she up to?
There was a sudden weight on my upper thighs as Conran squatted down. Next there came a gentle pressure as he rested one palm on my lower back. A soothing calm began to spread through me. He moved his hand to the right side of my ribcage, just below the shoulder blades.
Another palm joined the first on the other side and he began to roll his weight forward onto his palms then back onto his heels. On then off. On then off. In perfect time to my breathing. His hands slowly moved downwards, a palm-width at a time. Muscular tension drained out of me with each exhalation. I began to feel totally, absolutely relaxed.
Next he used his thumbs to rub in tiny spirals each side of my spine. The pressure slowly moved up my thoracic spine and into my neck. Breaking up any remnants of muscular knotting. I could feel his weight pressing against me. My mind's eye was suddenly flooded with images of our last visit. His beautiful black body moving in time to Bernadette's pelvic thrusts. Bernadette's fine features contorted in orgasmic rigor. I became aware of Conran's penis pushing against my ass.
I could not help but wonder what it had felt like when he pushed into her for that very first time � had she just accepted it as the natural conclusion of their passion? Or had she tensed rigid with self-consciousness and guilt? Did her emotions change when she felt his warm flesh sliding further inside? Pushing against her receptive, innermost flesh? Conran shifted his weight and my fantastic musings ended.
His thumbs were now pressing firmly into two spots in my loins. It was almost painful in its intensity. I could feel electricity running up and down my spine. It was as if my whole nervous system was becoming charged. The energy began to localise itself in my lower abdomen. My trapped erection grew even tenser. It felt like a bubble was going to burst deep inside me. I had never felt arousal quite like this before.
It all stopped. Conran lifted himself from me.
"Please turn over. I need different oils," was his curt explanation for his departure.
I lifted my head and shook it. I was vaguely aware of him walking over to the dressing table. My limp muscles responded reluctantly. I raised myself onto two elbows and flipped over with a heroic effort. The luscious torpidity spread through me once more. I could barely keep my eyes open. So I closed them.
For Conran's return.
I felt a cool hand on my stomach. A tickle of hair stroking against my belly and probing fingers wrapping around my balls. A thumb tucked neatly under my erection, lifting it high into the air. Before I could react, a hot, tight wetness had slipped over its bulging head.
"Ohhhhh, God, that feels so good," went through my mind even as I opened my eyes in shocked disbelief at Conran's actions.
Opened them to my wife's face and defiant eyes. To my penis planted firmly between her glistening lips. She gave the penis one long, lingering final lick and pulled it out of her mouth. The air felt cold and lonely against its sensitive head. She smiled and whispered: "It seemed such a shame to let it lie there. You don't mind, do you?"
I managed a slight shake of my head, and she guided my legs open with her free hand. She climbed over them to make herself comfortable kneeling between. Her dangling breasts brushed against me as she leant forward to kiss the first dewdrops of desire from my dick. Her mouth was soft and yielding as she slid me slowly back inside.
Her sharp teeth briefly scratched against my hardness and the tip of her tongue began to flick at the rounded head. It lingered against the sensitive lower surface then darted in rapid spirals further down the shaft. She increased the pressure with her lips and used them to engulf and withdraw, engulf and withdraw.
Her tongue moulded to form a deep groove for my entry, and vibrated teasingly for my enforced exit. She moved her head in time to the heartbeat drumming of the music and Gregorian chants.
To my surprise the first moan of pleasure emerged from Bernadette, not from me. I felt it vibrating up through my wet shaft. I opened my eyes to see that Conran had returned. He had knelt behind her and begun to massage her back and shoulders. Her obvious approval was reflected in an increased diligence to her task at hand and mouth.
The sensations rippled through me. I could feel my penis jerking uncontrollably within the moist cavern of her mouth, squeezing syrupy pre-cum onto her tongue. My moans joined hers. The music soared. The heavy, sexualised breathing of the female vocalist was an apt counterpoint to our lust.
Bernadette sensed my burgeoning excitement, deliberately slowing her pace to allow me to cool off just short of orgasm. I was not sure whether to be thankful or resentful. She stared up at me, obviously relishing my conflicting emotions. I bundled my pillow tighter under my craning neck, so I could watch her more comfortably.
She grinned and returned her full attentions to my penis. Behind her, Conran poured his attentions onto the smooth curve of her back. His fingers performed the same swirling motions that he had used on me. Bernadette lifted her buttocks high into the air. She pressed them into Conran's waiting groin with a swirling motion all of her own. Conran's hands moved further up her spine, giving him an excuse to push even closer to her revolving hips.
Bernadette felt the contrasting pressures of two erections. The first filled her mouth with the familiar taste, texture and gentle twitches of her husband. The second was a newer sensation. It searched across her buttocks. Smooth satin slid against her hot skin. She rolled it from one buttock to another, enjoying the growing sense of urgency transmitted through Conran's massaging fingers. She flicked her hips, allowing his hardness to come to rest in her buttock cleft. It nestled there in swaddled comfort. She abruptly stopped. Her lips and tongue were still.
Her pelvis was motionless.
She even held her breath.
The moments passed.
Two men groaned softly. Two male organs expected her next action. She exhaled a gust of warm air over the head of one of them and resumed her licking. She moved her rear against the other one. This time vertically. Up and down. Rubbing against the full length of Conran's trapped erection. She could sense his desperate wetness soaking through the thin cloth of his shorts.
Knew that he could not help but respond to her relentless teasing. Her movements were incessant. She gradually opened her legs wider. Patiently awaiting the final breakdown of his self-restraint. It started with the lifting of his left hand from her shoulders.
The hand slid smoothly along the contour of her shoulder blade. It drifted across her sensitised side and briefly came to rest on the curve of her hip. It paused. Sensing the timbre of her movements. Satisfied, it swept down her left buttock cheek. Cupping her fullness in its palm. Then it was gone. His massaging right hand faltered as he struggled to free himself from his by now very sticky shorts.
She waited, focussing her attention on her husband's penis. That too, had suddenly become very hard. His balls had become small and tense in her supportive fingers. Conran was not the only one close to losing control. With evidence of the two men's critical arousal so apparent, the reality of what was happening suddenly struck home. Her heart was beating like a captured bird's. She was giddy and short of breath. Was this really happening to her?
Two men at the same time?
Then she felt it. A resilient, thick stanchion pushing first against her tightened anus then skidding down in self-lubricating slickness to collide with her vulva. She moved her hips in tiny circles, confounding Conran's aim. Reminding him who was in charge here. The head of his penis slid wildly around her entrance, brushing tantalisingly over her profoundly sensitised inner lips.
An exhilarating tingle emanated out from the points of contact. The last of her hesitation vanished. By now she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So she stopped. Allowed Conran to adjust his angle of entry and at last push past the resistance of her engorged introitus. A soft sigh pressed out of her as he buried himself up to his hilt in her compliant, accommodating vagina.
She was now full at both ends. Deliciously, unbelievably full. Filled by two different men. Two contrasting penises. As she moved backwards to take one deeper inside, the other slipped from between her pursed lips. As she moved forwards to wrap her welcoming tongue around the other once more, the first pulled frustratingly out of her stretched vagina. Leaving her emptied and wanting. Wanting and wanton.
She moved and felt.
Moved and felt.
In time to the beat of the music.
She was now oblivious to the responses of the two men attached to the twin sources of her growing pleasure. The sensations were so intense that they left little room for conscious thought. Her first orgasm took her entirely by surprise. There was none of the usual slow build up. Just a sudden bright heat erupting between her legs. She gasped and hurriedly spat her husband out of her mouth in case she bit him during the muscular paroxysms of her first come. Her vagina contracted in rippling pulses.
Quickly and intensely.
I watched as Conran's struggled to pull down his shorts and release his confined member. It emerged briefly into view, an impressive indigo pole with a dusky, swollen head. He must have been painfully erect since it seemed to take some effort to push it horizontal, desperately seeking Bernadette's hidden entrance. His success was marked by the cessation of her honeyed tongue. A delicate frown briefly crossed her brow.
She began to move. Holding my penis fixed with her right hand she rocked her entire body. Sliding me slowly in and out of her lips. Conran gave up all pretence of massage and shifted both of his hands to her hips. He made no attempt to interfere as she deftly controlled the timing of our entries.
I melted into the music.
Suddenly cold air slapped against my wet penis. Bernadette had popped me out of her mouth without any warning. My penis bumped against her left cheek as she continued moving against Conran. Her flushed face soon clarified the cause of my consternation Her teeth were gritted in the throes of coming. I could not believe how quickly it had happened. This was not like her at all. I watched her orgasm end as abruptly as it had come. Like a tropical squall it blew through her with a fierce intensity then quickly passed on.
She was obviously shaken by the experience. Her rhythm was broken, her muscles lax and shivering. Conran rose to the occasion. His knuckles paled as he tightened his grip on her iliac crests. His forearm muscles flexed as he effortlessly directed her bent torso. First he pulled her ass snugly into his waiting groin.
Then he slowly rolled her off his penis. Like he was reluctantly shedding a favourite angora sweater at the end of a tiring day. His movements exactly matched Bernadette's earlier rhythm. His initial passivity had not been without purpose. To a stunned Bernadette it must have seemed like she was still leading, so subtle was the transfer of control.
Time seemed to stretch out elastically. Measured only by Conran's regular strokes. I was once again drawn into the mix of emotions flitting over my wife's face as this other man slowly and expertly fucked her. It was something I had witnessed before, but this time was different. This time I could feel the heat of their bodies in motion. Smell the musky scents of their mixing emissions.
And look directly into my lover's face as she drowned in the wash of illicit sensuality. Even as I watched her expression changed into the introspective ecstasy of her second orgasm.
My own penis began to feel strangely neglected. It knew all too well what Conran's probing organ was feeling as she came, wrapped tightly around him. Perhaps sensing my unease, Bernadette's fingers began to lightly skim up and down my shaft. Coating it with remnants of massage oil, saliva and my own frustrated juices.
She caught me in the fist of her right hand and forcibly tightened her grip. Her movements echoed Conran's. When Conran sank slowly into her softness, her hand pushed firmly down to clasp the base of my shaft. As he pulled out of her again, she lifted the circle of her fingers to embrace the exquisitely sensitive head.
Up and down.
In and out.
Our ballet of bodies, flesh, skin and hands continued unabated.
The music swirled around us.
Suddenly Bernadette's hand stopped. I looked up to see Conran reaching down to adjust something. Bernadette's rounded buttocks, thrust high into the air, obscured his actions. I noticed a surprised, almost pained expression pass across her face. Conran grinned and slowly pushed his hips forward once more. Bernadette gasped deeply and resumed her exquisite masturbation of me.
My balls retracted, preparing to discharge their pent-up contents. At the very same moment Bernadette shortened her strokes and squeezed me even tighter. Exactly mimicking how I would have changed our love making at this point of no return. Grinding my pubis hard against hers. Barely withdrawing as I plunged even further in. Trying to stretch her insides and fuse our hot bodies together. I knew that must be exactly what Conran was doing right now. Knew that we were all past the point of no return.
My breath came raggedly. Back muscles tensed to raise my penis closer to the source of gratification. My last vision of Bernadette was of her entire body being tossed like a rag-doll by Conran's entry. Her breasts bounced against my inner thighs and her dark hair whisked against my belly.
Her face was buried close to the root of my penis and hidden from my view. Her fingers now squeezed rhythmically as well as pumping up and down. I realised that she was coming for the final time. The vibration was a final straw to my delectable torment. The muscles of my penis gave a long drawn out contraction and I came. Bernadette was lost in the matching rhythms of her moving hand and the penis buried deep inside. Her second climax still jangled in her belly and she wanted more. Needed more. But suddenly, without warning, her vagina contracted around empty air. Conran was gone. She moved her buttocks in a restless, searching pattern. Contacting only his knuckles as they briefly brushed against her sopping wet pubic hair. Her own hand paused, uncertain why one of her lovers had stopped so close to completion.
Then she felt Conran's erection touch her once more. Lubricated with warm olive oil and her own juices, it's head skidded across the sensitive skin between her vulva and anus. She shifted her hips to guide it back into it's rightful place. Inside her avaricious vagina. Instead, Conran moved it deliberately higher. She felt it probing at her anus. Felt it pushing gently but insistently against her tight rosebud. To her great surprise, her sphincter relaxed comfortably under the constant pressure. It gradually parted to form a tight opening. Conran pushed harder and the tip slid just inside. She gasped in alarm as his entry into her continued.
Continued much further than she had ever allowed her husband to go.
Her anus stretched. Then stretched some more. There was a burst of pain as it accommodated the widest part of his glans. She tried to pull away, but his grip on her hips prevented her reflex as his penetration completed. Her anus involuntarily contracted around the narrower shaft. The pain was replaced by a profound pleasure. It emanated out from unfamiliar territory as he slowly moved inside her ass.
She felt the smooth shaft sliding in and out of her and was startled to realise that the initial anal contraction had not stopped but was rhythmically continuing. Pacing each of his thrusts as he moved faster and deeper. With each contraction the pleasure grew. Grew and spread.
Spread to engulf � engulf�
She was much too lost in the invisible flames of her own climax to notice her husband's state. Her hand simply moved in ways that dimly seemed right to her. All she really knew was that she wanted them both to come now At the same time as her own rapture peaked. A hot splash of liquid struck the palm of her hand at the apex of a stroke. It took a moment to realise its significance.
She was missing it.
She altered her grip. Opened her mouth wide and engulfed her husband. The familiar, fluttering throbs of his orgasm began in earnest. His cum hit the roof of her mouth in strong spurts. Her mouth was soon filled. She frantically swallowed, but still it kept coming. Even as she gulped she realised there was a similar flood happening deep inside her. She could picture the hot semen spurting into her darkest, most private parts.
The painful indentations left by Conran's splayed fingers were unmistakable indicators of his climax. Profound orgasmic spasms ran through his body and reverberated into her own frame. She dissolved into the myriad sensations.
No longer caring who was coming where or how.
It was too hard to tell the difference anymore.
Conran pulled out of my wife and carefully sat back, supporting himself on outstretched arms. He was still panting with the effort and covered in a fine dew of sweat. His eyes were glazed and unfocussed in an uncharacteristic loss of self-assurance. Bernadette seemed reluctant to let me leave her mouth, but eventually the awkwardness of her unsupported position got the better of her.
She slumped forward, resting her cheek on my chest and listened to my pounding heartbeat slowing down. She purred and curled cat-like around the aftershocks of her third orgasm. She was warm and soft and completely satisfied in my sheltering arms. I still could not believe it had really happened.
I looked up at the distant ceiling mirror, examining our three reflections. This was certainly a new experience. I was not sure how I should be feeling. I was surprised at my lack of jealousy. Despite knowing full well that it was Conran who had been the most intimate with her. But it was my arms that she rested in now. My trust she had relied on in sharing herself like this. My secret fantasies she was fulfilling.
I have never felt closer to her than I did at that moment.
A sudden movement broke my composure. Had there just been a brief flash behind the mirror? As if someone had briefly pressed their hand and face against the glass. Unintentionally breaking the sanctity of the one way mirror. Could someone have been up there watching us all this time?
I chuckled. "Paranoia," I told myself and relaxed once again. I closed my eyes. I badly needed to rest awhile before we moved. None of us were getting any younger.
And it was my birthday, after all.
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