24 comments/ 20768 views/ 1 favorites Beneficially HIS By: lil_elvis_lover Author’s Note: This is a retelling (from the woman’s point of view) of my husband’s (Lime) story, “The Benefits of Reading,” so if it seems familiar, please bear with me. Yes, I admit it. I’m a slut, but not a drop to my knees for any hard cock slut. No, I’m his slut, my husband’s slut, George’s slut. But it’s our secret. Walking down the street, everyone would take me for the conservatively dressed, former librarian I appear to be, although they might be perplexed by the contented smile, as opposed to the overly serious disposition I ought to wear. Only Superman could see that I’ve shaved my pussy and replaced my dowdy underwear and pantyhose with a lacy demi-cup bra, hi-cut panties, garter belt and stockings. I tried wearing a thong – once – but I couldn’t get over that feeling of having a permanent wedgie; even tried going pantyless, only to learn of the dry cleaning bill that would run up. Woops! I lied (sorry). My best friend Jane (and I suppose, her husband Bill) know my wicked ways, but she is the one responsible for my enlisting into this secret slut society, thereby doubling the membership. Since she is the founder and president, what does that make me? The recording secretary? It started so innocently just a few months ago, although it seems a lifetime. Jane and I got together weekly with my mother and some of mom’s friends, whom I’ve known as long as I can remember. We all have an interest in the crafts of sewing, needlepoint and knitting. So it was convenient to meet weekly and dedicate time to our projects in a social atmosphere. We rotated hosting these little gatherings and a few weeks ago at Jane’s, I stayed behind after the others had left to see some curtains she had made for her bedroom. While I was up there, I noticed this very plain looking book, entitled At His Command on her nightstand. Normally she read science fiction and best selling novels. Curious (and naïve), I asked her about it. Unabashedly, told me she and Bill had read it and that it had revolutionized their sex life. “I had no idea sex could be this great!” she raved. “Sure, some of it seemed over the top at first, but once we got started, we became more adventuresome, and now…Well, why don’t you borrow it? Maybe you’ll see what I mean.” “Our sex life doesn’t need improvement!” I protested defensively, perhaps too vigorously. “Okay. Fine. Be that way. But wouldn’t you like George to be home more? You certainly moaned about that earlier today. Did you ever think that maybe he was bored? Honestly, how often do you guys have sex? Once a week?” I was speechless. And pissed off too. Best friend or not, who the hell was she to meddle in my marriage? “Once a month?” No words would come, and the feeling was like bringing home a bad report card – you stand there, defenseless, knowing they’re right and nothing you could say would change the awful truth. And the awful truth was that I couldn’t remember the last time George and I had made love. I mean, I knew it was about ten days ago, but was it Saturday or Sunday? Even worse, it was the same as the time before and the time before that. A little cuddling, some kissing and ..poof!...done! It’s not that I didn’t achieve orgasm, oh no, George always made sure of that, but it was routine, almost scripted. “How long does it last?” I could not tune out her words; they bore into me, invading territory that I was afraid to explore, but was now forced to venture. “Are you trying to drive him into an affair, that’s where boredom…” So there I stood, dreading each word, conjuring up painful scenarios of George’s ‘working late,’ paralyzed by the realization that my complacency was something much more significant than that D I gotten in French from that witch Madam Villiers. I’ve always admired you’re ability to speak your mind, but damn it Jane, just this once, can’t you shut up? I suppose it was inevitable, that unmistakable stab in my throat right before the tears filled my eyes. At least Jane finally stopped hammering me. “Oh god, Lyn, I’m sorry. I was hoping to share something wonderful with you and all I did was upset you. Guess I touched a nerve. My big mouth got me in trouble again!” She smiled slightly at our old joke. It helped, but mostly freed my tongue. Slumping down, I sat on her bed. Then, blubbering and sobbing, I released a torrent upon Jan of all the thoughts, fears and doubts that moments ago had held me mute. I am attractive, aren’t I? I may not be as thin (some said skinny) as when I got married, but I’ve still got a good shape. I exercise at home, maybe not as regularly as I should, but going up one bra size and adding an inch to my hips in our fifteen years of marriage isn’t so bad, is it? My tummy’s still flat, so I might even be more shapely. George had often remarked that he likes my shoulder length brown hair and the smattering a freckles across my small, slightly pointed nose and under my dark brown eyes. He still said I had the best legs in town. But those compliments came much less often these days. Physically, George was the about same as the day we met and those soft hazel eyes melted my heart (and still did). His light brown hair had thinned a bit, but he’d kept his lean body in pretty good shape. At six-foot and around 190 pounds, he worked out several mornings a week to keep himself fit, but he wasn’t the well-chiseled body-builder type either; nor did I want that. So why didn’t I feel the same physical attraction I once possessed? Did leaving work to become a fulltime housewife – what I thought I always wanted – and making lists of things in need of tending turn me into a boring nag? Is that what made work more attractive to George than me? I know I still love him, but sometimes it seems the only things we share are an address and phone number! Best friend that she is, Jane listened attentively, feeding me tissues. She reassured me that I still look great, but I wasn’t alone and that she had had similar feelings, just not as explosively. Men, well what could she say, they’re funny creatures sometimes. That ‘breadwinner’ syndrome can sometimes drive them to obsess about work and lose sight of other equally important issues. With George having started his own business, it was a double whammy since he was responsible not only for my well being, but those of his employees as well. Fortunately, Jane and Bill had found a solution before it became a crisis. But then again, she was also bold enough to go buy a book like that, while I surely would have died from embarrassment. Finally, I stopped crying and managed to pull myself together. I apologized to Jane and started to leave. She pressed the book into my hand. “Give it a try. If you don’t like it, just give it back to me next week.” We said our good-byes. I drove home with my mind in knots. Part of me wanted to break loose and consider what Jane had said, while the sensible, respectable me strove to dismiss the whole matter and conveniently forget about it. By the time I was home, I had lost my nerve and promptly buried the book in my dresser. It seemed that I had no sooner closed the drawer when the phone rang. It was Jane, just checking to see that I was okay. I assured her I was. She again apologized for upsetting me and told me all that she wanted was to try to share her newfound happiness, but I was in no mood for discussing it further. Fortunately, the call waiting tone sounded so I ended our conversation, but just before hanging up, Jane made me promise to read the book. I just didn’t say when. The other call was from George. He was going to be working late (again!). “Sorry, hon.” Damn it! Why is everyone apologizing to me all of a sudden? “Probably not until nine, maybe ten…No, don’t wait for me. Go ahead and eat. I’ll figure something out when I get home….Bye…Love you too.” And so began my roller coaster journey into slutdom. My first response was to cry some more, feeling very sorry for myself. There it is again, “sorry.” God how I suddenly hate that word! Sorry your sex life is so boring, sorry you’ll have dinner alone again, sorry…Fuck it! I’m tired of being the object of so much sympathy! With that, I took out the book. What the hell did I have to lose? It was far from a Pulitzer Prize winner. The writing was simplistic and profane – very different from the subtlety of the romance novels I was accustomed to reading. But George was never going to be the hero from one of those, and truthfully, I could never play the part of the heroine either. So where does that leave me? Maybe it was my self pity, maybe I was jealous of Jane, or maybe even pissed off at George, but the story (such as it was) gradually took hold of me. Mary, a sexually inexperienced, newlywed wife whose husband aggressively, but slowly, took her on a carnal journey. Each chapter detailing a progressively kinkier encounter and, initially, I could not bring myself to read more than the first chapter. George couldn’t, wouldn’t want a woman like that! But over my seemingly endless lonely nights, I grew bolder, wondering what it would be like to be forced to masturbate in front of my husband. To satisfy him orally – not just a little licking and sucking, but taking him deeply (into my throat?!) and swallowing? It seemed so unnatural, and yet, I felt an increased sensitivity in my breasts and that unmistakable tingling between my thighs. I started masturbating, at first just every few days, but then it became daily, and eventually several times per day. Not as I had done as a young girl, just impatiently diddling my clit and climaxing quickly. Oh no, I explored my body, much as Mary’s husband was doing to her. I intentionally ignored my breasts and pussy, discovering sensations previously unknown. I let my fingernails slowly and lightly scrape down my sides, up my thighs and around my hips and tummy sending shivers and thrilling waves throughout my body, generating a greater awareness of my swelling breasts, hardening nipples and the damp blossoming of my pussy. When I could stand it no longer, one hand circled each breast, at first intentionally avoiding my nipples, but eventually finding them and discovering the delight of their being pinched and pulled forcing the contraction of my abdomen and a tug between my navel and pussy, summoning a hand to move lower, while the other continued its magic above. I delighted in tracing my splayed, tumescent lips, taking their slickness between my fingers and ever so gradually uncovering my erect clit. My circling fingers quickly brought me to the most tummy tightening, thigh clenching orgasm I had ever known. But once I had calmed down and my breathing returned to normal, I found these novel experiences did have their price. Deepening guilt ensued, followed by more sinister deception. One night, in what had become his maddeningly regular routine, George arrived home late. I had already climbed into bed, and was feigning sleep, facing away from his side of the bed. I felt him climb in beside me and begin to caress my back. I did not move, frozen with fear that he would discover the evidence of my earlier exploits and be repulsed if I confessed my ‘sinful’ cravings. So I gradually led him to believe his touch aroused me and, for the first time in my life, faked an orgasm. Of course, this only fed my remorse and I lost interest in just about everything, except reading about Mary and what her next adventure would be. Oh my god! He’s going to stick it in her backside! That couldn’t… and yet, there I was discovering the sensitivity…I never penetrated myself, but wondered if additional pleasure awaited me. I swore I would stop. Tomorrow. I wish George would fuck me like that. At the weekly sewing group, I was very quiet. Sullen would probably be a better description. Later in the week, Jane called and informed me I needed to go shopping to get out of my funk. I tried to beg off, but she would have none of it. Jane has always had a voluptuous figure. As we walked through the mall, I noticed that, with her large breasts, full hips, long blonde hair and blue eyes, she still turned some heads. The sassy body language didn’t hurt either. However, no one seemed to be checking out the haggard brunette accompanying her. She bought some trashy lingerie and suggested that maybe I should get some too. Inwardly jealous, I cattily told her she looked like a porno queen. She smiled. I didn’t. I imagined her in it, filled with desire, her full breasts topped with hardened pink nipples poking at the lacy black camisole, dirty blonde curls trapped behind the clinging fabric of the matching boy-cut panty. I wasn’t repulsed by the imagery; rather, I felt a strange stimulation that only fed my loneliness. Obviously disappointed that she could not elevate my mood, Jane lost her enthusiasm. At least she didn’t berate me this time and we drove home in silence. A quick good-bye and she was gone. Fold some towels. Match the socks. Fuck matching the socks! Late again. Fake another orgasm. George, you bastard, look what you’ve driven me to! Can’t you see what I need? “Tied to the bed, he teased her with his tongue, slowly working toward her most sensitive spots…licking then biting her nipples….trailing his tongue down her panting torso, teasing the hollow of her hips…” Lying naked in bed, I let the book slide from my hands to give them reign over my body. One teasing my nipples, the other playing lightly over my dewy pubes. “So this is what goes on while I’m at work!” George’s voice stung and I flinched in panic, pulling the bed sheet over myself. The peace offerings of champagne and flowers he clenched contrasted disturbingly to the dark anger held in his eyes. He flew into a rage about his busting his ass, the house being a mess, worrying himself sick that I might be having an affair, only to find I was merely here wanking off. I unsuccessfully attempted to secret the book under my pillow. George yanked the sheet and pillow away from me. The book fell to the floor. He opened it at random and read briefly. So discovered, and threatened with divorce, I agreed to tell all. As I did so, George’s disposition softened slightly and he poured some champagne. It was by no means easy for me to divulge everything – actually I omitted the phony orgasms; what purpose would that serve? As I haltingly progressed, George’s anger ebbed and I saw a tinkling passion in eyes that gave me hope that all was not lost, but his transfixed gaze also belied that his mind was working furiously, which, after I had finished, he put as an ultimatum. “Do you want to be my sex slave or should I leave you to yourself and find someone else?” As much as I had fantasized about it, the reality was still frightening, but losing George would be worse, so I cast my fears aside and agreed. However, he did not take me then and there (as I had deeply desired, still having whatever the female equivalent of blue balls might be, brought on by George’s sudden appearance). Instead he sent me downstairs to clean the kitchen! Worse, he ordered me do it in the nude, compounding my frustration. Meanwhile, he just sat upstairs and read the book. Sure, I found it embarrassing at first, but I was also extremely conscious of my body, trembling in anticipation over what George would do – careful with those dishes, you’ll break something! The swaying of my breasts as I scrubbed the kitchen floor was maddening, but I doubt we’ll see this in Helpful Hints from Heloise as a new way to end the drudgery of housework. George appeared and informed me he was going out for a while and to call his cell phone when I was finished cleaning. No, no no! You can’t do that! Take me! Please! He took me alright, but not in my pussy. While George had me kneel with my hands behind my back, he brought his cock to my face. I knew what he wanted, but I must have admired it too long. The fire in his eyes was no longer from anger, but from naked, unbridled passion, and, calling me his bitch, shoved the head into my mouth. Finally, I was getting some cock! A magnificently stiff, throbbing cock – so hard even the head had lost the spongy texture I expected – that sent an immediate jolt to my pussy. I wanted to savor its fullness with my lips and tongue, but George had other plans. Seizing my hair with both hands, he repeatedly forced his cock in deeply until I gagged. I wasn’t going to suck him, he was fucking my mouth. “Show me how much cock you can take!” he his throatily hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes burning into mine, melting any will to resist. Just a few weeks ago I would have resented such crude aggression, but now it was a gloriously stimulating invasion that liberated my wicked lust, obliging my throat to welcome the intrusion, desperately yearning to taste his cum for the first time. His ragged breathing and chaotic thrusting indicated I would soon be rewarded. George, I’m gonna choke on all this spit! Thank god! Swallow. I can breathe again. No! Don’t pull out! But then, with a deep moan, George grasped his cock and released bursts of cum, thick and hot; its heat coursed from my face into my body and continued as he painted my lips with the head, then forcing me to suck out the remain drops. Hmmm..salty…slightly musty..or maybe musky…whatever! Definitely unique, and not so terrible, but most importantly, HIM. George gave me a brief compliment. With a smile of contentment, and to my consternation, told me to carry on with the cleaning as he squeezed the object of my desire back in his pants. Reminding me to call his mobile when I was finished, he headed out the door. What? That’s it? My pussy ached. My face itched. Gathering what I could in my fingers, I sucked up the last of his essence, walked to the sink, rinsed my face and hastily dried off with…oh what the hell…a dish towel! Back to work girl! No, you cannot touch yourself; you KNOW that would be wrong! Okay, we’ll just get the spots off the floor, because if that SOB is more interested in the floor than me, then we really DO have a problem. Good enough! Now, what else? Countertops? That’ll do. Dishwasher. Oh shit, everything’s not gonna fit. Alright, I’ll wash them, but set them in the drainer to dry. Done! Finally! Now, how long ago did George leave? Oh good; almost half an hour. We don’t want him thinking I’ve done a half-assed job. Ha-ha! I dialed. “George?...Read the letter you left in my dresser?... Okay. Bye.” Click. “Love you.” That certainly was brief and to the point. But what did he write? Run up the stairs. Ouch! Running naked can be hard on your tits! Rip open the envelope. Dear Lyn, Or should I now call you slave? If you are going to continue to live in my house there will be the following rules: 1. When we are alone, you will always address me as SIR. 2. You will follow my orders immediately 3. Failure to follow 1 or 2 will result in severe discipline For tonight, go take a warm relaxing bath and while you are there shave off all of your pubic hair. Then put on a lot of make up – so you look like a slut. By time you finish, your outfit will be on the bed. Put it on and await my arrival. Be on your knees with your head bowed. Call me again when you finish this letter. Love, Sir I’m in it now! What’s with this SIR crap? I know it was in the book, but all I really want is for him to fuck me – hard! And maybe a little bondage. And that mouth fuck in the kitchen was…what? Erotic? Whatever! I’ll gladly do it again. But shaving my pubes? Now that’s a little scary. I know THAT wasn’t in the book - must be George’s ‘dark secret.’ Looks like I’m not the only one who might have repressed urges, hmm? Beneficially HIS Ch. 02 Author's Note: This is a sequel to my first story, Beneficially HIS. I would hope that you've read that first to know how the story has gone to this point. ******************** Ouch! Damned sun's bright this morning. My brain was void after such a deep sleep but finally found its BIOS. Hmm. Was it a dream? A puddle of red lingerie on the floor…hmmm, I wonder… yes, my pussy's shaved. Eww! And a little sticky. Well, a shower will fix that. Better yet, a bath. Sssstretch. Oh! My butt's kinda sore. Nope, definitely not a dream! What was that down-home expression George had picked up on one of his travels? Oh yeah, "grinning like a jack-ass with a mouthful o' briars." That's me alright. And where is that wonderfully kinky bastard? I need to give him a real big thank you hug for bringing me to life. The other side of the bed's empty. So he's up, but he always was an early riser. I don't know how he can perpetually survive on six hours' sleep. Normally I need a good eight, but after last night…what time is it anyway? Judging from the sun, at least nine. Oh, almost ten. Wow, I'm thirsty. Gotta pee too. Well, all I've had to drink since yesterday afternoon was a few glasses of champagne. That explains a lot. Love the stuff, but could do without the diuretic effect. Okay, slowly now; my legs are rubber. Who's in charge here anyway? Walk damnit! Ahhh, that's a relief! But I'm going to avoid sitting on any hard chairs today. Time to wash up a bit. What the fuck? Who's THAT in the mirror? All the smudged makeup, what a mess! Dun–da-da-da! Make-up remover to the rescue. The water's cold, but feels really good on my face. Dry off and brush those mittens off my teeth. Mmm, minty fresh. Despite brushing out my hair, it's still a bit wild. Perversely appropriate, wouldn't you say? Turning, I glimpse myself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. Damn! Having a shaved pussy's gonna take some getting used to in more ways than one. Exiting the bath, I nearly collide with George, who had just entered the bedroom bearing a teak tray laden with ice water, mugs, a thermos of coffee, our pewter milk and sugar set and a glass bud vase holding one of the roses he had brought home the previous evening. What a sweetheart! "Whoa! Slow down lady!" he said playfully. I'm not the only suffering from smiling jack-ass syndrome and his hair was a tousled mess too. But that robe has got to go. Plain cotton, striped in various shades of grey. Boring! Mental note: get something sexier, maybe in black satin. I think I'd like that. "You must have read my mind," I reply as I plucked one of the glasses and greedily drank it down, nonstop. A few drops escaped the corners of my lips, ran off my chin and onto my breasts, sending a refreshing chill through my body, tightening my nipples. "And good morning to you too!" he retorted. "Sorry, honey, but I was just dieing of thirst. Isn't it a wonderful morning?" "The best." He held out the tray for me to return my glass, set it on my low dresser opposite the foot of the bed, wheeled and pulled me into his arms. We kissed tenderly, our tongues engaging in light caresses, and all too soon he broke it off. "How about some coffee?" he asked. "Is that all you're offering?" "For now, I'd like to talk a little bit about last night." "What's there to say? It was incredible!" "Well, I guess I was afraid that in the cold light of day, you might have changed your mind or had second thoughts." I set my coffee on the night stand, played with some pillows to support my back and laid back on the bed. George shed his robe and did likewise, snuggling up next to me. "Well, there is one thing I would change," I told him. "Oh?" There was some concern in his voice. "I can't go with that ‘Yes sir, no sir' stuff. At least not all the time." George sighed in relief. "That's okay with me. It could easily get overdone. I'll leave it up to you for when you think it's appropriate." "Yes sir," I replied while that stupid grin returned. George pressed closer to me as we finished our coffee. Nothing was spoken, nor was it necessary. For the first time in ages, we were comfortable just being together. But that wasn't all that changed. It was kinda funny. Not funny Ha-Ha and not funny-strange, more like funny-unexpected in the way other parts of our lives changed in the months that followed. All for the better, I might add. Although George was spending more time at home, his business actually grew. He said the new-found confidence he had made him more decisive and productive. He'd hired some more people, and even spoke of possibly needing a partner because he didn't want to go back to the long hours that the expansion would eventually demand. We both got serious about our physical conditioning too. Not obsessive, mind you; more like wanting to be the best we could for each other. Okay, so it was probably wanting more stamina, but who wouldn't? I got my pubes lasered and, yes, there was some discomfort involved, but it was so worth it not to have to deal with the razor any more. We started going out more; not so much for meals, but more like when we were first dating. You know, movies, picnics in a local park, day trips to see things we'd only ever talked about doing. Even simple stuff like home improvements seemed less tedious. George was always a decent cook and had often made dinner on the weekends, but now he really dove into it and said he found it very erotic to make something special for the woman he loved. Who was I to argue? It really didn't matter what we did. By the end of the day we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. Alright, it wasn't always at the end of the day. So sue me. Sometimes it was slow and tender. But most often, I was his slut to use at his (and my) pleasure. I'd never thought that I'd love anal so much, especially when I'd lay at the edge of bed while George stood holding my legs high and wide. "Finger that clit! Come for me. Show me how much you love my cock in your ass!" Oops. Got a little sidetracked there. Now where was I? Well, in case you're wondering, yes, I did get back to keeping the house in order. Not that I was Felix Unger or anything, but I didn't leave any messes about, unless, of course I was looking for a little discipline. George caught on to this trick pretty quick and I'm not sure if he enjoyed giving me a spanking more than I did receiving them, but I wasn't going to over-analyze it. We were really enjoying life and it was obvious to everyone. Even my sewing group noticed the new glint in my eyes. I mean, Jane already knew. (I'd called her with the news that very first day of my new life.) But even my mom and her friends commented on the change. Jane just gave me a sly smile. I think I must have blushed as the older ladies exchanged knowing "hmm's." If they even knew half the truth! Whenever Jane or I hosted, we'd hang out with each other after the others left. Sometimes it was just to catch up a bit on places we'd been or movies we'd seen. But most times we'd compare notes on sex and something new we might have tried. It started a couple weeks after I had accepted my new role as George's slut (or Thatday, as we came to refer to it). It was Jane's first turn to host since Thatday, and she kind of demanded that I give her the blow by blow (so to speak) account. At first, it felt weird recounting the story, but I found that if I closed my eyes it was easier not only to speak, but also to picture the events and provide all the details Jane wanted to hear. Damn, I was horny by the time we parted! My guess is Jane was too, looking like she'd put pencil erasers in her bra. The next week was my turn to host, so after the others had left, I told her it was only fair that she tell me about her "coming out." Images of Jane's freshly spanked ass, wet pussy and nipples bulging in the loops of the connecting chain left me aching and lingered through the day, even popping into my mind with a somewhat disturbing regularity during the days that followed. From then on, it became somewhat of a ritual. As our hosting schedule worked, we had a three week hiatus before we could share more escapades. In one sense that was good, cause it gave time for us to think about what we would tell, but I had also gotten addicted to it and eagerly anticipated my next "fix." Last week, I was sitting on the sofa at Jane's, sipping on a glass of wine, something we'd added to our story time. We'd found it made it easier (and more fun) to reveal intimate details while having a glass or two. So, last week, she'd told me about Bill teaching her to deep throat. He'd tied her to the bed. Nothing new there, but he left her head hanging over the edge. Jane is about my height but with blonde hair and a larger frame. Not quite Rubenesque, but "Prime Polish breeding stock," was how she'd laughingly describe herself. I could see Jane, spread eagled, her large breasts, rising, falling and jiggling with her ragged breathing. Her full hips undulating as Bill stood at her head, teasing and lightly spanking her with a riding crop, bringing a rosy hue to her breasts and a straining firmness to her nipples. Jane took a large swallow from her wine, draining the glass. Taking the chilled bottle of Pinot Griggio from the insulator on the coffee table, she refilled her glass. ‘That's her third,' I thought somewhat absently, but figured she didn't need to drive, so why not? The bat played lightly across her dirty blonde pubes, coaxing her dewy lips to spread; much as Bill's hard cock persuaded her mouth to open. Gently tapping and rubbing her pussy, the tip of the crop glistened, increasing the sting when it occasionally flicked across her nipples. I watched Jane intently; her closed eyelids fluttered, hand squeezing the armrest, hips rotating in a slow, almost imperceptible oscillation, while I couldn't stop the rhythmic clenching in my thighs. As the ministrations of the crop intensified, her hips rose to meet the leather now sliding smoothly over her slick lips, flinching with each slap of the leather on her clit that forced Bill's cock deeper into her mouth. Jane admitted it wasn't easy – as if she had to tell me; no matter how much I tried, I had yet overcome my gag reflex – but her desperation for release drove her on and soon enough Bill was working his entire cock in and out of her mouth. Actually, I didn't care that much whether Jane succeeded or not. My mind was focused on Jane writhing under the teasing, rubbing and slapping of the crop. And all too soon, for me anyway, Bill came and then allowed Jane to climax as well. Jane ended her reverie and looked at me. "Whew!" she said, exhaling deeply and followed by another slug of wine. "I really got into that one! I hope it doesn't bother you." I blushed under her gaze and had to look away as an image of Jane sitting naked in the chair before me filled my mind. "Umm, no," I said a bit awkwardly, snatching up my wine. My turn for a hefty swallow that left the glass empty. As if that would tame the racing of my heart! "More wine?" she asked, reaching for the bottle. "No, thanks." I replied, touching her arm to stop her. She felt incredibly warm, almost hot. Flustered, I withdrew my hand and stood unsteadily, but managed to right myself in short order after a couple of deep breaths. "You wouldn't think I had only one glass of wine," I lamely joked, "but I should be going." I didn't really have anywhere I needed to be. George wouldn't be home for a few hours yet, but I had an urgent need for some fresh air. And time to think. "Sure," she said, but the disappointment was clearly evident. "But before you go I want to ask you something. You know it's my birthday next weekend." "Well, duh, of course, I do. I've already got your present, silly. You gonna have a party?" I asked. It struck me as odd, when she replied in a conspiratorial whisper, "Well, that's what I wanted to ask you. Bill and I hoped that you and George would come down on Saturday and celebrate. You know, just the four of us for a romantic dinner." Slightly confused by the sudden change in topic, I replied haltingly, "We're free,… so, yes, we'll be there….. I know George wants to see Bill. They don't see much of each other since George left the company to start his own business. What time?" "Come around six. We'll have some drinks and munchies before…umm… dinner." "Okay. That sounds nice." I tried to reply matter-of-factly, but felt like I was missing something. Once again Jane had put my mind in knots. I nervously glanced at my watch; it was almost three and I blurted out, "Oh shit! Look at the time. I've gotta run." Jane walked with me to the door and as she opened it, said, "I'm so glad you guys are coming for my birthday. I'm really looking forward to it!" "So am I. Is there anything I can bring?" The whisper returned as she suddenly gave me a big hug. "Not really. Just an open mind." It wasn't a best friend hug. Oh no, her body, especially her breasts, pressed a little too firmly into mine for that. It felt strange. I mean, no woman had ever held me like that, so I felt awkward, realizing how good it felt. Was I imagining things, or did I feel her erect nipples poking at mine, and, stranger still, their response in kind? Just as suddenly, she released me to leave me in a bewildered state, mulling over her intentions. "So I'll see you next week," she continued in her normal tone. "It's your turn to host, right?" Nonplussed, I mechanically stammered, "R-right. It's my turn." And as I hustled out the door in a mild panic, "See you Wednesday. Bye." As I drove home, I replayed the farewell in my mind. You imagined it…..Well then, what was that bit about an open mind? ....And…and…why did it feel so real….and so good?' Damn it Jane! Why do you do these things to me? First you help me find the slut that lurked inside me and now you've got me wondering what it might be like to have sex with a woman. I'm certainly grateful for the first, but could I really…? I don't know. Maybe. I've tried so many things I never thought I'd do. Stop squirming! That's not gonna help you think. And, Jesus, what'll George think about it? Just what I need, more complications! Maybe he'll be against it and that'll solve the whole affair. Somehow I doubt it. But I know I've got to tell him. We've come too far and went through too much to hide this from him. Just gotta wait for the right time. Well, by the time we got into bed that night, I knew I'd burst if I didn't tell him. As he pulled my naked body next to his and went to kiss me, I interrupted his advances. "George, there's something I've got to tell you." But it wasn't easy. I beat around the bush for a while and just started by telling him of the birthday dinner. He thought that would be great. He didn't get to see Bill much anymore. They had worked together for over five years at the place where Bill still worked and had become friends from the start. That's how Jane and I met. I guess you'd call them both computer experts, I mean I don't know that much about what they do or how they did it, but Bill's company made special custom security systems for large manufacturing plants that kept an eye on sensitive or hazardous areas. When George left the company to start his own, he applied a lot of what he'd learned to make the same kind of stuff, but for smaller local companies, like warehouses and small businesses. Sorry, I didn't mean to babble on, but that's kind of what I was doing with George. Finally, I did get around to Jane's farewell. Not just what she said, I also confessed to the strange feelings I had. Okay, maybe strange, but being turned on by it was certainly novel and I couldn't stop the twitchiness I felt between my thighs. I was relieved for having told him, but George wasn't much help. At least in terms of what I wanted to hear. He had no doubts that Jane was interested in me, but it had to be my decision. He would go along with whatever it was. Bullshit! For all of his diplomacy, the swelling of his cock against my leg gave away his true feelings. "I think your other head knows what he wants me to do," I joked as I took his cock in my hand. "Guilty as charged!" he retorted with a smile. "And you?" George slid his hand between my legs and there was no doubting the evidence. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," he carried on as he held up his slick fingers, "as you can see this woman is a wanton slut and guilty of conspiring to commit cunnilingus. The prosecution demands immediate commencement of the sentence!" George threw back the covers and practically jumped between my thighs. He planted his mouth on my cunt, frantically sucking in my lips and aggressively pressing his tongue on my clit. Gasping, my hips rose and my knees jerked at his sudden onslaught. Good god! Don't stop! I didn't care that I fantasized it was Jane's tongue working the magic instead of George's. Obviously, he wasn't worried about it either when an "Oh, Jane!" slipped out. "Confess! You want Jane to lick your pussy," George hissed as he raised his head so his tongue teasingly flicked across my lips. My hands reached to pull him closer, but failed. I wasn't sure exactly how he did it, but he grabbed my wrists, pinched my hips between his elbows and used the leverage to roll us over. The next thing I know, I'm sitting on his chest with my thighs on either side of his head. George brought my wrists together behind my back, tightly encircling them with his left hand. Smack! His right hand stung my ass. "Confess!" he growled. I was silent, but only momentarily, as George lifted me and slid his face between my thighs. Once again, his tongue flicked ever so lightly across my sopping pussy, cyclically pausing to spank my ass and demand my confession. "Oh god, yes!" "Yes, what?" "Yes, I confess, goddammit. I want Jane to eat my cunt!" George pressed his mouth to me and aggressively tongued my clit. Releasing my hands, his took hold of my nipples, roughly pinching and pulling them. I fell forward with delirium, and, catching my weight with my arms, pressed my cunt to his face, grinding against his tongue, my orgasm an overwhelming mixture of reality and fantasy. Gasping, I fell to my elbows while George eased out from under me. "Ahhh," I shrieked when George playfully bit my ass and, as if he had removed a keystone, I collapsed on my tummy. He laughed and rolled me onto my back, his mouth seeking mine, the taste of my essence extraordinarily poignant, while his erection jabbed at me insistently. Slowly, I broke off the kiss and scooted around to lie with my head hanging over the edge. "Please, sir, fuck my mouth." ….but to this day I still haven't beaten that gag reflex. Beneficially HIS Ch. 03 Opening note – If you have not read chapters 1 & 2, you may wish to. Just to understand how we got here. The days that followed were a bitch. They weren't bad, but thoughts of Jane perpetually interrupted my usual routines and my productivity plummeted. Like I'd be sitting ay my desk trying to write out some checks to pay the bills and then find myself staring into space wondering how her nipples would feel on my tongue or fretting that as much as I think I wanted it to happen, I'd get cold feet. Or even worse, that I'd misread Jane. George wasn't helping either. Instead of oral being part of what we might do, he seemed insistent of giving me a tongue bath daily. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but it did synergize with my musings, and I was just a bundle of nerves by the time I saw Jane again. Of course, I was further agonized by waiting for us to be alone. And the guilt trip I suffered for wishing my mother and her friends would just leave didn't help either. Nor did the furtive glances Jane was giving me. With Jane's birthday so close, I'd decided we'd have a little celebration and had served some wine with lunch, followed by cake and coffee. The wine helped my nerves a bit, but just as I was loading the dishwasher and feeling that would be the cue for the others to leave, Jane's cell phone rang. "It's probably Bill," she said reaching for her purse. "He's in LA doing an installation." "Hello," she said cheerfully, "Hi honey, how are you?" Of course, the rest of us fell silent. "What?" she suddenly exclaimed, "But you were supposed to come home tomorrow!...When?....Tuesday or Wednesday of next week! But George and Lyn are supposed to come for dinner on Saturday!....I know you can't help it….. Look, I'm at her house right now. Could you call me later tonight?.....Okay….Love you too. Bye." Disgusted, Jan threw the phone back into her purse that she then flung to the floor. "Sorry," she said with a discernable quiver to her voice, "but Bill's installation is a cluster fuck and he won't be back in time for my birthday." Tears welled in her eyes as a chorus rose to express how sorry we were about it and rivulets left mascara laden streaks on her cheeks. I quickly fetched a box of tissues for her. Pulling several from the box and wiping her face, she looked to me and said, "I guess we'll have to postpone the party." Trying to be conciliatory, I said, "That's okay, there'll be another time." "No, it's not OKAY!" she shouted in an outburst that reverberated through the room, followed by an awkward silence. Woops, I guess that was the wrong thing to say. "It's not the first fucking time he's been held up. Last year he was away for our anniversary. And this will be the second time he's missed my goddamned birthday! Sometimes I really hate his fucking job!" Jane paused to wipe her eyes again, but she couldn't stem their flow. My mom and her friends' ears were probably burning and they quickly took advantage of momentary lull to excuse themselves from the tense atmosphere. It was probably just as well. I'm sure Jane didn't want them around at this point anyway. Truthfully, I was relieved that they left too. But I was more concerned about what Jane might blurt out in her agitated state. While I escorted the others out the door, I could hear Jane's sobs subsiding a bit and closed the door behind them. Thank goodness. Well at least they're gone, but so's my opportunity to talk to Jane. What I wanted to talk about anyway. I sat next to Jane on the sofa. But not too close, the time's not right. "Sorry," she said sadly, "I didn't mean to scare everyone away." "That's alright," I replied, trying to sooth her. "I certainly understand." "I know you do, but it still seems so unfair. I mean, Bill told fucking Scott that it was my thirtieth birthday this weekend and that we had special plans and he HAD to be home." "I never liked him when George worked for him either. To him, everything was about business. Just one cold S.O.B." "You got that right. But in spite of what Bill had told him, Scott said he had to stay and get the job done and there was no way he would pay for another trip. And now, well all my plans for this weekend are r-r-ruined!" The tears started flowing again and her torso shook with uncontrollable sobbing. My heart ached for her, so I leaned over and gave her a hug. Without warning, her arms reached out and clung to me desperately, her face pressed against shoulder. Feeling strangely maternal, I stroked her hair and cooed reassurances that everything would be alright. Finally, she stopped crying, sat up and dabbed away the last of her tears. God she looks a fright. What would my mom do now? "How about if I make us some tea?" I asked. "That'd be nice," came a weak reply. But just as I started to get up, the door opened and in walked George. Briefly, time stood still as his eyes flitted between Jane and me. Oh shit. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but he looks like the doc just told him the only cure would be castration. "I guess I came home at a bad time," he said sheepishly. "Sorry I didn't call first." "No, I'm the one who's sorry," sniffled Jane, while George just looked more perplexed. Come on, girl, Jane's in no condition to explain all this. "Well, I'm glad you're home, honey," I started and then walked over to give him a quick hug and a kiss. "You're just in time to help me make tea." I led him to the stove. While I put the water on, fixed the pot, and got out some cups, I gave George the details of what had happened since Bill's call. By time I had finished, the kettle had boiled, so I put the pot and cups on a tray and brought them to the coffee table. "That really sucks," said George after contemplating all I'd said, and from his measured reply, I knew his mind was already at work. "Not the tea, but what that prick did to Bill." Jane had moved on to sulking and sort of grunted her agreement with his assessment, but obviously wasn't feeling talkative, just a melancholy "Thank you," as I passed her a cup. George sat in one of the chairs opposite the sofa, and although he accepted a cup, he just set it down, leaned forward, looking directly at Jane. "So I take it you're fed up with Bill's job?" he asked. Jane merely nodded. "Have you told him that?" "More than once," she replied, softly, but bitterly. "Has he looked for something new?" "A little." "And?" "He's tried, but it's not easy. I mean there just aren't that many jobs around that have the same pay and wouldn't require us to move. We really like where we live and the friends we have," Jane said as she looked at me with a sad smile. Well, at least she smiled. "What if I told you that I know of a recent opening," George continued, "that wouldn't require you to move? I don't know exactly how much Bill makes, but I can guess, and I think the pay would be in the ballpark." "Oh god, we'd loved to know about it!" Jane blurted, her eyes brightening. "Where is it?" "It's with me. You know, at my company." "Are you sure?" Jane asked somewhat dubiously. Time for some back-up. "He's serious, Jane," I interrupted. "George has mentioned several times that he needs some help, maybe even a partner." "I don't know what to say," she replied, but by the way suddenly sat up and looked at George, I knew she was very interested. "Then just listen," said George. "As Lyn said, I need someone. Things are going real well and it's getting to be too much for me to manage. I've got a lot of new jobs and hired some new people. But if I don't get some help running it, I'll be living at work, and that's something I swore I'd never do again. I've been putting off doing something about it because I don't want to hire just anyone. Bill's one of my best friends and I know what I'd be getting. I wish I'd thought of it sooner." I'm sure Jane does too, judging by the way she's hanging on every word. "So," he asked, "do you think Bill would be interested?" "Well, I know that I am," she replied, "and I'm sure he would be too!" "Great. The next time you talk to him, let him know and if he wants, send me an e-mail or better yet, call me." "I'll talk to him later today and I bet you hear from him very soon," Jane proclaimed her mood vastly better. "Okay, but that still leaves one problem. What to do about your birthday." "I guess we'll just have to postpone it," said Jane, although her disappointment was obvious. She's not the only one who's disappointed. "Yeah," I said, "but I hate to think of you sitting home all alone on your birthday." "She doesn't have to." he said. Jane and I both looked hopefully at George. "I know it won't be quite the same, but you could come over on Saturday, Jane. We'll have dinner here instead." "Really?" she asked, feigning innocence. "I don't want to put you guys out. You've already made my day." You never did do modesty well. "Oh, cut the shit, Jane," I blurted out. "Sorry, you're right. You know I'd love to." "Tell you what," said George. "Why don't you come up after lunch and go out with Lyn for a while. Go shopping. Get your nails done, you know, girl stuff. I'll take care of dinner and everything for a proper celebration. Spend the night if you want….You know, so you don't have to worry about what you drink." Proper celebration indeed! I know where your mind is…and I'm right behind you. Looks like Jane is too. Funny how we all know what he means, but no one will really come out and say it. "A girls' day out, I don't have to cook and I can have whatever I want….to drink. Sign me up!" said Jane enthusiastically. Whatever she wants. Mmmm. "Okay, why don't you pick me up around one? It's been a long time since we went shopping together," I suggested. And if you remember, Jane, the last time we did, I was still Marion the librarian and you bought that trashy lingerie. "I know just the place to go," she replied, an evil grin gracing her face. ***** Not surprisingly, Bill called George that night. Jane didn't waste any time on that one! But there's something more, isn't there George? I mean, I heard you two talking. At first it was business, but then Saturday obviously came up. Don't try to tell me you were discussing the dinner menu and what he would ‘serve' Jane. I can see the wheels turning in your head. But if you're not gonna tell me, what can I do? Just one more butterfly in my stomach. Don't I already have enough anxiety? Finally, Saturday arrived. I tried to stick with our usual routine of a leisurely breakfast and reading the paper over a couple of cups of coffee. Jesus, George, how can you be so calm? And no, I don't want more coffee. I've got enough nervous energy to power a small town. I'll just straighten up the house a bit. Yeah, right! I'm acting like the fucking Queen of England's coming over. Come on you stupid sheets. Get on the bed will you. Never had this much trouble changing them before! And why are you spending so much time on the guest room? Still some doubts, eh? Lunch? How can you think of eating at a time like this? Okay, you're right. Don't need to get a headache. I don't remember tasting it though. Thank god! Jane's finally here. Just throw your stuff in the guest room. Let's go. Ahh, shopping. We'll both get a new dress for tonight. George won't be the only one with a surprise up his sleeve! Ohh, that'll be cool. The same style, but yours in red and mine in black. I can see why you'd pick this one, but I suppose I can live with your superior cleavage. And some new lingerie, yum. I'm gonna have to get one of those I can't believe they're mine bras from Victoria's Secret to do the dress justice. Hot damn, I cant' wait to see the look on his face. Where'd the time go? We'd better get back home. I wanna shower before dinner and I'm sure you do too. I'll shoo George downstairs while we get dressed so we can make our entrances together. Well, George's eyes just about popped out of his head and, if I do say so myself, we looked great. George wasn't so bad either, simple but elegant: a crisp white shirt and black wool gabardine pants. We sat at one end of the dining table with George at the head, flanked by Jane and me. And wow! Dinner was excellent. Obviously he's put a lot of thought into it – everything went well together, and nothing too heavy. To toast Jane's birthday, we started with some Proseco, accompanied by a smoked salmon starter. The main course of just grilled fish and a salad was washed down with some Pinot Griggio, which I knew was one of Jane's favorites. But for dessert, he surprised us by serving crème brulee instead of any kind of birthday cake and somehow managed to stick a candle in the crystallized caramel for Jane. "My, that was fantastic! This has been a really wonderful day. Thanks to both of you," said Jane as she raised her glass. "Cheers!" Glasses clinked and we all drank up. I reached for Jane's present that I left wrapped at the other end of the table. "Happy Birthday!" I said and handed it to her. "This day just keeps getting better," she said as she pulled off the ribbons and paper. "Oh my god it's lovely!" "The moment I saw it, I knew you'd like it." "It'll be a perfect addition to the collection of angels I put on the mantle every Christmas. Where'd you get it? I've never seen anything like it." "We got it down at Wheaton Village, you know, at the artist's enclave in the glass works." "Thank you," Jane said as she stood and sort of trotted around the table to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was a bit awkward with me seated and her leaning over and wrapping her arms around from the side. Just like the last hug you gave me, only now your nipple's poking my bare arm, while yours is wrapped across my breasts. Do I feel that way to you? "Hey, I drove!" joked George. Were we that obvious? How long had she held me? "I'm sorry," said Jane as she released me and gave him a quick kiss. On the lips. As she seated herself again, a nervous silence fell around the table. Jane and I both fidgeted in our chairs, totally aware of the sexual tension between us, alluded to all day, and now hovering over the table. Neither of us could muster the courage to take such a fateful step. I looked at George with pleading eyes. Help me. Help Jane. You're the one in control…. Oh, now I get it. You're enjoying our anxiety. You're a wicked one, George. He smiled and then, to my surprise, he said, "I've got a present for Jane too. It's upstairs, but I'll need Lyn to give me a hand. You won't mind if we disappear for a bit, would you Jane?" Present? What present? He hadn't told me about that! "You're too kind, George," Jane replied. "I've got a little more wine left and how could I mind waiting for another gift?" With that he stood, took my hand and led me through the kitchen and up the stairs. Upon reaching the bedroom, he closed the door behind us. "I didn't know you got Jane a present. What is it?" George didn't answer me immediately. Rather, he seized my upper arms, pulled me to him and sternly locked his eyes on mine. "You," he said sternly, "Now, take off your clothes." "But…are you sure?" "Trust me," he said in soothing reassurance as he released me. "Don't worry. I know more than you think. Thanks to Bill." Somehow, that's not a surprise. I slid my dress past my shoulders, over my tits and gravity did the rest. "Very nice. Did you get those today?" "Yes, sir." He kissed me deeply while his hands slid down my back and cupped my ass, sneaking his hands inside the black lace. Breaking off, he continued forward over my cunt and up to my breasts, flicking my nubs through the silky black fabric. My knees nearly buckled as a tingling followed his fingers and then lingered maddeningly between my hips as he stepped back, his gaze now caressing me. "I must say that both of you looked ravishing tonight…..So ravished you will be." I tried to embrace him once more, but was rebuffed by hands firmly placed on my shoulders. "Patience." The authoritative tone returned. "Lose the underwear." As I reached for the clasp of my bra, George moved beside the bed, flung back the covers past its foot and pulled out the restraints from underneath it. He's going to tie me down! He wasn't kidding when he said, "Patience." Unhook, damn it! Mmmm… "Stop that!" he barked. Charging behind me, he pulled the bra down my arms and yanked my panties to my knees, swatting each cheek. "I didn't say you could touch yourself." "Sorry, sir." "Now take of those panties and get on the bed, face up." Okay, okay. But the sting is only making the ache in my cunt worse…Shit! I wonder if Jane heard any of this…Stop trembling girl, it'll be alright, but I haven't been this nervous since Thatday. "You are beautiful," George said reassuringly as his fingertips teasingly caressed my nipples with the faintest touch. "I know Jane will like it too." "I hope so," I replied in a tremble. God, I hope so. He's getting undressed too? Aren't you going a bit fast? Oh, your cock's swelling already. That explains a lot. He pulled the black silk robe from the closet. The one I had given him for his birthday and had ‘Sir' embroidered in blood red script at the left side of the chest and was generally reserved for my spankings. Damn, I guess we're in it now, Jane! As he tied the robe, walked back towards the bed and sat next to me, he must have read the anxiety on my face. "Don't be afraid, my love. Trust me. You do trust me, don't you?" "Yes, sir," I squeaked. I know I do, but it's still not stopping the thumping in my chest…nor the desperate longing that's flittering inside me… Oh, a blindfold too? I tried to speak, but a finger delicately sealed my lips in the darkness. "Shhh." And then a soft whisper, "Patience. All will be revealed soon enough. For now, be silent." Okay, I'll go along, but I've got a nagging suspicion you'll torture me with anticipation. Won't be the first time for that, now will it? I felt him rise from the bed. What the…? Clickety, clickety… A keyboard? I'd seen his laptop in its customary place on the small desk on the far side of the room when we'd entered, but hadn't given it much thought. What the hell is he up to? "George?" "I will not repeat myself again. Silence!" More clicks… Now so quiet…Is he still here? George? Where are you damn it? I'm jolted by a whisper, so proximate I could feel his breath on my ear. Flinching, my limbs jerked on the bonds. "Enjoy the show," he said and, pausing slightly, "Don't go anywhere." Oh, ha-ha, George. Enjoy the show? What show? I can't see a blessed thing! But, I'm certain he's left the room – there's that one spot in the hallway that creaks when you step on it. Waiting…waiting. Suddenly, I heard Jane gasp. That's funny. I didn't hear anyone come back upstairs. "Surprised?" said George, but he sounded a little strange "You shouldn't be." There is no one here! The voices are all coming from the lap top. That fucking bit-head has wired the dining room so I can hear what's going on! Oh, you're a wicked one, George. "You know that Bill told me the instructions he gave you," he continued. "I know, but I…you…where's Lyn?" "Upstairs, but she's kinda tied up at the moment, and there are a few, umm, preliminaries. I have my instructions too, but just so we're clear, what did he tell you?" Very funny, George. Preliminaries? What did she just say? Beneficially HIS Ch. 03 "Speak up!" commanded George. Thank you. "If I'm a good girl," Jane submissively replied, "I'll get what I want for my birthday." Me? "That's right," said George, "so are you going to be a good?" "Yes." "Excellent. Now, come here and stand before me." I know that tone. Soft, but strong, almost evil, yet irresistible. "Raise your dress….such lovely panties…but you don't need them. Take them off…Spread your legs more!...Yes, I would say you're ready." Jane sighed. "Very wet and you're clit's begging for attention. Isn't it?" "Yesss," Jane replied in a high pitched plea. And so is mine. "But you'll have to wait. Bill asked me to administer your birthday spanking. So, get yourself over my knees." "No, no," he continued, "Raise your dress…..That's a good girl….Such a lovely soft ass." Come on George, stop teasing. Can't you hear her whimpers, begging you? Smack! Finally! My butt cheeks clenched empathetically with each blow that George administered in an agonizingly slow and erratic pace, each strike summoning a sharp squealing whimper from Jane that landed as teasing pinpricks on my clit. What I wouldn't give for a free hand right now! "Ohh!" Jane suddenly exclaimed. "You like being fingered when you're spanked, don't you?" hissed George. This is so unfair! Why do I have to be the one left here alone? "Yes. Don't stop!" "You-won't-tell-me-what-to-do!" he countered, as a harsh slap accompanied each word. Yes! Get her ass red! Make the bitch squeal. "Please, please, make me come!" she begged. "Not now, you've got something else to do." That's right, if I can't, neither should she. "Anything." "And you will," he replied diabolically, "but you've made my cock hard and I understand you've got incredible oral skills. On your knees, slut!" No, no, no! Come upstairs. "And to make sure you do it right, let's tie your hands behind your back. My sash should do nicely." Really playing it up for me, aren't you? "Oh my god," she gasped, "Look how big you are." "You made it that way, now suck it! And, if you do a good job I'll play with your tits." But what about me? I'd gladly suck your cock, if it meant someone would touch me! From her slurping and their joint moaning, she must be pleasing him. That's it, live it up you two. Bitch. Bastard. Unexpectedly, I heard Jane pleading, "Please touch my tits some more." "Not until you take all of my cock." "I can't. You're bigger than Bill." George? Big? How was I to know? Jane had much more…umm…varied experience than me. There had only ever been Tom before, and I just figured he was small. So, Miss I-Can-Deepthroat-and-You-Can't has met her match! "Well you're gonna try!" The sounds of sloppy sucking and gagging were perversely intoxicating as I wondered if Jane experienced the same thrill I did from the power George was exerting, certain that he was firmly grasping her hair and roughly probing her limits. His familiar grunts left no doubt that he was enjoying himself. "Do you want my cum?" he roared. Between gasps of air, Jane shouted, "Yes….goddammit…choke me with your cum!" Greedy little bitch…not that I blame her. His growls of release and Jane's hawking made me jealous and as my pelvis pointlessly gyrated in search of relief, my essence trickled down to my ass, only to emphasize the longing emptiness that echoed deeply within my hips. Come on Jane, stop slurping on him and get your ass up here! He's not gonna get hard again that fast! Following a wet ‘pop,' I heard Jane sigh and all George could muster was "Wow!" "Can we go see Lyn now?" she asked. "I bet she's wondering what we've been up to." "No doubt," he replied through a weakly disguised chuckle. "What's so fucking funny?" "Nothing for you to worry about. Don't you want your present?" "Oh yes! But can you untie me first?" "Not quite yet. Let's go." Finally…The creak in the hallway…they're here! I hope she likes what she sees. Damn! I wish I could see her face. "Isn't she beautiful?" George asked. "More than that," she said, "She looks de-li-cious." "Wait here," he said and then suddenly my eyes were blinded by the incredibly bright room, as a whisper instructed me to remain silent. Why the fuck have you got every light in the room on? No matter. A few blinks later, my eyes had adjusted. I spied Jane, still flushed from her tryst downstairs, standing at the foot of the bed, breasts thrust out provocatively by her bound arms, eyeing me lustfully, scanning my body, but lingering on my hairless cunt, while George, barely still in his robe, leered in unison over her shoulder. Yes, look at me! Do you see how wet I am? Here, let me raise my hips to you. Is it just me or are my lips opening for you? The spell was broken when George said, "Seems you're overdressed, Jane," as he slid her dress down her shoulders, slowly exposing her large breasts, barely contained in the lacy red bra. Magnificent, but I want to see more. Her eyes fluttered as he cupped each breast, slid his hands together to release the clasp and gradually exposed them to me. "Aren't they beautiful?" asked George as his fingers lightly flicked her luscious pink nipples that swelled in response. I could only swallow dryly and nod in response, mesmerized by Jane's wanton exhibition, her eyes proudly encouraging my lustful inspection. Jane swooned into him as his fingers tauntingly pulled her large nipples towards me, her head tipping back while another short, squealing whimper escaped her lips. Such a divinely submissive sound! Upon his sudden release, Jane staggered slightly, backing into him to maintain her balance. George's hands slid in from view momentarily. A flash of gold? A nipple chain! Ooo, lovely, and, my god, can they get any more swollen? I would think that hurts, but she's loving it! Especially when he's pulling on it, slowly moving her tits in circles. Yes, finally, he's releasing her arms and stripping her. What did he whisper in her ear? Bracing himself and leaning Jane backwards, he circled her wrists in his hands. Jane's eyes locked on mine and guided them down to her neatly trimmed golden brown pubes as four hands crept in, spreading her to reveal the pink, shining core. Damn, I don't know who's wetter, her or me? And when did my hips start their circular dance again? Watch out! Her legs are shaking so badly she'll fall! Sensing her predicament, he gently pushed her forward so she could catch herself on the foot of the bed with a shuddering sigh, tits swaying with the gold adornment glimmering between them, hypnotically staring at the junction of my thighs. George then knelt on the bed, straddling my shin. Getting hard again already, I see. Had Jane felt that between her cheeks? No doubt. Nor any of what he must have been thinking. Using the chain as a leash, George brought Jane crawling up to me, halting with her knees to the left of my waist, one hand just above each shoulder. My chest heaved upwards and I raggedly gasped as he briefly teased my left nipple with the slackened chain. It's only cool, but so long deprived, it's like ice. So good it almost hurts. Yes George, bring her face closer… your essence still on her breath…lips tentatively parting…eyes closing…so soft…tongues timidly introduce themselves…growing bolder…now aggressively entwined…I want… No! Don't go! He's retaken the chain, guiding her downwards. Tongue flicking…nipple hardening…taking more…now sucking…harder, pleeease…ahhh…a second tongue…licking…biting…sliding across…joining…embracing around and over me… dancing with the other. Too soon, the number ends. I feel Jane repositioning herself on my left; my eyes open to see she turning around, her broad ass facing me and I follow its cleft past the brown crinkle to the her prominent tumescent lips, framed by matted curls, darkened by her moisture. I tried to reach for her, only to be cruelly reminded that I could not. Turning my head, I find George kneeling, raptly watching Jane's southward progress. No help there! Tee-hee, the chain tickles a bit, but, oh, her tits are so warm, the metal a sharp contrast to her softness. Tender hands slide under my thighs…fingernails claw for purchase on my lips…spreading me…her breath, at first warm, then chilling…at last, a tongue lovingly traces my slit repeatedly…infuriatingly…do I taste good to you? The answer was sharp and sudden as her mouth sucked in my lips and her tongue attacked my clit. "Yes! Oh god, yes! Eat me Jane!" Aieeah! Not literally! Your pinching! "Tooo much," I wailed in painful ecstasy, as all my muscles seemed to constrict at once and my hips tried to turn away from her furious onslaught. "No more….. pleeeease!" They're not listening. She's just sinking her claws into my ass and pressing tighter…No, George, not my nipples. I can't take anyMOOOORE! After that, I kinda lost track. I just remember thrashing helplessly against my bonds with my eyes slammed shut. And wailing something incomprehensible about Jane, or ‘profanely speaking in tongues' as George later described it. Whatever. I finally did open my eyes to find George and Jane kneeling on either side of me. And although I was panting with sporadic twitches tormenting my body, they were obviously not sated. With him, the need was obvious. With Jane it was only subtly revealed in her lust filled eyes, as the sheen on her lips, chin and nose reminded me of the excruciating pleasure she'd just given. And as soon as I get my strength back, you'll get yours. "It doesn't look like she'll attack, so I believe we can release her now," deadpanned George. Very funny, mister. But, desperate for freedom, I didn't to rise to the bait, merely flexed my limbs as each was removed from its bonds. They even took momentary pity on me, messaging my weary muscles. But once my breathing was normal, he said, "You know Jane hasn't cum yet," as he guided her to kneel over my tummy, "and she's waited long enough." As he removed the chain, the familiar whimpering returned while the rocking of her hips rubbed her sodden cunt on my tummy. That kinda tickles, but also reminded of her earlier exhibitionism. And those tits. Come here…Feed me…Hmm, a little salty rubbery nub on my tongue…give me more…I can even feel the tiny bumps on her areola…just made for sucking…no wonder guys love tits…yes, whimper for me, Jane. What're you doing with my hands Jane? Mmm, your ass feels so smooth…soft…squeezable…and your cunt is so wet…there's your little nub…gotta taste it. Help me…that's it…lemme slide under you…Hmmm…not that different than when I've tasted myself on George, but wha?t… stronger?… muskier? Definitely not unpleasant …now I understand why he likes me bald…but no biggie… just get yourself off on my tongue. And play with your tits too? Gladly. Pinch them. Sure, whatever you want…anything to hear you squeal a little more. What the..? Sit back on my face Jane! You're so close. "No!" said Jane crying in supplication. I'd been so engrossed with Jane's cunt, I hadn't noticed that George had risen up on his knees, and looking up I saw that his left hand was full of hair at the crown of her head, her face pointed to the ceiling. She'd had to follow. Smack. She flinched as the hard blow landed on her ass. I was equally shocked. What game is this, George? He glanced quickly at me and mouthed, ‘Trust me.' Okay, I won't interfere…for now. "You're not cumming without me!" he hissed as her turned her head to face him, her hair still tightly clenched in his fist. "Please?" "Please what?" "Please, George, let me cum. I'll be a good slut. I'll suck you or fuck you. Just let me cum!" she pleaded. I suspect that's not the first time you've said that, Jane. She moaned as I saw his free hand disappear behind her ass. Fingers reached up to her clit and through her sopping slit, and as it disappeared from my view, her legs tensed further. "And you know where I'm going to fuck you, don't you, Jane?" "My ass? But you're too big." "Nonsense!" he countered, forcing her to look at me. "You know full well that Lyn's taken it many times. Haven't you, Lyn.?" I was enjoying the play so much that his words didn't register immediately, but eventually I filled my role, "Yes, sir." His fingers returned to her cunt. "So do you want to come, Jane?" She hesitated. Pleading eyes met mine, but her hips had already made the decision. "It will be all right, Jane….I'll help," I reassured her, although I didn't really have a clue how I could. George smiled approvingly; then jerked her head to face him again. "Do you? It's you last chance, and there'll be no backing down," he asked once more, as he roughly fingered her clit in unison to her gyrations. "Y-yes," she replied, in a stammering moan. George leapt off the bed and Jane sank back down on my face, sighing as my tongue immediately went back to work. He wheeled at the sound. "If Jane cums, I'll turn both your asses red!" I could take that as a challenge…almost. I heard the nightstand drawer open. At least he's getting the lube. "Jane, get your ass over here!" Slowly, she rose, my mouth following as far as my neck would allow, and then knelt at the edge of the bed before him, head bowed. Damn, she really is submissive! I guess he knows what he's doing. It was only then that I saw he held not only the lube, but also our vibe. "Sit on the edge of the bed," he instructed Jane, then pushed, forcing her to lie back, her legs dangling from the edge and switching the vibe on low, teased her nipples. "Lyn, bind her arms." It took a few moments to lengthen the straps, but Jane willingly surrendered her wrists to the tethers. Such a good girl, you deserve a kiss. As out tongues played, Janes squealed into my mouth and I turned to find he had pressed the vibe directly on her clit. "I thought that would get your attention," he said, grinning, and summarily pulled the vibe away. "Take this," he said to me, extending the hand holding the vibe, "but remember, she's not to cum until I do." He lifted Jane's ankles and pushed her knees to her chest. Laying beside her, I cooed in her ear, "Relax, Jane. I've done this, so can you." To that end, I suckled on the nipple nearest me. She sighed and exhaled deeply, followed by a sharp intake, as a slick finger penetrated her ass. I brought the vibe to her cunt, letting is rest between her slick petals. Another moan, and he pressed deeper, but Jane didn't tense nearly as much. Realizing I needed to coordinate my efforts with George, I got to my knees at her hips, rubbing the vibe on her, coaxing a motion to her hips. More lube, a second finger. So far so good. That's it! Concentrate on the vibe. At least he's letting her adjust slowly…but the moment has come. Be as gentle as you can, George. And he was. At first just resting the head of his cock against her asshole, then slowly moving it in unison to Jane's riding of the vibe. Gradually his pressure increased. "Eeeeee!" she squealed as his head popped in. Jane pulled on the restraints in a useless effort to escape, and, seizing a thigh in each hand, he refused to retreat, but at least stopped his advance, while I briefly stroked her hair and cooed reassurances. That's it Jane. I know you've done this before. The worst is over. Breathe…relax…Shit, why do I feel like some kind of demented midwife?…But…it's working…she's responding to the vibe again. George took advantage of her slow reciprocation, patiently worming in deeper. As Jane's contrasting sentiments were evidenced by a series of sighs and gasps, he finally penetrated her completely and once again let her adjust. Jane loosed a long sigh of accomplishment as she felt his hips against her ass, and shortly, the tempo of her motion increased. Passion replaced her previously contorted countenance, and I synchronized the vibe's movement with hers. Much to my surprise, she raised her head long enough to look directly at him and challenged, "So are you gonna fuck me or what?" Well, you didn't need to hit him over the head twice to get his attention. Initially, he slowly pumped her ass with long deliberate strokes. Damn, I know how intense that is, but I can't just sit here and watch. Ahh..that's better "Oh, god!" she wailed. "You like my cock in your ass, don't you Jane?" She'd obviously adjusted to him and launched into a tirade, "Yes! Fuck me, George! Fuck my ass with that big cock!" He gave of all pretence of tenderness and pounded into her, while the deep rumble emanating from his chest signaled his approaching climax. "Come with me Jane!" I cried, as I pressed and held the vibe directly on her clit and vigorously fingered my own. The room filled with the vocalizations of our orgasms – a bizarre cacophony of grunts, sighs and high pitched squeals, which gradually subsided into chorus of contented deep breathing that slowly dissipated. "Wow!" George said, as he collapsed along Jane's opposite side. "Wow, indeed," I agreed, mirroring his position. Jane wiggled and said, "Wow or not, could you untie me?" "Sure," he replied. "Sorry, I was in another world." "Thanks," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and massaging her shoulders. "For everything." George resumed his position next to her, "Believe me, you're very welcome. Was your birthday everything you wanted?" "Yeah." She said softly, with just a hint of reservation. "You're sure?" I asked, somewhat perplexed by her tone. "Well, almost." "Oh?" I asked. What else could you possibly want? "Well, you know, Bill should have been with us. I mean, that was my original plan." "Oh, but I was!" What the fuck? That was definitely Bill's voice, but it came from George's laptop. Jane and I looked at each other in total disbelief, then at George, grinning stupidly and a bit red-faced. "You mean, I….we…" I spluttered, unsure of whether I was embarrassed or pissed off. But somebody's got a lot of explaining to do. "Don't get mad at George," said Bill. "It was as much my idea as his. I didn't want Jane's birthday to pass without a celebration, but I couldn't let it happen without me, either. George and I conspired a little and we decided he could rig some microphones and web cams so I could be there, so to speak. And it looked to me like you all had a good time. So, did you have a happy birthday Jane?" Oh, so this never would have happened without…and that ‘enjoy the show' comment wasn't just for me, was it? "As if you didn't know already!" said Jane, smiling. She's certainly happy. And me? Well, no one ever died of embarrassment, so I guess I'll live. "How about you, honey?" she asked. "Well, let's just say I needed some tissues," Bill replied, barely audible. Good. Someone else's turn to be embarrassed. "But next time, I ain't watchin'" *Author's Note: I hope you have enjoyed this series, which I may continue, if there's still interest. As always, you comments, votes and feedback are greatly appreciated.