0 comments/ 15349 views/ 3 favorites After Dinner Mint By: pocketrocket What do you do after you've done something remarkable? Take a shower I suppose. I had had an experience I would never forget. An hour of bloodthirsty handball, a half hour sauna and ice water later I was feeling human. Hungry, but human. The Orchid was just up the block, and chopsticks and plum wine seemed about right. "C Sean does Szechwan." I must have been a little dopey. I reached the place only to find it packed. I turned to leave when I heard "Is that you Ricky?" No one has called me that since Reagan was President. "OK Franki, where are you?" Laughter. My guess is that no one called her Franki anymore either. Most Broadway divas seem to like French sounding names. Francine happened to come equipped with one. She certainly was a Broadway Diva. At least she was in New York. "All right, I won't call you Ricky if you don't call me Franki. I didn't want to call you Clarance." "Thank you for that. I go by Sean--it's my middle name in case you didn't know--or by Richards. You may choose either." "Well C Sean Richards, we have a reservation for 8 and only 7 showed up. Would you like to join us? Please. I'm the odd man out" I didn't try to pick up the names. They hadn't tried to pick up mine. Francine was right; the others were paired off. By the time the desert cart came by, we were alone. So I walked her home, she invited me in, I decided to stay for a few minutes and we talked for hours. At one point she went to get something from the kitchen and I wandered around looking at pictures of her with famous people. Then I stopped dead. There was a picture of her with Cynthia—may be 15 years old, but still Cynthia. She noticed me looking at the picture. "What a waste. Prodigy at 14, tragedy at 16." "What happened?" "Dancers cannot have 38 D breasts. It doesn't work. She got too big and that was that." Francine was 5'3", 95 pounds only because of the muscle in her legs. "I met her. I think we hit it off. We certainly seemed to communicate without saying much." We talked some more. A lot about dance. Some I knew, a lot more I did not. The subject of pain came up. Dancers, it seemed, were like runners. To get good you have to deal with pain. Make friends even. It was the slow controlled movements that really could get you. "That was what Sheila was so good at. The impossible holds and the unreachable stretches." She meant Cynthia. "I know her as Cynthia." "Stage name. Francine Martel works fine on a billing, Sheila Schwartz doesn't. What's she doing now?" "I see your point about the name. I always noticed yours whenever I saw it. She's teaching. Not dance, but a lot of the "control" that you've been talking about. Executive training, that kind of thing." "So she has been training you?" "Not exactly." "You train her?" "Closer, but not exactly." Without appearing to move, Francine had managed to work her way next to my. Not that I objected. "Maybe you could train me." Exaggerated pout and pleading impression. I reached out and gave her fanny a swat. "But aren't you supposed to spank a bare bottom." "Very well, take off your pants and undies and come lay over my knee so I can spank you properly little girl." I could play too. I wondered how far she would take the roll she had just dropped into. You can never tell about actors. Sometimes its them and sometimes it's the roll and sometimes its them pretending to play the roll. "But daddy, I'll be good." A little further it seems. Now Sugar, you know if I have to come get you it will be worse. You've earned an extra swat already." "Well all right, if you promise not to hit to hard." Pout, pout. "I promise to warm your buns properly. Now one, two, three…" "I'm coming. I'm coming." "What did I tell you to do with your pants and panties?" She peeled them off right there, and came timidly over. "Now stand between my legs, lean over my left knee and put your hands on the floor." "Are you going to hit hard?" "You deserve a good spanking and you are going to get one. Now Bend Over." She did. I closed my legs to pin hers, put my left hand on the back of her neck and held her down while I wound up the first swat. Whack. "Yow. That's enough daddy." If she had dropped character, I would have let her up. Instead I counted off 10 swat. By five my hand was red and my fingertips were numb. I never realized punishment could be so demanding on the punisher. The punishee's butt had a nice red glow. And a wet one. "There now. That's done. Now daddy is going to check to see if his little girls tempature is all right." She certainly smelled all right. I took my middle finger and ran it down the center of her vagina, just under the lips. She squealed and jerked, trying to get loose. It was a fight, but I had the size and the leverage. In a few moments, I fingerfucked her. Then three at once. Before long her squirms had a different feel to them. Then, "Oh shit I'm coming. YESSSS." I let her up. "I guess daddy's girl has grown up." "You're a bastard Sean. I'll get you for that." "Feel free." Leaning back with hands behind my head. "You asked for it sucker. Get those pants and panties off." "I give you permission." From the look on her face that was a bad move. She knelt and undid my belt and fly. Then off came the shoes and socks. Whew. I need new insoles. Then grabbing my slacks and boxers, "Lift." I lifted and off they came. She sat back on her heels, pulled out the belt and folded the slacks carefully. The belt she looped twice through the buckle. Then she knelt up again and dropped the loops over George, my penis, worked my balls to the top and pulled it snug. One more loop for good measure. "Don't move." My roll had my hands behind my neck. Right then I regretted the decision. But she hadn't broken character before cumming, and I was not going to either. She went into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of water and a towel. Then she washed my feet. I swear. Toweled them dry and started to kiss them. Little bites, sucking on the toes, and drove my ticklish side into convulsions. I levered against my neck so hard my shoulders cracked. Eventually she moved on to my legs, paying special attention to the back of the knee. Then with the wet end of the towel she traced along the inside of the thigh. Blow. Damn I did that to Cynthia, Sheila a couple hours ago. Back to the present. She grabbed the belt an pulled my whole assembly up, and me with it, so she could run that damn towel up my crack. My asshole puckered like from a persimmon as she ran the course towel over it. Then she wetted another corner and started to work up under the belt. Need I say the George's head was purple. Just as I began to worry about George's health, she unwound two loops of the belt. Before I could breath a sigh of relief, Whack. Right in the eye. George only has one and she got it all. Whack. Whack. Whack. Down at the base. Whack. Whack. Lip of the head. Stop to stroke George's throat. Whack. Whack. Whack. Front, back, front. One more. And she makes me wait for it. Taking George by the head with her lips, she slowly runs the loop out of the belt and drops it on the floor. Never once does the gentle pressure leave George's head. Blow. Damn. Licking the throat, the shaft, the balls. Oh God. Here I C . . . Clap. Both hands right on the crown. Sticky fountain all over her hands. She smiles and looks up. "Wanna fuck?" I pulled off my tie and threw it over neck and pull. "Lets neck a little first." She wiped her hands on the towel, put them both sides of my face, and kissed me soundly. "Suits." * * * * * What can you say. Spice is spice, but meat is meat. She sat, bare assed on my bare lap and we kissed and talked til midnight. Then I carried her to bed and we made slow tender love and fell asleep in each others arms. As they say, it doesn't get any better. I learned a lot about theatre to boot. Sheila Schwartz. Hmmm. I gave her card to Francine. I consider Franki a good reference. Good friend too. After Dinner Mints We are returning from dinner. You set your purse down and I take off my shoes. You turn your head, and something about you catches my eye. Smiling, your beautiful eyes all a glow, you ask me why I'm staring at you? I just smile back and move closer to encircle you in my arms, the warmth of your body, as always excites me. I whisper in your ear, and you kiss my neck as my lips gently brush your neck. You tilt your head back (which you know I love) and I begin to nibble at your neck. Your hands run up my shirt, and just the feel of your smooth hands on body makes me shiver. Your breath quickens, as I nibble at your neck and shoulders, and soon we start kissing. As you know I love to kiss, your tongue probes in and out of my mouth, and the taste of your moist lips excites me. My hands work up and down your back, and our kissing intensity increases. I feel you remove your shoes. I pull away from you, your eyes are burning with desire and I move down your body, never taking my eyes off yours. I reach your waist and begin to nibble on your belly. Your hands run over my head, and you start to breath even quicker. My hands massage now massage your legs, and I can feel your body shiver. Your hands leave my head and though I am busy licking your body I can feel you remove your shirt. You startle as I begin to pull your skirt off. Your hands return to my head, and as I help you out of your skirt, my hands caress your legs. Kissing you from your ankle on up, I move my hands over your legs as I work my lips closer to yours. You feel the warmth of my tongue as I lick you inner thigh, just along the edge of your panties. My right hand is pressed firmly against your hip, and my left is massaging your other leg. You spread your legs just a bit and I work my tongue around the edge of your panties. I can feel the heat radiating off your body and once again you begin to gasp for air. Wrapping my fingers around the edges of your panties, I gently pull them off. I glance up into your eyes, and you nod. The feel of my tongue along your already wet lips, makes you shiver, and I begin to lick with glee. After only moments your hands fall to your sides, using the wall as leverage. I slowly stand up, kissing you all the way up, and I let a finger slide inside your warmth. You run your nails along my back. softly breathing over your breasts, you kiss my head, and your passion builds. As I stand, you start to unbutton my pants, your hands working frantically at my crotch. Kissing you in between I remove my shirt. I am in a near frenzy on your neck and lips. As my pants fall to the floor I can feel your hands on my shaft. You start to squirm, and shake and I can feel you move your legs. I reach down, cupping your buttocks, and as I lift, I slide inside your warmth. You wrap your legs and arms around me as I begin to thrust, pinning you to the wall. Keeping this position is hard, but the pleasure I am giving you worth it. Our kissing is hard and intense, and I can feel your juices start to flow. Knowing that keeping this position is rough, you whisper you want me to take you now. Caught in the heat of passion I swing us both down onto the floor. You let out a moan, as gravity takes hold, and I thrust hard into your warmth. You spread your legs, and my hands are all over your body. Your hands cup my butt, inviting me deeper and deeper inside of you. You tell me to you want me, repeating my name over and over, as my thrusts increase in speed and force. You know I'm close and you tell me to cum. I can feel your muscles tighten as I let myself loose inside your body. Screaming your name, I explode in a furry of thrusts, all the while your scream my name. My body begins to relax, but you know this is only the beginning. After laying on you for only a minute or two, you know that I am ready for more. We stand up together and your eyes stare into mine as you back up to the bedroom. Laying back, leaving your knees bent, your legs are hanging off th end of the bed. You sigh, as you feel my fingers and tongue probe inside your warmth. Your wetness oozes over my face, but it only moves to excite me all the more. You begin to spasm, and shake as I bring you closer and closer to climax. Your hands press down on my head, forcing my tongue deeper inside of you. I lick, suck, and slurp at your wetness, and I spread your legs to open more of yourself to me. Soon your screaming and wave after wave of passion you explode your juices all over my face. Having you cum on me builds up my desire for you, and as your body is calming down I move up, and begin to softly caress your beautiful body. Your breathing is slowing, and your juices are cooling, but I still have desire for you. I kiss you and you savor the taste, sucking and licking at my lips. My hands rest on your body and slowly as we kiss, I roll you over onto your tummy. Hard again, I pull your thighs back a bit, and you burry your head in a pillow for support. I slide inside you, and you let out a moan. Though we're both sore, you now ache for me to take you yet again. You lift up your but, making it easy for me to slide in. Your still wet, from your orgasm, so I slide in you with all the more ease. My hands are firmly holding on to your hips as I begin to thrust inside you. Harder, faster, and harder, you beg me to fuck you again. We both are screaming for more and with each thrust my force inside you increases. Soon I slow, and you know I am just teasing you. Telling me how hard you want it, I begging to thrust inside of you again. In a moment of utter excitement and passion, I let loose inside you, and we both fall to the bed. Mmmmm, we both sigh, and I see you smile, as you know it's only a matter of time, before I take you again. After Dinner Mints When Chip closed the door behind him, I breathed a sigh of relief. The Martins had been here for more than six hours. I didn't mind a midweek dinner party, as long as it ended at a decent hour. It was now 1:00 a.m. and we both had to get up at seven. We stumbled to bed too exhausted for sex. I had just fallen into a heavy sleep when the doorbell, then a bam bam on the front door, jerked me out of sleep. Chip was already up and turning on the lights. A string of profanities flew out of his mouth. I was thinking along the same lines. Grabbing my satin robe, I followed him downstairs. It was the Martins, Bob and Sandra! Bob said that they had almost run into a police check point and both had been drinking. He was afraid they would get a ticket and wanted to know if they could crash at our place. Chip and I exchanged glances. What else could we do? The spare bedroom was beside our room. The headboards of both beds were separate by a thin wall. Our house was an old one, circa 1910. We had plans to buy a newer one in a few years. I gave Sandra a gown to sleep in. Bob proudly declared that he slept in the buff. We bade each other goodnight and turned in for the night. Chip felt into an immediate sleep. It always amazed me how he could sleep so soundly. I was almost asleep when the first moaning sounds started. Sandra sounded as if she were dying. I could hear her faintly say stuff like, "Oh baby, lick mommy" and "Oh baby, that's it, tongue me." She always seemed so prim and proper. Almost frigid! I was shocked to hear her getting sexual with her husband. She came a few times under Bob's tongue. I knew I would never get to sleep now. The sounds of sex were making my pussy hot. I knew no matter what I did Chip wouldn't wake up to fuck me. I started playing with my lips and pulling on my nipples, as I listened to them. But what got me the hottest and made me almost cum under my fingers was when I heard Sandra tell Bob that she thought she could deep throat his 10 inches if she hung her head off the bed. 10 inches! Chip was an average six, but fat. Bob had a 10-inch cock and suddenly I wanted it. They kept me awake for hours with their wild fucking. I heard every moan, squeal, kiss and thrust (okay, I am stretching it there). My mind heard the thrusting and my pussy imagined it. I watched Chip sleep through it all, wondering how he could not hear it. The Martins made Chip's porn flicks sound like Disney movies. The next morning I decided to call in for a sick day at the dentist’s office I worked for. I had plenty of sick days to take and I knew I wouldn't be able to sit in front of a computer all day on the two hours of sleep I got. I sat with Chip while he ate his Wheaties. As I framed my lips to tell Chip about the decadence in our guests’ bedroom the night before, Bob pops in. He helped himself to coffee and made a comment about Sandra being exhausted and needed a few hours of sleep. He asked if he could use the phone to clear off his morning appointments. Sandra was a lucky stay-at-home mom. Bob sold real estate. Chip kissed me and hustled out the door. He worked at a highly prestigious firm, a lot of power in the court room but little in bed. Bob sat beside me at the kitchen table, drinking coffee while I perused the morning paper. He calmly asked if I slept well. I spoke before thinking, saying that only the dead could sleep through all the noise going on in the guests’ bedroom. Silence! My cheeks turned ten shades of red. Bob, who enjoyed making someone squirm, began teasing me about getting turned on. When he asked if Chip devoured me, I told him that Chip slept through it all. Winking at me, Bob asked if I wore my batteries down in my vibe. I laughed and said that my fingers were now worn to the bone. He took my hand and slipped a finger into his mouth, sucking on it and then licking over my palm. I felt my nipples get hard instantly. He gave me a wicked grin, before saying that he could taste my juices. I could feel the telltale sign of arousal on my pussy lips. Its wetness cried out. Bob kissed me without saying another word. I was still on fire from the night before and now even hotter from his sensual teasing. I needed fucking, but wasn't sure if I should fuck Bob. I had never cheated on Chip, although he had been unfaithful to me on several occasions. The idea of fucking Chip's friend while his wife slept just down the hall made me feel like a wicked little whore. Oh and I loved feeling like that. I melted under Bob's lips. His kiss reminded me of the sun on your skin after a dip in the pool, warm and inviting. He pulled me up from my chair, to gather me in a total body embrace, as he devoured my lips with his. Our tongues danced, as my skin burned him through the satin of my robe. His hands went to my ass, to urge me up on my tip toes, as he bent his knees, grinding his groin into mine. I could feel his hardness through his trousers. I wanted it. He picked me up and placed me on the kitchen table. Kneeling, he pushed my legs apart. I was almost embarrassed by the wetness that my pussy was oozing. I could smell me, and I was in heat. He began licking me, making yummy sounds in his throat. As Bob feasted on me, he gave a new meaning to "Breakfast of Champions." His tongue swirled over my clit, then would lick down my slit, back up to my clit. I began to move against his face. When he slid two fingers inside and sucked in my clit, I came with the gusto that only a girl on Wheaties can. He could not get over how tight I felt around his fingers. After pulling me off the table, he had me kneel before him. I watched with a bird's eye view, as he uncloaked his cock for my enquiring eyes. It was a dark fleshy color with a purplish head, dripping with precum. The length and width shocked and excited me. I felt a tremor in my pussy. But first I had to suck it. I began with short licks across the head, while my hands moved up and down the shaft. I milked the precum into my mouth. It’s taste reminding me of raspberry tea on a summer day. He moaned my name with each suck and tug I gave. I smiled around his cock, as I looked up at him. I had precum on my lips and chin. What a little whore I was! Loving every minute of it! The eye contact was too much for him to take. I felt him jerk in my mouth, so I slowed down the intensity of my sucking and stroking. He grabbed me under my arms, lifted me up and spun me around, urging me to lean over the table. My wet pussy was a bull's-eye for his cock to aim at. I felt the head part my outer lips and I knew he was going to fill me up like never before. With each inch he moved into me, he would let out a growl. I would let out a girlish squeal. I began to grind backwards into him, impatient for more cock. Bob grabbed my hips, to steady himself. Right before he plunged all the way in, he asked if I was ready for his monster. I began to beg him for it. Dammit, I wanted it now! With one swift thrust, he was inside me and ramming me with all the mustard his cock could give me. Bob said over and over that he couldn't believe how tight my cunt was. I began to whimper and cry, begging him to fuck me harder. His big tool rubbed over my secret spot inside, the one that I could reach with my vibe, the one Chip never could with his cock. I was building up toward one of the most intense orgasms of my entire life. I felt Bob's sweat dripping on my lower back, as he worked up a storm, fucking me. I felt myself contracting around Bob's cock. Shivers ran through my body, as I began to jerk and spasm. My nipples rubbed against the table top with every thrust. I cried out as I came. Bob, stroking faster, made the table dance across the floor. With one swift movement, Bob had me standing up, as he lowered his hips and drove into me. From that angle, I felt as if he were slicing me open with his cock. I came against, this time with such violence that I almost dislodged his cock. Bob groaned into my ear that I was the tightest he had felt in a long time. He withdrew from me. I turned around to look at him, as he stroked his cock a few times. It was covered with my wetness. I got on my knees, holding out my hands to him. He grinned, as I licked my lips. Grabbing his cock, I stroked it. Its heat was mind-blowing. I began to lick and suck his dick, enjoying the taste of me on him. He locked his hands in my long hair and began to drive his cock in and out of my mouth. I rubbed his balls. The wetness there amazed me. I realized it was mine. I took a damp finger and slipped it in his ass. When I did, he let out a bellow, shouting that he was going to cum. I swallowed all his hot jism. Oh my, who needed cream for their coffee? I did! I did! We collapsed into the skewed chairs, giggling like kids. I was amazed that Sandra didn’t' wake up and said so. Bob said that she was a heavy sleeper. I laughed and said that she and Chip were a pair and should sleep together sometime. What Bob said next, blew me away! He didn't know it but he had accidentally let the cat out of the bag with the news that Chip was often the third party in his and Sandra's trio of sexcapades. My shocked face confused Bob, who thought I knew about it. Chip had insinuated that I gave him permission to play around. A thought formulated in my brain (how I have no idea as all the blood supply that lived in me was still centered on my pussy). I gave Bob a wicked grin, as I slipped back into my robe. I asked that he invite me over for their next triangle of pleasure, but to keep it a surprise. He winked, as he slipped into his pants. When Sandra woke up, we were reading the paper and sipping coffee. She smiled sheepishly and asked if she snored. I smiled back, wondering to myself which cock she liked better, Chip's average sized one or Bob's monster. I held back a snicker, as I thought that I would soon find out. After-Dinner Minx We'd been going through a flat patch for a while before we finally faced up to it and sat down to talk. In theory our relationship should have been fine: we have no children, we both have well-paid jobs and, until this dip, we had been lively and reasonably adventurous in bed. Sex was important to us both. But for some time it had become routine. I thought it might just be natural slowing down in our late thirties. Gill said it was because we came home tired; what we needed was a holiday. On an impulse, we took a week-end break in Prague but when we fucked it was self-conscious, as though we were trying too hard to please each other. When we returned home, we had to agree there was a problem. It was Gill who suggested we should see a therapist. I wasn't keen, but at the same time I wanted to get back to the days when I might come home and find a pair of knickers on the kitchen table with a note saying: dinner's ready in the oven but don't turn it on yet - I'm getting turned on upstairs. And there she would be, lying back with a vibrator buzzing on low speed over her clitoris. We discovered a couple of sex therapists in the yellow pages, but we didn't want someone local whom we might bump into the following day in Tesco's. The internet turned up a long list but nothing to indicate whether any particular one was better than another. More or less at random, we settled on a practice about sixty miles away. Gill telephoned while I listened on the extension. Reassured by a calm, business-like female voice on the other end, I nodded and Gillian made an appointment. The woman was Indian, about fifty-five, attractive, well groomed in a subtly shaded sari, cool and dispassionate in manner, but still sympathetic. She spent the first ten minutes establishing that we were both committed to the visit, then said she would speak to us each separately for about twenty minutes, and then call us both again at the end. Comparing notes on the drive home, we found that, without seeming in any way prurient, she had asked us more or less the same detailed questions about our sexual practices and preferences (how long did our sessions last...what were our favourite positions...who chose...did masturbation play a part...how about pornography...did we use explicit language...what about fantasising...were there any taboos...was there anything different one of us wished we could do...and so on). When we were called in together she was silent for a few moments while she read through her notes. Then she looked up and smiled for the first time. "I think," she said, "the problem isn't as bad as you seem to believe. And by coming to see me, which I don't suppose was easy, you've already taken the first step to improving things. "I can tell you that you are a better matched couple than many I see. I think your own diagnosis is largely correct - you've gone a bit stale on each other. So now you want to know what to do about it. The recommendation I am going to make will depend on you, Gillian." Gill nodded. "The one area where there is a little difference between you," the therapist went on, "is over the possibility of widening your horizons to involve others. Mark says he would like to and I think he is mature enough at least to explore the possibility. You, Gillian, didn't rule out the idea but you were much more cautious. Isn't that so?" "Yes, but if - " "If it would solve the problem, you would be willing to try?" Gill looked nervous but nodded. "But you would have to want to do it, or it could make things worse." She paused. "Let me try a small practical test. Do you find me attractive?" Another small nod. "Then suppose I make the first move ..." The physiotherapist unwound the top of her sari, revealing a transparent black bra over good breasts with dark nipples. "Now. Take a moment to think but please be truthful. Are you aroused?" I saw Gill swallow and look at me. I nodded encouragement. "Yes," she said, "I suppose in a way I am." "Then good," said the therapist, readjusting her clothes. "Perhaps Mark will be disappointed but I do not, repeat not, get involved with my clients. That was an experiment to prove a point, nothing more. It doesn't make you a lesbian but it does indicate that the bisexual instinct many women have is not entirely dormant in you. Can you accept that?" "I've never seriously thought about it but - yes - I can understand what you say." "So there is something you might be able to develop between you. I've only given you the smallest hint about one possibility. There are many more. You need to talk about it together. Especially you need to talk about the possibility of being with another couple rather just one person. If so, would you want to exchange partners - in the same room or separately, or would you just want to watch and let them watch you? There are many options and, believe me, there are many couples who find the experience beneficial. My only advice would be to think very carefully before going down the separate rooms route: whatever you decide to do you should do together. Talk it through thoroughly, be clear about your own limits, if any, and then go for it wholeheartedly. Will you do that?" I said, "We'll talk about, I can promise you that. But suppose we decide to take it a stage further, how do we go about finding someone - another woman, a couple, whatever? Could we be sure they were our kind of people?" "Mark," she said, "there are some things you just have to do for yourselves. But I may be able to help you a little" She tore a page from a pad and wrote on it. "You could try getting in touch with these people. They arrange what they call dinner parties with "afters." When you ring they will want to know how experienced you are and what you are hoping for. Be honest with them. There's no point in pretending. They will offer you the option of taking part or simply observing. You will be able to choose whether you want a small or large group - the maximum, I believe, is five couples. They will then put together the kind of occasion to suit you with a compatible couple - or couples. They are expensive but a number of my clients have called me afterwards to report total satisfaction." After leaving, we agreed to give it twenty-four hours for reflection and then try to decide. It was Gill who raised the subject. We were in bed and I could sense that she tensed slightly when I put my hand on her inner thigh. "Mark," she said, "was that woman right when she said you might be disappointed that she and I hadn't ... you know?" "No, of course not." "I mean seriously. We said we'd be honest." "Well, yes, I suppose I was. But look, we've agreed we'll go carefully. I don't want you to think I'm pushing you into anything you don't want to do. I'd rather abandon the whole idea." "But suppose I think it might work?" I said nothing. Gill slowly spread her legs, took my hand and held it, palm down, over her mound. "Just stay like that for now," she said. "I want to tell you about a dream I had last night. "Obviously, the interview must have been on my mind because in this dream we were in her consulting room and she'd just shown us her tits. The way it happened, you know?" I stayed silent but my dick was hardening rapidly. "Well, she walked round the desk and stood in front of you. Nobody said anything, but you started to undress her. Underneath the sari she was wearing knickers and suspenders and stockings that were obviously part of the set with her bra. Black against that pale brown skin - I knew black undies would have their usual effect on you. When you stood up and dropped your trousers, your cock was standing right out." The slightest wriggle of her bottom to change position told me Gill wanted more than just a firm palm between her legs. I let my index finger tease open the lips and wasn't surprised to find that she was already wet. "But when you made a move to remove the rest, she stopped you and beckoned to me. She turned her back while I unfastened the bra. When it fell away she cupped her breasts and pushed them towards me. I licked the nipples, first one, then the other. They were like small round coins and very hard. "She stood away from me, took a cushion from her chair, put it on the desk and lay back on it. When I took her knickers off, she raised herself so her feet were on the desk and her knees were apart. Her cunt had been shaved and I could see moisture on the lips. I looked at you. You were stroking your cock very slowly as though you were finding it hard not to come. I thought you wanted to fuck her but you nodded to me as if to say I should carry on. So I did." "And?" "I don't think there is much more. I must have woken up. But the dream, Mark, it was so vivid, so real. It's been with me on and off all day, and every time I think about it I get wet. I know what I think, but what do you think it means?" "That you want to go ahead - ring these people she recommended?" "If I still think so in the morning, then yes. But right now, I want your cock in me and I want it hard. Nothing fancy. Just fuck me, tell me how my cunt feels for your cock. Do it like we used to." We did and it was good, better than it had been for a long time. She orgasmed only once, which was unusual for her. She made little noise apart from gasping for breath but it was a huge, body-shaking release that took a while to subside. When it burst through her, it almost took me by surprise and I wasn't quite ready. Gill knew at once. "Give me a few minutes," she said, taking my cock in her hand while her breathing gradually returned to normal. Then she climbed astride me, guided me into her warm wetness and rode me very slowly, her tits swaying, the nipples erect. Deliberately, she maintained the languorous, voluptuous tempo, prolonging the exquisite sensation, watching me, calculating my response, letting the spunk build and build from my balls until at last she said, "Now, darling, give it to me now." With that, she sank firmly on to me, my shaft completely buried in her, and she held me there until she had drawn every last drop of cum from me. As we fell asleep, I remember thinking that the therapist had already been beneficial. But where, I wondered, would we go from there. ******************* I made the phone call; Gill listened on the extension. A man's voice answered, friendly enough but neutral. I told him who had given us his number and his manner became more relaxed. His name, he said, was George. "We don't often get referrals from the good Doctor," he said, "but our experience is that she is a good judge of people who might benefit from our ... services. Tell me what you have in mind." I told him we had no real expectations; we simply wanted to come along, have dinner and see what developed. If that was all right with them. "We try to cater for people at different stages of their - shall I say, development. Are you experienced? With others, I mean?" "No, not at all. Is that a problem?" "No. But to get the chemistry right, we'll need to know a little more about you both, so we can choose the right companions for you. If your wife is there, perhaps it would be best if she spoke to Phoebe. We need to be sure you both have the same outlook - I'm sure you will understand." Once Gill had convinced Phoebe that she wasn't being coerced, the two women spent some time establishing just how inexperienced we were, and what we were hoping for. Having recommended that for a first visit we should meet two other couples, Phoebe outlined the rules: no surnames, no cameras, condoms mandatory - they would be supplied together with lubricants, gadgets, anything we might need. Participation was not obligatory - if we wished, we could just watch the others. But, Phoebe claimed, nobody yet had managed to stay aloof once the action developed. Putting together the right group might take time, she warned. As soon as they could offer us a date we would get an e-mail asking us to telephone. Until then we would have to be patient. ******************* Nearly a month passed before the e-mail came. George answered the phone and said they thought they had the kind of mix that would suit us; he and Phoebe hoped we would be able to make next Saturday evening. When we accepted, George gave us careful directions. They lived, he said, out in the country with no neighbours, which suited them. If we got lost he asked us not to make enquiries from anyone we passed, but to ring them and ask for help. Seven for seven-thirty. The house wasn't easy to find but we managed without needing to call for assistance. It was a large building, Edwardian and well-maintained, with a tree-lined drive. As requested, we parked at the rear of the house, next to a Mercedes and a Citroen. Apparently, we were the last to arrive. Dress, we had been told, would be casual but smart for the men, attractive but not tarty for the women. Gill was in a black cocktail dress, skirt short enough to show how good her legs are but no more. Our host and hostess welcomed us at the door. They were both, we guessed, in their fifties but well preserved. Phoebe, blonde hair piled high, wore a high-necked blouse (with a bra that made the most of an ample bosom) and long skirt. Plump would be overstating it; well-rounded describes her better. George was about six feet tall, long-faced, greying, wearing a blazer and striped tie with grey slacks. "Come and meet the others," said Phoebe, leading us into an elegant drawing room where four people were sipping champagne cocktails. Expensive though the occasion was, the indications suggested value for money. Weighing up the other guests, I hoped that would be true throughout. Conrad and Sybil, Phoebe told us, had been coming to dinner for more than two years. "And always go away fully satisfied," smiled Conrad. He and his wife were about our age, both slim, wearing clothes that suggested money wasn't a great problem. The Mercedes couple, no doubt. Happily, there was nothing aggressive or too knowing about them. Sybil took Gill's hand and said, "Everyone is nervous with strangers and I expect you are no different. I was the first time. But someone as pretty as you will surely settle in quickly. Isn't that true, Tara?" "Thanks to you - and George and Phoebe, of course." Tara was accompanied by Mike; they were about ten years younger than us and both, at this stage, a little reticent. Tara had the kind of figure that goes with healthy diet and regular visits to the gym. He dark looks were done no harm by a pale pink dress that made the most of her curves. Mike, tanned and lean, wore shirt and tie but no jacket. "This is only our third time," he said. "So really we're not much more than beginners ourselves." During drinks and dinner, the conversation was no more explicit, merely the small talk that goes with most dinner parties, but there was an atmosphere of charged expectation that was hard to ignore. Concentration on the excellent food wasn't easy. If the evening went well, Gill would be fucked by one or more of those of us sitting round the table. I found myself picturing her on her back, knees raised, being taken by one of the men; would they service her carefully, I wondered, would she be fully relaxed? And what of the women? Across the table from Sybil, I realised that the dark top she wore, while not transparent, could not conceal the absence of a bra. Perhaps something in my expression gave me away for Tara, on my left, slipped a hand under my napkin to discover the hard-on my thoughts had provoked. She smiled at me and very briefly raised an eyebrow as she remarked on the wonderful spell of spring weather we'd been enjoying. After serving coffee and liqueurs, Phoebe remained standing to say, "When you are ready, we can move through for afters. We mustn't keep Mark and Gill in suspense too long." She moved to stand behind Sybil, placing her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "Sybil, they'll be expecting you to lead. And if I may say so, you are looking more enticing than ever." Sybil said nothing. Instead, she took Phoebe's hands and placed them on her breasts and, with a little sigh of pleasure, leant her head back to look up at her hostess. Phoebe bent to meet her, kissing her on the mouth and cupping Sybil's breasts through the dark material. When they broke apart, Sybil smoothed her top through which hard nipples were now apparent. George rose from his chair at the head of the table. "Softly, softly, ladies. There's a long night ahead of us, if you want. Please follow me." From the dining room, we walked along a passage that led to the kitchen, and across a yard into what had been, George said, an old stable block. "We've had it completely refurbished, of course, and - equipped." At my side as we stepped into a large, dimly lit room, Gill squeezed my hand. We were confronted with something like an intimate theatre. On a raised platform was a king-size bed. Pillows and cushions of various sizes were piled at the head. Towels, tissues, condoms and a selection of vibrators and dildoes had been set out on a bedside table. Arranged in front were a dozen comfortable armchairs. "Please make yourselves comfortable," said George. "Mark and Gill, I suggest you take the two centre chairs because you will want to watch, at least for a while. Conrad, you sit next to Gill. Then perhaps Mike will help the ladies to shed those pretty dresses so they can get us started in the usual way." We were about to discover if the therapist's recommendation was what we really needed. Somehow it all depended on Gill. Watching Sybil and Tara step out of their dresses - Sybil in black French knickers, suspender belt and stockings, her small, pointed breasts needing no support; Tara in peach panties and bra - I already knew what I wanted. I looked at Gill whose finger nails were digging into my palm. She moistened her lips nervously, her eyes on the two women who now lay back on the bed. When Mike came to sit with us I saw that Conrad's hand was stroking Gill's thigh. Her skirt was just above her knees and her legs were slightly apart but she made no move to encourage him. Instead, she turned to me and whispered, "Look up." When I did so, I saw that a canopy over the bed was mirrored reflecting Tara and Sybil's outstretched bodies. Each woman had a hand inside her own knickers and had begun a slow masturbation. "Isn't that beautiful - such concentrated pleasure." It was Phoebe who spoke. She and her husband were sitting on the two outer chairs, George, I noticed, with a mini-switchboard on his lap. Looking back to the bed, I realised he was focussing a series of concealed lamps to create pools of darkness and light, isolating different areas to emphasise the erotic activity in front of us. Sybil and Tara's self-stimulation was gathering pace, Tara having pushed her panties down her thighs to allow her hand more freedom of movement. Seeing this, Sybil rolled on to her side and held out her arms to the younger woman. "Tara, darling, come and help me." They began with kisses, long, deep, tongue-in-mouth kisses, then sensuous licking of each other's nipples. Mike stood up and removed Tara's panties and, as Sybil lifted her hips, slid the black knickers away, too. Momentarily, his hand rested against her mound with its small triangle of dark pubic hair, but she twisted away. "That would be nice, dear, and you know I want it - but later. For now, I need Tara." Mike rejoined us, holding Sybil's knickers to his face. When he sat down, he opened his zip, extracted his cock, wrapped the knickers round them and began a series of slow strokes. To my surprise, Gill reached across me and used her hand to assist him. Mike groaned and then stopped her. "Not yet. I'll get too close." Instead, Gill reached for my cock which I was in the process of freeing from my trousers. Her hand was cool and her touch was knowingly subtle. On her other side, Conrad was still stroking her thigh but now underneath her skirt. After-Dinner Minx Meanwhile, on the bed, the two women were in an advanced stage of arousal. Sybil, clearly the leader, was pressing Tara's head between her wide-apart thighs. This presented to us the view of Tara's perfect rounded bottom, the tight pink hole seemingly unviolated - at least so far. The younger woman had inserted two fingers into an eager vagina and was licking a protuberant clitoris. Sybil began to buck, clutching the back of Tara's head as though driving herself to orgasm, but at apparently the critical moment she flipped herself away and turned Tara on to her back. In seconds they had settled into a frenzied sixty-nine and this time there was no holding back. Tara came first - Sybil made sure of that but kept the younger woman's mouth locked on her clitoris until a huge, deep sigh announced that she, too, had reached her first fulfilment of the evening. With my eyes rivetted on the action, highlighted by George's clever manipulation of the spotlights, I had not been aware that Gill was leaning heavily against my shoulder. Now, looking down, I saw that Conrad had worked his hand up inside her skirt and was plainly having some effect on my wife that she found enjoyable. In that case there seemed no point in being coy so I peeled back the skirt to reveal Conrad's fingers at work inside the gusset of her black knickers. Mike, who plainly shared my own response to Gill's underwear, gave a little gasp of excitement as he scrambled from his seat to kneel in front of her for a closer view. "Very nice, gentlemen, but may I remind you that there are two ladies on the bed who are in need of attention." The intervention came from Phoebe, tactfully allowing Gill respite to consider how far she had gone and how much further she might wish to go. Phoebe went on, "I can see that Mike is ready for Sybil, and I'm sure I can persuade Conrad to join him shortly." So saying, she expertly removed the clothes that Conrad had already loosened, applied her mouth to his member for a few moments, rolled a condom down its length, and then gently steered him to where Tara was lying back, fingering herself in lascivious invitation. The women's earlier encounter had done all the preparation necessary, and Conrad took her in missionary position without preliminaries, burying his cock inside her and immediately setting up a steady, controlled rhythm. Beside them, Sybil was on her knees and Mike was penetrating her from behind with such vigour that made me wonder again about his ability to pace himself over a long session. Not that Sybil seemed concerned, for she was urging him on with words that left no doubt of her abandoned passion. "Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "Yes, like that - that's good. As hard as you like." Mike slowed down, braced himself and began to slam into her with longer, firmer strokes. At each withdrawal the condom that sheathed his his penis glistened in the spotlight with Sybils's juices. I looked at Gill whose skirt was still round her waist. Her hand was inside her knickers. "Decision time, sweetheart," I said. "What do you want to do?" "Join in," she said. "You?" "Yes," I said. "If you need me, I won't be far away." "I want you to have me last. Enjoy fucking but save your cum for me. Promise?" I promised and we stripped off and joined the writhing bodies on the bed. By this point, Conrad was applying baby oil to Tara's breasts before laying his considerable cock between them. Once in position, kneeling astride her, he reached back to keep her stimulated with his fingers. But that was soon unnecessary as Gill knelt to apply her tongue to the younger woman's labia. Sybil was riding Mike, bending forward to push her breasts into his face. I found a place for myself behind Mike's head, a signal that Sybil soon read: her lips closed round the head of my penis as she wriggled into position to suck me without losing Mike from inside her. For an hour or more the couplings continued. From time to time partners were changed. Occasionally we were all involved in one jumble of thrusting pelvises, flicking tongues and invading fingers. A sudden unexpected thrust of a penis or the contraction of a vagina would lead to the clenching of female thighs and a shuddering exhalation of breath to indicate yet another orgasm. There were quiet word of warning from Phoebe when she sensed that one or other of we men was getting too near to losing control, and a change of tempo would initiate a recovery period. Unsurprisingly, Mike came first, letting out a great roar before collapsing. Conrad, reacting to some previous agreement with Sybil, withdrew from pistoning Gill, ripped off his condom and spurted cum into his wife's open mouth. And this allowed me to keep my vow to Gill, who welcomed me into her warm, viscous inner depths, wrapped her legs round me and with five quick thrusts to meet me took delivery of what she had been promised. After an interval, P{hoebe circulated with towels and tissues while George opened a door to indicate a large shower room. And so we gradually came down from the erotic heights, dressed ourselves and returned to the formality with which the evening had begun, thanking our host and hostess, discreetly settling our bills and finally shaking hands before setting off into the night. ************************* Gill and I drove in silence for some while before I asked, "Well?" In the darkness, she turned towards me and kissed my cheek. "Can we come again?" I said, "I'm willing to try, but can you wait till we get home?" She giggled. "Silly. I meant come here. To George and Phoebe." "Does that mean you enjoyed it?" "I think I did." "I thought you did. Didn't I see you putting your tongue in Sybil's bottom?" "She asked me to. And not quite in those words, either." "So you did." "Well, from the way she held herself open and kept telling me not to stop, I think she liked it. Not that she found it easy to speak with something in her mouth. Was it yours?" "It could have been." We drove on in silence, both, I suspect, reliving the night's delights. Just before we reached home, Gill said, "I would like us to go again. Some of it was very exciting for me. And for you?" "Yes." "I think we've learned something - about ourselves - and it was good. So I think we should do it again. But not often. Just now and then to have something special to look forward to, But in between we must make it extra good with just the two of us. Unless ..." "Unless what?" "Well, suppose we could find another couple - like Conrad and Sybil, or like Mike and Tara. Would you like that?" "Yes. Would you?" "Yes." At the moment, we are still looking. But our difficulties seem to be over.