12 comments/ 27254 views/ 15 favorites You Scratch My Back, I'll... By: carboncopy Some itches simply must be scratched. But sometimes you can't reach them by yourself. That was the situation in which Winston and I found ourselves, or, to be more specific, the situation in which I involved Winston. You see, I had a terrible urge to fuck my co-worker Martin. It was a strange, out-of-nowhere urge that afflicted me like a growing tickle in that part of your back that you can never quite reach, no matter how you twist your arm. And isn't that what husbands and wives are for? To scratch that unreachable itch, right? And so one day I asked him. "You want to do what?" replied Winston with a rather dumbfounded look on his face. "Just once should be enough, I think," I heard myself saying, though I couldn't believe the words were actually coming out of my mouth. "Yes, I think just one time would do it." And I meant that. Martin is just too attractive ever to be trusted for more than a one-night stand. He's can't remember the names of all the women he's left wanting. Any wench foolish enough to get emotionally attached to Martin deserves whatever sorrow she gets. "Just once? Are you sure that will be enough?" Winston asked sarcastically, gathering his wits once again. He's a clever one, Winston. That is why I married him. He knew before I did that I could never love anyone but him, and waited patiently until I figured it out for myself. Then he had me for good. Of course, he is also clever enough not to take advantage of my loyalty. I might never love anyone but him, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't leave him if he betrayed me. "Yes, I think you're right. Once will be enough." He said, and I thought to myself, that was easy, too easy. And then, as if hacking into my private musings, he added, "Yes, once will be enough for me too. You get me Abby for a one-off and then you can have your Martini," which is what he dismissively called the playboy Martin. Yes, too easy. You see, Winston is also clever enough to know when being flexible pays dividends. Not that I minded the tit for tat. I suppose I should have expected it. I mean, fair is fair. But I was a little surprised, because I would have expected him to seek something else in return, not my best friend's pussy. You see, Winston, though he is brilliant at it, is not motivated by sex, at least not by getting more than I give him. He has his appetites, but he does not go in search of exotic new dishes. I am a lot more inquisitive about new sensations. Winston never begrudges me my new toys when they arrive in the post, never interrupts me when I disappear for some mid-afternoon delight. He never denies my requests for trying new things, but I have learned that we both get more out of it if I carefully ration them. "Abby, you say?" I asked as I imagined my friend's sweet face, and brilliant smile. I may have been surprised he countered with pussy, but I can't say I was surprised he picked her. He has always been sweet on her. She is a lovely girl, inside and out, with long flowing dark hair, a slender waist, perennially perky tits, and absolutely beautiful feet. She should have been a shoe designer's model rather than a social worker. "Yes, Abby," he replied, which presented a bit of a problem since I had a very hard time envisioning a scenario in which she would agree to get fucked by her best friend's husband. I don't think the work "fuck" is even in her vocabulary. She may or may not be a virgin, it's hard to tell, because she simply never talks about the sluttier side of life. The fact that she is my best friend despite the divide in our sexual sharing speaks to her inner beauty as well. She listens patiently as I blather on about the virtues of the latest arrival in my collection, and politely moves the conversation on to other topics. I don't think she is irritated by it. I just think she is doing what I would do if knitting were her thing. That's what friends are for, right? Could I blame Winston for being attracted to her? Winston had set the bar high, incredibly high, maybe so high because he knew it was next to impossible. So I would need both patience and a plan if I wanted my Martini. But neither Winston nor I had any timetable to follow. The itch was not yet unbearable. "You have a deal," I said, and went to the bedroom, took out a handful of my toys, placed them in a circle around myself on the bed, and began to ponder Abby's fate. Abby, oh Abby, what itch do you need scratched? * * * Nothing much happened over the next few weeks. I was quite busy, Martin was off on some project overseas, and Winston was, well, Winston. He never caused a fuss. I continued to see Abby a couple of times a week, and sent her a few more articles on the virtues of sex, but no obvious opening presented itself. Until she let slip about Jeremy. It took a while, but I learned that Jeremy was a newcomer to her office, and "just dreamy" she said. He was always very well dressed but never in a pretentious sort of way. She liked that he shaved every day even though he didn't need to since their office was pretty laid back. He brought his own lunch everyday but not just a sandwich and chips, but always something a little special like pasta with pesto, or smoked salmon. Nothing over the top, mind you, but classy, just classy, she said. She said she felt a "tingle" whenever she was around him. She was cute; I was all ears. I wasn't sure what this might mean for my Martini, but I didn't have much else to work with. Each time we met for coffee, I inquired further about Jeremy and it was clear that she was more and more attracted to him. There were more details about how tidy he kept his cubicle, his helpful contributions in meetings, his way of bringing out the best in people. She spoke like a woman in love, or least one who had more than a passing interest. "Is he married?" I asked one day. It was politer than asking if he was gay. "Well, he doesn't wear a ring, but he never really talks about his personal life," she replied. "Sounds like someone else I know," I said half under my breath. "What?" she asked. "Nothing," I mumbled. And then, in a moment of sheer brilliance, I said, "It is just that I know someone who might be perfect for him." "Who? What do you mean?" She was suddenly flustered. "Oh," I said, "I think my friend Janice would be interested in someone like him." "Janice? What Janice?" she burst out urgently. And then I knew she was hooked. "Never mind about Janice. Because if you are you interested in this Jeremy...You are, you know...interested, right?" "I suppose I am," she said, as if it were just finally dawning on her. "Maybe I am. Oh, Violet, I am! Oh God, what do I do now?" "Honey, I'm afraid God is not going to help you with this one," I said. "But unless there is something you aren't telling me, I don't think you are going to need divine intervention. It's really not that complicated." "But I don't even know if he likes me." I was beginning to think I was back in high school. "Listen, he's a big boy, and hopefully a really big boy, if you know what I mean. I am sure he could handle it if you asked him out." "What do you mean by 'really big'?" she asked with some real uncertainty in her eyes. "Um, do you not read any of the articles I send you?" I asked incredulously. "Not really. They look kind of, you know, nasty." "Well, of course they are nasty. Nasty is good." This could take a while. "I guess I could read some. But what should I do about Jeremy?" "Listen," I said, "you read those articles, and go pick out some lingerie. Then we'll talk about Jeremy." And away she went. * * * Then one day while I was playing with a new toy, and just about to get off, the phone rang. It was Abby. She was sobbing. "Oh, Violet. He's gay!" Hmm. This could be a problem. We met, and I learned that she had deduced this fact by his apparent lack of interest in him as she began flirting more heavily with some of her newfound information from those "nasty" articles. I was pleasantly surprised to see her dressed much more sensually, with her normally pulled up hair falling gracefully around her shoulders, and with a blouse that even if it wasn't showing cleavage suggested there was probably something pretty nice down there. She even had some makeup on. "I mean, I think he might be gay. He won't even give me a second look," she lamented. "But I really like him." She emphasized the word "really" like a schoolgirl. Yes, another reminder of why Winston chose her. He loves that schoolgirl look. I play the virgin for him sometimes. "Well, maybe you need to just come right out and say it. Say what you want. You do know what you want, right?" "I do? I mean, yes, I do. I want to please him." She said that last part slowly, uncertainly. "I'm just not sure I would know how. Could you show me? You seem to know a lot about sex." Thank you, sweet Jeremy, I thought to myself. "Abby, are you a virgin?" I had a hunch but I had to ask. "No, but I might as well be one. It was just once and over pretty quick." Poor Winston. Only half his fantasy would be fulfilled now. But I knew I had her, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't be complaining about such a minor detail. "I wouldn't even know how to bring the conversation up." "Maybe you just need practice," I said cunningly, but in my most innocent voice. "Practice makes perfect, right?" "What do you mean by practice?" I began to reel her in. "Practice talking about sex, initiating it, doing it. You know, getting yourself ready to please Jeremy. You wouldn't want it to go all wrong the first time, would you?" With a slightly horrified look in her eyes, she said, trembling, "You think it could go wrong?" "Well, if you are as clueless as you say, you wouldn't want a botched blow job to screw up your future, would you?" What a load of crap, I thought to myself. This will never work. "No." She was almost in tears. I let her ponder the image for a moment. "Look, how does this sound? You're not a virgin, so it's not like that first time or anything, so no real reason to save yourself for Jeremy until you do finally hook up with him. So, why don't we find you someone who can show you the ropes? An experienced lover." A look somewhere between absolute terror and dawning comprehension was lodged on her face for the longest time. I could almost see the wheels turning in there. "Do you know anyone like that?" she asked finally. "As a matter of fact, I do." * * * "So you did it, eh?" asked Winston. "I should never have doubted you." I had just finished giving him a luxurious blowjob when I told him that Abby wanted him as her sex instructor. He must have wanted this more than he let on, because I felt his cock twitch anew in my hand, and he had only just finished filling my mouth with cum. I told him the details. We talked about how it might go, and then we fucked up a storm. His groan as he came seemed more in anticipation of Abby than appreciation for the warm cunt he was currently filling, but I was going to have my Martini soon, so I let him have that one. As we showered together, he said, "You sure have a lot of faith in me. I'm thrilled with the opportunity, but what makes you think I can teach her anything?" "Well, for one thing, you've pleased me well enough over the years. I think you've got it in you. And for another, I'll be right there to coach you both along." Whoa. Where did that come from? That wasn't part of the deal, I said to myself. Before he could even speak, I had already recognized a jealous streak I hadn't thought possible. Another woman was going to fuck my husband. But wait, this is crazy. It was my idea. To get my Martini. "You think so, eh?" he teased, cool as ever. "What makes you think I want you to be there, anyway? You're not going to make me watch you and the Great Martini, are you?" And then I realized again just how much I loved this charming and clever man. * * * We arranged to meet at a hotel she had found, a place with the kind of ambiance Abby hoped she might have for the first time with Jeremy. She had chosen well. I liked it. Winston and I arrived to find her sitting nervously in the lobby. "We are all checked in. Room 323," she said, handing me the cardkey. "Hi Winston. Thank you for helping me out with this little problem." He grinned broadly and I could see her ease up immediately. Boy, he has a way with women. As she giggled nervously and they began to make a little small talk, I surveyed my husband. Winston's shoulders are as broad as his smile. They are his best feature. He looks like he could lift a truck. Must be genetics because he never works out. He has an ass almost as cute as Martin, or well, what I am pretty sure Martin's looks like with his pants down. His cock is more than enough for me, and apparently above average if all those statistics are true - not quite eight inches, but more than seven. He is not dreamy like Jeremy (who I finally saw, and who really is quite dreamy) but I'm not with him to dream. He's a man—solid, sure, and like I said, clever. As he stood there smiling at Abby, I felt glad she was into dreamy. Abby had made herself quite pretty for the occasion. She had chosen a short skirt, just above the knee, and a blouse that once again suggested provocatively the perky treasures hidden inside. She seemed taller, and then I noticed that she had paired the cute ensemble with some carefully chosen pumps that made her already perfect feet positively erection-producing. Demure, with a hint of slutty. A fast study. Abby hadn't been too sure about the idea of me being there but I assured her it would just be in a coaching role, no touching, just to make a suggestion here or there, like the magazine articles I had sent her. Not that I wouldn't have minded touching her slender and sexy body, but this was for her and Winston to enjoy. To be her sexual Pygmalion was enough. We turned toward the elevator, and my heart skipped half a beat when I saw Winston pull Abby to him by her sexy waist. It was his night, I told myself. Mine was coming. We entered the elevator and it occurred to me to get the lessons started. "Abby," I said, "tell Winston what you find attractive about him. Men like that. Jeremy will like that." "Well," she said thoughtfully, "I really like the way you smell. And the way you stand. You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, Winston?" She offered it coyly. After tonight, Jeremy was in trouble. "Good," I said. "Now touch the back of his neck with your fingertips, lightly." Winston shuddered like he always does when I touch that sensitive spot. "Not all men have the same sensitive spots, but that is probably a safe one with Jeremy too." The elevator door opened and we made our way to the room. It was well-appointed, with a comfortable chair from which to watch. "What should I do now?" she asked tentatively. "What do you think you should do?" I responded, to see just how much prep she had already done. "I feel like throwing up actually," she said, "but that is probably not a big turn on. I think maybe I should go to the bathroom and get my nerve up." "Good idea. That will also help raise the sense of suspense." I turned to my husband. "You're feeling anxious too for that beautiful body, aren't you, Winston?" "Indeed, I am," he said. He was sitting comfortably on the bed watching me work out my nerves with my traffic cop routine. Abby disappeared into the bathroom, and I fell into Winston's arms. "I'm not sure I am ready for this," I said, feeling more and more panicky. "Well, you can call it all off now before it is too late. Or you can leave us to it. Or you can stay and watch. I'm good with whatever you choose." I thought about Martin, the itch I wanted scratched. I could probably live without that. I thought of Abby and her desire for Jeremy. She was actually more compelling than Martin if I were honest with myself, but she too would survive. And then I thought of clever Winston, and how he had not raised an eyebrow once in all the months that I had been plotting. He didn't just deserve this. I wanted to give her to him. I took a deep breath. "Teach her everything she needs to know," I said. "But I think I want to watch. I may never get another chance. It's even more exciting than waiting for a new toy!" "I knew you'd make the right choice," said Winston, as if he knew this is how it would play out all along. "I don't think she needs much help from the sidelines after all. Just a hunch." "Me too," I said, and pulled that comfortable chair into the shadows of the room. "Just pretend I'm not here." "I think I can manage that," he said with a wink. Abby emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around herself from the breasts down. She looked around for me, and when she saw me so far away from the bed, she nodded in understanding. She turned to Winston and dropped the towel. Her sexy foot kicked it behind her in a no turning back kind of way. "Wow," offered Winston. "I don't think Jeremy could possibly be disappointed. You are beyond sexy." He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. He motioned for her to come near and took her hand and placed on his chest. She began to caress him with tenderness. He closed his eyes as she kissed his chest and ran her hands over his broad shoulders, taking in his dimensions. He was much larger than her, but he did not overwhelm her. The light over the bed was still on, and I hoped it would stay that way, but I was now determined to let happen whatever happened. There would be enough light to be able to watch them either way, and if I had to, I could always give tips later based on the sounds they made. Abby kissed her way down to Winston's belt, and unbuckled it. She undid the button and reached fumblingly down his pants. "Is this alright?" she asked tentatively. "It's fine," he said, "but we have plenty of time. You can go nice and slow. Fast is for horses and cars. You are a lady. Anyone who can't wait for you doesn't deserve you." So clever. "In that case, tell me what you see," she said, picking up on his cue. She stepped back, lifted her arms over her head, and offered the slightest little curtsy. The little slut. Good for her. "I see a woman beautiful from top to bottom. With tits and toes that men and women alike would kill for. And an ass that needs to be held onto as I'm filling your cunt. How does that sound?" A calculated risk, the word cunt, but I liked it. "It sounds like I'll need to sit down. You're making me weak in the knees." I knew the feeling. He came over to the bed where she had sat down and let her finish taking off his jeans. She pulled down his boxers and they fell to the floor. His cock had responded to her gorgeous figure and the banter between them. "You can take your time with it now if you like." And she did. Abby worked on his cock with both hands, exploring it. He grew harder at her touch, and her eyes grew wider as she saw just how big it was getting. "Touch my balls," he commanded. With one hand still stroking him, she began to do as he had asked. It looked like she was remembering her first lesson in the elevator when she began to lightly tickle his balls with her fingernails. "Nice," was all he could say, obviously taking in the pleasure her hands were imparting. "Now your mouth," he said after it was obvious that she was moving him toward a climax. Not that Winston didn't like coming in my hand every now and then, but he usually liked to finish in my expert mouth. I looked forward to the blow by blow of her abilities later. She looked up at him with a concerned look on her face, but gently took the head of his cock between her lips. "Tongue," he said. "No teeth, just always the tongue." He said it in an encouraging way. He was the right man for the job. You Scratch My Back, I'll... She began to both stroke him with one hand and bob her mouth up and down on him. I could hear the gentle slurping sounds her tongue made as it circled him. He made no other comments. She must have gotten it right the first time. She sped up and slowed down like a pro. Must have been from all the tips I'd given her through the years, I thought. She seemed to be passing this part of the test with flying colors. "That's really good," he said with an emphasis on the word "really" that almost made me laugh as I remembered the way Abby had used it to describe her desire for Jeremy. She was really making sure it worked out well for the dreamy one. Again, he spoke, "Oh is that good," and with the word good he moved his hips forward with the beginning of his orgasm. "Suck me," he breathed raggedly, "yes, that's it. Swallow it if you can and keep your mouth tight on me." Winston groaned as his cocked twitched repeatedly in her mouth, filling it with his sweet sperm. Only the smallest drop emerged from the corner of her mouth. "You pass," he said smiling as he pulled away from her mouth. She smiled back and licked her lips. I licked mine too in the dark. Abby's ministrations on my husband's cock had taken all my nervous energy and focused it squarely between my legs. I cursed myself for not having brought one of my toys, one that could have done an inside job with less movement to distract Winston and Abby. What was I thinking? Fingering myself was sure to bother them. I pressed on the increasingly sensitive spot in my crotch, trying to keep it somehow under control, to push the desire back in. This was their moment, not mine. My attention to my own needs was drawn away as I heard Winston explaining something to Abby. "This is what I suggest. Make him cum first, and then make sure he pleases you for a while, gets you off, if you want it then. Then, when he's ready again, he'll be able to last a lot longer inside you, which will be good for both of you. Better than your last time, I'm sure. So let's give that a try." Abby nodded enthusiastically. "But what if he doesn't know what to do either?" she asked. "Well," replied my clever husband, "you'll just have to show him a thing or two you've learned tonight. How does that sound?" "Good, I think," she said, and pulled him down onto the bed. "Show me everything I need to know." "The first thing you need to know is something I can't really help you with," he said. "You need to know how to touch yourself. Have you ever done that before?" "Well, I've done breast exams." I almost laughed out loud from the back of the room. "That's not exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking more in terms of getting yourselves turned on. Most of arousal is in the mind, flirting, creating expectation, that kind of thing. For guys a lot is visual, and believe me, there's nothing sexier than watching a woman get ready for you by touching her own pussy. You do that and you'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand." I was biting the palm of my own hand to keep it out of my crotch. As she made herself more comfortable on the bed and spread her legs tentatively, he continued. "When you know how to please yourself, you'll be able to help him please you even more." He moved up alongside of her and took her hand by the wrist and guided it between her legs. "Don't be nervous," he said. "There's really no wrong way to do it. You just have to get started." And she did. Extending her graceful middle finger toward her clitoris, she probed it lightly, testing her resolve. She got to know her outer lips with her next two fingers, each of them taking a side, pulling herself open. She gasped. I almost did too. As if she were trying to explore something so delicate it might fall apart, she slowly inserted that lovely finger into her vagina for the first time. "Oh, I think I am getting wet, Winston. That's supposed to happen, right?" "Indeed it is," he replied. "That's telling you that your body is responding to the touch it's receiving. Take some of that wetness and touch it to your clit." Was he doing this to educate her or torture me? She did as she was told, and it didn't take her long to develop a rhythm that let us all know she had passed another test. Her breathing quickened, she delved back into her pussy for more of its juices, and worked her clit until it was engorged. Winston stayed by her side, gently encouraging her, stroking her inner thighs. Occasionally he would brush his fingertips across the back of Abby's hand as she frigged herself toward a climax. Her hips began moving involuntarily, the muscles between her stomach and pubes trembling uncontrollably. She was close. Winston put his lips to her ear and whispered, though loud enough so I too could hear him, "I can't wait to put my tongue where your hand is." That put her over the edge. She shuddered and rubbed her fingers hard up and down the length of her sex, then drew them back again to her clit, rubbing it hard in a circular, if lopsided, sort of motion. As she came, the intensity doubled her up until she was almost sitting up on the bed for a moment before she collapsed, spent. "I...I don't know what came over me," she panted out. And I couldn't resist. "It's called an orgasm, sweetie," I called out. "The first of many." "I don't know if I can handle more than one," she responded weakly. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?" I smirked. "Winston, show her what cunnilingus is all about." My husband swept his hand across Abby's belly, as if smoothing her like a sheet on a bed, although there wasn't much of her to flatten out, as beautifully slender as she is. He assumed a position between her legs, his arms reaching around her legs to be able to reach her tits. Her nipples were hard on top of her small but attractive breasts. He pulled her body toward his mouth and began to lick gently around her pussy but not yet in it. He nibbled her thighs and teased her creases, made large circles around her most sensitive parts. She raised her hips to try to connect those parts with his lips and tongue but he was too clever for her. Before long he had her desperate for his expert mouth. In a weak but pleading voice, she said, "Didn't you say something about putting your tongue where my hand was?" "That's the way. When you tell me what to do, it shows me you know what you want. Very sexy." And at that he started from her perineum and in one long and luxurious lick upward covered every inch of her pussy. Her hips followed his tongue. Then he set to work on her clitoris, licking it gently at first, than moving away to let her miss his tongue's caress, and resuming each time with progressively greater intensity. She was moaning. I could no longer resist myself as I watch my husband bring my friend to the heights of pleasure so I hiked up my skirt, shoved my thong aside and put my legs over the arms of the chair. Abby was so deep into her own pleasure, Winston would get off on it, and I was in the dark anyway, so I began to masturbate for all I was worth. Winston was keeping Abby on the edge, not letting her come. Each time she'd get close, she'd squeak out an "O God," and he'd ease off. After the second or third time though, I found myself in the same rhythm, and as Abby would cry, "Oh God," I would jam three fingers up my cunt and whimper myself. She was oblivious. I hoped he could keep her going a few more cycles, long enough for me to come first so she wouldn't know. He complied. As he noticed my handiwork speeding up, he eased off again until he could tell I was close. Then he really went to work on her and as she let loose with yet another plea for divine intervention, my own divine orgasm spread across my body. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and I finished, trembling. If hers was half as good as mine, she'd be content. Her time came, and her little cries of "Oh God" began to come rapid fire. She bucked under his tongue until finally she grabbed his head, ensnaring his thick hair in her fingers so he couldn't stop until she came. "Jesus," she cried as she convulsed with her second orgasm. "Sounds like it was a religious experience, sweetie," I cooed from my chair. "Stop," said Winston with mock chastisement. "Looked pretty divine for you too!" I blushed in the dark, not sure why I was embarrassed. After all, I was the one who had encouraged Abby toward nasty. She looked pleasantly wrung out, like a well-loved doll, tossed aside on a child's bed. Her chest still heaved, and she touched her skin lightly with her fingertips. "Is this what you meant by getting me off while you're getting ready again?" she asked quietly. "Indeed it was. If I am Jeremy right about now, I'm ready to sink myself deep, and I mean deep, inside of you." His erection proved he was not just flattering her. "But if you are not quite ready, this is what you do." He motioned for her to come closer to him. "Guys may look ready, but they can always be harder. And harder is always better. So while you are resting up a little, stroke me. Get me primed, and then we'll be ready for your final exam. So she worked on him for a while, and I could see her confidence growing with each stroke. She took him in her mouth once more and when she finished, there was no doubt he was as hard as he could be. I admit to feeling a little jealous, not that he'd be fucking her soon, but that he wouldn't be ramming it home in me. "You seem pretty ready," she said, "And I think I must be too. I'm feeling pretty wet again." And then she said it. "Will you please fuck me now." My heart burst with pride. "It will be my pleasure," said Winston. "Actually, both of our pleasures." And I thought from the corner, all three of our pleasures. My clit was feeling strangely warmed by Abby's use of the f-word "Since you haven't done this very often, I want to show you three positions, so you won't be surprised when you are with Jeremy, or so you can show him a thing or two." He winked at her. "Let's start conventional. Lie on your back." Abby made herself comfortable and spread her lags once more. Winston lowered himself into position and paused before he penetrating her. "If you want to pretend I'm Jeremy, that's OK" Abby shook her head. "Just let me have it, Winston. I'm ready for you. Jeremy will have his turn later." And so he let her have it, filling her suddenly with one long thrust into her slick cunt. She was ready indeed. Winston must have perceived that she was done with slow and teasing for the evening after her extended session of cunnilingus. So he just pounded into her, his body held up by those wonderful shoulders of his. Her little body welcomed the invasion. She looked him steadily in the eye as he continued ramming his full length up in to her. "Oh God, Winston," she moaned, no longer squeaking it out. "That is just so satisfying." And it was for me too. Even though she was not as lost in her pleasure as the last time, I no longer cared and started to finger myself again. It was just so erotic to see Winston from this new perspective. I could appreciate in a new way that same satisfaction he had given me so many times. "Squeeze me," he ordered. "Squeeze me with that sweet, sweet cunt." Winston looked pleased and I knew she had passed that test as well. When he could tell that her own desire had now caught up fully with his, he stopped his thrusting and carefully rolled them over so that she now straddled him. "It's your turn to drive," he said. "This is where it all starts to come together." Abby seemed to be gaining confidence by the minute and was soon lifting herself up and down on Winston's amazing cock. I had never really appreciated how beautiful it was. I was always either sucking it or enjoying it inside of me. But now I could really see it, and it fueled my desire. She seemed to sense that her labors were being rewarded, that Winston's cock was beginning to betray them both, so she stopped her movement and sat with him fully inside of her. She began a rocking motion with her hips, a slow grind. If I didn't know better, I'd have said she'd done that before. I noticed her breathing start to change, quickening in time with the rotation of her hips. She was pushing her pelvic bone hard on his, relishing the contact. But soon it was not enough, and she licked her middle finger and set it to work on her clit while she continued moving ever so slightly on Winston. I could tell he was getting pretty worked up. Sweat was forming on his chest even though she was the one doing the work. Yes, she and Jeremy had a passionate future ahead of them, if he knew what was good for him. Abby seemed to be close again to another orgasm, a fact which had not escaped Winston either. Just as she seemed like she might go over the edge, he took the hand she had been using on herself and began sucking her juices off her fingers. She moaned loudly as her hips sped up, but Winston took his other hand and placed it on her ass to prevent her from moving. She whimpered. "Time for the grand finale," he said and helped her disengage from him. His cock made an audible pop as it left her body. He repositioned her on her hands and knees and placed himself at her entrance. "I'm not holding back now, and neither should you," he said as he slid into her once again. My fingers followed him in, and my other hand began to work on my clit anew. Taking her slender hips in his hands, he began to move her back and forth on his cock. Her precious little tits dangled beneath her. I could see sweat now on her chest too. She was flushed and beginning to grunt every time he filled her completely. Out and in he went, with no hurry, but always to the hilt. When her grunting changed to a new more guttural level, she steadied herself on one elbow and brought her other hand to her clit once again. She began to rub it in slow circles, according to the rhythm Winston had established. As her hand's efforts began taking effect, she began to speed up and Winston changed to follow her lead. He grabbed her ass and spread wide her cheeks, using them to balance himself as he now began to move himself rather than her. Faster and faster he thrusted, no longer content to enter her all the way, but focusing his attention on his own pleasure. I could almost see how concentrated it was in the head of his cock, which flashed just a little each time he withdrew. It always seemed so close to slipping out, but each time it reentered the swollen lips of her pussy to their mutual delight. She was beautiful. He was beautiful. They were beautiful together. So was my impending orgasm. From Abby's depths, a thin sustained cry, almost like a mournful howl began to arise, She abandoned her clit and rose to sustain herself on both hands. Her hips began to meet Winston's thrusts, and they slammed together, almost violently. I was grateful for the sound of their bodies slapping together, covering my own whimpering as I grew closer and closer myself. "Fuck me, Winston," she moaned. "Oh God, fuck me." And he obliged her, their bodies colliding even harder now. She began to shake, and her arms collapsed beneath her so that only her shoulders sustained her now, her beautiful ass pointing now in Winston's direction. He bent over her and continued to plow into her. Finally, with one last effort, she pushed back hard against him and groaned deeply, coming as he filled her completely with his cock. When she had released the tension of her orgasm, Winston began thrusting anew, preparing for his own. However, she must have begun squeezing him because he suddenly slowed down as if to enjoy some new sensation. His thrusts became slower and slower, until he now entered and left her cunt almost excruciatingly slowly. When he could go no slower, he clutched her hips and pulled her one last time on to himself, so that there was no space left between them, and then he pushed just that much more, so I could imagine the very tip of his cock searching until it found the perfect spot in her pussy that would trigger his climax. It did. He grunted. It was finished. For them anyway. I was still so agonizingly close, but yet so far away. I was definitely headed in the right direction, but they had beaten me to it. There was, however, no way I could stop now. I would ache for days if I left this one unfinished, so I continued to circle my clit with the fingers of one hand and fill my cunt with the fingers of my other hand, my legs ungracefully splayed over the chair, panting. The next thing I know, Winston and Abby were kneeling at my sides, their eyes fixed on the pleasure I was giving myself. "I know what you're thinking," Winston said with a smirk. "Yeah?" I rattled out. "What's that?" "You're thinking about a nice chilled Martini." Clever, I thought, as my mind and cunt finally exploded. Fucking clever. * * * Abby went on to seduce an unsuspecting Jeremy. Poor boy never knew what hit him. They never leave the house on the weekend. He's whipped for good. I went on to my rendezvous with Martin. He rocked my world. Like I knew he would. And once really was enough. My itch was scratched. And clever old Winston? Well, once was enough for him too. He was clever enough to have chosen Abby, clever enough to never mention her again, and clever enough to realize that neither of us needed to say thanks. Because scratching those hard to reach itches are just what husbands and wives are for, right?