1 comments/ 16639 views/ 0 favorites Tangled Passions Pt. 02 Ch. 20-22 By: Jazz E. XX. . Jenn laid, eyes closed, thinking of nothing, basking in the ripples of sensation caused by Lisa's fingers and tongue; motionless, except for the occasional tremor through her loins. She hadn't let Lisa know that she was awake yet. Passively accepting the caresses, she could feel her body rev up. There was a raw intensity to it – an impatience. Still, she remained unmoving as waves of electric stimulation echoed about her insides, lighting up her nipples and her clit. As she silently reveled in it, she attempted to objectively define her feelings. Passion is an intensity or vividness that colours any response. Pastel emotions are pointless. Love – or lust – must be vibrant. A colourless life – life without passion becomes lifeless. Passion in Jenn's life was abruptly increasing – becoming so very colourful, vivid and alive, perhaps more so than it ever had. Pallid backgrounds were suddenly overwhelmed by bright colour – bright colours. The glorious multi-hued days and nights were dazzling, at times even blinding. And every new experience added its pigment to her pallet. Her world was rapidly becoming hypercoloured. One morning, while shopping together in the bustling crowds of Chinatown, Lisa picked up from a display a boxed pair of Oriental Health Balls. She opened the box to show Jenn the polished metal spheres, about an inch and a quarter in diameter. "Look at these, will ya? Mmmmm, delicious, eh?" They were like large Ben-Wa balls, without the securing string, with tinkling weights that moved inside, giving them an almost life-like character. Jenn wasn't quite sure what was being implied so she just smiled, "Curious," and went on, moving about the store, looking and looking – and wondering. Despite living her whole life in Vancouver, she hadn't actually wandered or window-shopped in this very ethnic, very alien part of town until her recent bicycle explorations, and had never been there with a companion. It was fun to be able to point out strange items to Lisa; to wonder aloud about their use, and giggle. After cruising a number of shops and boutiques, they finally stopped at a tea shop and took a small table near the wall. Side by side they sat, watching the crush of pedestrian traffic flow and ebb past the window. Lisa had, surreptitiously, purchased the Health Balls, and now manipulated them in her hand – their chimes ringing softly as they moved. "It's supposed to be relaxing,” she explained, a hint of mystery in her voice, “but you're not supposed to let them touch." Jenn watched, fascinated, as the two spheres chased each other around Lisa's palm, occasionally bumping together with a click. With chimes like harmony bells, their two tones represented the Yin and the Yang – one low and one high. After being served the pale aromatic Chinese tea, Lisa waited until Jenn raised the cup to her lips then abruptly reached under the table and, with a sort of sleight-of-hand, pushed aside the wispy crotch of Jenn's panties, swiftly introducing one of the metal balls into Jenn's vagina. Lisa watched in quiet appreciation as Jenn's face registered its complete surprise; cheeks suddenly flushed, eyes wide, Jenn struggled to swallow as she quickly replaced the cup on its saucer and allowed a gasped breath to escape. The hard orb, warmed slightly by Lisa's hands, suddenly the centre of her universe, sat heavily within her moist pouch. Leaning over to whisper in her ear, Lisa smiled, "Hang on." Then she sat back and incongruously exclaimed, "Will you look at this?" She had laid out the notes from inside the Health Balls box in the middle of the tablecloth and, with her hand on Jenn's arm, raised Jenn to standing, beside her, elbows on the table, leaning forward, ostensibly to get a closer look at the pamphlet. Lisa's hand crept up the inside of Jenn's thighs to pry apart her cheeks and poke at her anus. Dropping away again, she took the other ball, casually swirling it first in her mouth, and pressed it up beneath Jenn's dress, pushing it firmly against her sphincter. Jenn's wide eyes filled with tears as she looked up in further surprise. Small sounds escaped her lips, and she dropped her face into her hands, trying to control her gasping breath. "Relax, Relax," Lisa intoned. It was a difficult task, forcing the large ball into her ass inconspicuously in broad daylight, but in looking around Lisa was satisfied that they had drawn no one's attention with their behaviour. Finally, with a quiet squelch, the shiny globe disappeared into Jenn's rectum, nestling into the moist, soft tissue there. Lisa pulled Jenn back to her seat. They finished their tea in silence, Jenn's mind in tumbled disorder at the turn of events. "The one in the back will make it easier to hold onto the one in front, and the front ball will keep the back one from getting lost," Lisa casually explained, punctuating the remark with a lewd wink. Then she paid for their tea, and, taking Jenn by the arm, headed out onto the street to finish up the morning cruising the exotic shops. Jenn was, of course, rather preoccupied with the hanging weights within her, with their movement, with their collisions through her tough channel walls. She worried that she was walking conspicuously. Could anyone else hear the muted chimes emanating from beneath her dress as she walked? Notwithstanding, she gradually became aware of the growing glow holding the balls were beginning to produce. The concentration and focus of continuously grasping the balls was stimulating. Her consternation began to evaporate before the rising heat of arousal generating within her crotch and spreading like quiet fire to the pit of her stomach. Eventually, as they walked, Jenn regained a semblance of composure – enough that she was able to complain to Lisa, albeit mildly, “Why do you take such great delight in embarrassing me?” Patting her on the arm, Lisa responded softly, “I’m only trying to help you, my dear, overcome the silly impediment of modesty.” They walked a little further in silence before she continued. "Modesty," she declared, "is a prison – a chain. It is a moral restraint imposed by society. There is no need for modesty between us. We should liberate ourselves from the need for it – while we still have the freedom to do so." Jenn accepted Lisa's argument even if she didn't totally agree and she wondered what exactly Lisa had meant by the last part – the freedom remark. Something about how Lisa had said it gave Jenn a chilling sense of foreboding. Jenn had already climaxed by the time they got home. She did so again when Lisa asked her to return the balls, and thanked her for holding them. Another morning, following another of Jenn's increasingly frequent overnight stays, Jenn groggily awoke just as Lisa had climbed up over her and slowly, without any warm-up or foreplay, lowered herself onto Jenn's face. Jenn's tongue began to stroke the offered flesh automatically and Lisa was quickly squirming and settling herself onto it. Jenn felt Lisa reach for something and slowly realized what the muffled sounds signified. Lisa was using the phone – using the phone while Jenn continued to lap at her juices, sucking, prodding and licking her into arousal. After a short while, Jenn felt Lisa lean forward to replace the phone, then, without actually removing her cunt from contact with Jenn’s mouth, Lisa turned herself around and attacked Jenn's own moistened box. The ensuing soixante-neuf was fierce and engaging. Jenn was surprised when, as she felt her orgasm approaching, Lisa suddenly pulled back. But it was only a moment before Jenn, still trapped beneath Lisa's open sex, felt, to her amazement, another mouth fix itself to her quim. Lisa sat back for a bit, her full weight on Jenn's face, her hands busy at Jenn's breasts, while the anonymous mouth lapped Jenn's juices until she tumbled over the edge into orgasm. As she descended from pinnacle, Jenn redoubled her own lingual efforts and successfully brought Lisa to a peak, but while Lisa shimmied and buck against Jenn’s bruised lips, the mouth at her sex moved up and whoever it was straddled her chest facing Lisa. Lisa's hands left Jenn, who could only imagine what was happening as both the bodies on top of her began to squirm. Yet another pair of lips molded themselves to Jenn's dripping slit, while someone else began kissing and tonguing her navel and nosing against the other’s backside, trying to reach Jenn's nipples as they poked out from under it. The bush of the first stranger – now riding Jenn's chest – squeezed up against Lisa's, jiggling and wiggling, catching the edge of Jenn's sweeping tongue. Lisa gradually backed off Jenn's mouth and was totally replaced by the stranger. The vortex of arousal and confusion left Jenn virtually insensible. Her sucking lips and lapping tongue persisted automatically. Her hands seized and caressed whatever they happened upon, while her thighs tensed and relaxed, opened and closed, rose and fell. The intense intercourse went on for what seemed like hours, yet Jenn had been, apparently by design, almost completely passive. Others moved onto her and off of her with such frequency that she quickly lost track of how many other people there were; but in the end it was again Lisa alone sitting on her face – Jenn recognized her feel and scent. She could hear voices – quiet and subdued – indistinctly. She hadn't the energy to listen. At last all was silent. Lisa rocked almost imperceptibly over Jenn's nose and tongue. When she finally dismounted, Jenn found the apartment empty, except for the two of them. "Who were those people?" she queried meekly, her energy completely dissipated. "Oh, just some friends," Lisa answered casually as she disappeared out of the room. Jenn could hear the bath running as Lisa returned, continuing, "You'll probably meet them again sometime," adding with a snicker, "Maybe next time I'll introduce you." As she pulled Jenn to her feet and steered her into the bathroom, Jenn could think of nothing to say. XXI. Jenn sat, mesmerized by the changing colour scenes on the bedroom television. Lisa occasionally showed blue movies; sometimes as visual stimulation; sometimes as a respite, as they caught their breaths between bouts of lovemaking; and sometimes – as at this time – just because. Jenn lay limply on the bed next to Lisa. Initially, they were all commercial films – that terribly acted, close-up cum-shot type of thing. Jenn never noticed any story line, if there actually, occasionally, was one; often, she wasn't even conscious of any particular scenes, she just pointed her eyes at the screen and let fleshy images and lewd sounds wash over her, as her mind revisited memories both distant and near. Jenn and Matt had watched a few adult videos years ago; mostly it had been for amusement. How strange, Jenn mused, that she rarely thought of Matt anymore; yet whenever she did, she felt a lonely melancholy spread through her. She still missed him terribly, in a fundamental sort of way, though she felt she was probably a very different person from the woman he had left. Lisa's choices of videos tended, not surprisingly, toward the lesbian and bisexual side of the spectrum – lots of group sex. And in the relatively short but incredibly fast history of their affair, Lisa had begun showing films that, while raunchier, had the look of home movies. In one of them a woman prisoner was brought into what looked like an execution chamber, but instead of a regular electric chair, she was strapped down into a modified massage chair, complete with vibrating dildos and clit massager. She was made to endure repeated orgasms until she was completely exhausted. Jenn always wondered how much of it was real. How many orgasms would the chair have given her? How many could she have stood? Despite the fact that some of those porn flicks were ridiculously silly and farcical – like a semi-nude bicycle courier pounding up a hill with a large dildo instead of a seat – the scenes and sounds of sexual stimulation, albeit simulated, worked their way under her skin, to settle in strange feelings in the pit of her abdomen. Although they didn't always arouse her exactly, they invariably affected her and often disturbed her, setting off unidentified sensations that ricocheted about her psyche. Some of the films had titles; some did not. And, much to Jenn's surprise, some of the more amateurish videos included Lisa in small but active roles – although, requiring no real acting, they were much more parts than roles. "It was just for a lark," Lisa explained, off-handedly. "It was actually a real blast." "Didn't you worry about contracting something?" "Yeah, well, when they call your number, you've got to go, eh?" Lisa's bright blue eyes turned to Jenn, whose mouth pursed in serious thought. "But....” "How many people get killed crossing the streets? Innocent families – bang – head-on – wiped out while faultlessly driving down the highway. There are crazy people with guns, unavoidable dreaded disease, household accidents – a lot of people die at home. I figure if I don't have fun now, tomorrow may be too late. When you're dead, you're dead, and we're all gonna die. There's no point in putting off – postponing – your pleasure, because when your time is up, that's it." "As true as that may be," Jenn remarked quietly, "don't you find it – such stark fatalism – incredibly depressing?" "Oh, I'm not really so much of a fatalist. I don't think about the end, I just think about now. I'm a hedonist. Like they used to say," Lisa suddenly nuzzled her face into Jenn's soft, round breasts, before looking up from them and concluding philosophically, "If it feels good, do it." So they did. Under the relentless onslaught of Lisa's unremitting hedonism, Jenn's already beleaguered sense of propriety was battered daily – heaped with bewildering, prurient experiences – always novel, always wickedly imaginative. Just as they were about to leave a Mexican restaurant one day, Lisa dipped her fingers into the hot salsa. Surreptitiously, she sought out Jenn's already bare sex under the table, and gently spread it over Jenn's labia, giving a bit of special attention to her clitoris. Jenn's eyes grew wide with surprise, but Lisa just smiled and helped her to her feet. Arm in arm they walked out of the restaurant. Jenn's genitalia were tingling with the onset of a slow burn as she allowed herself to be led onto the street; her wide eyes focused on some indeterminate distance. The irritation was becoming intolerable but as she tried to inconspicuously flex her thighs to relieve it, she could feel the early signals of orgasm pulling at her innards. Before they had completed their short walk home, Jenn had to stop and grip Lisa's arm firmly as the luxuriant waves of sensation overcame her. "Anything wrong?" Lisa inquired with a smirk. Jenn's simple, “No,” in reply was barely audible above her rasping, gasping breath. Having stopped at Jenn's place for a coffee one afternoon, Lisa casually mentioned a meeting of the 'Libertine Ladies' that night at her own apartment. "You'll come," she said as a statement more than a question. "You've already met some of them," she chuckled, giving Jenn a wink. "I'll introduce you, this time." Jenn went a little pale. Were things suddenly accelerating out of control? She had seen and done so much in the past little while. She was in danger of being completely overwhelmed but didn't know what to do. She felt like a small boat, watching the weather and waves build all about her, threatening to swamp her. She wanted to complain, "I'm not ready for anything else, just yet," but she couldn't quite voice it. Lisa saw the apprehension in Jenn's eyes and gently reassured her. "Don't worry," she said patting Jenn's thigh, "It won't be an orgy. It'll be more like a cocktail party; comparing notes; generally visiting. We don't have to have sex, you know. We don't always." Nonetheless, as evening approached Lisa told Jenn that the girls were all looking forward to meeting her properly and that she would be expected to greet them all at the door, sort of like a one woman reception line. Then Lisa gave Jenn the open crotch panties, half-cup bra and stay-up stockings that she needed to wear. When Jenn tried feebly to protest, Lisa waved her off. "Everyone wants to welcome you into the fold. It's only 'proper'." So, later that evening, as soon as the first guest buzzed up from outside, Jenn was positioned in the entry foyer, back slightly from the door. Her job, Lisa said, was to simply greet every guest appropriately. "What do you mean 'appropriately'?" Jenn asked, still apprehensive. And her disquiet was not soothed by having to stand at the door in nothing but eminently revealing lingerie. "Oh, I don't know. How about 'fittingly receptive'?” Lisa whispered as a tap at the door announced the first arrivals, "You'll see." As the women begin to show up, they all gushed and enthused over Jenn and, to one another, about her. "It's so nice to see you again." "And she's so pretty." "Just the cutest little nipples." They all shook her hand and gave her warm, deep, sensuous kisses. Many of them fondled her stiffly erect nipples while looking her up and down, some leaning down to give one or both buds a suck or a nibble. Others reached down to stroke her pudendum, which rapidly began to ooze and quiver excitedly at the strange circumstances. Although each guest introduced herself by name, names and faces rapidly blurred into a miasma of confusion and arousal. The group was quite large – apparently, twenty or twenty-five strong. One of the last to arrive was an older, rather gregarious woman, who, after seizing Jenn's hand, exclaimed, "Oh, Jenn. I'm Agnes. You're absolutely – delicious.” She planted a sloppy kiss on Jenn's lips, parting them abruptly with her tongue, before pulling back and looking her over. She added, "Oh, I really must," then, turning to Lisa, "Do you mind?" "Not at all." Lisa smiled at Jenn's startled shock, as Agnes dropped to her knees and pulled Jenn's hips violently forward, crushing her face into Jenn's mound. Agnes' insistent tongue, poking into her slit and frantically stroking her already aroused clitoris was more than Jenn could withstand. She instantly began to shudder and shake, falling against the wall as her hands formed to the back of Agnes' head. Blinded by the unexpected orgasm, she was unaware of the entrance of the next visitor until she perceived the cold fingertips twiddling her nipples and felt a tongue being thrust into her mouth. "Welcome, Jenn," whispered the husky voice into her throat. "I see you've met Agnes." The woman stopped to entwine her tongue about Jenn's, before pulling to the side to whisper in her ear, "She's insatiable." A stiff tweak of her nipples opened Jenn's eyes as the waves of climax, moved off out of her clouded mind. The woman smiled and winked before turning to greet Lisa. Agnes sat back on her heels, giving a satisfied sigh, then stood to follow the others out of the foyer leaving Jenn alone, still quaking. Long moments later, Lisa invited Jenn into the living room, where she spent the evening in a daze. The guests treated her more or less like one of them; although, while they all remained dressed, Jenn was still clad only in her undies and hose – damp from saliva, sweat and love juice. They engaged her in conversations and small talk, shared drinks and hors d'oeuvres with her, and pulled her from one circle to another, casually pawing and fondling her all the time. While the interactions between others were virtually all platonic, Jenn was continually stroked, caressed and kissed. The libertines finally began to disperse just after midnight, each with a parting kiss or caress for the guest of honour. By the time the last of them had gone Jenn's head was spinning, her loins moist and quivering. Tangled Passions Pt. 02 Ch. 20-22 After closing and locking the door the last time that evening, Lisa turned to Jenn. Her smile radiated pride and, perhaps, love. "Well, you did it. You really wowed them." she said, stepping up to Jenn and giving her a sisterly embrace, "Welcome. You're one of us, now." Steering Jenn back to the living room, Lisa added, with a meaningful double squeeze, "You were fabulous. Really great." As they sat on the couch, Lisa remarked, “You know, it’s amazing to me, but you seem to embrace every new experience with such an unrestrained intensity that it’s – what? – almost manic. You get so into it, so fast!” Lisa shook her head as she marveled. Despite her tired confusion, Jenn felt a glow of pride. She felt happy that her performance pleased Lisa. "And," Lisa continued, "you're so versatile. You seem to be able to squeeze stimulation out of just about everything." Jenn hadn't been consciously aware, in her limited experience, that she was any more responsive than anyone else. She only knew that she sometimes felt almost an urgency in her responses, and that she seemed to be acquiring a hair-trigger ease of reaction to virtually any experience Lisa arranged for her. She felt pleased with her progress, as Lisa concluded, "You often respond with such a thinly veiled eagerness that it's – I don't know – almost uncanny." Then without any further words, Lisa swept the coffee table clear and lifted Jenn onto it, laying her passively on her back. Positioning herself on her knees between Jenn's thighs, Lisa proceeded to give her a genuine tongue-lashing. Jenn's climax was inevitable, as inevitable as an electric current going to ground. She exploded into ecstatic convulsions almost immediately. As she settled back to earth, Lisa stood up, removed her own clothing and slid Jenn off the table onto herself as she settled into the thick carpet. Their soixante-neuf was long and rewarding. Finally enervated, they crept into Lisa's bed and drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep in each other's arms. It wasn’t very long at all before some of the 'Libertine Ladies' would join them for an evening at Lisa's place. "Oh, I invited Agnes and June over tonight," Lisa would casually announce. While Lisa began by inviting one or two people to join them, their parties gradually grew. "Ashleigh and Margaret are coming over," Lisa would inform Jenn, adding, "They're bringing a few friends with them." The frenzied sessions rapidly metamorphosed from parties to orgies. And though it had just been girls – women – to start, a few men began to show up now and then. "By the way, Monica asked if she and Peter might join us tonight." It never occurred to Jenn that she might complain or question the almost indiscriminate invitations Lisa seemed to pass out. Yet they were anything but indiscriminate, as Jenn was to find out later. Lisa's network was tight and exclusive. Anyone arriving at Lisa's was either well known or highly recommended. In the blur of the passing season, what had begun as a few small private parties now flourished as busy, dissolute orgies. Moving among three or four apartments besides Lisa's, Jenn now found herself being taken to such wild spectacles several times a week. The heterosexual turn had initially worried Jenn, but she had been pleased to discover that, despite all of the licentiousness, she could completely avoid contact with the male participants, without the slightest difficulty or hassle. It was just that she didn't want any other man; she only wanted Matt. The first few times a male party mate tried to mount her, she tensed and twisted, her heart pounding. She was very surprised that when she said, in a soft, pleading voice she would really rather he didn't, he just shrugged and went away. Knowing she could screen her partners that way, even in the thrashing throes of orgy, really allowed Jenn to relax. She began to enjoy herself even more. If a man tried to poke her she just told him that that aspect of her wasn't available to him. There was always plenty of willing snatch to choose from, so, to Jenn's delight, it was never a problem; it never once caused a scene. Jenn had decided arbitrarily that lesbian sex was not really adultery. She told herself simply that homosexual sex was not cheating; heterosexual was. She knew it was not logical or rational; nevertheless, in keeping her liaisons very gay, she had convinced herself that she was not really being 'unfaithful' to her husband – whatever that meant; to her husband whom she knew was almost certainly being 'unfaithful' to her. Still, she could forgive and ignore that; he was, regardless of circumstances, the husband whom she loved very, very dearly – “…despite not having seen him in months,” she thought, wryly. Group activities were an entirely different game from the one Jenn had played with Lisa alone. Like a young athlete, she was an eager neophyte. She watched and listened intently to all of her playmates – her mentors, her coaches – then tried to emulate them. She took instruction from all of the women, surreptitiously watching the hetero moves as well as all the gay play. As a listener and learner, she took mainly submissive roles. As big and dynamic as the group often seemed, it was almost exclusively into only very low-keyed, friendly encounters. Even in cases of blatant submission and dominance, there was never any hint of force or coercion. The males of the group all seemed to respect Jenn's declinations and let her be. They allowed Jenn her current obsession with homosexuality. It was quite apparent to most that it was only a temporary aberration. Nonetheless, there was still much for Jenn to learn from Lisa and her friends. The variety of experience seemed to go on and on. Jenn constantly received advice on how to kiss better; refining her cunnilingus; more effective 'finger-fucking'; ultra-erotic massage; stimulating nipple pinching; 'osculum obscenum', the art of sensual ass kissing; even shared masturbation. And every lesson, every bit of advice was replete with personal demonstration and supervised practice. Sitting naked in an easy chair, her legs hooked over the upholstered arms, Jenn busied her hands at her own cleft. One hand firmly held her lips apart as the other relentlessly massaged her clit. Eyes closed, head thrown back she mewed in the back of her throat, willing the orgasm to break through. She had lost count of how many she had already had that evening, but Judy, one of Lisa's many friends who had taken over this part of Jenn's education and who now sat on the floor in front of the chair with her chin on the edge of the seat, nose only inches from the frenzied activity, urged Jenn on, encouraging her to let it come. Jenn wasn't sure if could actually get there again, this time. Her fingers continued to swirl around her engorged clitoris, darting erratically into her slick vagina to gather some moist lubricant before returning to swirl some more. Still, the keen edge of arousal waned once again, unable to surmount the final peak. "Do you ever miss it?" Judy asked quietly, in an apparent non sequitur, from between Jenn's thighs. "Miss what?" Jenn breathed, her hand slowing at the interruption, the crest ebbing still further. She opened her eyes and looked down, between her knees, over her hands. "Cock," the face at her crotch answered matter-of-factly. "A real fuck." Up until then Jenn hadn't even thought about it – not in recent times in any case. She had been, and continued to be, much too involved in learning the intricacies of lesbian love to have given real fucking a second thought. But suddenly she realized that she did miss it. She had always loved the feel of Matt – huge and hard, poking, pounding – filling her with his fluid warmth. The flood of sensual nostalgia almost brought tears to her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, "I guess I do." "Maybe," Judy smiled, reaching her face in to brush her lips over Jenn's sex, between her parting hands, "we can do a little something about that." Reaching for something in the cabinet beside Jenn's chair, Judy stood and knelt on the front edge of the seat, her right knee pressing into Jenn's wet and fleshy folds. Placing her hands on the chair back, on either side of Jenn's head, she lowered her face to whisper into Jenn's ear. Jenn automatically licked the nipple of the approaching breast, as Judy spoke, punctuating her message with nibbles. "Close your eyes, darling. You're really gonna love this." Jenn complied, leaning slightly forward in a futile effort to follow the withdrawing nipple with her lips, before molding the breasts in her hands and staying still while Judy finished positioning herself. At the slow insinuation of a foreign object between her lower lips, Jenn's eyes came open, and a gasp escaped her lips, quickly swallowed by Judy's passionate kiss. A firm, slightly flexible rod was pushed into her gradually as Judy lowered herself, until it pushed firmly against Jenn's cervix. Moving her own hands to Jenn's shoulders and sitting upright, Judy began to rock gently. The tool encased in Jenn's snatch responded as if it were attached to Judy. It moved surprisingly like a real cock, and, if under other circumstances Jenn might have considered the repeated bumping of her cervix uncomfortable, at that moment she could only acknowledge the building sensation of a tsunami of delirious desire. In answer to Judy's accelerating rocking, which was rapidly becoming bouncing, Jenn rocked and thrust her hips in attempted counterpoint. Judy had closed her eyes and thrown her head back as her bouncing body became frenzied. A wheezy wail erupted from her lips as she dropped her entire weight onto the dildo squeezed between them, and pulled Jenn's face tight into her chest. The flush of heat and sweat against Jenn's cheeks triggered an explosive climax that rippled through her whole body. Impaled by the unseen weapon, beneath the quaking body of Judy, Jenn quivered and shook, and screamed uncontrollably into the spongy boobs that engulfed her face. She didn't open her eyes again until Judy began to move. Lisa was helping her to unwind and raise herself off the colossal phallus left wobbling from between Jenn's legs. Judy leaned over and kissed Jenn chastely on the cheek. "Thanks." Then she stepped back and was gone, as Lisa slowly removed the awe inspiring double headed dildo from Jenn. Jenn couldn't get over the size of it. Its withdrawal lasted for long moments, before leaving her still pulsing vagina empty, grasping in vain. "It's huge!" she gasped in an almost delighted horror, before closing her eyes and purring, as Lisa stroked her cheek, "And wonderful!" When she felt the rubber monster bump against her mouth wiping the love juices – hers or Judy's? – across her lips, she deliberately kept her eyes closed. "Kiss it," Lisa whispered, "Lick it clean." Jenn lapped along the entire length of it, savouring the aromatic fluids from one end to the other. Soon after that Dick, as they called the latex colossus, became a regular part of Jenn's orgiastic evenings. Although Lisa was often in attendance, she was never a party to Dick's uses. She just watched and arranged, and Jenn was partnered with whoever proposed or whomever Lisa presented. Jenn realized that her frequent rides, usually from beneath her partner, were never at her own suggestion. She tried to reconcile what that meant – what it implied about her and her growing role. Who was she actually? Who was she becoming? Late, late one night, after innumerable bouts of intense love and uncounted orgasms, after all the others had gone and they sat there in bed together, just Jenn and Lisa, their clammy shoulders rubbing one another, their sweaty bodies still heaving slightly from the earlier hours of exertion, they sipped at their dainty crystal glasses of wine while Lisa plugged in a rather low-tech tape of nonspecific group sex. The video cut right to the chase without any preliminaries. Jenn let the flashing, swirling colour massage her eyes, as she relaxed against Lisa's shoulder. Lisa nuzzled insatiably, taking a mouthful of wine and dribbling it onto Jenn's cheek then lapping it up with her tongue before it dripped from Jenn's jaw. Her other hand gently caressing Jenn's slick and sticky inner thigh, Jenn found the repetitive movements, at her cheek and on her leg, to be wonderfully intoxicating. She felt herself slipping by degrees into a sea of absolute tranquility. She barely had the energy or will to raise her wineglass to her lips, as the writhing video images danced daintily across her awareness. Yet, suddenly her throat refused to swallow. Her body went rigid against Lisa, while her eyes fixed onto the flickering screen like radar. There on the screen, in the middle of the melee, slowly getting covered with sweat and lubricant and semen, was Matt. How could that be? She couldn't believe it. Although, deep inside, she knew that she could. Lisa, aware of Jenn's sudden rigidity, stopped her wine trick. Clasping Jenn's thigh firmly, her voice reflected an almost frightened concern, as she breathed into Jenn's ear, "What is it? What's the matter?" Following Jenn's frozen gaze, Lisa cast her eyes on the TV picture. She stared uncomprehendingly at the tube and waited. After a long, uncomfortable silence that expanded to fill the room, seeming to obscure even the playing tape, Jenn whispered, her voice ragged and unsure, "That's my husband – right there – in the middle." He was on his knees; his cock stabbed deep into some woman's bumhole. Another woman lay between them, chewing on his nipples. He had some guy pulling his buttocks apart and pumping vigorously up his backside, while another did the same to his mouth. As Jenn and Lisa stared, Matt pulled back and let the cock fall from his mouth then turned to the camera to give a little smile – through the lens and out of the TV directly at Jenn. No one else would have seen it, but Jenn detected the subtle touch of embarrassment and guilt colour his grin. He seemed to know she was watching him; "Of course," she admonished herself, "he couldn't have, could he?" Still she thought she saw a familiar glitter in his eyes – even over video space. Two hands gently twisted his head back, guiding his unresisting mouth back over the rampant erection, bobbing anxiously at his lips. It was so incredibly, unbelievable and – what? – erotic. All Jenn could do was stare and blink. Lisa, evaluating the situation at last, grabbed the remote and shut off the VCR. Jenn gulped for air as if she were asphyxiating. Her wide eyes, brimming with tears, remained fixed to the blank screen. Gently removing Jenn's wineglass, Lisa simply put her arms around Jenn's heaving, shivering shoulders and held on. It was well over half an hour before the tension even began to trickle from Jenn's stiff frame. Lisa hugged her closely, beginning, after a while, to gently, soothingly rock. Jenn barely responded. Her mind was a tumultuous jumble of echoes. A tear fell onto her chest, and she wondered for whom it was shed. As the heavy silence of shock passed, she let herself relax, by degrees, into the protective arms of Lisa. Matt! That was Matt – her husband, her partner – until recently. But then, she had known something was up long before he'd left. That it was something sexual – carnal – should not have come as a surprise at all. It wasn't really so much unbelievable as unexpected – unanticipated. It had just been such a shock to actually see him up there; to have her oh-so-vague suspicions confirmed so ruthlessly. On second thought, though, perhaps she had even expected it in some deeper, hidden level of her subconscious. "I'm so very sorry, Jenn," Lisa whispered almost inaudibly into Jenn's hair, "I didn't know. I'm so embarrassed, but how could I have known?" Lisa's voice quavered with emotionally. "That's all right. How could you have?" Jenn reached up to hold Lisa's hand on her shoulder; her voice was especially deep and gravelly. Taking up the role of comforter, she added, "Don't feel bad. It's no ones fault. It's just..." – just what she wasn't sure. Lisa quietly whispered, as if to herself, "Of all that I've done, that, at least, was truly unintentional.” Such a cryptic remark; Jenn cleared a small area of her consciousness in an attempt to comprehend its meaning. It was, she thought, something to do with dignity and humiliation. The first tentacles of dawn touched the edges of the drapes, and fatigue threatened to overcome them both. They helped one another to Lisa's bed, collapsing side by side. Jenn was still trembling, she realized, from the shock of the video, as they climbed between the sheets, so Lisa comforted and soothed her. But soothing comfort gave way to lethargic arousal, and, before they finally surrendered to sleep, the two friends shared yet another orgasm. Jenn was lying, once again, next to Lisa. Visions of Matt, her dear husband, as a bisexual participant in a very raunchy orgy, had replayed over and over through her dreams. Sometimes the scenarios became even more depraved. In some of her dreams, Matt was a sex-slave; in some, a master. Then she had seen herself participating in the melees, and in the final moments of her last dream that fitful night, she saw herself, filled in every orifice with cocks and dildos, and Matt calling from across the room, as he was being sodomized, "I love you, Jenny. I love you very, very, very much!" She had answered, in the dream, despite the tremendous disembodied cock that filled her mouth, "And I love you, Matthew. Always have; always will." She woke with a start. XXII. The dream, she decided, was a revelation or an omen. It was time to move on; she would take the next step. Letting her mind's eye focus on the Matt in the video and the Matt in her dream, she realized that having sex with other males would not, could not decrease her love for him. The love she felt was just becoming a little more – what? – unconventional, abstract. Somehow, she was confident that he felt the same way. Their love was ethereal, but her desire – her lust – was physical. He certainly wasn't denying himself; neither would she. Lying in bed, beside the sleeping form of Lisa, her current lover – and she worried about why the adjective current had sprung into her head – was life becoming so transient that even that would not last? Still, lying there wide awake, she felt her jaw clench as she made a conscious decision about her immediate future. She didn't know how Lisa would react, maybe even favourably, but, regardless, she knew would join fully and completely in the upcoming orgies. She would no longer decline heterosexual advances. She smiled to herself as she imagined the plethora of bisexual encounters that would undoubtedly come her way. She was committed. Relaxing once again, she turned to Lisa, wrapping her arms about her sleeping companion. Her face nestled into the nape of Lisa's neck, her warm breath sighing through the blonde tresses, she began to softly, oh-so-gently caress Lisa's nipples and sex. Giving in to the final rupture of the hymen of her extramarital virginity was exceedingly simple. During the next party, later that same week, while crawling over a supine body to fix her mouth onto an exposed pubis, Jenn simply pushed herself back against the bobbing erection instead of pulling away as it touched between her legs. It was like giving the green light. No one said anything; they just basically climbed aboard and took their pleasures. In fact, it occurred to Jenn that maybe they had all been expecting the same; perhaps they had just been biding their time – humouring her, as it were. Lisa only barely recognized Jenn's sudden reorientation with an offhand remark about finally giving in. Their relationship didn't even flinch. For a while it seemed that once she had opened the flood-gates, nothing could stop her. She was always well received; her pleasures were like drugs. And, although the fields were barren, the men continued to spill their slurry, sow their plentiful seed indiscriminately. She felt as if she were in a fucking frenzy – absolutely insatiable. At the end of an evening, she would often still be looking for someone to screw or suck. And she would work deliriously on some lucky bugger until his erection drooped like a spent shell; its energy dissipated by previous hours of activity. Tangled Passions Pt. 02 Ch. 20-22 Pregnancy, at any rate, was not a concern. When the girls had started school, she and Matt had discussed vasectomy; but, although he agreed it was the right thing to do, Matt had hemmed and hawed. Jenn had seen no real need to pressure him. She mentioned it a few times, but before he got around to doing anything, she became impatient. Tired of the diaphragm, Jenn made her own arrangements and quietly had a tubal ligation. She hadn't considered pregnancy since, although there was a period of regret following the accident. Still, everything works out somehow. She started removing her wedding ring before attending parties just because it was something she didn't want to have to explain – something she didn't want to have to think about during those times. However, sometimes she would forget to put it back on after the party. When she noticed her bare finger – at the store, or out midday somewhere – she invariably got agitated and hurried back to the condo. If it wasn't there, she would pace about uneasily until she could get over to Lisa's and find it there. Inevitably, the day came when she just couldn't find it anywhere. She realized that she couldn't even remember when she’d worn it last. She fretted piteously and looked furiously for several days but it didn't turn up. She felt, on the one hand, crushed and upset, like she'd done something irrevocable – irreparable, but on the other hand, she realized it was a symbolic inevitability – her wedding ring had not just been removed; it was gone. Marriage, as an institution, was no longer appropriate to her. It was only shortly after she had thrown herself back into the heterosexual fray, early one evening, that a big fellow silently approached her. In the dimness she wasn’t sure who it was or if she’d ever seen him before. He nodded to her silently with barely a trace of a smile, lifted her off her feet and laid her on her back on a bed. He said nothing as he put a firm bolster under her hips, so she too remained silent. Then he positioned himself between her legs. “I want to feel your fingers at my nipples continuously,” he said very matter-of-factly, “and I want your lips to stay in constant contact with my chest – constant contact!” “You’ve got an awful nerve,” Jenn thought, but, as he covered her, the idea tickled some curiosity within. It was, once again, something about letting things move beyond her control – letting herself be controlled by others. Maybe she’d oblige him, bow to his demands for the moment. “We’ll see,” she said to herself, as she lifted her hands to his breasts and fixed her mouth to his chest. He had a huge dick and entered her with quick, merciless thrusts, forcing her to gasp against him. He pumped her with strength and barely controlled violence, invading her inner sanctum, repeatedly and mercilessly battering her cervix – her uterus. As he grew to apparently monstrous proportions, his glans began to literally pound against her viscera. Before long, every in-stroke was punctuated by a bright white flash of genuine pain that shot up the front of her spine to flare at the base of her skull and left stars twinkling behind her eyes. Concentrating on the activity of her fingers and the position of her lips, Jenn rode through each fierce jolt. It was a pure pain – crisp and clean, engulfing her senses. One had barely faded – was barely abated before the apex of the next stroke ignited another bolt. And yet, while almost excruciating, it began to change subtly. Maybe it wasn't such pure pain, after all. Silver linings – glimmers of something desirable – something wanton – began to tint the edges of the intensity. Between flashes, Jenn could feel the heat of arousal permeating his body. She felt his nipples stiffen and stand up under the caress of her fingers; she could feel with her lips the surface of his chest flush with excitement. Despite the rhythmically searing pain, the unmistakable crackling of inexorable arousal, of impending orgasm began to shimmer in her depths. In another part of her brain, a corner independent of pain management, independent of carnality, she looked at the scene objectively. Her hands at his nipples, her lips on his chest, were a sort of passive bondage; and considering it in this light somehow increased the pleasure aspect of her ordeal. There was a forbidden thrill in relinquishing control. As the anonymous body atop her forced his chest against her face, she realized that she liked it – really liked it – the invisible restraint, the idea of bondage – essential bondage – bondage in the mind. His still expanding tool rubbed and bothered her slick inner flesh, radiating pulses of stimulation into her core. Odd memories wafted across her mind, somewhere above the turmoil of her reality; the Kegel exercises she’d learned in prenatal classes all those years ago. Dredging through the haze, she felt herself remembering – tightening and loosening, grasping and releasing. Flexing her vaginal muscles, she hoped he felt her grabbing. She smiled inwardly – he had to. As his strokes increased in fury, electrical charges sparked inside her. Through her lips and her fingertips similar energy arced into her body. As the frenzied body on her tensed, she felt a discharge akin to lightning begin along her spine, and as the first hot splashes of semen seared her bruised cervix, a bolt thundered from her brain to her cunt. Her legs curled around his backside as her vaginal muscles contracted convulsively, milking and holding the twitching meat. She mewed or whimpered against the heaving chest while his curly hairs became entangled in her fingers. For a moment it seemed, as they came together, they melded into one gasping, panting, quivering being. Then it was gone – done – over. After a brief afterglow, as Jenn caught her breath, her fornicator lifted and disengaged himself from her. She stared at him with a sort of vacant smile. Although she hadn't really even got a good look at his face before; now she recognized him – knew him, if not by name. He looked down on her, his mouth not betraying any emotion, and said merely, "That was good." The deeper meaning was painfully obvious. Jenn could tell by the dropping tone of his voice, the falling pitch at the end of the word, that he wasn't talking about his orgasm; he wasn't even talking about their shared intercourse; he was only commenting on her performance, more specifically, her performance in following his directions, and what he was saying was that it was all right, as in "That was good, not great, you've still got a lot to learn, but it was all right for a start." As much as that unspoken message puzzled Jenn, it didn't offend her because she knew it was somehow correct, although in what ways she couldn't even begin to guess. The idea of essential bondage began to resonate in Jenn's psyche. Whether because she had just identified the concept or because her position in the menage was changing, Jenn began to notice it as a repeating theme. It was expressed in a variety of ways: sometimes a bet, "Betcha can't keep your lips against my chest – your fingers on my nipples the whole time;" "I'll bet you you can't get there without lifting your hips." Sometimes it was a challenge, "Let's see if you can...;" sometimes a request, "I want you to...;" and sometimes it was just an order, "Keep your...," "Put your...," "Don't...." "Why is it," Jenn pondered, "that in every act or entanglement there seems to be a lesson – implicit or otherwise?" She wondered, too, about whom the lessons actually benefited. Were they really for her own edification or simply for the increased pleasure of those who instructed – those who used her? Or – she felt a tingle of mysterious excitement at the thought – was there some other, deeper, more sinister reason – some unseen alternate endpoint? Just as he brought her to the brink of orgasm, he pulled out, and flinging himself up her body, his knees scrambling to keep up, he swiftly positioned himself on her chest. With his hands aside her head he brusquely pulled her onto his cock, forcing his unbending rod between her lips and bumping the back of her throat. Amazingly – illogically – up until then, Jenn had always managed to wipe off erections before tasting them. This, then, was another new experience – receiving so suddenly such a hardened tool, already slick with her own juices. She had, of course, been tasting her own fluids on the lips and cheeks of Lisa and her other female friends – were they friends, lovers or just playmates? – since shortly after her introduction to the arts of tribadism. She had soon given up even trying to wipe off other’s faces before they descended on hers, as she used to do with Matt. But this was different even yet. Her own secretions had mingled with the maleness of copulation to compose a nectar new and sweet. Once the shock of entrance had been accommodated, she evaluated the novel taste – the complex perfume, as he pounded her oral cavity. Perhaps her reservations, her avoiding and wiping had been unnecessary. Yes, definitely they had, for, like a scratch and sniff, the violence of the thrusting in her mouth released waves of scent that, mixed with the unique tastes, made a powerful aphrodisiac. As the man-meat inside her quivered and pulsed in its race towards ejaculation, Jenn felt the welcome jangle of her own climax lift off from deep within her. Like a missile from a submarine, it broke the surface just as she felt his hot cream hit her tongue. As Jenn moved, naked and bleary-eyed, across the room, – same bodies, different dance; same song, different singer; another night; another debauch – a familiar male figure stepped into her path. He had attended their parties often and she had been actively involved with him on many occasions, but, preoccupied as she was with the turmoil of the room, cruising from one plexus to another, she couldn't quite remember his name. He was not tall, maybe only five eight or nine, but his chest rippled with finely toned muscles, his stomach was flat and his well defined limbs spoke of athletic strength and endurance. His short brown hair was as wet and matted as the field of growth on his chest. His gleaming penis hung semi-engorged from a thick dark rain forest. He moved with the dangerous grace of a Doberman, and his intensely brown eyes burned without a trace of ambiguity or doubt. He grabbed Jenn peremptorily about the shoulders and pulled her violently against his solid chest, crushing her lips in a rough, passionate kiss. Jenn's hands, raised reflexively, were squeezed between them, and as the pressure on her back decreased slightly, her fingers automatically began to caress his nipples. Dropping one hand, while the other continued to hold Jenn's shoulders firmly, the anonymous aggressor's fingers burrowed decisively into the wet hair and slick folds of Jenn's sex. She felt glowing embers of ardour fanned once again into flames. Moving his kisses from her lips to her cheeks, then over her eyes, around her ears and up to her hairline, he caused her mouth to drop to his chin, then his neck, finally drawing her face to his chest, where she ranged her nibbling lips from side to side – nipple to nipple. His free hand abandoned her pubis and returned to her shoulders while the other hand dropped to her breasts to pinch and twist her nipple as she nibbled and sucked and licked clean the salty sweat from his skin. Subtly he increased the downforce on her shoulders, forcing her to crouch and tilt her face up, stretching in order to keep contact with his breasts. Inexorably he pushed her down further until she was out of reach of his erect buds. She began to let her fingers follow her lips down off his chest, but before she had completely deserted his breast, he said simply and quietly, "Keep your hands there." She could taste the essence of domination; it wasn't a flavour she disliked. As she sank to her full crouch, her arms remained extended over her head against his chest. His left hand trailed fingers up across Jenn's nipple, away from her breast, up the side of her neck and over her cheek, then dropped a bit to tickle the corner of her mouth. As his hands cupped the sides of her head he pulled her forward so that she slowly rocked forward onto her knees. He then steered her forcefully onto his stiffening member. Parting her bruised lips, Jenn gagged as she was pulled onto the massive cock, its inflated helmet banging the back of her throat. Entwining her hair in his hands, Jenn's conqueror began to pummel her – pumping her mouth rapidly on and off his glistening pole. Jenn's eyes grew wide with the savage brutality of the act; still, her loins remained hot with anticipation as the assault accelerated. The pounding tool suddenly swelled and hardened to a frightening steel, and just as a seed of terror germinated in the back of Jenn's head, he spent in such copious quantities that she coughed and sputtered and felt his semen back up her nose. He pulled out abruptly, letting go of her hair after giving just the slightest tug upwards, indicating that she should stand. As she stood and looked at him, he smiled slightly, leaned forward and gave her a light peck on the cheek. "Not too bad," he said blandly, then turned to move away. "Hey," she thought, in silent complaint, "what about me?" Although she didn't utter a sound except for a bit more coughing and sputtering, the disappointed look on her face must have conveyed her thoughts loud and clear, for the man stopped in his turn and looking back over his shoulder he said in the patient voice of a parent to a truculent child, "Your time will come, my dear, but you must first learn to wait." She wanted to say, "Why should I?" but somewhere, below her consciousness, she understood. Yet another lesson complete. Confused again, Jenn just stood in the centre of the room, still clearing her throat, and watched him disappear into the hallway and out of sight. There was, she was sure, much, much more to this than met the senses. She was reaching somewhere – entering something of which she had only got glimpses – perceptible but still indiscernible. Lisa, too, had, Jenn now suspected, been preparing her, or educating her, or, perhaps, grooming her. For what, Jenn had no idea, but Lisa had, in retrospect, been conducting lessons right from the start. Sometimes they were vague, amorphous lessons, like amateur night the strip club, and sometimes focused and concise. Like the night Lisa announced that she had decided to teach Jenn the art of anal/oral stimulation, that is, the proper way to kiss and lick a backside. The lesson was structured, with lots of hands-on physical practice. Jenn was instructed to first hold Lisa's cheeks apart, then get her face right there, her nose between the cheeks. She must, Lisa advised, always ensure that the interface is well wetted by spitting into the crack frequently. She should begin, Lisa went on, with long sloppy strokes the whole length of the trough, before zeroing in on the anus. Jenn was told to swirl her tongue around the edges of Lisa's rosebud sphincter, dipping it lightly into the centre, then, once the tight centre has been tickled and stimulated, she must, twisting the tip of her tongue back and forth, poke it through the muscle and insert it as far as possible into the rectum. Once the sphincter has been broached, and the smooth inner surface gained, Jenn was to tongue fuck Lisa's ass with a rhythmic in-out until Lisa let her stop. Furthermore, Lisa added, Jenn must never stop abruptly, but first spread, once again, her lingual caresses up and down the length of Lisa's bum before gradually pulling away. It was a long, sensual dance. Jenn had practised it many times since; an active participant in her own seduction, she enjoyed the ritual – loved it. And the rewards she reaped for her oral artistry were subtly complex and rich; sometimes explicit, oft-times not. As one month made way for the next, Jenn found she was spending almost no time at all at the condo. The infrequent work that she accepted would come to her through her cellular, but entering a classroom full of children became increasingly alien. Still she went home regularly to check the mail and phone messages. Mostly she slept through the greater part of each day, and stayed very busy at night, often playing till well past dawn. She wondered if there was any turning back from here, or had she already crossed the threshold of the chateau? Although, it didn't much matter really; she was midstream now; she could not foresee pulling out.