If, as you read this, you begin to wonder if something came before it, it did, 'Christine. A tale of lust.'
Ten weeks on and I had still not discussed books with Christine, nor had we amused ourselves with any significant discourse. Routinely, I arrived at her house at nine-thirty, after her kids were in bed, indulged in rampant pink sex and left at mid-night. As she was delighted to accommodate me just about every other night I was not complaining, but it was an odd relationship. She had added a pink armed chair to her bedroom, where a surprising amount of our coupling took place: so much so, that the chair had already acquired a dark stain down its front immediately under Christine's hot slit. A crack that gaped, regularly and was frequently driven on to dribble an excess of that thick, slick, white, lubricant which over-excited women excrete so copiously.
One deeply pink night, after Christine had taken delight in her numerous orgasms, she declared, "Adrian we have to talk." To me, this sounded like the beginning of the end.
"Remember when we first met?"
"How could I ever forget."
"Don't be flippant! When we met at first it was my friend Angela who looked after my kids for the afternoon. Well, in two weeks' time it's her birthday: I've always wanted to give her a truly valuable present, one that she would never forget."
"Now I have something really precious that I might be able to give away, well lend actually: I want to lend you to her."
"I want you to tease her and then please her: just like you do to me. She hasn't had a man in ages; I mean years, and she's really jealous of me."
"You want me to rodger your best friend, for her birthday present?"
"Yes and I'm going to watch: but you're not to say anything and you must not come, because I will be absolutely desperate by the time you've finished."
"You want to watch me screwing -- no fucking, let's call a spade a spade -- you want to watch me fucking your best friend and you are anticipating that you are going to enjoy this?"
"What an excellent précis: agree right this instant, my little sex-pot, and..." she considered this, for a second or two, "I'll suck you off before you go." Christine was, normally, less than enthusiastic about me spurting into her mouth; so she was offering a generous treat. Usually, in order to obtain this particular favour, I had to torment her to the point where she begged me to permit her to be complicit with any of my sexual foibles: and even then her consent was inevitably subject to the proviso that I first guaranteed her a long succession of orgasms.
"OK," I replied, dubiously. I had already come once but Christine honoured her promise: she not only licked and sucked upon my helmet but also gently stroked my shaft with those deft fingers of hers. All too soon I was pumping thick white seed into her mouth.
The date of Angela's birthday arrived. I turned up bang on time and as Christine admitted me she reminded me that I was not even allowed to utter a single syllable, whatever I might encounter, even if I found myself totally shocked.
"Just what the hell have you got planned," I enquired; beginning to have serious reservations about the evening ahead.
"Wait and see. Now get undressed down here." As I disrobed Christine told me, "Angela has just had a lovely long bath and I soaped her thoroughly, so everywhere is perfectly clean, although some bits of her do seem to remain persistently moist".
When we entered Christine's pink love nest I almost broke my promise. There was certainly an unfamiliar woman sat in her pink chair, but she was not only stark naked but tightly lashed to it. Her legs were split wide apart, spread over the arms, with her ankles firmly bound to the legs. Her arms were immobilised equally thoroughly, around the back of the chair. Moreover, she was blindfolded: Angela was older than Christine, her hair was black and she had a rather grey, more lined complexion. She was a good bit plumper than Christine, but not excessively fat; she was, all-in-all, rather less attractive. Whatever her looks, I was already becoming painfully stiff.
"Ready for your present Angela?"
"Yes, definitely; whatever it is."
"It's the best sex toy ever: now, you are absolutely convinced that you want this?"
"Of course I do."
I went across and kissed her hard on the mouth. She responded with unbridled enthusiasm. When we were done Angela exclaimed excitedly, "It's a man; it's a man... God, is it Adrian?"
"You'll never know who it is, and you are now asking too many questions." Christine came across with a ball on a rope and proceeded to use it to gag Angela.
I started with Angela's nipples. They were smaller than Christine's, not so dark but they still puckered up nicely when sucked upon. Now, unless Angela protested violently -- which is difficult when you are gagged --, for some teasing. I licked Angela's palms, then the crooks of her elbows and finally her armpits. She squirmed delightfully. After this I paid a great deal of attention to her ear lobes and neck; her breathing deepened and slowed: she was enjoying my attentions with undisguised abandon.
After a quick return to her nipples, I indulged in some serious toe sucking and foot licking. I had to be very careful; she was far more ticklish than Christine, but she was soon sighing contentedly. Now, first lick the backs of her knees and subsequently nibble the flesh inside of her plump, soft, white, thighs, occasionally brushing the extremities of her dark bush with the tongue. This sequence of actions extracted a series of increasingly rhythmic moans from Angela.
She was ready, and I squatted back on my haunches to admire my handiwork: she was, already, intolerably randy; perfect for a trial of teasing. Initiating a really good pussy tease is always facilitated by a little, light, humiliation. I very slowly slid two fingers into her exceptionally moist fanny. I rotated them, gently, to give them a thorough coating with her natural juices. I withdrew them, pulled her gag aside and forced those two well lubricated digits between her lips; drawing them, gradually, across her tongue so that she was forced to savour the full extent of her own desires. Success, she blushed; not just her cheeks but her neck, followed by the top half of her chest, they all lit up crimson. She rapidly regained her composure, however, clamping my fingers between her teeth and then swirling her tongue around them.
A single flick of my tongue across her clit was sufficient to draw a gigantean half-sigh, half-moan, from Angela. This was, clearly, a very intense sensation; one that I was going to repeat frequently, for a while. The trick is in the timing, keeping the intervals long enough to prevent orgasm and sufficiently irregular so that the unfortunate subject of your attentions never knows when the next one will be. Unbound Christine could take five minutes of this but poor Angela; I glanced at the bedside clock -- a pink clock, of course -- Angela was going to endure at, the very least, one half of one whole hour.
Initially Angela simply sighed and moaned, then her eyes glazed and her lids drooped. Subsequently, her fanny began to dribble and pulsate quite audibly; the entrance to her vagina was making tiny fart-like noises, all of its own accord. Her bum glistened with the juices that had dribbled down them; juices which, subsequently, suffused into the seat of the pink chair.
Next time a towel would be a good idea, a pink fluffy towel, and Christine would be my hapless victim. Angela began to swear, fluently: "Shag me, you sodding bastard, fuck my cunt you damned pig." I broke off and reintroduced her to the gag: now all we got was, "muuummfffff and ummmfff " and poor Angela began to drool. Having eliminated all resistance, I worked upon establishing a rhythm: lick to the clit; finger the fanny really slowly, just stimulating the very entrance of this particular orifice -- but then applying a very occasional deep stroke, exciting her G spot -- nip her nipples with fingers or teeth, and nibble those earlobes, oh yes, when teasing a woman don't ever forget to nibble those earlobes. Angela began to sweat, copiously. A towel really would have been a good idea, I reflected. Bring her to the very edge and then maintain her in that state: leave her constantly staring into a yawning abyss of ecstasy, but never allow her to tumble in. Sometimes break off for a few seconds and do something different: suck her fingers, lick her toes or inside the crook of an elbow. Just as she starts to relax return to the clit and recommence the cycle.
I love teasing, but this had taken genius, Christine had offered me a totally helpless victim: my secret vision of nirvana. Christine remained seated upon the bed, watching, mesmerised. She must have realised that her turn would come, in due course: and I knew her anatomy much more intimately than Angela's, so I could push her even further and hold her peering over the edge for far longer. Now Christine began to peel off her clothes, her eyes never straying from the unfolding fate of her friend. Once naked Christine simply tweaked her nipples and rubbed her red, furry, bush, gently: her vision fixated upon the writhing and squirming of the, by now, almost delirious Angela.
Finally, time was up. Angela, all trussed up, had most plainly been made to endure far more than she could otherwise have tolerated. As an indicator of what was to come I hung my helmet in her vestibule, then I slid my rampant ram down her dark, damp, passage, ever-so gradually; although I did speed up at the very end to ensure that my pubic bone slammed into her clitoris. Angela screamed with lust, delight, satisfaction and relief: she had been induced to come, at last. I withdrew, completely, then gave her another of these long slow strokes capped with that violent finale: she came again. Angela soon deposed Christine from her throne of 'Queen of the orgasm': she allowed herself to enjoy climax after climax, for a full four minutes. Even after this I was able to coax small orgasms from her for another couple of minutes. Finally, she was utterly drained; she sagged, her chest heaving for breath. As soon as I withdrew Christine grabbed my hair, dragged me over to the bed and pulled me on top of her. She too was on fire, she slammed her pelvis into mine as she exploded with orgasmic joy over and over again. Of course I climaxed all too soon, jerking and squirting hot seed into her pulsating fanny. The smell in that room was now pure lust. Christine was plainly disappointed that I had not managed to hold out for longer, but it was probably just as well, Angela now really needed Christine to untie her. In order to ensure that Angela could never be certain just whom had first built, and subsequently extinguished, her phantasmagorical fires I slipped away from the room, dressed downstairs, and strolled away into the darkening evening.
The night following Angela's birthday I popped round to Christine's. I thought she might desire some company and would, almost certainly, want to finish off from the previous night. Actually, I knew that she'd be as hot as a bitch in heat. She called me names for not managing to hold back for longer and, yes, she was exceptionally libidinous and unrelentingly demanding. Her response to my first climax was instantaneous and free of inhibition; she simply sucked me hard again and carried on like nothing had happened. She explained to me later that she had had no concept of what a turn on it would be for her to watch me making her friend so full of lust. "Angela says that you are the most horrid tease in history," oh and I took these. Christine had snapped polaroid photos of Angela before she untied her: her hair a total mess, her makeup streaked, a massive dark stain spreading down the chair below her yawning crack, and her tits all sweaty. "Does she know?" I asked.
"Oh no that blindfold is really good and there was an airline sleep-mask underneath it, just in case. Anyway they're for you, a little souvenir."
Christine was now positively enthusiastic about arranging another threesome. Angela was, she told me, equally keen, but then the pair of them had to locate a baby sitter prepared to take on all five of their kids: that was clearly tricky. Christine's final solution was to ask me if she could sound out some of her friends to see if any of them fancied exchanging baby-sitting for joining us in a, temporary, ménage a trois. I was not convinced, but Christine coaxed me into this deal by offering a whole week of languid oral sex to complete each of our tempestuous tumbling's. Despite having come twice, already, I found that this final bid had returned me to a state where I could satisfy any lusts that Christine might have had. That evening her vigour was exceptional, she was absolutely insatiable. She demanded the 'six positions', sex in six different positions: spoons, missionary, on her tummy, woman on top (facing you), woman on top (back to you) and then doggy. In our variation, if I come before we get to doggy then, as a 'punishment', I have to lick Christine's fanny -- now dripping with my slithering seed, yech -- until I can get hard again and then I have to complete the sequence: not that that was going to be a problem that particular night.
The following Saturday, immediately after my last payment of oral gratification, Christine announced her good news; she had the whole of the next Saturday night free. I could come early, stay over and she would even allow me the privilege of cooking breakfast for her; to be served up in bed, obviously. Pink towel night I thought, I would tie Christine in the chair and tease the daylights out of her. She had, incidentally, re-covered her pink chair, naturally in pink. The conundrum was how to prevent her from having sex for a few days before hand? Teasing is tricky, it's no good with a well satisfied partner. I pondered upon this for ages until, dashing my daydreams, Angela phoned me at work to inform me that Christine had got a bug, was laid up in bed, and was, most decidedly, not layable up in bed. She was looking after Christine and her kids, so I did not have to worry and she would phone just as soon as Christine was up to having visitors up her, once more. Angela has a dirty sense of humour and our switchboard lady had a habit of listening in: she certainly gave me an odd look later on, but with telephonists who knows. I just hoped that Christine would be fully recovered as soon as was possible.