Christine's Emancipation

My heel was again embedded in my vagina. I wanted to come. An idea came to me.

Chapter 16. Me first.

I took the base of Morgan's cock in my fingers and began to stroke the lower part of his shaft in syncopation with the bobbing of my head as the top third of his shaft disappeared into my mouth, then reappeared. Morgan was now gasping, his body writhing. His scrotum was again tight, his balls, full of come, sought release. He wanted to come. He needed to come.

The first time, I probably stopped before I had to. He could have taken just that little bit more. But, Hey! I was a novice at this -- though you would have had to hit me with a sledgehammer to remind me of it.

Morgan's cock, fully erect in pre-orgasmic tension, sprang onto his stomach, throbbing. I gained my feet – a trifle unsteadily, I will admit, and stood before him, legs together, arms at my side. His eyes had been closed. Now they opened. I allowed them to feast on my nakedness, on my firm tits with dark erect nipples, on my flat stomach, long slender legs -- and in particular on the extended pussy lips that showed in my cleft. For several minutes I stood motionless. Neither Morgan nor I spoke. We were beyond speech. He knew.

My legs parted slightly, and a hand strayed down. A slender forefinger slid down into the cleft, grazing my clit hood. Another finger joined in. Holding Morgan's eyes with mine, I began to massage my drooling vaginal lips.

Much of this and I would come for sure, and collapse in a heap on the floor! This was not in the plan. As my legs began to shake, I retreated and lowered my rump onto the coffee table. My thighs parted. My feet gripped the edges of the table. My swollen sex was fully exposed.

I forced myself to go slow, concentrating on the lower part of my pussy lips, dipping a finger occasionally into my vagina, all the while staring directly at Morgan -- who did not know where to look. For a while, he held my gaze, but the sight of me stimulating myself in front of him was too much. He lowered his eyes and watched. I lowered a foot to the ground so the hand that had been supporting me could join in, opening out my pussy, exposing the tender flesh inside to my roaming fingers.

My own eyes lowered involuntarily, focusing on Morgan's cock and balls. He was still stiff, his scrotum had not loosened. The sight was too much for me. A finger emerged from my vagina and flew to my clit, pressing brushing. In seconds, the orgasm broke over me. I could not have stopped it if I had tried. (I'll admit I didn't try very hard!)

"AAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!" came from my lips. My fingers worked overtime on the aftershocks, my foot slid off the table as my thighs came involuntarily together. Not part of the plan.

But Morgan did not to mind. His breathing was almost as heavy as mine. Not Mandy, Melanie. Follow your instinct.

When I could, I crossed to the drinks cabinet and with hands still shaking poured two martinis. Morgan accepted his with gratitude, but still did not speak. I sat on the coffee table, legs together, and sipped, eyeing him. There was a look on his face that may have been humor, or admiration, or satisfaction. All three, come to think of it, expressing the way one may well feel when a protégé came good. (Pardon the pun.)

Later I came to wonder whether his mention of Mandy had not been aimed deliberately at generating a rebellion. Morgan was going to come that night. But he was first going to forget Mandy. He was going to come for Melanie.

When our martini glasses were empty, I relieved Morgan of his, knelt at his feet and resumed where I had begun -- loosening up his ball bag and sucking his balls free before starting again on his cock.

I had lost all sense of time so I have no idea how long it was before I sensed that Morgan was about to explode. This time I took him so close a bead of semen formed on the tip of his cock just as I released.

Still shaking from the aftermath of my second orgasm, I poured fresh martinis.

Chapter 17. Coup de grace.

As activity resumed, I found my jaw was beginning to ache. Morgan's cock was not especially thick, and I paced myself well. But this was my first fellatio. I had no idea whether I was approaching Mandy's three hours, or beyond, but I no longer cared. It was evident that Morgan was now responding to me. His gasps, moans and grunts were continuous, the twitches of his body and the thrusting of his groin upwards, more urgent.

Suddenly, his voice sounded. A gentler tone now, neither imperious nor demanding.

"Melanie. I think you have proved your point."

Perhaps he too had sensed that it was time; that this teasing game could not proceed much further. Maybe he sensed I was nearing my limit. But he was also reaching his. I glanced up at him.

"How would you like to come?" I asked.

"However you desire, Melanie. Imagine I am your slave. You can make me come any way you wish. Or you can leave me hanging, longing for release. It is your choice."

I had dreamed of semen sprayed over my breasts, stomach and thighs. I would display the evidence of his release to him as though it was a capitulation.

No thought of this now. A fantasy that maybe one day I would realize. But not now. I heard myself say,

"I want you to come inside me."

"As you wish."

Shakily, I rose and straddled him. I lowered a hand and guided his cock into my vaginal opening.

"Slow," I heard him say. "Take me in very slowly."

It was not so much obedience as acceptance that this was right.

Inch by inch, his steely member penetrated me until all was inside. I was sitting on his lap, stationary, juice from my cunt leaking over my thighs and his balls.

"Remain quite still. Contract and expand your vaginal muscles."

Again, it was not obedience but acceptance. My own orgasm was hovering.

"You have complete control, Melanie. I am your slave."

And goddamit if I did not come right there and then. Without instruction, my groin slid backwards and forwards over his, everything vibrated. Including Morgan's cock. I could feel the shaft pulsate and the stream of semen spurt up into me in gobs. I fell forward, my head on Morgan's shoulder, hearing only dimly,

"Fuck me, Melanie. Fuck me hard."

Acceptance, not obedience. My groin began to move up and down, that still rigid cock slid in and out of my vagina, faster and faster until, goddamit, I came again, and if that was not enough, again…..

I must temporarily have blacked out. When senses returned, two bodies, sweat covered, were joined. I felt him grow limp inside me.

I cannot find words that adequately express my feelings.

I must have blacked out again because the next thing I remember is lying on my back on the couch. Of Morgan there was no sign, but He it must have been who laid me on the couch and placed a cushion beneath my head. Semen had leaked out of me, seemingly in pints, joining the flood of vaginal fluid. I recall thinking 'How am I going to explain this to Harvey?' Then: 'Who the hell cares?'

When I woke, the candles were burning low. The clock said 4am.

Chapter 18. Last night.

The next day was a bitch. Well, you can imagine. My jaw ached, my head throbbed. I drank coffee until it was coming out of my ears. Mid-afternoon I felt better and by 5pm I was ready to contemplate my last night with Morgan. He would have something planned. What?

I have to confess that my libido had ebbed significantly. No worries about nipples showing through or vaginal juices running down my leg. Four nights of Morgan, God knew how many orgasms, many multiples of all the orgasms I had had in my previous life. In four short nights. Small wonder my body was beginning to say 'Enough already!'.

But 'Last Night'? I could not say 'No!' to this. Even if I did not enjoy it, nothing could take away the bliss I had experienced so far, the ecstasy -- and, Yes! even the agony was exquisite. If my preparations were less enthusiastic than previously, they were thorough. My body showed no signs of the mental, the sexual exhaustion I felt inside of me.

At 7 precisely, the door opened – I had taken to unlocking it – and Morgan strode in, shedding his cloak as always. As always, my eye went straight to his rigid cock so it was a moment before I registered that he was not alone. Mandy had slid in the door and stood behind him, naked.

"Mandy has suggested joining us tonight," Morgan said. "It's our last night, though, so it is your choice. Everything tonight is your choice. If you wish, Mandy will leave. If you wish, she will merely watch. If you wish, she will join in."

I confess to the thought that Mandy's presence would take the heat off me.

"Of course she must stay. I'd enjoy that."

In our room, Morgan turned to me and said,

"Since it's our last night, I suggest we drop the pseudonyms. Is that all right with you?"

"Sure," I stammered. "I'm Christine. But you know that."

"And I'm Ron, and this is Suzanna."

Suzanna smiled at me. Her body seemed radiant in the candlelight, pearly white, translucent. I wondered whether mine did. I had examined myself minutely in the mirror and recalled what Morgan -- er Ron, had said. 'Sex is good for you'. My body had gained a glow. It appeared also more supple, sensual. It was true. Sex was good for me.

How much more of it could I take?

"So Christine, this is your night. Suzanna and I are instruments of your will."

My will? Jesus! Could I say 'Look, guys, I'm not really feeling up to it…'?

I could not. Neither could I say anything else. I stood, tongue tied.

Suzanna to the rescue. Trust a female to understand how another is feeling.

"If I could make a suggestion, Christine…" she paused.

"Please," I answered all too eagerly.

"I understand that you and your husband do not experiment much with sex positions."

Too right, I thought, though I said nothing. Perhaps my head nodded acquiescence.

"How would it be if we start with you sitting comfortably, maybe with a drink, while Ron and I go through a few, maybe one or two you haven't tried?"

I thought about this for a moment, but only long enough for my reply not to appear too eager. A sex show, with a martini in hand. A perfect way to start, if not finish!

"That would be interesting," I said at length. "It's been a hard day. I could do with a drink."

I did not mention that two martini's that had already gone down the hatch.

Suzanna and Ron stood before me, she stroking his penis, his hand between her thighs.

"You may find some positions more interesting than others. We'll start with one and maintain it until you tell us to switch. Ok?" Suzanna said. "Just say 'switch'.

"If we can," Ron added, a smile flitting across his face.

I fixed my martini and settled in a cosy chair. I have to confess that my libido was already beginning to return.

Suzanna bent and rested her hands on the coffee table, her back to Ron, her legs parted. Ron approached behind her and stroked his cock up and down her crack a few times before inserting it gently into her vagina. Suzanna's legs parted further and she arched her back and adjusted her body to accept him. For a moment they were still. Then they began to move, slowly, in perfect unison, building up gradually until Ron's cock-tip opened out Suzanna's pussy lips, then eased back inside her vagina and disappeared to the hilt. They settled into a steady pace.

Chapter 19. Number one, number two and number three.

I'm sure you've figured that my libido was soon back, in spades. The martini glass rested on an occasional table. My thighs parted and my fingers began to explore.

It was not merely that this as the first time I had seen another couple fuck. It was also the way they fucked. You could neither speak of him fucking her, nor of her fucking him. Their bodies met half-way, motion in perfect harmony.

One finger, then two dipped inside my cunt, reaching up for the G-spot and pressing on it. Finger tips belonging to another hand circled my clit and pressed down on its hood.

Suzanna and Ron paid no attention to me. They were totally absorbed with each other, pleasuring and receiving pleasure. Their movement was faster now. Sexual pants and grunts betrayed their mutual sexual arousal. Suzanna's nipples were fully extended in their puffy areolas. Occasionally their tips brushed against the table top.

My fingers were working furiously now. An all too familiar feeling crept into my groin. God forbid that I should bring myself off.

I tried to say 'switch' to break the tension but the word would not emerge from my lips. Then I remembered. This was my evening. I was in control.

Suzanna and Ron were now moving hard and fast. His thighs slapped on her rump, which quivered slightly on each stroke. This was not simulation. They were into this big time.

If I didn't want them to switch, what did I want? Jesus, I was so close.

"Stop!" I all but shouted. "I want to be fucked. Come and fuck me, Ron. Now!"

I'm amazed to this day at my audacity, but that is what I said.

And that is what Ron did. He withdrew from Suzanna, crossed the step or two to my chair and placed his hands on its back. I guided his penis, glistening with the juice from Suzanna's cunt, into my vaginal opening, grasped his buttocks and drove him into me.

"Fuck me 'til you come," I panted.

Ron started slow, but it did for me anyway. I came on the third downstroke, raising my legs and drumming my heels on his ass.

"Don't stop," I said hoarsely and unnecessarily. Ron had heard what I said. 'Fuck me until you come.' He knew me well enough.

His weight on arms and feet, he increased the force of the down-stroke, driving me into the cushion.

I had opened my thighs to ease the tension. Now they closed again, my feet came up around Ron's back.

"Aarrrgh! I'm coming again. Aarrrrgghhh! Oh Jesus. Aarrgh! AAAARRRRGGGHHH!"

Over the top I went, and down the other side. Ron just kept on pounding me ever deeper into the cushion. I placed my hands on his sweat-covered hips, conscious suddenly of the liquid that was trickling down between my tits.

Sexual grunts. Ron was close. And I swear my cunt walls were vibrating still from orgasm number two when number three welled up and hit like a tsunami. My body jerked this way and that, only my groin was fixed, by the hammer that drove it into the chair, spewing its seed deep inside me.

His 'n hers orgasms lasted for an age.

Ron collapsed on me, his weight pure bliss.

We separated eventually and I recalled suddenly that we were not alone. Suzanna sat on the sofa, sipping a Martini she'd poured for herself.

"He said you were a tiger once you got aroused," she said with a laconic smile on her face.

"Jesus Christ!" was, I believe, my response.

Chapter 20. New tricks.

We sat, sprawled on the sofa, martini's at hand, Ron in the middle. Ron and I had cleaned up using damp cloths and fresh towels I'd fetched from the bathroom.

"I seem to have lost the script," I said.

"Not at all, Christine. Tonight you make the script," Suzanna said. "And not bad for starters."

For starters? Hells bells! I recalled something Ron had said when he was Morgan and Suzanna was Mandy.

"Do you guys really do sex all the time?"

"When we're together, Yes!" Ron answered. "What better way is there for a woman and a man to spend time?"

"But you must sleep? And I suppose you have to work," I continued, recalling Ron was one of our authors. "I mean, books do not write themselves."

"No more does Suzanna's boutique run itself," Ron replied. "I write, she does her boutique. Then we have sex. What…?" He looked across at Suzanna.

"Maybe six hours a day?"

"Average," Suzanna said. "On weekends we just keep going until one of us is exhausted. Say, twelve hours. Eighteen is our record." Now she looked at Ron.

"Well, there was that time…" he began.

"OK. Including that time, twenty four," Suzanna said.

"Twenty four hours continuous sex? It's impossible, surely. How do you do it?"

"Training," Ron said. "And technique."

"You mean any couple can do it?"

"No idea. Some can, some can't, I guess. Like everything else."

"Well Harvey can't, that's for sure," I snorted.

"How do you know? Have you ever really tried?" Ron said.

I was formulating a suitably vituperative answer when Suzanna butted in.

"Too much talk. Come on script lady. The night is young. What's the next play?"

I sipped my martini, thinking. They were serious. We could do anything I wanted. Problem was, I did not know what this was. An idea came to me. Yes, I would like that. And it was only fair.

"It's Suzanna's turn to come," I said. "So that's the next item on the script."

"Fine with me," Suzanna said. "How would you like me to come?"

I was about to say 'However you like', but stopped myself. I was writing the script, was I not.

"Make him stiff. Then sit on his cock and fuck him until you come."

"Ok!" Suzanna said, placing her glass on the table at the far side of the couch.

"Would you like to help me bring him up?"

"Sure."

"I'll do his cock, you do his balls."

So saying, Suzanna turned and knelt on the couch. She placed a dainty hand on the base of Ron's cock and took its head in her mouth. I watched for a moment, then fetched cushions, knelt between Ron's legs and began to lick his ball-bag and suck on his balls.

Suzanna was in no hurry. She teased Ron's cock with her tongue and lips before settling into a regular motion, massaging the base with her fingers and sucking on and releasing the tip. Ron sat back, his eyes closed. Two women working on his cock and balls – he would have nothing against that!

I followed Suzanna's lead, placing my fingers behind the loose scrotum and drawing it forward and tonguing and sucking gently.

Gradually Ron's cock stiffened and Suzanna began to draw the shaft into her mouth. I watched surreptitiously as her head on its long neck bobbed down and up and her cheeks hollowed out on the upstroke. Her hand no longer massaged the base of the cock. She held this in position with a careless forefinger. Every movement was deliberate and elegant, like the lady herself.

Time went by. Ron's cock was fully erect and his ball-bag was beginning to tighten. Suzanna gave no sign of relaxing her stimulation. Rather the opposite. She would pause at the bottom of the down-stroke, close her lips around the shaft, more than half of which was inside her mouth, suck hard three or four times, move up half an inch, pause and repeat, drawing her teeth up the shaft, until they reached the underside of the tender cock-tip. She would pause again, close her mouth over the tip and flick her tongue around the sensitive skin.

Ron's ball-bag was now tight. I licked its base, then closed my mouth around it and sucked, gently, harder, hard. Ron's arousal was palpable,

I released him and rocked back on my heels.

"D'you think he's ready?" I asked.

Suzanna released Ron's cock and ran her fingers, then her nails up and down its shaft.

"If you like," she said. "You're writing the script. He'll take a lot more, though. Maybe you'd like to swap for a while? Or..?

"Or?"

"Maybe you'd like me to do oral on you while you do Ron? Or vice versa? Or, if you wish, I can get on with the fuck."

I hesitated.

"Personally, I love to be teased orally before a fuck. Ron and I usually '69' for ever."

Still I hesitated. I did not know how I felt about doing oral sex to a woman. But… when would I next get the opportunity to find out?

"I'll – er – do you."

"Ok. Just like Ron did to you. Only, in this position it's hard to get at the clit. Leave it alone and focus on what's comfortable for you. I'll let you know what's doing it for me."