Layla & KatebyMagicif©
This a sequel to my earlier story, "Layla"
"There's someone I'd like you to meet, Ben."
Given the fact that I was currently recovering from having been utterly drained by Layla during one of her deliriously pleasurable lipstick-drenched blowjobs, I thought my response was well above average: "Uh, mmm, what?"
Layla was leaning against me in her bed, gazing into a hand-held mirror. She smiled her gorgeous smile, not even trying to hide her amusement at my inarticulate grunted reply, and went back to glossing her lips in clear, flavored roll-on gloss which she now always applied for me after finishing one of her magical oral performances, in preparation for the sticky-sweet make-out session that always followed. She didn't really need the mirror; she just knew how much the sight of her long painted nails grasping the mirror handle as she gazed into it drove me crazy. Plus at the angle she was holding it, I was provided with a clear view of her gorgeous face, long fluttering lashes, and her perfect lips getting wetter and more irresistible with each stroke of her tube of gloss.
"I said there is someone I'd like you to meet."
This was a first. Ever since our first meeting -- during which I learned that Layla is a post-op TS and that her unique background, of which she is very proud, and her enthusiasm for performing oral has made her the greatest fellatrix I and my cock have ever had the pleasure to have met -- and throughout all of our subsequent mind-blowing (heh) sessions, Layla had never suggested meeting anyone else in her life. She spoke often and fondly of the other men who are lucky enough to be part of her group of world-class head recipients, and the occasional girlfriend of said recipients with whom she has shared her formula for the perfect blowjob, but there was never any mention of actually meeting anyone.
Experience has taught me that when Layla suggests something there is always something wonderful waiting for you, so of course my reply was: "Uhm, ok -- who?" Words were still hard to come by as the sensation of her mouth on my cock was only now fading and I was mesmerized by her increasingly shiny lips.
"Her name is Kate. I met her a few months ago when she moved to town. We hit it off and have met for drinks a few times. After a few too many glasses of wine, I shared with her my whole story -- my youth, my transformation, my profound love of going down on guys and the stable of men with whom I satisfy my craving." She flashed an exaggeratedly wild and maniacal smile as she uttered the word "craving." We both knew that her blowjobs are not the result of some cum-crazed addiction but rather the pure joy at giving pleasure by using her amazing mouth. Still, every once in a while she liked teasing about being an uncontrollable "head machine" which we both found very amusing (and I always found very pleasurable!). "I was pleasantly surprised by Kate's reaction. She's had no luck meeting any 'nice' men since she arrived and is feeling very frustrated, both socially and sexually."
I wasn't sure where this was all going but I was beginning to get more than a little interested.
"To make a long story short, I told her that I think she'd really enjoy meeting one of 'my guys' and that while I make no promises about satisfying her social frustration I was pretty confident that her sexual frustration would become a distant memory after a play session with us."
"Yes, Ben. Us. I suggested that she come here some evening and play with the two of us. I described you to her and she was very excited at the prospect. She isn't actually bi but she is very open minded and, I guess, horny enough to take a chance." She gave me a devilish wink. "And I think once you see her you'll be horny enough to play along."
A threesome. Me, Layla, and her new friend Kate. I was conflicted. On the one hand, pretty much any guy, whether he admits it out loud or not, has dreamed of having a threesome with two gorgeous women. Layla is gorgeous, and very very VERY skilled at the art of oral pleasure; Layla also said that seeing Kate would get me horny, and Layla is not one to exaggerate. If Kate was one tenth as skilled as Layla -- at ANYTHING -- this could be the greatest sexual experience of my life.
On the other hand, my time with Layla had become almost sacred. Her blowjobs are an intimate and sensual experience, requiring deep focus on relaxing and savoring every sensation. Would having another woman there be distracting and possibly diminish the intimacy? I thought for a moment longer and then, wisely, let my trust in Layla guide me. If she thought that a threesome with her friend would be fun, I should go along for the ride, so to speak.
Just in case, I put up some very weak token resistance: "It sounds irresistible. I'm just a little surprised. Knowing how important concentration and relaxation are to you during sex, I'd have thought a second partner in the mix might break the spell."
"That's a fair point," she replied. "But let me ask you: do you think there is any chance at all that you will enjoy yourself?" I nodded in the affirmative. "And do you think that a session with Kate and me will be the last time you and I get to enjoy ourselves together?" Since I sincerely hoped that my divine one-on-one sessions with Layla would NEVER stop happening, I vigorously nodded in the negative. "Then it's settled. It'll be different than what we've shared before, but I am confident it will be fun." She blew a perfectly pouty air-kiss at me and turned back to her mirror to resume glossing (and driving me crazy).
"So why me?" I asked. I have no illusions about being the handsomest or most sexually proficient man in Layla's stable of willing partners. I am a decent and respectful guy, but I imagine that would be table-stakes for a relationship (such as it is) with Layla.
As she so often does, Layla responded without actually answering the question. "You never asked me where I met Kate." She turned to me and placed the mirror and gloss on the bed next to us.
Taking the bait, I replied, "Where did you meet Kate, Layla?"
She smiled that wicked smile of hers and said, "I met her shopping. Kate works at the MAC store downtown. She loves lipstick almost as much as we do. Almost."
At which point Layla placed one perfectly manicured hand on my chest, pushed me back flat against the bed and planted her luscious gloss-saturated lips on mine, slowly gliding her sticky lips back and forth, while her other hand reached between my legs and cupped my balls. Heaven.
About a week passed after Layla had made the suggestion of having a threesome with her new friend, Kate. Layla refused to give me any description of Kate, other than saying she is "sexy and statuesque, early 30's, with a bubbly personality and a warm smile." Not much to go on. Still, my faith in Layla is unwavering so I waited anxiously for her to contact me and set a date for our encounter.
Layla is in no way cruel but she does like to tease. I had waited a few days after my last private evening with her before calling her to inquire about when she'd like to have our three-way tryst. During that call, Layla explained that work and "family stuff" were keeping her very busy and she couldn't nail down a date yet. After the third such conversation in three weeks, I knew that Layla was drawing this out a bit, wanting to build up my anticipation (and frustration). Once I realized her game, I played along -- this wouldn't happen a second before she wanted it to, so I resigned myself to waiting.
After a few days, nearly a month since I had seen her last (which was about the longest hiatus we'd taken since our first glorious night together), Layla called and said she'd like to propose a date for our evening with Kate. Since I would pretty much reschedule open-heart surgery to accommodate an evening with Layla, I quickly agreed to a date 5 days later.
As she was ending the conversation, Layla gave me a gentle warning: "I suggest you refrain from masturbating between now and our date. It may be a long evening and we wouldn't want you to wear out too quickly." I distinctly heard another woman giggling in the background as Layla said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.
Longest. Five. Days. Ever.
When at last the day of our play date arrived, I was giddy with anticipation. Seeing Layla was enough to get me worked up hours in advance of our meeting. But the added mystery of meeting this new woman, someone who the gorgeous Layla described in such glowing terms, had me ready to burst. After a long shower wherein I scrubbed every part of me, twice, I trimmed any overgrown areas around my privates, selected a comfortable but dressy pair of loose fitting slacks (to hide the partial hard-on I had been sporting since the moment I awoke that morning, added a dress shirt, blazer and loafers, and headed down to hail a taxi. A few short minutes later, I was entering Layla's building. I nodded to the doorman, who had become quite used to seeing my face entering the building (and exiting with a euphoric grin hours later), and went to the elevator.
I was alone in the elevator, which was fortunate since the partial hard-on had magically transformed into a raging one, knowing I was scant moments from seeing Layla and her mystery friend Kate. As I arrived at her doorstep, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, using the familiar "shave and a haircut" cadence and instantly regretting the cheesy touch. Idiot.
From within, in perfect unison, I heard two voices reply in sing-song, "Come i-in. The door is oooo-pen."
Layla's living room looked like what I would imagine inventory day at a MAC store would look like. Her coffee table, side tables and floor next to her couch were covered with various packages and containers of MAC makeup, lotions, potions, brushes, mirrors, and cases. A sweet heady perfume lay in the air. The sheer volume of girl stuff neatly arranged in rows and piles was rather impressive. But not nearly as impressive as what I saw on the couch among the packages. There sat Layla, looking radiant as always, staring straight ahead, head tilted slightly back. Next to her was a woman with fair skin and copper-red hair, with soft curls flowing to her shoulder, with a brush in her hand meticulously applying a light shimmering eye shadow just below Layla's deep, perfectly sculpted brown-black eyebrows. Now, keep in mind that Layla takes great pride in her appearance and loves the art of applying and wearing makeup, so it was not unusual to see her eyes glamorously or seductively shadowed, depending on her mood; Layla's skill with makeup would be the envy of most women. So, when I say that I had never seen Layla's eyes look so sexy and irresistible before, you can imagine how good she looked. Layla's light blue eyes fairly glowed, the already soul-piercing gaze amplified by the dramatic but elegant colors that lined and shaped her eyes and eyelids. Even without her lashes done, her eyes were spell-binding. I could not imagine another pair of eyes on another woman even coming close to looking that enticing ever again.
That is, until Kate turned her head away from Layla to say hello to me.
I won't say that Kate's eyes were more perfect than Layla's. But I also won't say they were less perfect either. Even from across the room I could tell Kate had bright green eyes, not quite emerald green but not at all pale either. As gloriously blue as she was preparing Layla's eyes, she had already painted her eyes to accentuate the sparkling green of her irises. Kate had chosen a less dramatic treatment for her own eyes than she was applying to Layla's, but she still looked like her face had emerged from the pages of a fashion magazine. Her lashes were long and dark, and fluttered gently when she smiled.
I also noticed, much to my delight, that both women's lips were completely bare. They had waited for me to arrive before starting to apply their lipstick. Lucky, lucky me.
I felt Kate's green eyes lock onto mine. "Hi. I'm Kate," she said, her voice perfectly matching the giggle I had heard in the background on the phone; higher than Layla's voice, but warm and confident. She gave me a wide smile and then turned back to resume her work on Layla's eyes.
"Hello, Ben," Layla chimed in. "There is champagne in the fridge. Be a dear and grab the bottle and a glass for yourself. We need a refill."
I nodded, still somewhat shell-shocked, and retrieved the bottle from the kitchen fridge. Still standing, gawking, I began to pour myself a glass, when I heard Kate say, "You were right Layla, he is a regular chatterbox." They both turned their heads to look at me, and I realized that I had yet to utter a single sound since I had walked through the door. My coolness and composure know no bounds.
"Nice to meet you, Kate. I'm Ben." Which of course she already knew since it was highly unlikely Layla had invited any other near mute men over for the evening. I was making a great impression already. "Hi Layla. You look -- you both look -- amazing."
"Thank you, Ben," again in unison, which elicited a quick giggle from them both. Layla continued, "Why don't you just take a seat and relax. Have some champagne. You look a little pale -- must be all that blood rushing away from your brain." Layla winked at me, then turned her face back to Kate. When I was finally able to tear my eyes away from these two glamorous faces I noticed that both of them were wearing white lab coats, which seems to be the favored attire these days for the women who work at the cosmetic counters of department stores. For Kate, I suppose this is her normal work outfit but I am sure she brought a lab coat for Layla simply for a bit of theatrics. It was difficult to see if they were wearing anything under the lab coats; I hoped not. Both were also wearing high heels; both similar, both shiny black, both easily 4 inches.
I poured the ladies more champagne and sat in a side chair, transfixed by the process unfolding before my eyes. Kate had completed the lining and shadowing of Layla's eyes and had started working on her lashes. There was something so sensual and intimate watching these two women interact like this. I felt like a voyeur, which I suppose I was, although the subjects of my viewing were more than willing. While Kate had chosen a conventional approach to her lashes -- long, straight, delicately curved -- she was giving Layla a more "come hither" look by accentuating the outer lashes slightly more. Kate's skill was impressive, since by the time she had finished they both looked like they were wearing false eyelashes. Kate put the mascara wand back in the tube, surveyed her work, and smiled, at which Layla also broke into a wide smile. They both turned to me and, one more time -- as if rehearsed, they said in unison, "So, how do we look?" followed by coquettish batting of long luxurious lashes.
Hoping to redeem myself for my stunned silence moments earlier, I simply and honestly replied, "You both look like a dream come true." My voice probably a little higher-pitched than I would have wanted, but they didn't seem to notice.
"Why thank you, Ben," replied Kate. "I can think of no higher praise for a woman. Layla has told me a lot about your appreciation of the fine art of feminine allure. I enjoy it so much that I made a career out of it. For me, transforming a woman into an elegant temptress or sexy siren is very rewarding -- I love seeing the look on her face when she sees herself. It is refreshing to see a man have such a, uhm, profound reaction too." I noticed she had glanced at my crotch when she said that. I self-consciously looked down to see if my erection had become so noticeable, but quickly realized that Kate was just teasing me. She probably knew she was right, but at least I hadn't pitched the proverbial tent like a horny teenager. Not yet, at least.
"Kate was kind enough to bring along a lovely variety of lipsticks, liners and glosses for us to try out on each other -- and you. I, of course, know how much you enjoy watching the application process, but I think she's skeptical that your response is quite as dramatic as I described. I'm confident you won't disappoint her."
Layla and Kate both stood up from the couch and picked up their champagne glasses. This was the first time I saw Kate standing, and what a sight she was. Layla is a tall woman, and wearing heels she can easily lay her head on my shoulder. Kate, on the other hand, was looking slightly down at me from her four inch heels. I am well over six feet tall which meant that Kate was nearly six feet herself. And, by the confident look on her face, she was perfectly comfortable showing off her height. Her legs were thin but toned, disappearing into the hem of her lab coat. Speaking of the lab coats, neither was cinched in front so when the ladies stood, they parted slightly to reveal ample cleavage, belly buttons, one totally bare pubic area and one neatly trimmed patch of blazing copper hair. Naked but for heels and lab coats. And seductively flawless, lipstick-free make-up.
The ladies glided over from the couch, each taking one of my hands, pulled me to my feet and began to guide me to the bedroom. They each placed their glass on Layla's bureau as they passed it, and guided me to the foot of Layla's bed. Clearly they had choreographed the scene, as wordlessly Kate began to unbutton my shirt and Layla descended back on her heels and began to undo my belt. Neither woman was wearing perfume, but the rich powdery fragrance of their makeup wafted past me and I inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating scent. I remained quite still, allowing (like I had a choice!) the women to proceed with my undressing. Kate unbuttoned my cuff buttons and pushed my shirt of my chest, her nails -- which were painted to match her hair perfectly -- grazing my chest just slightly more than would have been necessary. It was the first touch from Kate and I involuntarily shivered slightly.
Meanwhile, Layla had undone my belt, and pants button, and guided my zipper down, her long nails -- deep ruby red tonight -- delicately pulling it down. Unlike Kate, Layla was being very careful NOT to touch me too much. She tugged first at my pants pockets, then the legs of my boxers, which promptly fell to the floor on top of my loafers. I stepped out of my shoes and pants, which Layla tossed to the other side of the room. And there I stood, naked in front of two women: one who had shown me the heights of ecstasy on many occasions, the other a complete stranger who was here tonight for the sole purpose of sexual recreation. All in all, a pretty great night so far.
Kate gave me a quick but subtle up and down look. I detected no disappointment in her gaze, which was good for my ego. Layla took my hand again and pulled gently indicating I should sit down, and she sat down next to me on the bed with Kate sitting on my other side.
"Here's how this will work, Ben," Layla began. "Kate is our guest, so it is only right that we look after her first. Since Kate is most attracted to men, that will be your job, but I will provide some assistance." She smiled, knowing that her obviously mocking clinical tone was helping to ease a potentially awkward situation, while simultaneously getting us all excited. "Once Kate's needs have been met, at least initially, we can all discuss next steps, although I am pretty sure I know what will follow." That sounded very promising.
"But first," Layla continued, "a demonstration." Huh? "As I said, Kate is a bit skeptical about just how much of a lipstick enthusiast you are, Ben. I want to reassure her that you are the right man for our play session tonight, so I thought that a little 'show and tell' would be helpful. You don't mind, do you darling?" Layla laid her head against my shoulder and looked up at me, playfully batting her eyelashes.