Sex & Sympathy

I said to Dee, “How was that for you?”

“Simply wonderful.”

“You didn’t feel left out?”

“I’d have liked you to be licking me when Miles got behind you - perhaps we can try something like that another time. But no, knowing what was coming, I didn’t feel left out at all. Only more eager for it to happen.”

“Of course. Come on to the sofa and let me sit beside you - only I think Miles should undress you first.”

“I heard about the white underwear,” he said, “and we’ll do something about that in future. But just to let you know that I won’t approve next time, I think there is something else you deserve before I turn you over to Jane.”

He took her by the hand, motioned her to stand and took her place on the chair. Still holding her hand, he pushed her gently across his lap, face down. Her panties were still round her knees when he lifted her skirt and contemplated the small rounded buttocks I had told him about. Dee took a deep breath and then very softly said, “Yes, please - but not too hard.”

Miles was as careful as I knew he would be, giving her six firm but not brutal slaps with his open palm, the last two just a little harder than the first.

“I can take more,” said Dee.

“That’s good then.” said Miles, “but not now. There will be other times. For now, if Jane has recovered, I want to watch - and get myself ready for you.”

I was certainly ready for more, having surprised myself by discovering how arousing I had found the little spanking episode, much as I had when I was doing it to Dee myself the previous evening. But now she joined me on the sofa, naked, legs apart, waiting. Later, when we were less feverish in the whole relationship, sessions when Dee and I were alone would involve a great deal of hugging, kissing and caressing before anything more fundamental; this, though, was basic, urgent, demanding, no need for preliminaries.

“Who goes first?” I asked.

“You,” cried Dee. “You do me. Please!”

Miles said later that this was when he began to realise that Dee’s nature was truly submissive: she needed to be used. Whether John had fulfilled that desire, or whether it only emerged with us, we’ve never learned. And at that point, it wasn’t really relevant. I parted her puffy labia with my fingers and let my tongue investigate. It was plain that she needed no lubrication from me - her fingers had done their job - so I concentrated on the clitoris. It didn’t take long. Soon she was clutching the back of my head with both hands and pushing up with her bottom, bucking against me as she came in a huge trembling paroxysm. Not pausing to recover - seeming rather to want to maintain herself on the plateau my tongue had taken her to, she swiftly manoeuvred us into sixty-nine with me underneath. I felt two fingers slide into me and begin a steady penetration (Miles told me later that Dee had lifted her head only a few inches so that she could observe the finger-fuck close up). I was only aware of her verbal demands that came in short phrases between loud panting sounds: “Lick me, Jane, get me off again. It’s been so long, and it’s so good. I want to keep coming. Lick me”

I realised that months of pent-up frustration were being released and did my best to co-operate, despite being distracted by the sensations she was creating in my overflowing vulva. Eventually she collapsed on top of me, gulping deep lungsful of air, her cunt spreading wetness on to the inside of her thighs, just above my face.

When Dee lifted from me, I saw that she was being helped by Miles who had one arm under hers while he continued to manipulate his cock with the other. She settled on the cushions Miles had arranged for me and waited. Miles knelt between her legs, fingered the open slit of her vagina, then plunged straight into her. And so I had a close view of my husband fucking another woman. Of course, I had wondered how I would cope, whether jealousy would creep in. I needn’t have been concerned. I was aware, I was able to tell myself at that moment, that this was one of the most erotic experiences of my life. I hadn’t given Miles away, I was lending him to Dee and I could tell from every intimate movement and every moan of joy that escaped her at every thrust by Miles exactly what she was feeling.

That was when all Miles’ preliminary choreography was forgotten. I knelt beside them to watch his cock emerge, the circumcised head distended and purple, and then drive back into her inner depths, his balls slapping against her bottom. He lifted her ankles on to his shoulders to give him a different sensation and to allow me a better view. Unable to resist, I touched the tight pink orifice of her bottom, titillating it with my finger tip, resting against the sphincter but not attempting entry (that came some weeks later). I changed positions to knead her heaving breasts, moulding the rigid nipples with my fingers. Dee’s eyes were closed, her mouth open, her mind, I knew, devouring the sensations in her groin as she moved to match the tempo Miles was setting. I had to be part of it somehow. I stood, then knelt astride Dee’s face. He eyes flickered open, her hands clasped my bottom and her tongue lapped fiercely at my cunt.

It was Miles who finally broke the magic circle of lust that had engulfed us all three. “Not long now. How do you want it?”

“Give it to Dee, darling,” I urged. “Inside her. Just let go.”

“No, please.” This was Dee. “I want to share it. Lie beside me Jane. Can you share it, Miles?”

Miles said nothing, motioning me to lie with my head next to Dee’s as he withdrew from her sopping vagina. I could see her moisture shining on his shaft as he gave it two or three firm strokes with his hand to send a burst of cum across both our faces. It wasn’t as copious as I’ve known it at times - he had been holding on too long - but the symbolism at the end of our first threesome was very strong for us all.

We finished the wine, each of us in his or her own way reliving the events of the past hour. Finally, Miles asked, “Any regrets?”

Dee shook her head. “None whatsoever. I couldn’t have believed it would be so good.”

“Jane?”

“No. I’m not sure how it happened, but thank you both for everything.” I paused before asking the next question. “But what now? Will there be more?”

“If you both want it, I know that I do,” said Miles.

It was agreed. We did consider all sleeping in the one bed that night but Miles and Dee both had early starts for work next day, and we decided that enough was enough - until the next time. There were plenty more, not always as wildly uninhibited as that first session, but always loving and gradually more varied and more innovative. Dee found somewhere near her office where she transformed her lingerie wardrobe, I bought a strap-on dildo from the internet, Miles gradually introduced Dee to some of the more advanced areas that enriched our own sexual activity.

There was a three week spell of pent-up frustration when Claire was home from university - and one frantic night when she returned earlier than expected from a concert. I threw some clothes on and went downstairs to hold the fort while Miles shepherded Dee across the landing to her own room before he ducked into the shower. “You all right, Mum?” Claire asked. “You look a bit flushed.” But, perhaps thinking that Miles and I might have been up to something, she changed the subject and no more was said. As well that she couldn’t guess exactly why I was in a state, and that two people had been doing wonderful things to get me there.

I suppose we were all aware that our blissful ménage à trois couldn’t last for ever, but none of us was ready when Dee announced at dinner one night that she had a problem. Her firm wanted her to spend a year in their Paris office, where her fluent French would be an asset. The new post represented promotion and a substantial rise. After much agonising we accepted that it was for the best, at lest for a while, and Dee left us.

Our sex life was a little anti-climactic but not too badly so. We fantasised a lot about the experiences we’d enjoyed; we went back to surfing the net, but still couldn’t convince ourselves to take the plunge into the swinging scene. And one day there was an e-mail:

The week-end after next,” it read, “is a long week-end in France. Could you put up with Arnaud and me for a few nights? We could be with you by about noon on the Saturday and we could stay till Tuesday morning, if that’s OK. I’m sure you will like Arnaud. It would be nice if we could all be friends. Lol. Dee”

There had been references to Arnaud previously but nothing specific. This sounded a little more serious. At least to to Miles, who read between the lines.

“How do you fancy,” he asked me, “being fucked by a Frenchman?”