Sexual Diversions Ch. 03

Threesomes, whatever the gender mix, can be awkward when it comes to the first shag. Who has whom and how that is decided can be such a tiresome decision, but with the two brothers there didn't seem to be any jealousy, they didn't need to talk about or plan it or really hardly think about it for one simple reason, Sunni almost always wanted her arse and Ahmad was mostly after her pussy whilst both revelled in her tits.

Ahmad lay on his back, he pulled his robe up.

"Sit across me Emma," he said, pulling his erection so that it was near to ninety degrees from his stomach.

He looked bigger than usual Emma thought, realising that was ridiculous as she straddled his loins. She was very wet, so he slid up her quite easily, but it still made her grunt, as it always did, as a cock filled her so splendidly. Ahmad pulled her towards him kissing her, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth, flattening her breasts against the silk of the robe and shoving her bare arse in the air. That felt wonderful, but Emma was slightly scared, as she always was with anal sex. She knew it could be terribly painful if done wrongly and, although Sunni was experienced, mistakes could happen and she knew that her welfare was of scant regard to the two brothers.

Although, they and their father had now been fucking her for many years, none of them were under any illusions, or delusions come to that, about their relationship. They were male, near royalty, Muslim Arabs. Emma was a Christian female and as such an unworthy infidel. On top of that, in their eyes she was a whore, although they treated her like their mistress; to Arab men there is little differentiation between those two states. So Emma knew that if they hurt her or ruptured anything or, even worse split her skin, she would get the best medical treatment, but no sympathy from them. But she understood that, she understood Arab and Saudi men, she knew the rules, and she had learned the game plan. After all she had succeeded for nearly twenty years in a male dominated business society that was practically closed to females. She knew that her success was at least equally due to her great tits, splendid arse and the clever use of her pussy as it was to the superb business services she provided.

She heard Sunni approaching her, and her heart started to pound. She managed to glance round and she smiled at him when she caught his eye, although she felt far from smiling. He had the bigger cock of the two and with his dish dash pulled up above it that too looked sturdier and longer than normal. A little shudder of apprehension went through her as she saw him take a tube from his pocket. She watched him, as Ahmad licked her neck and cheek, undo the top and squeeze a large dollop of clear jelly onto his fingers. Ahmad pulled her face back to his so he could kiss her again, so Emma didn't see Sunni rubbing the jelly all over his cock, but she felt his fingers massaging it all round the puckered hole of her anus.

She heard and felt him kneel between his brothers slightly parted legs, she felt his hand on her arse, the tip of his cock running across the two cheeks, slipping between them and then the tip of it nestling against her hole, right against the lubricated, slightly stretched opening to her arse. Ahmad knew this was a delicate and difficult moment for her and he wrapped his arms round her, although Emma wasn't sure whether that was to comfort or trap her.

Sunni looked at the naked arse that the woman was offering to him. It was a beautiful shape and so ready for him. In his way he loved Emma, but more like he would love a mother than a girl friend, so to him, what he was doing was committing incest. He was having sex with his father's whore and that is why he wanted her arse, not her cunt that was what he used when he had proper sex, not when he fucked his mother!

Emma's sphincter muscle had been stretched many times so the pain was not acute as Sunni eased himself inside her. The tip went in very easily, there was a moment or two of difficulty for her as the bulbous head slid in and then she felt the whooshing sensation, similar to that when a cock went up her pussy, as his length went fully up her back passage. He wisely didn't move for a while but simply moulded himself to Emma's back and reached round to hold her big tits, she lifted herself up a bit to help him.

She had rarely felt so filled, she was stuffed to overflowing and it began to feel good. She experimented by wiggling her bottom a little. She was rewarded by a series of terrific sensations. She couldn't be precise just where they came from, though, or whether it was the cock of the brother that was up her cunt or the one that was up her arse that caused them. It didn't matter, though; all that did matter were the sensations, the excitement and the sheer buzz of being roasted by two brothers.

*

Sammi was pissed off. She was annoyed and disappointed at Mike. How could he think such things of her she wondered? She would leave, money wasn't everything, she thought. Then she looked at the new clothes, the new shoes and she thought about the MINI Cooper S that was on order and the holiday she had just booked with three girl friends in Ibiza. Perhaps it is she smiled?

"What the fuck's going on?" She said loudly down the phone.

"What do you mean darling?" Emma replied, perfectly aware what would be annoying Sammi.

Sammi ranted for a while.

"Look why don't you pop over and we'll talk it through."

"I'm still at the clinic, I won't finish until eight."

"That's ok, I have loads of work to catch up, so come on over then."

Sammi got a cab for the cross town, north east to south west twenty five minute journey, something she would never have done before joining La Crème. Paying the eighteen pounds fare made her think again about money not being that important.

"Nice outfit luv," the cheeky, surprisingly young, but rather fanciable cabby said as he looked at Sammi leaning forward offering him the twenty pound note through the cab window. She had become so used to wearing the white tunic she tended to forget how revealing it could be, especially when she leaned forward as she was now. "Off to a fancy dress party?" He added

"Shit he can see my tits," she thought, feeling a tinge of embarrassment, but also a shock of excitement.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" She asked herself as she pulled the sides of the cloak round her and said. "Keep the change" turned and walked away, purposefully, she acknowledged, but as good as unconsciously, she knew, accentuating the wiggle of bare arse under the nurses outfit; fortunately the cloak covered that.

She had to ring a bell outside the locked doors of the La Crème agency in Knightsbridge. "Hi, Sammi?" She heard Emma ask?

"Yes."

The buzzer went and the outer door unlocked as Emma's voice over the intercom told her to come in and go to the sitting room, as the La Crème people called their boardroom. It was the place where Emma had told her about the new clinic a week or so ago. The offices were dim for most of the lights were out, but it was light enough for Sammi to find her way. She tapped on the sitting room door that was ajar, a marginally brighter light coming through the gap.

"Come right on in Sam," Emma called out.

Slipping off the cloak that La Crème had recently added to the uniform, partly as autumn was arriving, but mainly because many of the girls had complained that when they travelled in the white tunic they got too many men staring at their tits, Sammi walked in to the room.

She was amazed to see how Emma was dressed. She was wearing what Sammi quickly worked out was an updated version of the very old fashioned sort of nurses uniform that pictures of Florence Nightingale and the like wore in Victorian times, during the Crimean war for instance.

It was made from a slightly shiny, black material, a bit like taffeta, and it had a furled collar that scooped down across Emma's great tits, creating a deep cleavage. It was very tight across them and her waist around which she was wearing a white apron that came down to about her mid thigh. Beneath that Sammi couldn't see any buttons, but the skirt was a few inches above the knee and again very tight.

"Hi Sammi, how are you?" Emma said brightly, slowly turning on the spot. "What do you think of the new uniform?"

"What for La Crème?" The blonde asked her eyes searing in on the amply gorgeous roundness of Emma's bum inside the shiny material that was moulded tightly across her buttocks and legs, looking as if it had been sprayed on her body.

"No for Mike's new clinic staff," Emma replied pirouetting again letting Sammi take in the black hosiery, the row of tiny buttons from Emma's waist to mid way up her cleavage, the slight wobble as she moved hinting at no bra and the tiny wrinkles at her ankles suggesting she was wearing stockings and not tights. Emma stood still facing Sammi, she put her hands on her hips, her legs slightly parted and asked.

"Well?"

Sammi couldn't reply at first for the uniform was overtly sexy and extremely erotic; it was made more so for her when she saw the very clear indentation of Emma's hardened nipples.

"Wow," I suppose.

"I just got the prototypes from the dressmaker and thought you would like to be the first to see it," Emma explained inviting Sammi to sit on one of the sofas and getting her the requested drink of a white wine spritzer, Emma had vodka and water.

There was a low coffee table in front of the beige, suede covered sofa. Emma perched herself down on that, her knees pointing at Sammi, the skirt riding up her legs as she sipped her drink.

"What do you think of it?"

"It's great," Sammi replied honestly adding. "Why do the outfits have to be so er, um, sexy I guess."

"Do you think they are Sammi? Do you think they are really sexy?"

"Yes of course I do, all the girls do."

"And does the marvellous Mike think that as well?" Emma asked taking a sip of her drink and looking right at the young nurse over the rim of her glass.

Sammi answered a little frostily.

"I don't know and I'm not sure I care too much."

"Oh? How's that a lover's tiff?"

"We aren't lovers." "Yet?" Emma said smiling. "And never will be," Sammi exclaimed.

"That's a very long time view Sammi," Emma said standing up and looking down at the blonde nurse, getting pretty much the same view as the cabby had earlier. "Anyway, you didn't come here to tell me about shagging Mister Steven's did you?"

Looking up at Emma, Sammi was struck again by the fullness, size and gorgeous roundness of her full breasts.

"No I didn't and I haven't, I told you."

"I bet you would like to though, wouldn't you?"

"I never go with attached men."

"I didn't ask you that, I asked if you would like to."

"Not now no."

"Why because of his new treatment method and 'cos he asked you to be part of it?"

"Yes I think he should not have asked, it's wrong immoral even."

Emma smiled. "Don't be silly, it's advanced medical science."

They talked about the morals or otherwise of Mike's new way of treating people who were sexually dysfunctional for some time.

"Let me show you something," Emma said moving over to a laptop on a desk off to one side. "Come over here." She patted a chair beside the one on which she was perched.

They were quite a contrast. Emma fortyish, Sammi mid twenties; Emma dark, Sammi blonde; Emma full busted and curvaceous, Sammi small chested and slim; Emma wearing a sexy black nurses outfit, Sammi a white sexy uniform. Apart, quite different, but together a combination of sheer sex on legs.

"These are you test results."

"What test?"

"Those you took at the interviews."

Emma scrolled down the database until Sammi's name came up. Under it, Emma pointed, were the names of the various tests she had taken and a percentage.

"That's where you rank in the population for that test."

"How do you mean?" Sammi asked, genuinely interested in the tests for she was intrigued by measuring peoples' psyches.

Emma ran the cursor down the screen highlighting a series of test names and scores. "Well in this test we measure your Moral Conventionality and there are only 15% of the population who are less conventional than you. In this, Setting Own Standards there are only 10% who are less likely to work to their own standards and in this, Receptiveness to Alternatives you are in the top 5%."

"So what does it all mean?" Sammi asked, slightly bemused, but slowly beginning to see what Emma was saying, just as she realised their knees were touching, her white nylon covered knee and Emma's black nylon covered one.

Before answering Emma highlighted one further test name and score. It read Social Repression, 5%.

Emma turned towards Sammi and smiling said softly.

"In short, you have the morals of an alley cat Sammi and are up for anything."

"Oh fuck off," Sammi couldn't resist saying, "You're making it up."

Emma pressed her knee more firmly, Sammi moved hers, and Emma's followed, but just brushed Sammi's.

"So what's this test then?" Sammi asked pointing out one that said DQ.

"That's stands for decorum quotient."

"And that means?"

"Again, in short, whilst, you are not likely to comply with normal standards on sexual morality you will probably disregard social conventions and will probably be uninhibited, however, you will act with decorum and style and will have a sophisticated approach and attitude."

"Really, is that all true, those tests can measure all that?" Sammi asked genuinely impressed, for what Emma was saying was broadly true.

"Yes, I have used them for some time now and they have proved to be very accurate," Emma said as she got up and freshened their drinks. "So you see Sammi," she said handing the glass to her young nurse, "Mike was not being assumptive, rude or insensitive, I had briefed him on the test results, he was perhaps a little hasty in telling you."

"He was bloody hasty as good as asking me to fuck half his patients."

"Well not half," Emma replied. "From looking at his patient load and case notes."

"You see those?" Sammi asked a little incredulously."

"Of course, I'm setting up his new computer systems. Seventy four percent of his patients are female," she said turning and walking across the room, the tight, shiny material of the amazing nurse's dress clinging to her "to die for" arse. Emma went on quoting percentages and numbers that she seemed to know off by heart, about the various types of sexual problems. "So there," she said with a flourish, opening a wardrobe door. "There are only about twelve male patients and fourteen females where you would need to be part of the role-play."

"At the moment," Sammi replied.

"Yes of course at the moment and yes that will increase, but soon, end of Q1 we have planned, you will be able to hire an assistant. So that's all not too bad is it Sammi and, of course don't forget the money."

Emma had made the second and third spritzers much stronger so she wasn't surprised at the quite dramatic change in Sammi's approach."

"No I suppose it isn't really."

"So you'll do it then?"

"I'll think about," Sammi said, knowing full well that, indeed she would do it.

*

Mike, who was usually the coolest and most collected of men, was excited. Everything was going great, his grand plan, his big ambition, establishing his own clinic, looked as though it really was about to happen. The Saudis and the German's had come through with the big money, his bank had valued his house at far more than he had expected and they had confirmed that they were prepared to lend him the three hundred thousand he needed to make up the half million the backers insisted he put in. Emma had agreed to be the operations manager, he had recruited most of the staff he needed and, as importantly as most other things in many ways, last evening over dinner, Sammi had said she was on board.

And finally, his one time mentor, Sir Bernard Prestle, an emeritus professor of advanced psychiatry at Oxford, had agreed to join him as Clinical and Medical Supervisor. To get him to take that on was a real feather in Mike's cap and an enormous fillip for his new treatment method; with Bernard's support, the whole BMA would be likely to be behind it, making funding easier and referrals from other consultants an inevitability.

Although only in his early fifties, Bernard was probably the leading light in treating sexual and other similar emotional neuroses by treatments based upon Freudian as opposed to Jungian theories. They had been close ever since Mike was at medical school where Bernard was the youngest professor in his field in the world. Despite being only ten or so years older, Mike looked on Bernard as his surrogate father, his having died when he was in his early teens. So, on all grounds, clinical, business, reputation, emotional and pure friendship, Mike was delighted that Bernard and he would once work together.

So now both the clinic and his launch of his revolutionary interactive neuroses therapy really did look as though they were going to happen.

Even things with Claire were going well, although Mike had no idea why.

*

Sitting in the high backed chair, his wrists tied to the bar behind him, his ankles to the legs he was naked and blindfolded. He was erect, stunningly so. The sensory deprivation of the blindfold and the restrictions of the straps was such a turn on that even if he couldn't see Claire, but could only hear her moving round the bedroom, it had made him hard, harder than he had been for some time.

"What's going on Claire?" He called wondering.

"Be patient, you'll find out soon."

He heard and felt her moving close to him, he could also smell her perfume. He felt material brush against his bare arm, smooth material, not a dress though and certainly not the lace or silk of a nightgown.

"How do you feel?" she asked standing behind him.

"Fantastic, tremendously aroused and absolutely as horny as I can be."

"Mmmmmm lovely," she whispered, pleased with her efforts and their effect on him so far. "Well," she went on her fingers running across his bare chest and finding a nipple that she, rather harshly pinched, making him wince with the sudden pain.

"Ooooo," he grunted.

"Don't be a baby, or I'll give you something to really moan about," she went on reaching down and stroking his cock, feeling pleased that it was hard, very hard, hard enough to fuck with, she thought.

"Now that's a nice threat."

"No darling," she whispered that was a promise, her fingers going to the blindfold. "Would you like me to take this off?"

"Yes, yes please."

"Would you like to see me?" She asked loosening it.

"Of course, yes."

"See what I am wearing, what I look like?"

"Yes, yes Claire, I would."

She undid the blindfold but left it over his eyes. He went to shake his head to remove it.

"No, don't do that; leave it where it is until I tell you to shake it off."

Claire moved round and stood in front of him a few feet across the room from where he was tied to the chair.

"You can shake it off now," she said quietly.

"Oh my fucking Lord. Good God alive Claire," he groaned, "You look amazing."

As indeed she did.

She was wearing her crisp, white, lawyer's shirt complete with the winged collar. She was wearing her straw coloured barrister's wig with the short pony tail. She was wearing the black, flowing courtroom gown. She was wearing the dark stockings that are de rigeur for lady barristers in the high courts of London and she was wearing the sensible, mid height, heeled shoes that are comfortable to stand in when examining or cross examining. And that was it. No skirt, no other cover, no panties and no bra, not even a suspender belt for the seamed stockings were holdups. Apart from where the silver stud near to her Adam's apple was holding the two sides of the winged collar together, her shirt was open, her tits were bare and they were poking out through the starched cotton. Her nipples were hugely erect; her unkempt, as good as untrimmed and certainly never shaved, bush of pubic hairs was clearly on display at the top of her chunky, full thighs, which were slightly parted showing the glistening lips of her pussy that was clearly soaked. Claire simply stood there, a small smile on her face, one hand on her hip, the other dangling by her side as she said.