The Network Ch. 01

The fingers on Jayne's nipples were more demanding now, the hands kneading her tits more insistent -- and she wanted them to be. Her muscles were starting to flutter uncontrollably beneath the skin, from her pinkened chest, down through her navel, her mound, her clit ... and Amanda was there now, the fingers of one hand softly opening and spreading the tiny hood, wetted fingers of the other tracing circles around and over the clit itself. It lasted seconds: it lasted hours. She wanted it to stop: she wanted it to go on, and on. There was a wave building inside her which had to break soon.

"Don't let it," she heard herself pant, "don't let it stop yet! I want to come. Don't make me come!"

There was an eyes-only signal between Gail and Gary and their positions changed slightly. Gary's left hand slid up further under the small of Jayne's back so he could lift her lower body even higher. Gail slid down a little, her face and tongue slick from Jayne's cream and her own saliva; she set it to its work between the cheeks of Jayne's arse, just as Gary's fingers found the opening of her slit and -- even bunched in three, as they were -- slipped in effortlessly. He started a deep, insistent finger-fucking, his palms instantly sluicing with her juices. Amanda's fingers accelerated on the clit; she knew how wet it needed to stay, under this friction, this frantic frigging; and so bent frequently to lick and lap its growing hardness.

Jayne was losing it, becoming desperate. She arched her back, pushed her tits into the waiting mouths, reached up to where they swayed and wobbled, to push them together, pull them apart, tug her nipples outwards, wanting them chewed; thrusting downwards with her groin, aching for deeper fingering but losing as she did so the mouth and fingers on her clit; pushed all the way down, felt Gary's slicing fingers deep in her crack, touching her cervix, felt the tongue that was rimming her relentlessly, lapping and sucking around her arse; retreated from it; lost the fingers in her cunt; contacted again those tormenting her clit. And in those final moments before release, the Septet became Octet as Geri, the last woman in the room, stepped up beside her, took hold of her face with open hands, turned her head and slid her lambent tongue deep into Jayne's mouth and held it there. That tiny, final trigger.

"How did she know?", thought Jayne. The final 'T' is for 'Tongue'. The Trinity, which never failed to send Jayne and her husband over the edge; 'Tits, Twat, Tongue'.

Jayne felt she was hyper-ventilating, panicking. She knew her face was deep red, her chest the same, her eyes rolling, opening wide, squeezing shut. She was shouting something incoherent into the mouth clamped down on hers, as the wave broke inside and she came in a tidal release, a tsunami bursting down and out, liquid lust in climax. Her breathe came back slowly. She started to tremble, then to shake. And, finally, she cried. Not racking sobs, but shut-eyed, gentle-teared, momentarily unstoppable weeping.

The others understood; they'd all been there before, but much less often than they'd wish. They were quietly awed by what they'd just been watching, been part of. They held her, firmly, with immense affection until she came back to them, until her eyes cracked open and what was crying turned slowly to a slightly hysterical, nervous laughter, then subsided and was gone. The others hadn't moved. Gary's fingers, quite still now, were far up her. Amanda rested her finger tips gently on the almost still-pulsing clit. Gail was still planting the lightest kisses between her buttocks. The men at her sides, David and Mark, had eased her legs down a little, still gently feeling her tits. She felt no shame at her nakedness, her spread-out openness, the distended and engorged pussy-lips wet with her cream and coming, her pain-fresh breasts; she left them all on display for the others to see, to touch, to stroke gently if they wanted.

She took a deep, sighing breath of relief.

"Oh my God!" she smiled, "so good, so good... Fuck me, that was unbelievable!"

"We just did," Gail laughed, "and you're right, it was!"

"Was I good?"

"You were brilliant. You can certainly come again..."

The old joke, inevitably.

"... but not for hours. But now we have a problem, with your husband."

"We do?"

"We do", agreed Gail as David looked on with mild amusement, slightly puzzled. "The climax of The Quintet is when the husband brings you off by getting inside you. So now, poor old David hasn't come. We'll have to help him out I think, while you get your breath back and have a well-earned glass of wine. David, come round here my lovely. We can't leave you hanging like this..." more laughter at the feeble pun, "and I'd say it won't take much to get you off. Now, the choice is yours; which of us lovely ladies would you like to fuck..?"

*

"Wasn't it supposed to be a quintet?" asked Jayne, relaxing with a glass of chilled chardonnay, draped for the moment in Gail's dressing gown, and watching contentedly as its owner -- her legs held as wide-spread as Jayne's own had been -- was being fucked deeply and slowly by a trouser-less David.

"Well yes it was," replied Geri, "but you were so good we seem to have sort of forgotten the rules. You should be pleased! It doesn't happen very often that we all join in at once. Kissing you was lovely though. We should do that again ... if I opt for a duet next time, perhaps we could let the group watch us kissing deeply and frigging each other?" She hesitated just a moment, then couldn't resist asking; "Did we make you sore?"

"My pussy?"

"Yes ... I mean, Gary really worked it out for you! Does it hurt?"

"No. No, not hurt ... maybe just a little tender..?"

"I'd love to rub it better for you. May I?"

Jayne smiled at the neat way the request had been made. She half-turned invitingly, lay back further on the sofa, opened the dressing gown a little and her legs a lot. "OK, Geri, go ahead ... but let's make it a nice, slow frig, yes..? Would you like me to do you at the same time? Yes, I thought so. Let's have a feel then ... oh my word, you are wet, aren't you!"

And lying there, warm, satisfied, content to hold her fingers stiff and still in Geri's wriggling cunt while her own was being gently wanked, she watched as her husband pulled back out of the panting Gail, his cock helplessly spurting spunk over her tangled bush and bouncing tits. She was tired. So tired ...

*

She opened her eyes what seemed only moments later in a familiar bed. In the near blackness it took some time to re-adjust. Her left arm was flung across the pillow across from her, where her sleeping husband should have been. Empty. Her right arm was under the covers, but it took a few second further for her to register the fact that the middle finger of that hand was deep inside herself, probing gently but insistently. Underneath her the nightie felt damp.

The door opened a crack and on cartoon tip-toes her husband crept in, precariously managing two mugs of tea. She kept her eyes half-closed and studied his face. It was David's face, but when she spoke it was his real name she used.

"Jamie. Good timing, lover. I think I've been waiting for you..."

He put the mugs down on the bedside table and bent to kiss her. "Good morning, Jackie. Is it my lucky day?"

She held the kiss, her left hand behind his head, keeping him close. Their tongues touched. Mischievously she withdrew her hand from under the bedclothes and slid her middle finger across, just under his nose. He caught it, understood, and inhaled.

"Ah ... it is my lucky day I see..."

Fresh and vivid in her mind she could still imagine him as he'd last appeared in her half waking – half dreaming fantasy.

"Mmmm, I think it might be darling ... now, give me this hand and let's start it here. Now this one, down here. And now, my sweetheart, would you like to open your mouth and give me that tongue?"

*