Would Like To Meet. No Strings Ch. 07

"Oh yes, darlin! I think so! I think so!"

Half-reluctantly David slid onto his back and shuffled under the bed. He lifted the valance and peeped at Joan. He watched the backs of her fleshy legs in her shiny stockings. He saw her wedding dress slide down to cover them. He could feel the beat of the bass from the music downstairs.

She walked back towards the bed, now fully dressed, and stood still. David could hear her hand brushing the bedcovers to freshen and straighten them. He reached out and caressed her ankle through her sheer, white stockings. Then the bathroom door opened and he saw Laurence's legs below the hem of a brown towelling dressing robe.

David withdrew his hand and let the valance fall back into place. He wondered whether Laurence knew that he was hiding there as he prepared to consummate his marriage with his now-despoiled bride and to meet the challenge she had set him. David guessed, correctly, that Joan would have told Laurence. She was pushing the boundaries well and truly into the outrageous, but David sensed that nevertheless she would be concerned not to push either him or Laurence into things they would find too uncomfortable. He also guessed, again correctly, that Laurence had no erectile problem and that Joan's reproaches had just been part of the play-acting.

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As the newly-weds sat on the bed David half wished he could see them, though deep down he was glad not to be able to. It would be simply too embarrassing and undignified. It was only just bearable to hear rustles of clothing, murmurs and grunts, and gentle squeaking of the bed above his face as they indulged in their foreplay.

Laurence was determined to say as little as he could out of embarrassment. Nevertheless he had been anxious to try out this aspect of the role-play that Joan had planned on condition that if he became uncomfortable he would break off and say that he needed the bathroom. If he did that, he had said the previous week when she had sounded him out, it would be a sign that, while he was in the bathroom David should depart, leaving the two of them alone. But, he stressed, he was eager – in fact very eager – to try having sex with her while David lay hidden under the bed.

Laurence looked into her dark eyes and gazed at her pink, glossed lips. He ran his eyes over her wedding gown. Its prettiness and its association with purity and innocence were at complete odds with her behaviour.

He kissed her on the mouth, conscious that he was the second man to do so in an hour. Joan whimpered and slid her hands inside his towelling dressing robe. Laurence gazed at her lithe fingers as they fondled his flabby chest. It looked as though she had had her wedding ring professionally polished to make it appear new – yet another nice detail she had added.

Joan moulded her lips against his and they kissed slowly, sensually. Laurence felt another involuntary shudder of combined revulsion and arousal as he wondered whether the lips he was kissing and the tongue that was licking his teeth had been pleasuring her lover's penis.

He knelt on the bed behind her, conscious of the creaking of the mattress. He wondered what David was making of it as he lay beneath them. He kissed Joan's soft hair and brushed his mouth across the fine mesh of her veil that covered it. He swept his lips to the smooth skin of the nape of her neck and then along to each shoulder that the strapless bridal gown bared.

Joan sighed with genuine delight at the tenderness yet ardour of his kisses. She reached her hand behind her, confidently seeking his erection. She found it and slid her hand inside the flap of his towelling robe. He groaned as her hand encircled it and squeezed it.

"Mmmm, darlin', that's big and hard. You concentrate and keep it like that for your bride, hmmm?" she crooned. "I need a big hard one – and I'd rather it be yours than a stranger's, darlin'!"

Laurence ran his hand up and down the back of her dress, enjoying the feel of the lace under his fingers, and the stiffness of her corset beneath. He moved round and rested his head on her lap, gazing up at her breasts, largely enclosed by her dress but with their tops thrust upward above her neckline by her corset.

Joan smiled at his enthralled expression. Laurence turned his face and brushed his mouth against her fleshy thigh, the lace of her dress feeling warm and slightly scratchy to his lips. He looked up at her again.

She was tracing her hands along the tops of her breasts above her neckline. Then, to his delight, Laurence saw her dig her hand down inside and ease each of her C-cup breasts free. They were firm enough yet soft enough to be perfect for him, and they swayed and rippled enticingly. Her nipples were hard and jutted out. Around the rubbery tips her areolae had several small round bumps. They looked very enticing.

Laurence licked his lips, propped himself up, and pushed his mouth up against the undercurve of one orb. He savoured its yieldingness and its weight as he pushed it up and released it again. He took her nipple between his finger and thumb and gently pinched it and tugged on it, thrilling in its feel.

He traced his fingers around it, spiralling towards its firm tip then away again before scratching it gently with his fingernail. He watched her hand slip open the hem of his dressing robe and wrap around his pulsing erection. She shafted it slowly and firmly. It looked deliciously obscene to see a woman's hand doing what he had often done himself.

Joan nudged him.

"Stand up and take my dress off," she said softly.

Under the bed David heard the mattress squeak as Joan and Laurence stood up. He gingerly lifted the valance as Laurence stood behind her and unzipped her dress. David watched it glide down her legs and gather in an enticing heap around her ankles. Between Laurence's legs David could see hers, and he gazed longingly at them in their shiny white covering.

David watched her step out of her dress and saw her stockinged legs better as she walked to the armchair and draped her dress over its back as she had done earlier. He tried to picture her corset and her little white panties.

She gave a little laugh, and David wondered whether it was in response to Laurence's admiration for her lingerie. From under the valance David saw her legs approach the bed again and heard the mattress creak as she got onto it once more.

"Come and kiss my bum cheeks, darlin'," she crooned to Laurence, then added, "see – I'm kneeling on my hands and knees with my bum up in the air for you..."

David suspected that she had said this for his own benefit, to enable him to picture the scene. He did his best to recall her flimsy, scant panties, covering very little of her bum, and envisaged her beautifully rounded buttocks.

He called to mind, too, the deliciously shaped corset, rising in an inverted U at the front and back, its back adorned with little hooks and eyes and its frontal, criss-crossed laces showing the soft skin of her midriff. He wondered if her breasts were hanging down wantonly over its top, and pictured them swaying alluringly.

The bed creaked again and David knew that Laurence had joined her and was no doubt kissing her bum as she had implored him. He felt embarrassed and ashamed to be in the room as they were having sex. But, of course, the shame and outrage were the whole point of it. David found his hand straying to his erection, rubbing it, then unzipping the fly of his trousers to slide his hand inside.

"Ooh, yes, that's it... squeeze those squashy titties and rub your cock against my bum... ooh yes, Laurence, yesss! You keep it hard now, won't you!" Joan urged Laurence.

David tried to picture himself in Laurence's place, rubbing his cock against her magnificent bum cheeks – and the backs of her thighs, too – and coating them with his sticky pre-cum. With some difficulty he wriggled enough under the bed to slide his trousers part way down, and did the same with his boxers. He took his erection in his hand and, with his eyes closed, rubbed it against his thigh, imagining it was her skin it was touching...

"Harder, Laurence... squeeze those tits harder for Joan, darlin'... oooh yes, that's it, that's it..." she groaned.

Over the muffled sound of the music from downstairs David heard Laurence emit several low grunts of pleasure, and he pictured Joan's mature breasts flopping down to the bed, being compressed and kneaded by her husband. He reminded himself what this part of the role play was about – the consummation of Joan and Laurence's marriage, and less than an hour after she had offered herself to him, David, to sully herself deliberately on that very nuptial bed! And now here he was, listening in to that consummation as it took place just inches above him as he lay concealed under the bed playing with himself.

"Oh Laurence – oh, shit – it... it's started to go soft again! You're not really trying, are you?" she snapped.

"I... oh, Joan, I'm doing my best. I... I'm sorry. P-please be patient..." her newlywed husband pleaded.

"Well, I'LL try if you do, then... Lie down and let me suck it for a few moments – see if that helps..."

More creaks and groans from the mattress ensued. Then, despite the background noise, the unmistakable sounds of sucking could be heard. David felt enormously aroused at this.

He stroked and rubbed himself a little harder and faster, pausing to ensure he did not ejaculate – yet – then resuming.

"Let me lie down and take my tiny knickers off..." he heard her say softly, her voice slightly husky.

More creaking from the mattress followed. Then there was a pause.

"Oh Joan..." Laurence murmured. "What a sight, Joan! Oh Joan, you sexy lady!"

David imagined Laurence's enthralment with her heart-shaped patch of closely trimmed pubes above her hood.

A few moments later, to David's shock he saw the valance ripple. He froze rigid, his hand still clutching his throbbing erection. Then to his joy the valance was pushed inwards and towards him a little, and he saw her white panties, and a brief glimpse of her hand, as she dropped them half by and half under the pink valance.

He gazed at them. He knew that she had dropped them there especially for him, and a wave of arousal surged through him. He felt very perverted as he reached out and drew them to him. He fondled them with his right hand as he shafted himself slowly with his left hand.

Encouraged by the squeaking of the mattress he imagined himself atop her, seeking her intimate, dank, clasping, inner warmth. He had never done such a thing before but he found himself raising the front of her panties to his nose, still fondling the warm flimsy fabric and still tugging on his erection.

He inhaled her musk and felt an organic and lewd bond – surely the scent that filled his nostrils must be a cocktail of hers and his own from his earlier penetration of her! He felt light-headed with excited lust.

"Oh bloody hell, no, Laurence, noooo, don't let it..."

There was a stifled laugh as Laurence played along. His conscience prevented him from having penetrative sex with Joan, and she had of course invented an excuse for him for the occasion. But the hardness of his manhood before his eyes reassured him.

"I... ah... I'm doing my best, Joan, my sweet... please don't be angry..."

"Oh bloody hell, Laurence, it's your bloody fault for having too much to damn well drink! I knew this would damn well happen. It always does when you've been drinking! Let me try..."

Although David was aware that Laurence had no potency problem he still felt embarrassed on his behalf.

"No, it won't bloody well go in – it's not hard enough, is it? Not hard enough to push up my pussy, let alone to make me come! And on our bloody, bloody wedding night!"

David pictured her with a semi-hard penis in her ring-adorned hand, trying to coax it to life and to feed it into her gaping slit, the heart-shaped pubic patch above it. He felt a bead of pre-cum seep from his tip as he pleasured his hard shaft as he called to mind her erotically trimmed pubes.

"You know what this means, don't you?" she said, coldly.

"Ye-yes, Joan. I... I understand. And yes, it's... its my fault. I'm so terribly, terribly sorry, my sweet. I... I'll make it up to you..."

David had to strain to catch Laurence's words.

"'MAKE IT UP' to me?" she chided, injecting his words with a sarcastic double-entendre. "Don't make me laugh! Right now you're not making it UP at all, are you! I know it's not completely soft..."

At this point David imagined her examining a slightly dwindling erection in her ring-adorned hand. He teased his erection more slowly, pretending it was her hand - complete with her wedding ring - that was doing it.

"It's not completely soft, Laurence, I know, but... no it won't, it's not hard enough! 'Making it up' to me is the one damn thing you aren't doing! I can see that if our marriage is to be consummated it will have to be done by proxy... oh Laurence, how bloody could you?"

Her indignant voice sounded almost convincing as David listened, sniffing and fondling her still-warm panties and pumping himself a little harder, a little faster. He inhaled the aroma of her panties more deeply and fondled them more vigorously.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Laurence," she said, a little more tenderly. "That young man who brought the champagne will still be on duty I expect. But I'm sure he would be more than willing to stand in for you when he finishes for the night. He had no problem getting it up earlier. But he will be on duty for a bit longer yet..."

David's heart began to race as he recalled his brief sexual liaison with her earlier, and thrilled at her boldness in mentioning it so openly. Her flattery of his own potency made him feel good, too. But most of all, of course, he thrilled at the prospect of having her again. He heard Laurence mutter something, but could not make it out.

He wriggled a little and from his trouser pocket he took one of the cotton gloves Joan had provided for his room service role. He slid it on and began to shaft his erection through the soft fabric.

"All right then," Joan's voice spoke in reply. "You lie on your back and I'll lie on top of you. I'll press myself against you and we'll see if you can come against my tummy even though you're not completely hard... but don't bloody stain my corset!"

David pictured her, her breasts swaying in front of Laurence's face, or maybe with the tip of one in his mouth, riding him, pressing herself against him, grinding against him until he spurted over her soft skin. David thought, too of the white, bridal but provocative lingerie she was wearing. As he rocked his hand up and down more firmly the thought of her skin being defiled in such a way, and on her wedding night, was deliciously shocking.

He heard several creaks and groans of the mattress and then a slow but unmistakably steady rhythmic squeaking began. The sound was very erotic, as it was obvious that it was the prelude to Laurence's grinding against her - rather than inside her. orgasm and to him emptying himself over her body.

David imagined himself in Laurence's place. He pictured himself rolling her over onto her back, entering her and driving into her slowly and deeply, sucking her breasts and fondling her clit until she came.

He was now shafting himself hard and fast to the images that flooded his mind.

The squeaking of the mattress sounded louder and faster in his ears. David imagined himself kneeling beside her, and her hand wrapping round his nearly-erupting erection, shafting him and begging, "Now YOU come, darlin'! Come over me! Come all over Joan's tits! Oooh yessss"

David thought of the way that without realising it she rather over-used the word, and in his imagination he heard her chanting it repeatedly in her rich provincial accent as she jacked him off.

"Oooh darlin'! That's it, darlin', come over my mature married tits!"

The words filled his head, her imagined voice chanting almost as a mantra, "Oooh, darlin', darlin', DARLINNN'!" He rubbed her soft, dank panties roughly against his face as he jerked his throbbing manhood.

As the squeaks of the mattress intensified, David felt his orgasm build up until it gripped him and he felt himself shake and quiver. His stifled gasps were masked by the sound of the music percolating through the floor. David gazed down and watched the rude creamy jet spurt out over his gloved hand.

For a few brief moments David lay still, allowing his pleasure to subside. He laughed silently and with shame at the obscene thing he had done.

Then, as the creaking of the mattress rose to a crescendo above him, he pushed the warm, flimsy white panties back out under the valance ready for Joan to retrieve. His breathing was still laboured as he turned the glove inside out to contain his spent seed. Then he cleaned himself as best he could given that he was lying on his back under a squeaking mattress on which Laurence was reaching his orgasm and on the point of lathering his bride's stomach.

David wriggled his boxers and trousers back up and fastened his trousers. He listened to Laurence's soft grunts and gasps accompanying the now-rapid creaking of the mattress and the muffled music.

He lay still, his mind racing to his own impending next turn with Joan the naughty, cuckolding bride. As yet he was unsure quite how, when, or even whether it would be in this bridal suite on the king sized bed or in his own more cramped room with its single bed.

But he knew that Joan would give him his cue and that, so soon after having sex with her "bridegroom" – albeit not full, penetrative sex – she would be having sex with David the "hotel staff", the apparently total stranger.