A Good Idea

She swept into his arms to kiss him. The way his lips and hands moved- confident and certain and unhurried- told her that she'd picked the right bedmate. He stared into her eyes and said, "if you want to stop just-"

"Tear off my dress."

"What?"

"My dress. Tear. It. Off." And she grinned, baring her teeth to him. "I hope you're ready for a wild night."

He paused and for a moment she wondered if she'd gone to far but then he laughed and two big strong hands bunched up the front of her dress and pulled. There was a satisfying rip as the fabric gave way, buttons flying. A moment later her bra was shoved aside and he bent down, face buried between them. She gasped at the sensation of his stubble raking her sensitive skin while he tormented her breasts with tongue-lashes and soft, gentle bites.

She pushed him down so that she was straddling him, laughing as he pushed her tits back into his mouth. She moved down until her panty-clad hips straddled atop a pleasant, hard mound in his jeans. She rubbed her panty-clad cunt- already so hot and wet and thirsting- back and forth along that wonderous bulge, humping his male hardness while her hands explored his hairy chest, delighting in the feel of prickly curls over firm muscle.

He bit her nipple and she closed her eyes and thought of Danny; Danny with his cold certainties, his hot temper, his thousand subtle tyrannies. Danny, who thought he would own her in mind and soul and body for ever and ever-

Abruptly she got up, lurching like a drunkard on shaky legs as she pulled off the remnants of her dress and underwear. F-something tried to get up but she shook her head, kneeling. She unbuttoned his fly and pulled down his trousers and boxers.

There it was; her first post-marriage cock. A little on the small side but more than enough for her tight little cunt; and besides, F-something was a man who knew how to use his hands and tongues. She wasn't going to be disappointed.

She licked her lips- a slow, languid movement- and then bent down. A moment later she tasted sweat and musk, skin and precum. Sharp and bitter and musky and delicious. She sucked the cock of a man that was virile and handsome and willing and, most importantly of all, not her asshole ex-husband. Her tongue lashed against his length, pleasuring it even as she tensed her thighs together, celebrating the fierce wet heat swelling in her core.

She eased her lips off his cock and shuffled toward, cupping her big boobs together. His length was slippery with her spit and it was only a little awkward to bob up and down. She laughed at the way his eyes bugged out; laughed at the way his cock-head, red and angry, vanished and re-appeared between her womanly flesh. His hands gripped her shoulders, fingers digging in with just the right amount of force. It was an awkward position, even more awkward to bend her neck low enough to lick and suck at the tip as it appeared; but all for a good cause and she squealed like a child at Christmas when his angry head spat at her, great gobs of pearly white seed landing on her chin and lips and tits. He trembled beneath her, a grown man made helpless by her body and sensuality.

She rose up, stretching out her back and presenting her cum-stained tits to him, ready to say something witty or clever but he'd apparently had enough of passivity; big strong hands grabbed her and then she was being carried across the room. She was dumped unceremoniously onto the couch, legs and arms flailing. She had a moment to untangle her limbs before he plunged down, parting her legs and revealing her puffy, slick pussy lips. He grinned at her like they were sharing a joke and she grinned back and she praised the heavens above for finding a man who didn't take his sex so seriously; a man who understood how ridiculous and silly and fun it could all be.

Then his face dropped lower to that wonderful place between her legs and it was her turn to writhe and thrash at the cascade of sensations; stubble against inner thighs, lips on pussy-lips, tongue against inner walls. She ran her fingers through his gorgeous off-blonde hair and laughed and moaned while he ate her out, letting the pleasure wash through her in waves. Letting herself go.

Movement. She peered past her newfound lover, past the doorway to Jenna's room that had silently swung open at some point, at the twin shapes rutting on the bed. Jenna was on her hands and knees, ass up in the air, little tits wobbling back and forth. Her eyes were unfocused and her mouth was wide open. The hulking form of her bedmate reared up behind her; the man's face twisted into a bestial snarl. One of his hands gripped the back of the neck to brace her tiny body against his long, brutal thrusts that made her shake and shudder. Jenna's eyes focused just long enough for her to see Emily on the couch, legs up in the air and a stranger sucking on her pussy lips.

She winked.

And then the man fucking Jenna did something with his other hand between their legs and Jenna screamed and F-something nibbled on her clit and Emily was screaming too, a long and joyous harmony.

***

Emily ached in the best sort of way as she contemplated her breakfast.

It had been a busy night. F-something (Francis, it had turned out in the end) had been aggressive in the best way in bed and tireless to boot. They'd fucked and laughed and talked and then fucked some more; and then Jenna and the other man had come in and suggested that why didn't they try swapping? And that had turned into another good idea in a weekend full of good ideas.

It had been a wild night, and impossible night; the sort of night that Emily had fantasised about but never, ever believed would ever happen to her. The men had already left. Now they were sitting across with each other with half-eaten breakfasts and empty coffee-cups. They both wore the languid expressions of women that had been happily, thoroughly, wrung dry of orgasms.

Jenna finally spoke. "Last night was..."

"Last night was the wildest night I've ever had since- since ever."

"God, wasn't it? It was like something out of a dream. I've had one or two one-night stands before, but..." Jenna laughed and shook her head. "The thing that bothers me, though..."

"He did something to us." It was hard to sound serious in the midst of a post-multi-orgasmic daze but Emily did her best. "The grey man."

"Because of his eyes...yeah, right. He definitely made last night happen. Every time he suggests something we go out and do it. Plus, did you see the girls he was fooling around with?"

"Right. Every time he shows up our lives turn into a porno flick." Emily sighed. "So what are we going to do? Avoid him? Try and get him arrested for, I don't know, being too convincing?"

"Um."

"What?"

"What...what if...we sort of went and talked to him again?"

"I just said that-"

"Yup."

"You mean you actually want us to-"

"Yup."

Emily stared at Jenna. Jenna stared back. Her little blonde friend slowly bit her lip.

"That's an insane idea."

"Yeah."

"But..." stolen sweets in the pantry, giggling in her room as they swapped stories about boys. Two girls getting up to mischief. "it might be a good one."

***

It wasn't exactly a manhunt.

The two women finished their breakfasts. Lingered over a second coffee each. Shopped. Lazed on the beach and frolicked in the water- in their costumes this time. Wandered up and down the local streets, enjoying the sunlight and the temporary freedom from responsibility. Ate far too much ice-cream. They talked and chatted and shared stories as though they were old friends again. Perhaps they were. And all the time, in the back of her head, was the anticipation. The knowledge that if they found him, when they found him...

And then- just as the sun was setting on their last day- they spied him leaving a restaurant. He smiled as they sauntered up to him. "Hi ladies," he said, "How was last night?"

"Fun," said Emily.

"Amazing," said Jenna. "And we know you're behind it somehow."

"I just offer up the ideas." His smile told another story.

"Don't worry," said Emily. "We're actually not mad."

"In fact," said Jenna, "we want to know if you have any other good idea."

"Oh?"

"Something nice and fun," said Emily. "Something fun to cap off our trip before we leave tomorrow."

"Well," said the grey man, "I do have one idea."

"A good idea?"

"Oh. Just the best."

***

They didn't know precisely where they were. Some house out in the suburbs. Emily wasn't sure who owned it. Possibly the middle-aged woman who sat on naked the grey man's lap, grinding her hips back and forth against his erection. She knew at least that it had a big backyard with a pool and big tables.

Emily was dancing atop one of them. Swaying to some slow, easy beat that seemed to pulse through her brain and body. Jenna was next to her, both of them naked and slick with sweat as they writhed and swayed. A little distance away other women- the waitress from the beachside bar and the two blonde sisters- were on the next table, their bodies equally, gloriously exposed.

They were surrounded by men. Each one of them naked, each one of them hard, erections offered up like tribute to dancing goddesses. Cheering and laughing, eyes bright with lust. Young men and old men, fat and fit. Maybe the husband of the woman now bouncing atop the grey man's lap was one of the men feasting his eyes on Emily's tits as they shook and bounced to the beat.

Suddenly hands- soft, feminine hands- wrapped around on her body. Jenna's lips were on her neck and her perky breasts pressed against her back. Emily moaned and stretched to allow the men below a good view as Jemma ran her fingers along her stomach, her breasts, her ass and between her thighs. The men watched, wide-eyed, like starving men. She danced and Jenna played with her body, offering her up as a feast.

She didn't feel scared. She didn't feel worried. She knew somehow that none of the men meant them harm; that the grey man had spoken to them all, that she could stop at any time. That she had no intention of stopping.

There was a shriek from the other table. The waitress had leapt, giggling, into the arms of one of the men. A moment later the blonde sisters joined her, laughing as they stepped down to be engulfed by the lusty crowd. Emily watched as the two blonde girls were laid out on the table, legs wide, smiles bright. Men pumped into their welcoming cunts, licked and kissed their breasts and fed their erections into their lips. The waitress had vanished beneath a ring of naked men; all she could see was a single olive hand that feverishly jerked away at a massive erection.

One of Jenna's hands was between her legs, massaging, spreading open her pussy lips to the greedy eyes below. Her friend's lips were against her ear and she heard her murmur over the beat and the roar of the men and the moans of the women. "Ready?"

She turned and stared into the eyes of her oldest and dearest friend. "Ready."

And they leapt off the table together and into the welcoming wall of men.

***

They were in separate seats on the flight back.

That's didn't bother Emily terribly much. They still hadn't talked about what had happened during the night. Not when they'd woken, sticky and sore but very, very happy, not when they'd found the showers and washed down together, not when they'd rescued their clothes, not when they'd accepted a lift from one of the men that had fucked them senseless. Not when they'd packed and headed to the airport, passports in hand, and boarded the plane.

The funny thing was that they didn't need to talk. Not really. Emily had been sorry and Jenna had forgiven her and they were both different people than the girls they had been before. Different and yet still the same; two girls getting up to mischief even if the mischief was of a very different sort. She certainly didn't ever intend for a man to get between them again; not the least because they were perfectly happy sharing.

A man sat next to her. She turned and stared into a pair of deep grey eyes. "Ah! Sitting together again! What luck!"

She smiled at him. "I want to thank you for last night."

He shrugged. "You don't need to. It was fun to everyone. But did you get what you wanted?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so." She wondered how soon she could move to London and whether or not Jenna needed a roommate. "And you?"

"Oh, me? Yes. I think this trip has been great in showing me precisely what I can accomplish. You know what was the best part of this trip?"

"The blonde sisters?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Hah! No. Actually, it was helping you two. I like the idea of being a matchmaker, you see. Helping people. Bringing them together and all that. I think you might have helped me find my calling." He lay back and closed his eyes. "Something to ponder on the flight over."

Emily sat back and closed her eyes. And then a thought struck her.

She opened her eyes and looked around. At the pretty flight attendant moving up and down the isle; at the group of lads, all nursing hangovers, finding their seats; at the teenage boy two rows forward, busy on his phone; at the prim married couple across from her.

She smiled and turned back to the grey man. "Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"I have a good idea..."