Benefits with Friends

"So I'm not hearing any shame. Doesn't seem like something that you would fear if it were the right partners."

"No. No fear. I really do think it's a matter of not seeking it, not planning it. Will you be there? Huh, huh?" Her eyes flashed his direction.

"If you invite me."

"You wouldn't be weird to be in the room with another man? ...And absolutely, you're invited."

Andre cocked his head to the side. "If you expected me to be into the other guy, I'm not sure I'm the partner for you. But if it's two of us making sure you're fully satisfied, that doesn't sound off-putting to me. Sounds...joyful."

She grinned at that word. Then looped back to the previous subject. "Not into guys? Not even a little?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"Not really. Just teasing."

"No, it's like... I have gay friends, I have bi friends. And nothing about their choices bothers me. I just don't have any interest. Like feet. I know all kinds of men are gratified by feet and plenty of women enjoy having their feet worshiped, I just don't feel it. Not a drop of it."

"That's fair." She started to pull her hair back behind her ear, but it was still stuck in the drying cum on her cheek. She left it.

"Do you prescribe to the 'everybody is a little bit bi' doctrine?" he asked.

Martha was quick to reply. "You know, I really don't believe that. I think there are women for whom men are the only thing they want or need. There are lesbians who will always be just that and happy with it. I do like girls who like girls, but I like seeking out the ones who want it, but aren't brave enough to cross that bridge. I help them over the bridge. My favorites are the girl-girl virgins. That's my kink, too."

Andre scolded her. "You have a lot of kinks." She smiled broadly. "And you helping other women cross that bridge sounds a little bit like writing about ghosts." She swatted at him, but he was right. Her writing and her plucking out girl-girl virgins shared more than a few qualities.

"Honestly, of all the men in my life, you're an easy invite. I'll have to think about number two," Marta told him.

"So you want the spit roast with two guys, how about the gangbang?"

"Spit roast!"

"It's an unsavory British term. Can you picture it?"

"I can. And yes, that's more or less exactly what I want, but not that word."

"Fair. I'll never say it again."

"And gangbang?" She was pensive again. "Can I be real and weird again?"

"Weirder than last time?"

Her blue eyes traced the horizon from under her golden hair. "I do want a gangbang, but I want to wait until I'm older. Like a lot older."

"Like how old?" She had his attention now. This was a very specific and very stirring subject within her.

"Maybe for my 50th birthday. Six guys minimum."

"Minimum."

"Yep."

Andre sat quietly waiting for an explanation. None was forthcoming. He started the next prompt. "I'm more interested in the 50 than the six guys. What would this act at that age mean to you?"

"I presume I'll still be hot." She laughed. Lifting her hands up in a "tada!" type motion. It was awesome for Andre for her to express that kind of confidence. "I turn myself on now. I don't want that to ever change."

"I envision you as a smoking hot 50 year old...."

"...But what?"

"But nothing."

"It sounded like you were going to say something after that like 'stay out of the sun' or something." She rolled her eyes.

Andre took her in again. This brazen vixen sitting on his patio table on a cooling very early summer morning. However, she was fair-skinned. "I think staying out of the sun is great advice for just about anybody, but I plan to take you to the beach so you can be topless all week where it's not out of social norms."

"I like being just outside of social norms. And you just came back from the beach, all tan. Look at you!"

Andre smiled. "You caught me." He had spent a few days on the beach with a very different beautiful woman, made of very different wishes and expectations than the one sitting here. The sun feels good. Andre likes the adventures that happen in the sun. He didn't go seeking a vacation tan for the vanity of it. "Back to the 50th birthday bash. I'm impossibly curious."

"Hmmm." She sat up straighter and smoothed her hands down her breast, then did it again and gave her night-chilled nipples a tug. She was indeed turning herself on. "The way I see it...." Her voice trailed. She traced the horizon with her eyes again. "When I see gangbang in porn, if the girl is younger, there's a sense of... coercion, everyone is rough with her. It's like it's animalistic, how cruel can these guys be and still get away with it. When the woman is older, the energy is different. She's the one in control. Her sexual power is greater than all the pounding and deep-throating these guys can throw at her. Her lifetime of experience and skill is higher than all these junior, simp men. She's not the wench. She's the queen. I want to be the queen. I want the power."

"Why can't you be queen now?

"It's not right yet. I can envision it still looking abusive. Not abuse, you know what I mean?"

"I do. I get the difference." The wine was nearly finished. "I have an idea. A really great idea. A really really great idea."

Marta lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm going to start a porn company."

"Wow. Change of topic. What's the hook?" She was a bit startled.

"Gangbangs that everyone is kind and sweet to the female actor."

Marta laughed louder than she thought she would. "I'd watch it. A lot of women may watch it. I don't know if you could sell it though. Most men aren't sophisticated enough to get the meaning in that. They wanna see a thrill. They want the cruelty. Not a sweet, loving massage of a girl's cunt and ass from the inside. That may not pay the bills"

"You may be right, but I'd enjoy watching that."

"But you're different. You fuck out of spirit of boundles kindness."

"Not always." Andre laughed to himself. He assumed she'd forgotten about the lactating. He reached up and squeezed her breast.

"Well, but.... You're a person I can say this to. That's still kindness. It helps her find herself. And we have to find an excuse to get me and her together! I'd love to fuck Darcy."

"Marta, Marta, Marta," in the voice from that TV show. "Always angling for the threesome."

"Those are the best. They feed me."

"Threesomes feed me, too. And on occasion, milky breasts." He had a gaze of satisfaction.

"'That's why we're friends,'" she stole his catchphrase from earlier that evening. "I beat you to it."

The wine was gone, the night was finally chilly to the point that an alpiner like Marta noticed. "Are we ready to head inside?" she queried.

They each stood and faced each other. Andre wrapped his arm around her and kissed her deeply again. This time it was his hands that were warm and her back that was cool. They stepped inside and he locked the door. He fiddled with some things in the kitchen while she waited in the nearly-dark house. He motioned her to lead the way across the main room. His interior style was true to the minimalist exterior. Sofas with low arms and backs. A chaise placed just so. Several little stools placed in a semi-circle around the rough stone fireplace.

Marta observed, "Everything is leather, Andre."

"Easy clean up" and he swatted her on the ass.

Marta drug her fingers along the white wood paneled walls in the hallway and declared "I want one of those vinyl stickers in curly font that says 'joyful play.'"

"You're being mean again."

"I'm not!"

They retired to his bedroom. Except for one floor to ceiling pane that faced the back yard, all the windows lined the top of the wall, leaving the floor space open everywhere for furniture, never blocking a view. There was a large king size bed with a midnight blue duvet. A low-backed yellow Barcelona style sofa on chrome legs. A long bench in a similar midnight blue. And more stools, all in white. Again, all in leather. "I just noticed, is this furniture part of your sex toy collection?"

"Good observation."

"I want to try them!"

"We will. That footrest in front of the sofa is where I plan to make your tits bounce the way you demanded."

He wrapped his hands around her breasts, gripped them and pulled her to him. She wasn't in her heels this time so he had to raise her face to meet his. He was a great kisser. Her full pink lips made passionate kissing irresistible. He let go of her breast and ran his hands up her neck until her hair filled the spaces between her fingers. He lifted her face just slightly and she stood up on her toes. He kissed her from above, filling her mouth with his tongue. She half moaned, half whimpered. He was an excellent kisser. He swiveled around and sat on the white stool, pulling her close. He pinched her chin, placing his thumb in her mouth and she gently bit it. He raised his face to kiss her. Now she was above. She filled his mouth with her tongue. His fingers traced up her belly, under the curve of her breast and two of his fingers straddled each of her nipples. Soft as a cloud, he slid his fingers up and down, barely touching her areola. Barely touching her nipples, though each started to swell, filling the gap between his fingers more tightly. Now his drifting fingers were gently tugging. No longer soft as a cloud. She kissed him more deeply. The more he engaged her body, the more insistently she engaged his mouth. He pushed her chin away and placed his face directly between her breasts and breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of her skin. Salty. Feminine. A tinge of the night air still lingered just above her flesh. He kissed her gently. Then down lower. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Finally up the curve of her breast, just like his fingers. He cupped his lips, surrounding her nipple and sucked cool air into his mouth. She gasped and hugged him tightly. He sucked her nipple fully into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue from the inside. Her hands were swimming through his hair. He released and kissed across to the other breast. Blowing cool air on this one instead of air sucking in. He pinched it in his teeth and flicked it with his tongue as well. He looked up at her. For the most part, her eyes were closed, and her head was never still. This sensation was music to her body. She was soaking in his attention. Their eyes finally met. He pulled her nipple much more tightly into his mouth and then released it. "uhh."

He then ran his palms firmly over each, massaging in the experience. "I'm going to go get undressed. I'll be just a minute."

She yielded and he disappeared into the bathroom. She sat down on the yellow sofa. A few minutes later he came out, fully nude, save the now-dry thong around his neck. And fully erect. Andre had a good body for middle age. Not a gym rat. He had too many things to do for that time commitment. But his legs showed his weekly mileage from his runs and his shoulder showed his weekly reps from the weights. He sported the same envious tan across his body, but Marta could not fail to taunt him.

"I'm not sure what's sillier. Seeing you walking with a full hard-on or your white legs and tan knees."

"It wasn't a nudist resort."

"I'll go to a nudist resort."

"All the other women would storm out in jealousy." He walked to her and she sat up straight. He pressed his cock between her breasts as he held her close. Gazing into her eyes, he smoothed her hair, careful to not dislodge the hairs glued to her cheek. "Go get undressed." She gave him a longing gaze, then got up and stopped by the bed to pick up her clutch and the exciting pink vibe, then she started into the bathroom. "There are charger cables on the sink if you need one. Both types," he called to her.

"You're so sexy with your technology. Vibes, phone chargers...."

"I remove the barriers that keep women from coming back over and over."

"Why have I never stayed here before? Your new place is a delight." She examined the expensive looking version of simplicity all around her. The house was almost a time capsule of mid 1960s fashion. Thankfully, the bathroom had been updated.

"We've almost always been someplace out in the world. I've only stayed at your place a few times." Marta thought about it. It was true. Hotels mostly. Country clubs in quiet rooms where they likely wouldn't get caught. Others' houses. His old condo on a few occasions. Not too much time in either's personal space. He added, "...but next time I come, I'll bring a wall sticker in a curly font that says 'joyful play.'" Inside, Marta was really hoping that was true. She secretly wanted that sticker now.

She giggled as she plugged in her phone with the proper and readily available charger cord and pulled off her skirt. It was the only item of clothing remaining. She tossed the skirt on the counter, but then picked it back up, folded it neatly like Andre had folded her other things and placed it squarely next to the mirror. She inspected her reflection. He had done a nice job smoothing her hair. There was a beautiful cobalt blue glass on the counter which she filled and drank deeply. "I presume you have a toothbrush for me in the morning."

"Yes, I do. Although with what has already transpired, we don't have many germs left to share."

She laughed out loud as she headed back into the bedroom. Andre was on the sofa, with his feet crossed on the dark blue bench. She lifted one of legs and knelt on the floor between his thighs. The sofa was quite low. She leaned into him, kissing his collarbone the way he had kissed hers earlier. She kissed up his neck to his ear the way he had, too. Marta took a moment to dislodge the thong from around his neck and tossed it aside. She then resumed kissing her way down to his chest. Her hands gripped his thighs as she kissed and licked his nipples. She could feel through his skin he enjoyed the attention, but no tremors of joy were forthcoming. Marta had fucked one guy who was really into his nipples, but for most men there wasn't much to it. Women however... she could spend all afternoon feeling the shivers in her lover's body and hear the gasps of satisfaction as Marta filled her hands with the softness of breasts and her mouth with the tugs of pleasure. She continued down to Andre's cock. She gripped it firmly at the bottom of the shaft and pulled upward. A shining dot of salty pre-cum appeared. She gently licked it free. She kept her firm grip on his cock and began kissing up and down each thigh. Then she returned and played gently with the tip. "Hmmm" erupted from the silence and they locked eyes again. The cum-hungry vixen on the patio had been replaced with a calm, serene symphony conductor. She knew the tempo, she knew the movements, she decided when it ebbed and when it flowed. Andre's hands had been swimming through her hair as hers had been in his moments earlier. He motioned two fingers gently along the line of her jaw to her chin. Then she felt him lift her face to say "come here." Marta gleefully climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He gazed into her eyes as he filled his hands with her breasts. More firmly than he had gripped them yet tonight. She rocked her hips forward so her clit found his shaft and she quietly slid it up and down. He began sucking one nipple. Like his grip, much firmer than earlier. Then he would switch. Marta pressed against his cock with more determination. He switched back and again increased his intensity. She reached down and aimed his tip directly into her and pressed her body down over him.

"Huuuuuuuuuh," they both said in unison. She beamed a smile as she looked down on his face and pressed his head into her breast firmly. Andre now changed from sucking just the nipple to pulling her breast into the suction of his mouth. She ached from the inside as he pulled her flesh harder. Her riding action on his cock got swifter. Her breath came in fits. She pulled his hair to release him from her skin and pressed the other nipple into his mouth. Same deep suction from his mouth. Same aching from inside her body. Another increase in her grinding on him. Andre could feel her spirit again evaporating from reality.

"Oh no you don't."

"Andre," she gasped and he lifted her by the hips off of his wet cock.

"You're the filthy slut who always says yes, but I get to say no."

"Andre!" she pouted through heaving breaths. He pushed her back on the dark blue bench. Next he stood over her, arranging her body to align with the length of it, her dripping pussy just at the edge, and then he knelt before her. One of Marta's kinks was taste and smell, one of Andre's was changing the script mid-sentence. He held her ankles together and pointed her feet toward the ceiling. He kissed her smooth calves, the backs of her knees which tickled. Down the backs of her thighs. As he kissed lower, he angled her legs toward her chest, bending her nearly in half. He finally kissed down so that his face was an inch from her cunt. He leaned closer and breathed in the smell of her. He was so close, she could feel the rush of air over her lips and clit. She shivered. He calmly let out a breath. He breathed her in again. She shivered again. Instead of calmly exhaling, he gently blew on her. She snapped. It was too much. He spread her legs and caught his satisfying grin. He then placed his fingers on either side of her lips and spread her open. "Uuuuuh." He grinned again. That most perfect pink in nature. He kissed her navel. Then down, then down again. His fingertips gently kneaded her lips. When he arrived over her cunt, he kissed it like he was kissing her mouth. She filled her fingers with his hair. He licked her wetness on one side and then the other and slid two fingers just inside her. Just. With time, he concentrated more fully in her clit. He slid his finger tips out her dripping pussy and held them to her mouth, painting her lips with her wetness. He dipped them again in her and returned them to her mouth to finish the job. He then put his tongue as deep inside her as she could reach. She held her lips open to receive him while he did. He then reached past her thighs, cupped the sides of her breasts and gently held her nipples in tension.

Then the rhythm. She wasn't prepared for his rhythm. His tongue almost didn't even touch her clit. As gently as if he was stroking her with his spirit and not his body.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7... Eight went missing.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7.... It went missing again.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7....

Marta shifted to a whole different experience. The room began to twirl as she realized she was holding her breath. She let out a helpless gasp and sucked in tightly. The room twirled again and she realized she was holding her breath again. Another gasp and suck of air.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7.... That gap, that fucking gap. Where was 8?

She was dying. On the next pass, she tried to flex her hips up and catch his tongue. She did catch him. She got her 8.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7... he knew it was coming. That fucking gap.

She could feel it welling up inside. She could feel what he was doing. She arched her neck, teeth her clenched, feeling the tension now turning into an ache in body. The room was twirling again but she couldn't find the effort to breathe.

1-2-3-4-5.... Her body knew that gap was coming and the dam of tension burst. She came hotly and loudly, a deeper and angrier grunting than her squeaks and moans in the car hours earlier. Andre was still in control and still strong enough to keep her legs spread and hips down and the rhythm continued

1-2-3-4-5-6-7... her orgasm accelerated with the next gap from the missing number 8 lifted her tomber to more pleasure and less anger.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7... She kept cumming, but each wave was slightly different than the wave before. She now felt nearly powerless to stop it. As long as he held her body in state, she was resigned to continuing.