Compromising Positions: A Fantasy

Speaking of which, Nathan was sitting at their table, with a half-eaten lobster in front of him, and his second beer inside of him. He knew, or at least, he knew something. He did not need to see the glow about his wife's face, nor the faint, musky scent that wrapped around both women. All he really needed was his watch.

His wife was not teasing. His wife was not playing any game. She fully intended to satisfy her desires for feminine companionship, regardless of the ring on her finger. Of course, she was happy to share, and her taste was, as always, for the very finest. Still, there was a part of him that had hoped he would be enough for her.

But there was another part that whispered, "*You knew who she was when you married her. She has never hidden herself, not from you, not from anyone. Isn't that why you love her so*?"

That part had a point, and its position was further solidified by a very particular part of Nathan, that part which happened to stiffen between his legs, as the women approached.

Cynthia was beautiful. Erin was beautiful. If his wife really meant for this to happen, why not enjoy it? With that thought in mind, the older man stood up, and before his life partner could offer a single excuse, he brushed his lips across her own. It silenced her, as it often did and she leaned in against him, her fingers sliding down and rubbing against his chest.

Before she could ask if he missed her, however, he had moved on. He slid to the taller, more imposing woman. He stood before Erin, whose Amazonian frame was larger than his own. He had hardly noticed before, but then again, he had not been considering how to bring her to her knees before, either. His hands moved around her waist, pulling her body to his own. One hand moved up, sliding around the back of her head and he gave a twist.

If this was judo, and she was an opponent, even being larger would not have saved her. The practiced move would have dropped her to the ground. Afterwards, though, he would not have laid any bets on his chances. He could tell by her sudden grip that she was quite strong. None of that mattered, as he had no intention of letting her fall. He held her, dipped and at the perfect angle.

There was a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as he kissed Erin, hard and deep.

With her legs out from under her, his arms supporting her body, she could not help but feel as though she were flying. His mouth on hers was deep, hungry and passionate. This kiss was no tease. This kiss was no game.

Cynthia's eyes widened. She remembered that move, like something out of an old movie. She remembered just how light-headed it had made her feel. The young woman could not help but feel a little twinge of jealousy, but she also knew her husband, like she knew herself. The green eyed monster was small and easily squashed. Instead, for once, she allowed herself to enjoy her husband's technique, from a voyeur's perspective.

An involuntary gasp of surprise escaped Erin's lips as Nathan took her feet out from under her, leaning her back as his lips came down on hers, hot, hungry, and demanding. Her arms flew up instinctively to catch herself, and she realized she had underestimated his wiry strength in her first appraisal of him. Almost instantly, she realized he was supporting her easily, and her arms continued their upward movement, to wrap around his muscular back, her strong, lean fingers digging into his shoulder blades as his tongue probed fiercely into her mouth.

He tasted like strength, like old-world charm, like solid, rock-steady reliability. She moaned softly into his mouth as she returned his kiss, striving to convey her desire to match his insistent passion. His kiss was not something tender or tentative; it was a statement of what he wanted, and he wanted Erin. Her green eyes locked on his as her answer was made clear: she wanted him, and she wanted Cynthia, and she made no apology at all for her desires. Underscoring her flaring lust, she wrapped one stockinged leg around his, rubbing her calf against his leg as she pulled herself against him.

A long, timeless span later, by unspoken mutual agreement, they both broke apart simultaneously and she smiled her thanks to him as he gallantly assisted her back to her feet. A glance at the table confirmed her suspicions: she and Cynthia had been rather longer than 'powdering their noses' would have warranted. Going by the intensity of his kisses with both of them, she was quite certain he knew they had been playing, if not exactly how they'd been playing.

"Thank you, Nathan," she said softly, her thanks taking in far more than his having ordered lunch for her. Food... she realized she was ravenously hungry, as well as thirsty. And I rather think I'm going to need my strength, she speculated. Grinning at the prospect, she moved to her seat as Cynthia did likewise, and sat down, digging into her lunch with gusto. Everything tasted wonderful, and she realized she was giddy with excitement, riding an euphoric rush such as she had never experienced before. Her eyes sparkled as she watched her new friends - dared she call them lovers yet? Cynthia, certainly... and Nathan very likely - tucking into their lunches. Every bite by Cynthia's perfect, even teeth; every swallow of beer making the cords of muscle in Nathan's neck move under his skin, drew her attention - and more than once she caught them watching her as she ate and drank, fuelling her body for what was to come.

Most of the meal was spent in that quiet, intimate silence shared by lovers who had slipped past the preliminary flirts. There were fewer games to play now, fewer promises to be made. They were no longer in that state where people talk around what it is they actually want to say. Everything was out in the open, everything had ceased being a potential.

Now, it was all promise.

Now was when the forward momentum of enticing a lover stopped. Now was when the backward shift of pondering one's own performance, began. The doubts were becoming personal. For instance, Nathan was worried over his ability to handle both women at once.

He knew Cynthia would help in that, but ultimately, he would be the only cock in the room. Would it be big enough? Would he be virile enough? Would he have the stamina to last the night? He could hardly hope to keep up with the demands of his ever-hungry wife and she seemed especially ravenous at that moment. Was he fooling himself in thinking he could handle a woman as beautiful and obviously passionate as Erin, as well?

Even Cynthia, for all of her wild, sensual personality, had her doubts. Well, not really about Nathan. She knew what to expect and though the old dog had recently proven his ability to learn new tricks, she also knew he was a patient and tender lover. At least, he was when she needed him to be.

Erin, she hardly knew. Erin was sweet, but who was to say what sort of person she might become when the clothes were off and that beast was looking for someplace warm and wet to sink? God, that cock of hers. Oh fuck, that cock. It made her wet and worried in ways she could not even remember feeling. It would hurt, honestly hurt. She knew that much. Would it hurt too much? Would she have to beg Erin to go slow? Would she disappoint?

She looked back to her husband, back to the man whose every line and curve she had traced with her eyes, her fingers and her lips. She sighed, softly, taking strength from his presence. Cynthia had always felt like she could do anything, that there was nothing, literally nothing beyond her grasp. She was the sort to climb up, ignoring how weak the branches had become underneath, if only so she could reach out and get that little bit of fruit she desired. Then Nathan had come into her life and she found the joy of having someone there, someone she could trust, someone that would catch her if she fell.

Being who she was, that only made Cynthia want to climb higher than before, to find another piece of fruit; one for her, one for him. The blonde Eve could not help but giggle at the thought. She turned to consider Erin again, taking a sip from her festive glass. How would Nathan react to all of this? Right now, he was expecting most men's secret fantasy. Right now he was thinking legs and toes, and soft breasts and panting, needy lips.

He had no idea the size of the serpent that was about to invade his little garden.

It made her feel a little guilty, a little wary as well. She wanted this, needed this, to go well. Tilting her head, she slid her foot forward. She ran it along Erin's calf, soothing, and adoring. Up and down, stroking idly with agile toes. Then, carefully, she guided the red-head's own foot up and over, to brush against Nathan's leg.

Cynthia hoped her new lover got the message. The devoted wife knew her husband well. She knew where all of his little buttons were, particularly the buttons labelled "stockings" and "toes." If Erin could only press those, he would be much more forgiving of whatever little surprise happened along his way.

Erin's face wore a soft smile as she ate, but her eyes were slightly vague and unfocussed while she fretted inwardly. Cynthia had said she didn't know how Nathan would react - and the redhead hadn't wanted to press the issue. She had been freaked at before by potential lovers, and there was still a very large, very real possibility this could fall apart.

For that matter, she wondered, would she be able to please, once the novelty had worn off? Her experience of sex was largely vicarious, obtained through movies, books and the Internet, and the problem was that a lot of it was so contrived, so staged, as to be ludicrous - and she knew she fell into the category of 'ludicrous', herself. Hermaphrodites existed, however rare, but so far as she knew, women like her existed only in the fantasies of anonymous porn writers who didn't have to consider the realities of such things. She could bring shock value to a tryst, but she knew she was woefully inexperienced. Would enthusiasm and her unusual gift make up for it?

A smooth, seductive pressure against her calf intruded on her awareness, and she realized it was Cynthia's foot. The small, delicate toes pressed against her, warm and inviting, as they stroked gently down the muscles of her leg, and the gentle massage spread a sense of languid relaxation spreading, working up her body. She felt her foot being lifted, her sandal being eased off by Cynthia's foot, then her stocking-clad toes were brushing against a leg - Nathan's, she realized as she felt the wiry musculature against her toes.

She glanced appreciatively at Cynthia for a split second, then smiled at Nathan from under lowered eyelids. Almost unconsciously she slowly licked her lips, tracing the tip of her tongue around as she worked her de-sandaled foot against his calf, sliding it sensually along, letting him feel the sheer material encasing her legs. Meanwhile, she set her fork down for a moment and let her hand fall to her lap, whence she quickly reached as far as she could without stooping over, tracing two fingers lightly over Cynthia's foot. She hoped fervently that between her response in his arms and the message of her foot on his leg, Nathan would be primed.

There were certainly parts of the older man that could be said to be primed. In fact, you could have even gone so far as to say, "cocked." His white pants were becoming tighter, and his stoic facade was getting ever more difficult to maintain. Apparently Erin knew, probably informed by his wife, about his little weakness. Though, to be fair, this hardly qualified as simply a weakness.

He could not imagine any man, or woman for that matter, who would not be turned on by those silken toes of hers, caressing their leg. Her feet were different from his wife's. Cynthia's feet which were smaller, ever graceful and had that softness that came from a woman who had never walked a hard mile in her life, not physically, at least. Erin's feet were somewhat larger, like the rest of her, but still feminine, arching in a lovely way, and powerful. As she stroked him, he could feel it, pressing like a true massage. Agile, sensual toes, that if they got anywhere near his cock, would grip him in a way that would put the water to his lips.

God, he was so damn hard.

"Y- you know," he said, offhand, as though telling a joke to his female companions, "Most men like a good foot massage, about as much as most women. But if you asked those men what they really wanted, they'd tell you to massage a wee bit higher."

Would she get the hint? And if she did, would he manage to get to the elevator before anyone noticed just how badly he would likely stain his pants? Good thing they were already white.

Cynthia was blushing in an uncharacteristic way. If Nathan had turned to see, he would have likely known why. There were all sorts of romantic and emotional reasons why the couple were together, but no couple survives merely on affection. There had to be heat, both the passionate sort, and the slow, sensual burn. As Erin's fingers brushed along the young woman's foot, the redhead was stumbling upon the latter.

The blonde's feet were very soft, almost fragile things. They adored being pampered and Nathan was a natural at it. Though he might number their sexual encounters at only two, Cynthia would have added one more to the list. A hard day, a comfy couch, she had put her feet into her fiancé's lap. Without a word exchanged, the older man had rubbed them, tenderly, adoringly. She would never admit this to him, having been far too embarrassed when it had occurred, but she came that day. She had cum merely from the skilful rub of her lover's fingertips.

Now, as Erin touched her feet, Cynthia could not help but whimper, leaning back in her chair. She slid down a bit and lifted her leg up and over. Her foot rested in the larger woman's lap. The sole of that bare foot, gently stroking Erin's upper thigh, getting gradually more intimate. "Mmm, maybe so, Nathan. But if you have the right touch, I think a woman can be just as happy with that foot rub; especially if her masseuse has soft hands."

Had anyone lifted the tablecloth, they might have been impressed by the somewhat intricate lines of legs, feet and fingertips. Erin's foot was against Nathan's leg, but he seemed to be coaxing her to raise it higher, to touch him a bit more intimately, if she dared. Cynthia's own leg was up and in Erin's lap, brushing along the Amazonian woman's upper thigh as curious toes seemed to be disappearing under the flame-haired woman's skirt.

That did not seem to be enough for the blonde, as she slid her other leg up and began to brush it along her husband's upper thigh as well. Nathan blinked and looked, first to his wife, then to Erin. His pale features burst into a reddish blush. He was a proud man, a strong man, a silent man, but if both women slid their sensual feet up against his hardening white bulge, at the same time, he was not quite sure he would be able to maintain his gruff exterior.

Hell, if they double-teamed him the way it seemed like they might, he could hardly be faulted for an outright howl.

Cynthia's voice spoke, soft and sweet, yet rarely so wicked as it was at that moment. "What do you think, Erin? Should we take our boy to Heaven?" She licked her bottom lip, winking at her emerald-eyed girlfriend. "We could just leave him to whimper and moan about what could have been. Or we could give him what he obviously wants, under the condition that, when the time comes, he gives us both exactly we want. How does that sound, Nathan?"

Nathan looked as though he were about to say something. Maybe something defiant, maybe one of his little in-jokes that he shared with his wife and his wife alone. Whatever it was he was going to say, it cut off the moment Cynthia's toes began to tease the right side of his hidden cock. "I- it... sounds like it is up to Erin."

Erin made a curious sound in her throat, a strange cross between a gasp and a soul-deep moan, stifled a-borning in an effort not to draw attention to their table. Her half-lidded emerald eyes had continued to watch Nathan's face, the set of his body, his hands as she traced her toes slowly, languorously along his leg, but her regard was broken as she felt the slim, delicate foot - it could only be Cynthia's - slip into her lap.

Bright Lady in Heaven, she'll make me cum...! she thought, distracted by the subtle, teasing sensations those beautiful toes were evoking. Cynthia had let herself slip down in her chair very slightly, which positioned her perfectly to work her toes against the bulge of Erin's stallion-member and sack in her panties. Those sweet, sinful toes were moving, pressing, caressing her, and she was only too aware of her body's response to the gentle, insistent massage. Oh Lord... I can't get hard, not here, in public! She was all too aware of the pandemonium that would ensue if she sprouted her erection in the restaurant. That was a very real danger; she could feel her balls throbbing and her groin muscles twitching as they built toward extruding her inhuman adornment from her sheath.

She felt curiously unable to stop things. She knew that if she lifted Cynthia's foot from her lap, Cynthia would understand... yet she did nothing of the sort. In fact, her strong fingers returned the favour, gently working the blonde's perfect little toes with a lover's tenderness, softly squeezing them, then tracing slow, sensual lines along the sole, around the heel and back up around the ankles. It took the form of massage, but as she caressed and kneaded the soft, tender flesh, she knew it for what it was; that she was in fact making love to Cynthia's foot, a token and promise of what she would do with the rest of Cynthia, later.

She smiled, her lips parted slightly, as she considered Cynthia's statement and Nathan's response. "I think," she answered in a voice husky with intense arousal, "that Nathan is perfectly ready to give us whatever we want..." As she spoke, she lifted her foot higher, letting her toes trail up Nathan's leg. Her attention was consumed by the tactile sensations in her toes, the skin of her feet and legs as they encountered his trousers. She wanted to make him cum in his trousers, she realized, to give him at least the release she and Cynthia had already enjoyed. Emboldened, she lifted her foot further, then lowered it to join Cynthia's foot in his lap.

"... because I think he's getting what he wants right now," she concluded. Her foot gently caressed Cynthia's, almost as a greeting, a sense of "'morning, neighbour", then slid up his left thigh until she felt the fabric of his trouser crotch - and the rapidly-firming flesh under - against her questing, lascivious toes. Slowly she flexed them, letting him feel the complex interplay of muscles and tendons as her tanned, stocking-covered sole pressed against his groin.

Erin sighed deeply as she and Cynthia teased Nathan and each other with surreptitious lust. She was taking an awful risk, letting her blonde lover continue to maul her horse-weapon, but it felt too good to pass up, and she was returning the favour with interest; the glow in Cynthia's eyes and something about the part of her lips spoke volumes. Nathan's face spoke volumes as well, promising volumes of something, very soon now, as both women's feet worked against his growing dick and balls.

On a sudden impulse, the redheaded horse-girl leaned down, picking up the silver high-heeled sandal which she had removed in order to tease Nathan. She quickly cast her eyes around the restaurant, ensuring no-one was looking their way, then brought the footwear up. Her tongue flicked out and she slowly licked up the back, from the base of the stilt to the platform and heel-strap as her warm green eyes moved from one lover to another... then her lips parted, and she sucked on the stilt like a lolly, and smiled wickedly.