Eleanor Pt. 05

'I need to cleanse myself of your husband's stain,' she said, meaning Pamela, 'so I can offer myself to you as a pure and holy vessel.'

Eleanor said she too would like to 'cleanse' herself, while Pamela expressed a desire to brush her teeth and generally freshen up.

When Soria invited Eleanor to join her in the shower, her avowed dislike for sharing that space with another woman vanished as if by magic. Soon the Persian beauty was washing her back, then her legs, including her ankles and feet. She was certainly thorough, Eleanor thought. By this time Pamela had left the bathroom, but, Eleanor noticed, she had left the door into the bedroom open.

Soria asked Eleanor to turn round and began to work on her neck and her upper chest. It didn't seem like she'd be bothering with her arms at all. It wasn't long before her small hands with their pointy fingers (rather like the hands of the saints painted by El Greco, which she had seen in the Prado a few years back, Eleanor thought) were on her breasts, massaging them with some pressure - really working her thumbs into the flesh. Leaving the breasts, Soria washed her tummy and then, skipping her pudenda, did the front side of her legs, though, to be honest, she'd pretty much already done them when she'd been standing behind Eleanor a few minutes earlier.

'Now, I must remove all traces of my husband from you,' Soria spoke loudly above the noise of the water, standing on tiptoes to make sure Eleanor could hear.

Using no soap, but just her fingers, Soria entered the brunette's pussy for the first time. It wasn't quite how Eleanor had expected it to be, but she wasn't complaining. Far from it, the first words to pass her lips were 'Oh, fuck!' Soria had at least three fingers in there, essentially miming the action of emptying her receptacle of all foreign matter. Once she was satisfied that Eleanor was clean once more, she dropped to her knees and began to tongue-fuck her box with exceptional vigour. It was as if she could only take so much of the water flow which was being channelled onto her head by Eleanor's body.

Eleanor had nowhere to hide, nowhere to seek refuge. Her fate was sealed. Barely thirty seconds after the assault had begun, she was coming into the Persian woman's exquisite mouth. Pamela was able to hear her cries from the chair in which she was sitting playing with her phone in the bedroom.

Once Eleanor had recovered sufficiently, she insisted on washing her host, but the only pass she made over her genitals was the kind that a nurse would give a patient to whom she was giving a bed bath. They returned to the bedroom wearing only towels. Eleanor seated herself on the other chair and waited, along with Pamela, for their leader to announce the next stage of the entertainment.

'Eleanor,' said Soria, 'I believe it is your time to choose your partner and your pleasure. Pamela and I will be pleased to put ourselves at your command.'

Eleanor was rather taken aback by this offer and, since she would gladly have paired off with either of her women, her major concern was not to hurt one by appearing to favour the other. The solution, when it dawned on her, was startlingly simple: they should have a threesome. She would eat out her host, while Pamela in turn would look after her needs - something she had already shown herself very well capable of doing.

The other two were delighted by this arrangement and they set off by helping one another out of their coverings - skimpy though these may have been. Kneeling tall on the bed, Eleanor and Soria began to kiss, their hands sweeping across their backs and down to their taut buttocks. When Eleanor let one hand wander onto Soria's papaya-shaped breast, the Persian woman sighed in a manner that suggested more than just contentment. Encouraged, Eleanor let her fingers find the shallow nipple and marvelled as her host sloughed off her wonted sangfroid like a snake shedding its skin and asked Eleanor to use her tongue.

Eleanor took the nipple between her lips and sucked on it with no great force. She was reminded of a half-eaten lozenge that you push around your oral cavity with your tongue; it was that sort of size and shape, even if the consistency was of course much softer and somewhat denser. Soria needed more by way of focus and commitment from Eleanor and asked her to lick her like she meant it. Taking the other breast in her hand, she applied herself to the nipple with renewed energy, smearing it with the flat of her tongue before giving it the lashing that Soria was craving.

Sensing her moment, Pamela moved in and began to kiss Soria, spearing her tongue down her throat in a move that she had made her own. Softened up on two flanks, Soria was ripe for invasion on a third, and Eleanor wasted no time in slipping a finger into her sopping cunt. She let it splash around for a while before signalling her intent by inserting a further two fingers.

Soria was basically primed for release at any moment. It was entirely up to Eleanor when she triggered the detonator.

'No time like the present,' she thought, pumping her fingers in and out of Soria's fragrant well.

Soria dazzled the watching Pamela and Eleanor by embarking on a virtually mute orgasm. It was like watching a silent movie: the passion was all there but there was no soundtrack, apart from a few vocalisations that approximated to grunts. They knew Soria was through when her body returned to its normal posture from the arched position she had adopted while the shocks shot through her.

Allowing Soria to recline against Pamela's soft body, Eleanor sought to apply soothing balm to her still quivering pussy. Her tongue made long traverses over her folds as if she were sweeping for mines. When she sensed that it was safe to proceed, she probed the depths, the tip of her tongue feeling for anything that might trip another explosion. She thought she had cleared the area but she had all unawares been the architect of her own downfall. The seeds of another even more powerful orgasm lay dormant deep within Soria, needing only the right enabling conditions to go off. Eleanor's sinuous tongue proved to be just what was required.

No mute orgasm was the outcome this time, as the Persian beauty (held firmly by Pamela) screamed out so loud that she could be heard by the men below, who looked at each other with a quizzical look on their faces and resumed their game of chess.

Physically and emotionally spent by the events of the evening she had conceived and hosted, Soria looked ready for bed. Pamela and Eleanor accordingly covered her with the counterpane that lay folded across the foot of the bed and began to make their way to the door and thence downstairs to the men. Eleanor's hand was already on the door handle when Soria called to her to stop. Where, she asked, did they think they were going?

Reminding Eleanor of her duty to Pamela, Soria vacated the bed, putting on the robe she had been wearing earlier. She went across to her dressing table to apply some creams and lotions, allowing the two women to become reacquainted in a relaxed environment.

'My husband will be very sad that he got to spend no time with you,' said the older woman.

'Oh, I'm sure he'll get over it,' replied Eleanor breezily.

'Bob will be equally disappointed not to take his relationship with you to the next level,' Eleanor continued with a glint in her eye.

'I think Bob will be out of commission for a week following his exertions tonight,' Pamela rejoined. 'And we know who we can blame for that!'

'Who needs men anyway?' Eleanor added.

'Who indeed?' replied Pamela, moving in to kiss Eleanor, this time without the almost animalistic passion she had demonstrated downstairs.

'What a quick learner this woman is!' thought Eleanor, as their tongues played once more, like flames rising from a log fire.

Eleanor grabbed one of Pamela's gorgeous plump tits in each hand and squeezed them playfully. Pamela countered by letting a hand wander down to Eleanor's boyish buttocks and letting a finger wander dangerously close to her pink rosebud.

Eleanor slid down onto Pamela's chest, causing the latter's hand to vacate her ass in the process. She made straight for the bulbous nipples, taking first one, then the other in her mouth and sucking on them hard, as if she were a hungry infant.

The recent convert to the joys of Sapphic sex - unable to make a play for Eleanor's asshole, as was her desire - had to content herself with pressing Eleanor's head forcibly against her chest - in an attempt to get Eleanor to work even harder. Eleanor flicked her tongue across the older woman's engorged nipples with the motion of a whip being wielded by a lion-tamer.

'That's more like it!' the woman with the voracious sexual appetite told herself.

To indicate her pleasure - and at the same time her desire for still more effort from Eleanor - she began to head-fuck her rhythmically against her breasts. Eleanor was hard put to stay attached to the woman's teats, voluminous as they were. But she just about managed to, switching constantly between the two mounds as she sought to bring her off.

Just as Eleanor was thinking that she might not be able to sustain the assault for much longer, Pamela took one of Eleanor's hands and led it down to her hungry pussy. Eleanor slipped one finger inside Pamela's cauldron, knowing it was her job to quench the fire. Being unable as yet to use the traditional method to douse the flames, she knew she must attempt to smother the fire instead. One finger was never going to do that.

Making a fist of her hand, she drove it deep into Pamela's molten crucible, intent on bringing closure to the situation before it got totally out of hand. Handicapped by the attention she was giving to Pamela's tits, she knew time was her enemy. It was very much a case of now or never.

Eleanor's relief when Pamela obtained the release she had been so desperately seeking cannot be overstated. As the waves of successive orgasms racked Pamela's body, Eleanor rolled away and lay exhausted on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She wondered if she was getting a bit old for this type of thing; whether she wouldn't be better off leaving it to youngsters like Aidra.

After perhaps five minutes of silent meditation, a familiar figure hove into view - Soria, who had walked over to check her out.

'She's sleeping,' she said simply. 'You deserve a little rest yourself.'