Emma's Stiletto Seduction Pt. 05

This is a continuing story, please see :

Emma's stiletto seduction

Emma's stiletto seduction Pt. 02

Emma's stiletto seduction Pt. 03

Emma's stiletto seduction Pt. 04

Comments welcome

Cum.

Men always, without question, like to see it. I blame porn. When a man cums into the mouth of a porn-star you cannot see it. The most intimate of all sex acts remains tantalisingly hidden to everyone but the protagonists. The receiver simply has no choice but to show the audience primary evidence of the orgasm or there is no climax to the story, no ending.

And yet in reality, David has just cum inside me. It's not hidden from him, he felt it as the electricity ran though his veins. He has pulled his cock from my bum and witnessed the jizz contained within the condom. Watched as the latex was carefully removed from his penis, leaving it coated in sperm.

As I took David's cock into my mouth my job now wasn't too make it cum, but just to clean it. I made an 'O' with my lips and took it as far into my mouth as possible, and withdrew it, scraping the cum from the shaft and onto my tongue.

I looked up once more and revealed his cum on my tongue. And, just like the movies had instructed me, retained eye-contact as I swallowed it down.

David had decided to wait until we were both cleaned up and sharing a bottle of red wine. We were sitting on the sofa, my legs in his lap as they were on our very first date. It was difficult to believe it had only been 1 week ago.

"How things have moved on." I thought.

He allowed his hands to wander absentmindedly to my stiletto heels, fondling them.

He knew he had a secret to tell me, one that he was not proud of keeping and certainly not proud of making. He didn't want our relationship to stop, but the longer he kept it from me the more likely the news would bring this about.

He had contacted Howard, the voyeur who had watched us have sex the prior weekend. He knew that I needed to know. David took a sip of wine and caressed my high heeled shoes for what he thought could possibly be the last time.

"Emma, I need to tell you something." David said quietly.

"You are not trans are you?" I laughed?

"Ha, no. No." David replied, hoping that I wouldn't continue making a joke of his revelation. "This is serious."

"Okay, just tell me." I said, removing the glass from my lips without drinking, a little more concerned.

"I've been texting Howard."

"Do I know a Howard?" I thought to myself quickly, the man behind the name did not immediately come to mind.

"Who is Howard," I enquired, "and why is it a problem?"

"He is the man who watched us have sex on Saturday." David revealed.

I returned a puzzled look.

"I went back to the seafront to clear my head," David said, " I couldn't sleep and he was, well, there."

"And?"

"He gave me his number."

"Why did he do that?" I asked.

"He wanted me to ask you if you would meet again," David answered, "like last time in the shelter."

"Oh he did, did he?" I responded. "And how do you feel about that?"

David did not immediately respond. He had been pondering that question for the past three days. He still did not know the definitive answer.

"And you have texted him?" I asked.

David nodded, suddenly aware he was being told off by a stern teacher. He knew what the next question would be, and that he would not like it one bit.

"Give me your phone." I demanded.

Like someone who had been caught with his hand in the honey pot, David took out his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and unlocked it. He handed it to me, iMessage app open on the 'Howard' contact.

I scrolled upwards with my finger. There were dozens of messages.

"David, this isn't just a text, this is a conversation!" I exclaimed, "Many conversations."

He looked down to his feet, suddenly appalled as someone he liked, someone he lusted after, read his most intimate thoughts about her. It was like an explicit teenage diary had been exposed.

I read though the messages, they had started pleasant enough but had soon descended into crude discussions about me. What I looked like, what I liked doing, and what they wanted to do to me.

"Emma..." said David.

"Be quiet whilst I read though all of them." I responded forcefully.

They were more than crude, they were intimate details of how they were going to turn me into their whore.

"David, what did you mean when you said that you wanted to 'spit-roast the bitch'?" I asked, "That was sent at midnight."

David wished that the cushions on the large green leather Chesterfield sofa would swallow him up. "What had I meant saying such things?" He asked himself.

But he know the answer. He knew that he had been turned on just typing them to another person. And that the idea of it would not leave his mind.

"It turned me on." David admitted, looking sheepish, "I didn't mean it. It was a fantasy."

"So you don't want to 'spit-roast the bitch'" I said exaggeratedly, "with your new friend Howard?"

David paused.

"You appear to have promised him in these texts David," I said sternly, "that you would ask me. That sounds like something more that a fantasy, like something you actually want."

David paused.

"Yes." Said David.

"At your house?"

"Yes." Said David.

"Saturday?"

"Yes." Said David.

"Then why don't you text your friend Howard and arrange this?" I suggested.

It was with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that David took his phone back from me. He wanted to act on his fantasy, it had been a few weeks of not saying 'no' to anything so far, but he know that he didn't really want to share me. That he wanted me for himself.

He scrolled down to the last message from Howard, and started typing...

David: It's David, I've asked Emma. Do you want to come over Saturday evening say 8pm?

Howard: No way! Where are you again?

David: I'm on the road where you first saw us, house number fourteen.

Howard: She is up for it then?

I took the phone from David, and responded for him.

Emma as David: We can spit-roast the bitch.

Howard: Destroy the slut!

Emma as David: Fill her with cum.

Howard: As she sucked you off last time, can I have her mouth?

I passed the phone back to David, and he caught up with the conversation. He tried to keep calm.

"Aren't you going to respond to him David?" I asked?

David: You can have her mouth. (Typing)

He showed the message to me, and hit 'send'.

Chapter 2: David's story

After Emma hadn't kicked me out for sending messages behind her back, I had tried my best to keep contact with her over the past few days to a minimum.

Chapter 3: Howard's story

Chapter 4: My story

David could think of little else until 7.45pm Saturday. His texts to me had been trivial, "How are you?", "Still ok for the weekend?" In a matter-of-fact way.

On Saturday morning we exchanged the message:

David: Howard Confirms. X

Emma: Emma Confirms. X

I always get excited before a meet, and although sex with one guy is fantastic, I have always felt that sex with two men is better. Like my body is designed for exactly this scenario. Two holes, two cocks had been my mantra in my late 20s.

This was going to be different. I had to remember that this threesome was going to be with someone that I liked, someone that I fancied and someone that I wanted to try and continue in some sort of sexual relationship afterwards.

Things had moved too quickly, "but its his own fault," I told myself, " it's what he said he wanted."

The male reality of a threesome is rarely what they fantasise about. They picture having two women service their cock with their mouths, greedily sharing it. Then bending them both over and taking them from behind whilst they kiss.

It is rarely this way outside of pornography. Every threesome I have been to, or heard of in real life was with an extra male rather than an extra female.

Men who want threesomes simply have to get used to being around another man, another cock, another load of sperm. If they can get over that hurdle then the hardest part is yet to come. Can you cope with watching your partner service another man, or watching them get fucked?

I arranged for an Uber to meet me at 7.25pm at a street not too far from my apartment. It was an inconvenience picking up my car the previous weekend, and had cost me the price of two cab journeys anyway. The drivers were usually silent, and discreet. I expect they had seen it all before.

I had decided that if David wanted me to act like a whore, then tonight I should dress like one. My usual style was sexy, yes, my admiration for leather skirts and boots was a kink but I always tried to do it in an elegant rather than cheap way.

But David didn't want elegant Emma this evening, so he wasn't going to get it.

Stockings were a must, but instead of nylons this evening they were going to get pleather. A cheap black plastic imitation that I rolled up to my thighs. They would be "good enough for one use only." I thought to myself feeling the quality, "At £14.99 too."

I clipped them into a wet look suspender belt, another arrival from the same internet store, but this time the manufacturing felt better. "Perhaps two uses." I imagined. I used the same push-up bra that I had on Wednesday.

I kept my eyes coated in dark make up, too much mascara and ridiculously large false lashes that made me look like a doll. Lipstick was bright red, the cheap stuff. They didn't deserve the high-end stuff tonight.

I painted my nails red, for a change, but with no base coat or top coat. It would be chipping from my fingers before I arrived.

I was tempted to wear thigh boots, but this occasion warranted something more slutty. I had a pair of what previous boyfriends had called "Stripper heels'. Black patent, 7 inch spiked heel with a 3 inch platform.

Ironically they were far more comfortable than my regular pair of 5 inch round-toe stiletto high heels, they just didn't look it. They made me tall, and gangly and of course unsteady on my feel. They gave a man the appearance of power and control over you. I buckled the Mary-Jane style straps tightly.

I have always loved leather, and had not yet met with David without a black leather skirt of various styles and lengths. Tonight of all nights was to test out a PVC skirt. It was patent, black, clearly more plastic and harder than leather. It had a high waist which trimmed my small figure and rested so that the top of my pleather stockings were clearly visible.

I had decided that I wouldn't bother with a blouse, showing off my budding tits in just a bra would be enough. Still I would travel in a long length jacket of a black material that would cover everything from the knee up. It pays to be somewhat inconspicuous when not driving yourself to a meet.

If I was just going to wear a bra, then a collar is a must. I select a 1 1/2 inch wide leather choker from the drawer of my dressing table. It had a silver steel loop at the front, apparently so that a master could clip a leash on to me, although I had never used this as such. There are some things that I was yet to try.

To say that David had been apprehensive about the meet was a disservice. He was almost physically sick at the prospect. It wasn't about letting a complete stranger into his home, though that was somewhat of a wrench for him, but rather watching the stranger service his partner.

His porn view habits had changed over the last few days. Instead of his regular kink of watching goth women giving blowjobs, it had turned to goth women being gang-banged by several men. He hoped that it would relax him, that he could at least pick up some tips, but it only made him more nervous. Would he be even able to perform in-front of another man? "I just have to fuck Emma like I did on Wednesday," he repeated to himself, "at least she will be there with me if not holding my hand."

AT 7.45pm David opened the front door of number 14 and I stepped inside.

"He's not here yet." Said David, the nervousness causing his voice to tremble slightly. "Can I take your coat?"

I turned my back to him, and he slipped off my black woollen coat and my outfit was revealed to him for the first time.

"You, you don't have a top on!" David exclaimed.

"I figured whores don't need them." I responded sarcastically.

Davids eyes were glued to me. He hadn't really looked at my skin before and only then from behind. He admired my small build and the freckles on my chest above my bra.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"You don't look you usual self," David responded, "I prefer the leather look."

He had noticed that my skirt and stockings were plastic, and that my lips and long fingernails were red. They stood out now when they usually blended in with my monochrome look.

"Well I'm not just pleasing you tonight." Was my barbed riposte.

David knew he didn't like this. He didn't like the way I was coming back at him with smart comments, rebelling. He had enough of that from his wife, and liked the way I had previously always been submissive to him. He hadn't really noticed it or appreciated just how much he liked it that way until it was taken away.

"Have you got condoms and lube?" I asked.

"Err no." David said panicked. "I thought..."

"I have some in my bag." I said frustratingly. "Here, take them".

David took a foil packet string of 6 condoms and a new plastic bottle of water based lubricant. He paused.

"Why don't you put them in the lounge." I suggested, and he did so.

"This is exactly why I don't meet virgins." I told myself, exasperated at having to do everything and think of everything.

One of the best things about being submissive is that you don't really have to do anything. The thinking, arranging and the logistics are all done by your partner. It's much easier to follow commands. You can empty your mind, and just 'be'.

I'd often thought that I was my most relaxed and contented when others would assume that I am at my most on edge and scared. When you are on your knees, and a man is pushing his cock into your mouth, hands on your head. "It's almost like he is fucking every memory, every thought out of my mind." I remembered, and you can be at perfect peace.

"Are you going to be ok?" David asked.

"Yes, are you?" I replied. "Just don't say you are sorry".

David turned the lights in the lounge down, and put on the welcoming porch lamp.

"Should I have made drinks?" Entered his mind, he was really starting to think that he was out of his depth.

I could see a figure approaching thought the frosted glass of the front door. It was 8pm precisely. I had often wondered why everyone who wants to fuck me is always so precise.

David stepped forward and pulled the snib back from the lock, and hesitated as he started to rotate the catch a quarter turn to the right...

With a reluctance he opened it and let the former stranger in.

All three of us remained silent, the two men standing shoulder to shoulder and looking back towards the hallway at me.

I could see the eyes of Howard widen, as he feasted on me for the second time. He was pleased with what he saw.

Howard was smaller thank David by about 3 or 4 inches. I would imagine they were of a similar age, but Howard retained more hair. He was stocky, and had the body of someone who used to work out but had simply forgotten to do so in the last 10 years. He wasn't wearing a jacket, just a dark shirt and black jeans with leather Chelsea boots. However his face wasn't as kind as Davids, who was still desperately trying to retain a forced smile.

I used the bannister and steps of the staircase to steady myself on my 7 inch heels as I lowered myself to the floor, kneeling on the cold terracotta coloured tiles. I placed my arms behind my back and folded them as best I could.

Howard stepped in-front of David towards me and unbuttoned his trousers. He wasn't wearing shorts, and his erect cock spring out from his jeans. His cock was thicker than David's, and about an inch shorter. HIs balls were smooth and had been trimmed or shaven recently. He was not about to wait for an official introduction.

He turned his head towards David, who was rooted to the spot, and turned his full attention back to me. Holding his cock in one hand, he grabbed my hair with the other, pushing my neck backwards and opening my mouth.

He pushed his cock hard into me, to the back of my throat and left it there, holding me down with his hand. I hadn't taken a breath, and after a few seconds was starting to fight the lack of oxygen in my body. I tried to resist moving my arms from behind my back to push him off. I coughed, and finally he relented.

Briefly... allowing me to gasp a breath, and then pushed his cock into my mouth again, this time pushing my head with both hands.

Howard looked back at David again, who could not see what was happening, his view of me blocked by the stranger in the hall. From the gagging sounds he was listening to, and my gasps for air, his mind filled in the blanks.

This went on for approximately 3 minutes 24 seconds. David was counting.

Howard pulled out and I took a gulp of air, expectantly waiting for the cock to be replaced back into my mouth. But instead the stranger hooked his index finger into the loop on my collar, and tugged me upwards to my feet. I rocked backwards into my heels and stood in an ungainly fashion. The popping and scraping of my metal-tipped stiletto heels breaking the silence as they scrambled for friction against the smooth tile.

Howard dragged me towards the door to the dimly lit lounge. Passing David on the way, I grabbed his hand and he followed the two of us into the room, the sound of my stilettos now being muffled by the deep woollen carpet.

Howard, still with his hand on my collar dragged me to the floor so that I was on all fours now, dropping Davids hand and positioned like a dog. Again Howard put his cock in my mouth and rested it against my tonsils. It was hard, rock hard now with a large purple head. His balls were tight, not hanging long like Davids, and seemed to move without input.

Howard started to unbutton and remove his shirt, throwing it over the back of a chair. He cupped both his hands around my face, and proceeded to fuck it again.

I couldn't help David now, he was on his own. This is what he wanted, seeing me with another man, but the reality verses fantasy can stir up very different emotions.

We had not spoken since Howard arrived, but now it was the strangers turn to break the silence.

"Are we going to roast her or not?", he asked David. "For fucks sake fuck her or put the kettle on."

At this point I was absolutely sure that David would have chosen the latter open if he possibly could. He was thinking that himself, wanting nothing more than the stranger to leave. But he knew he wouldn't.

David took off his jacket and laid it carefully over the arm of a chair. he watched through the side of his eye as the stranger worked on my mouth. "It's like he doesn't care," David thought, "She isn't sucking him, he's literally just fucking her mouth.."

David took off his shirt and turned his back whilst he unzipped his flies. He could hear the sound of me gagging now, the rhythmic wet-smack as Howards cock hit the back of my throat, the pace not abating. David took off his socks, but left his pants on, his cock was hard and yet he didn't feel like he was enjoying himself.

Howard saw that David was finally ready, "what took him so long," He thought to himself, "let's do her."

I felt Howard extract his cock from my mouth, a thick strand of saliva linked my chin to the bell end of his cockhead. His hand never left my hair and I felt it's grip tightening.

He dragged me to my heels using my hair, I used his knees and legs as a ladder to assist. But he kept my head low, making me bend at 90 degrees and tit my head to one side.