Jessie, Michael and Claire Ch. 02

I got a call a few days later from Claire. She thanked me for giving Michael a good time, and told me that I was welcome at their place any time. That was when I first learned that they were living together, and my heart sank as I realized how deep their commitment was becoming. Oh, well, I thought, at least I had him for one glorious night.

As it turned out, I had a wedding to go to in three weeks. The wedding was in Elizabeth, only a few miles from Newark. I texted this information to Michael, but was surprised to receive a call back...from Claire. "Would you care to visit us while you're there?" she asked. "We could have dinner, and you could stay overnight. No need to rush back to Wilmington, I hope!"

"I'd love to! I'm looking forward to meeting you, after all Mike has said about you!" (And what woman can't resist checking out the competition?)

"It's a date, then! We'll pick you up wherever you are, and we'll go straight to the restaurant. The best French food in Newark, I'm told."

And that was how I found myself after the reception, waiting for my ride. A Prius drove up, and it was Michael.

"Hop in, Jessie! Claire got a little hung up at work. She'll meet us at the restaurant." It was a short drive into Newark, and we parked the car around the corner from the restaurant.

And there she was, sitting at the table, waving to us. She had a dazzling smile, the kind that lights up a room. As she stood and kissed us, I saw that she was slender, without much of a bosom, and a hair taller than me, even though she was wearing flats. Long straight blond hair, going down to the top of her shoulders, sea-green eyes, thin hands. I'd expected somebody more voluptuous and earthy-looking, the stereotype of the experienced "woman of the world," but if she was that sort of seductress, she certainly didn't look it. She was dressed like the successful banking executive she was, in a silver-gray jacket and matching knee-length skirt, black pullover blouse, and black stockings. No jewelry or makeup that I could see, except for some diamond ear studs and a trace of lipstick. She could have stepped off the cover of Vogue, or even Fortune.

But she had an easy laugh, and I felt at home with her immediately. Her voice was even more sensual than she'd sounded over the phone, and I heard that purr again. After an hour, it seemed like I'd known her all my life. She had that way of putting you at ease, being interested in everything you were saying and doing, really listening to you instead of just nodding. So we were laughing as we walked back to the car, and a few minutes later we were in their apartment.

They gave me a tour of the place. The rooms were large and well-appointed, and their bedroom had the biggest bed I'd ever seen, with at least a half a dozen pillows stacked on it. And yes, they really had a bath-tub the size of a four-person hot tub. The kitchen was small but superbly designed for efficiency. But I didn't see a guest bedroom.

"So where am I going to sleep?" I asked. Claire looked at Michael, who nodded. And then she dropped the bomb.

"That couch turns into a bed, and you're welcome to sleep there. But we were hoping you'd be sleeping with us, dear."

I remembered what Michael had said about there being room enough for three in the tub, and suddenly realized that they had sex in mind. Sex with me.

"Um, I don't think I'm up to it," I said softly. "This is so sudden."

Michael spoke up. "Jessie, remember what I said about Claire always pushing me out of my comfort zone? And how glad I was that she did that? Why not push your own comfort zone a little? Sleep with us? We won't bite!"

"I've never had sex with a lady, Claire. I'm pretty straight."

"We won't be just having sex," she said. "We'll be making love."

"What's the difference?"

"Let me show you," she said. And then she drew me close to her. And then she kissed me on the mouth.

That's when the second bomb dropped.

I'd always thought I was heterosexual to the core. But then, I'd only been deep-kissed by men, and I'd always thought that I'd been kissed as well as anybody could be kissed. But when she kissed me, it was with the tenderest of kisses, so light, so un-rushed, so focused on me, that my mind went blank. It was as though she and I were the only people in the world, and nothing was as important to her as I was. I felt that I was drawing sexual energy from her, tapping some fountain of lust, drinking from it. She put her arms around me, drew me closer to her. When our breasts touched, even through our clothes, the energy swelled. Our kiss became fiercer, our tongues sliding against each other. She hugged. I hugged back.

And suddenly, I wanted this woman. I wanted to make love to her, even though I had never made love to a woman before. Somehow it would be all right. She would never steer me wrong.

A song came to mind, that song about Suzanne who lived by the river. "You want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind," Leonard Cohen sang. "And you know you can trust her, 'cause she's touched your perfect body with her mind." Suddenly I understood that song. Claire was that Suzanne, that mystical woman in whom you put all your trust, all your hopes, and all your soul. I wanted that feeling to last forever. I wanted the kiss to last forever.

But she broke the kiss, and held my face with her hands, stroking my cheeks. I stared into her eyes, now damp with tears. My own hands trembled.

"I would be so honored if you chose to make love with us," she said softly. "You already know that Michael is a good, kind lover. Please let me be one, too."

"I'm a little scared, Claire."

"Of what? Of finding out something in yourself that you didn't know you knew? Maybe you just learned that making love means giving love to someone, and taking love from someone, and the gender of the partner doesn't really matter. Maybe you knew that all along. Or at least, your heart is telling you right now that there's nothing wrong with any sort of love, as long as the love is pure and kind, like I want ours to be."

Michael spoke up then. "Jessie, we don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. Any time you feel that you're in over your head, just let us know, and we'll stop. We love you, and we want to make you happy."

And then Claire dropped the third bomb. "I don't think it would be fair to Jessie to commit to something she doesn't know the full extent of," she said. "Jessie, you've already seen Mike's naked body. Now let me show you mine." And with that, she kicked off her shoes, removed her jacket and blouse, and pushed her skirt down to the floor. And there she stood, in a black bra and pantyhose, such a contrast with her pale skin, smiling that dazzling smile. "Do you want me to continue?"

I nodded.

"Let me warn you: I've got an unusual pussy, in a way," she said. "Maybe you won't like it. Some people don't. I'd understand." She stripped off her hose and panties, revealing a bald pussy with almost two inches of inner labia protruding from her shaved outer lips, more inner lip than I'd ever seen on a woman before. Then she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. It fell to the floor, revealing a bust that matched her frame completely ... small, high breasts that looked like they belonged to somebody much, much younger, capped with pink nipples the size of gumdrops. She grasped those nipples in thumb and forefinger and gave them a twist. "I like to play with them," she said. "Do you like to play with yours?" A confident, inviting grin played across her face.

She was totally nude, and she was beautiful. And she suddenly reminded me of an incident in my second year of college. I was showering in the gym and a woman, just barely still in her teens with a figure and bust similar to Claire's, took the shower head next to mine. It was the first time I was struck with the beauty of the naked female form. That girl seemed completely un-selfconscious about her beauty and her nudity. She'd taken her time washing her breasts and cunt, not rushing but not making a show of it, either, chatting easily with me as we showered together. She was the epitome of the person I wanted to be, so at home with her body that she felt no need to either flaunt or conceal it. And there, standing before me now, was Claire, a kindred spirit to that woman, offering to share that body with me. I realized the intensity of the spell she cast on Michael, and was casting on me. And I felt myself being drawn into that spell.

"Your pussy," I stammered. "It's...it's beautiful! It's like a flower!"

She danced up to me and put her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "May I unbutton your blouse, please?" she said softly, in a voice that seemed to come from far away.

"Yes," I whispered.

And she unbuttoned my blouse, kissing each bit of exposed bare skin, light butterfly kisses that barely touched the skin. I had worn a bra that unclasped from the front, and she put her finger on the clasp. "May I?"

"Yes, please."

And she unhooked the bra, exposing my breasts. "They're lovely," she said. "They're perfect. I love your nipples, so fat and dark!" Her hands slipped underneath my breasts, lifted them up, let them fall, and smiled as she watched them bounce. Caressing the underside of each breast, she kissed the valley between them, and then each nipple, which responded by hardening. I wanted her to suck on them. And I wanted to suck on her own nipples, so firm and pink and inviting. Should I tell her? But she hugged me again, our naked breasts pressed together, and she gave me another deep kiss that went straight to my soul, and swept away my last scruples.

"Yes," I said finally. "I will sleep with you and Michael."

"Then let's get you naked the rest of the way," she said as she slipped the blouse and bra off my shoulders and let them fall to the floor. "And then we'll undress Michael! It'll be more fun that way!"

I took my time getting out of my skirt, stockings, and panties. I'd been nude with other ladies in the gym, when sex was off the table,, but this was different. In a way, I felt like a virgin again, exposing my pussy to the lustful eyes of a woman instead of a man. I had a fleeting concern that she might not like my bush, since she obviously preferred the look of a bald cunt, but she gave my vulva a quick, soft caress as soon as it was exposed to her. "May I kiss you there?" She asked.

I nodded, and felt her lips on my pussy, a teasing flick of her tongue on my inner lips, so different from the way a man would kiss my cunt. Then she stood and we embraced again, our nude bodies locked together, our tits and mounds touching, and my heart told me that I had made the right choice.

We turned our attention to Michael. Giggling like schoolgirls, we stripped him naked slowly and seductively, kissing and caressing each area of skin as we revealed it. By the time we pulled his briefs down, he was naked and fully erect, with that beautiful arc I remembered from before. Claire kissed his cap, and I gave it a lick, tasting his pre-cum as it suddenly oozed forth.

Hey," he said. "Let's open a bottle of wine! I've never been with two nude goddesses before, and I'm kind of nervous!"

"You'll be fine," Claire said. "You too, Jessie. But we've got some champagne in the fridge, so let's do that. We have something to celebrate now!"

So off he went to the kitchen, his hard cock bouncing with every step. It was still hard when he returned with a tray with a bottle and three champagne glasses. He opened the champagne and gave us each a flute of the bubbly wine while Claire put a soft, thick towel down on the leather couch. Any awkwardness I had was fading fast, and we were chatting easily as we sat on the couch, with Michael in between, an arm around each one of us. I noticed that Claire's hand would drift down to her pussy from time to time, giving those long inner lips a pinch or a swipe with her fingers. When she caught me seeing her doing it, she'd smile and raise an eyebrow, as if inviting me to do the same to my pussy. Invitation accepted! Somehow I wanted her to see that I could be as sexual as she was, that I could have the same confidence in my body. Mike needed no such stimulation, though. His cock was bouncing in time with his heartbeat, oozing pre-cum that dribbled down his shaft and onto his shaved balls.

"Poor dear," Claire said to him as she squeezed his shaft. "Look at you! You're not going to last a minute once we get into bed! Jessie, what should we do about that?"

"I could blow him," I said. "Or you could."

"Or we both could! I'll handle one side of his cock, and you handle the other! Would you like that, Michael?"

"Would I?" he said. "That's been one of my fantasies since forever!"

Maybe it was the champagne breaking down the last of whatever inhibitions I still had, but I jumped at this chance to share this intimate moment with them both. Together, we girls lapped at his cock, our tongues sometimes grazing each other's. Then we kissed, slipping Mike's shaft between our locked lips, and slowly moved along it, never breaking our kiss. I felt her tongue sliding along one side of his shaft, and used my own tongue likewise on the other. Mike was in heaven, but it didn't last for long. Claire sensed that his climax was imminent, and we switched from a blow job to a hand job, each of us kissing a cheek as four hands stroked his cock from tip to base as if it were plunging into a vagina of infinite depth. He suddenly erupted with a gusher, and Claire gripped the cock and pointed it toward my tits the instant the cum spewed forth. One stream hit my left tit, another my right one, and two more landed on my belly.

"Look at that mess!" She laughed. "Let's clean it up!" And she proceeded to lick the cum off my left breast. Mike took the right one, and feel of their tongues lapping on my soft tit-flesh made me suddenly weak. Their mouths traveled to my nipples and they began sucking, and I felt the nipples stiffen even more. I'd always had this fantasy of two men sucking on my tits in unison, and here it was happening, except that now it was a man and a woman. But Claire was right; gender didn't matter. My breath came in gasps. And then Claire stroked my pussy, her finger resting on my clitoral hood and pressing against it, and I felt the beginning of an orgasm.

Claire sensed it immediately, of course, and said, "Let's get in bed." We made our way to the bedroom, my steps already wobbly. As Claire pulled the bedspread down, revealing pastel blue satin sheets, Mike arranged some of the pillows so that he could prop himself up against the headboard while laying on his back, and told me to lay on him, on my back. Then he did two things: he grasped my breasts with his strong hands, and he forced his legs inside mine, spreading them so that my cunt was wide open.

And then Claire was at my crotch, kissing my lips, running her long tongue on each side of my cleft, teasing my clit out of its hood. She was an expert, knowing exactly what to pay attention to, and how much to tease before moving on to the next place. I felt a long, slender finger slide into my vagina, searching out and finding my sensitive spot. Then it was two fingers, then three.

I've heard it said that it takes a woman to properly eat a pussy, and they're right, if that woman was Claire. In all my fantasies, I never dreamed that I could get the pleasure from it that I was getting right now. Her timing was perfect, bringing me to the brink of an orgasm, then backing off, then teasing me back. And Michael was kneading my breasts and pinching my nipples in the same tempo as Claire's finger-fucking.

I could feel my pussy juices trickling down toward my asshole. If it had been a man at my cunt, he would have taken that as a sign that I was ready for fucking and he'd be sliding up my body to plant his cock in my cunt. Not Claire, though. She had all the time in the world, and she took it to tease and thrill me.

After a half an hour, I could take no more. "Please make me cum," I whimpered. With that, she gave my clit a nip with her teeth and thrust her fingers into me as deeply as she could. At the same instant, Michael gave my tits a squeeze that would have hurt if I had not been so close to the edge. These two intense sensations were all it took to shove me over the edge into the most intense orgasm I had ever felt.

I screamed, I shook, I spasmed. And I passed out. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Claire, her tongue licking my juices off her lips, and regarding me dreamily with those sea-green eyes. "Kiss me, Claire," I said. "Please kiss me."

She took her time traveling from my crotch to my mouth, lightly kissing each inch of the way, and pausing to lick whatever of Mike's cum that was still on my belly, now salty with my sweat. Then our mouths locked, and I smelled my own pussy on her lips and chin. Michael's hands left my breasts to stroke her back. It was then that I noticed that his erection had returned, now embraced by the cleft of my ass cheeks. We lay like that for some minutes, basking in the warmth of each other's bodies, breathing in the aromas of love.

"You haven't had an orgasm yet, Claire," I heard Michael murmur. "I think I'm ready again, if you want to fuck."

"In a minute, dear. Jessie, switch places with me! I want you to eat me, just like I ate you!"

"I've never done this with a woman before."

"Don't worry! Just do to me what I did to you! You'll be fine! I'm pretty easy to seduce, and I'm horny as hell right now!"

I rolled off Michael and Claire lay on her back on top of him, his hands now on the soft swell of her breasts, her legs splayed wide. Still shaking from my own orgasm, I gave tentative licks to Claire's very wet cunt. The taste of her flowing pussy - the first one I'd ever tasted that was not my own - was like a musky honey. She used her slender fingers to spread her outer cunt lips wide, and I could see the meaty inner lips jutting out, opening like a fleshy flower. As I sucked on them, she sighed in contentment.

Aside from those inner lips and the complete lack of hair, her pussy didn't seem that much different from mine, so I mimicked what I remembered of her ministrations, and soon she was begging for finger-fucking. I slipped in a finger and felt her squeezing it with her vagina. I had been right. She had Kegels that could crack nuts when she flexed them. And there was no doubt about where her G-spot was, a swollen patch on the front wall of her vagina that made her wince when I pressed it, like she'd been shocked.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked.

"No! Do it more! Do it harder! More fingers!" Michael took that as his cue to play more roughly with her breasts, kneading, groping, and squeezing them, pulling on her engorged nipples until her breasts were like small perfect cones. Sensing that she liked the pain, I went to three fingers and began to thrust harder, and actually nipped her engorged clit with my teeth, as she had done with mine. Then, as Michael let go of her nipples and grabbed her arms, her body tensed, and her legs kicked, and her gush of cum drenched my mouth. Small as her breasts were, they were big enough to jiggle as she convulsed. She gave a wail and a shudder, opening her legs even wider, and her body went slack.

She looked absolutely beautiful, her bald pussy slick with our juices, her inner labia open like a blossoming flower, the rest of her body shining with sweat, and her flat belly flushed with a red that went from her mons to her pink nipples. Her vagina was still spasming as I slipped my fingers out. She was gasping, her belly rising and falling, her eyes unfocused.

It was the first time I've seen a woman in the aftermath of an orgasm. "She's so beautiful!" I thought. "Do all women look like this after a climax? Is this what I've been missing all my life? And is this what I look like when I'm cumming?"