Jill & Tim's Story Ch. 03byLou Thomas©
Oh, WOW! It felt so good that I met his long, deep thrusts with rythymic enthusiasm, banging my ass back into his groin as he repeatedly drove himself into me, each penetration making the head of his cock knock on the door to my womb (never had your cervix touched by a prick? You haven't lived!).
As my back-door lover and I settled into a gentle, satisfying, coordinated motion, Tim -- my adorable husband! -- knelt before me, his knees spread wide, his cock stiff and directly before my mouth in an invitation I immediately R.S.V.P.'d, parting my lips and lowering my head to take its thick, satisfying length in where I could worship it with my tongue.
Tim and I have identical -- for all practical purposes -- tastes in sex (and most other things, for that matter) and, among these, is an enjoyment of verbalized obscenities, both for purposes of fanaticizing and as an amplification of our lewd activities. That being the case, when Tim -- in between his moans and hisses of pleasure over what my mouth was doing to his cock -- started talking over my bobbing head and rutting body to Eddie, I knew it was as much for my benefit as for either of them.
"Isn't she a delightful fuck, Eddie?" I heard him half-whisper. "She's the greatest, most enthusiastic and skilled piece of ass I've ever known. Her mouth is so hot and so busy that it's not going to be too long before I come, Eddie, I'm just going to blast my load right down her throat. I'm going to try to wait for you, but I'm not sure I can. But that's alright because, if I come before you, when she tastes my juices, it's going to make HER come and, the way her pussy clenches when she orgasms, I'm pretty sure it'll trigger off your load and you'll be right behind me in filling her up at both ends."
Our lanky friend was silent through this . . except for a great deal of heavy breathing, along with assorted moans and groans as his ass-banging tempo, to my great delight, speeded up. The lack of verbal response didn't bother my darling at all (it never does), he just chugged right on, his cock trembling (its echoes in his now-shaky voice).
"Eddie," he said, "my little darling and I have another secret to share with you. We like being photographed doing things like this as much as we like photographing each other. Before you leave tonight -- or the next time you visit us -- you're free to look at those photos, too ..." interruption for a set of groans from all three of us for reasons so obvious that I won't elaborate "... but what we'd really like to do is, in a few days, have you come over again, and we'll re-create every little thing we've done to my darling Jill . . . only we'd like to have another friend over, a lady, to take pictures of it for our memory book."
There was silence from our friend . . . other than his explosive grunts as he banged harder and harder into my ass, each plunge driving me closer to that wonderful edge, and making me re-double my sucking of my husband's delicious cock. "Would you be willing to do that for us, Eddie? I'd enjoy it . . and my shameless, adorable little wife would enjoy it even more. Who knows? You might even get to fuck our ladyfriend, too.
"Think about it, Eddie: TWO hot, passionate pussies in the same night . . and a chance to watch ME in action. Come on, whaddya say?"
Silence, broken only by the formless sounds of three people rapidly reaching the point-of-no-return . . and then, almost explosively, Eddie said, "Shit! Why not! I'll do it!"
"You won't regret it, Eddie. Now, fuck that hot little pussy your cock's in and load her up with juice because I . . . I think I'm . . oh, darling! . . suck me . . I ..” and, with a scream, Tim began coming, an almost unbelievable amount of tasty juice shooting out of his stick. Fortunately, practice (a LOT of it, I'm happy to say) has taught me how to handle it and I'm pleased to report that I didn't lose a drop, frequently sucking and swallowing . . as Tim 's cries and my almost hysterical motions suddenly snapped Eddie into frenetic, broken-tempo thrusts that triggered my own climax and, in turn, gave his prick the final clench it needed to get him to fire off into my pussy. For almost a minute, three sweating bodies shuddered hysterically, loud gasps, groans, strangled screams bounced off the walls of our bedroom as our menage-a-trois went -- literally -- fucking crazy!
It was one of the most delightful, wonderful, fulfilling moments of my life. It was an experience I recommend to EVERY woman, at least once. Shameless hussy that I am, I indulge in it every chance I get.
* * *
We did, indeed, re-create all the high points of that excursion about a week later, Millie not only doing the camera chores (and wearing a garterbelt, hose and heels I talked her into), but finally threw inhibitions to the wind and got in on the action herself.
There are several shots from that session on our bedroom wall. The set I like best, I think, has two shots in one frame showing, first, Eddie laying on his back, Millie kneeling on his face, me on his cock, the two of us facing each other and stroking each other's tits; the second is Tim on his back, Millie and mine's locations reversed .. and I'm leaning forward sucking one of her big tits.
The third shot shows me on my hands and knees, Eddie in my cunt, Tim in my mouth, the shot taken as the three of us were VERY obviously coming.
There are two more, also in the same frame: one shows Eddie on his back, Tim on his side between Eddie's legs, sucking Eddie's shaft while stroking his own, we sitting at Eddie's side, stroking my husband's neck while I watch him giving head to our friend. The other is Millie sitting on the edge of the bed, her hose-clad legs spread. Eddie is standing to one side of her and her head is turned so she can play with his balls and suck his cock. As for me, I'm kneeling between her legs, my face -- for the very first time -- buried in a pussy, hungrily lapping away at her clit, discovering for myself why my darling Tim loves "giving face."
Ours was a 'photo finish," in the best sense of the 'word -- and the REAL beginning of our adventures. Fantasy can, indeed, become an even better reality!
As for menage-a-trois .... Well, Three Is Whee! with Me!!
IN THE BEGINNING - III
I tempted Tim . One part of my mind did it very innocently, supposedly not aware of the maddening effect what I wore could have on Tim 's libido, justifying what I had on as being because "he was curious to see it." The other part of my mind occasionally broke through to make me realize that I was deliberately placing temptation in Tim 's path, hoping he'd give in to it and, thus, remove the onus of initiative (seduction?) from me.
Things progressed as rapidly in the physical realm as they did in the verbal. All it took was the slightest hint from Tim and I "innocently" moved to comply, with results that even I, with my wealth of inexperience, could have predicted, had I been completely candid with myself.
First, I knew he loved my legs, so I was always in a super-short skirt (of which, even then, I had plenty) and heels, and I reveled in the looks he gave me and the way his fingers moved up and down my hose-clad legs as we spoke and kissed. (God!, how I love his hands, both in the feeling and even in just the watching, then and now!).
His casual mention that he'd love to see me in my leotard, but with sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose instead of tights, caused me to un(consciously)thinkingly be wearing them the next day after he voiced his request. The get-up, complete with an even shorter, wraparound skirt than those I habitually wore, got an enthusiastic response from Tim , who held me even tighter than usual when we "hello-kissed;" for the first time, his strong-but-gentle hands slid down my back to grasp the globes of my bottom and squeeze them as our tongues met.
And, when he'd sat down on the touch, I blushingly “had” to remove the skirt so he could see his "dream come true" (that's what he called it).
Still, with panties, pantyhose, bra and Leotard on, I figured I was pretty safe when Tim suggested we both lay down on the couch, face-to-face, to "..talk more comfortably." I had been, by that time, laying for almost an hour with my shoulders propped up on his thighs as he sat, his hands caressing me (!). I knew I was excited and, in the position he suggested, I figured he'd probably get that way, too .. but I did it anyway and, frankly, was prepared for his hand when it slowly drifted up my leg to the cloth-buried hump of my crotch to begin rubbing me there. But I WASN'T prepared for me opening to him, and riding his finger to a small, delightful climax!
Naturally, having once allowed him to do that, it was pointless to tell him not to touch me there again. That would've been teasing and hypocritical, right?
Part of me watched, in cynical amazement, the next step. See, Tim called me every morning during this halcyon period to check our schedule for the day (that's right. for a brief, glorious time, EVERY weekday!). I dressed, if at all, very casually around the house when alone, and Tim got into the habit of asking what "..the Phantom Housewife's Secret Costume .." was each morning.
A couple of days after the leotard incident (INCIDENT? My God, a major turning point in my life!), I told him, in truth, that all I was wearing at the moment was a pair of skimpy bikini bathing suit bottoms that had really gotten too small for me (about five years previously), and an old black T-shirt so shrunken that it left my midriff bare.
Well, Tim expressed, in his own flatteringly inimitable way, an interest in seeing me in that get-up. While I demurred on the phone, as I waited for him, I figured why not let him have a look and then I could go change into something more appropriate. One part of my mind, again, figured that move as innocent, while the other part said, "Okay, kid, go ahead and do it ... but it's going to be like waving a red flag at him!"
That being the case, I can't sit here and lie to you and try to convince you that I didn't have any idea how Tim was going to react to my ensemble -- but neither part of me was prepared for the INTENSITY of his reaction! No sooner had I gotten the door locked behind him than we began kissing, passionate, loving .. and, in Tim 's case, for lack of a better word, Worshipfully. I could feel both passion AND love rolling off of him like a waterfall off a clifftop.
That's not all I was feeling, either. Those hands of his, those wonderful, soft, irresistible hands, began exploring me, tentatively at first but then, when they encountered no resistance, they began touching me in places only Frank had ever touched me in before. Tim 's fingers slipped beneath the low-slung waistband of my abbreviated bikinis to grasp my globes, to tease the cleft .. his fingers moved up my sides, beneath my thin shirt, to toy with my breasts, to caress my nipples .... and all I could do was stand there and enjoy every moment of it!
Slowly, Tim dropped to his knees and began kissing my stomach as his hands continued caressing my bottom, his mouth -- when it wasn't planting kisses on my tummy -- was murmuring, in passion-laden tones, "Oh, Jill .. My God, you're beautiful. Thank you, darling .. God, how I want you!"
I was fast losing what little control I had: all I could do was caress his head, myself murmuring, “ Tim .. oh, TIM!" while I looked down at him. I had never had a man kneel to me before, and the way Tim did it made it crystal clear that he'd done it not just for easy access to my body, but also as a symbolic gesture that needed no explanation.
I was sure I didn't warrant such adoration. I was also sure that I was about to lose control of both myself and the situation so, finally, with my very last ounce of self-restraint, I slid down to my knees, too, facing Tim , and we kissed again.
We both knew I wasn't ready .. quite.
Kneeling on a hard floor isn't conducive to prolonging whatever activity you're kneeling for so, soon, we moved to the couch. I knew damn well I should immediately go change clothes --which usually meant panties and pantyhose and a measure of safety --- and said so, but Tim easily (blush) persuaded me to delay that move. So, to the livingroom couch, to kiss, to talk, to touch. . .
My body was roaring at me and Tim was being very persistent in his caresses .. and I was very, very scared. Don't misunderstand: I knew I could stop Tim any time I chose (at least, I'm PRETTY sure I could have), but I was scared because I didn’t want to stop him except I DID want to stop him (only serious students of feminine psychology will follow that).
Finally, around one of our kisses, I almost frantically murmured, “.. I've GOT to get dressed!" Tim correctly read the panic in my voice and broke our kiss to say, "All right, but I'm going to .. help a little." Saying that, he quickly got up, took my hand and led me into my bedroom. As soon as we got there, it was like a repeat of the front door scene -- the kisses, our bodies pressed together, his hands moving over me, his tongue (!) on one of my briefly exposed (and aching!) nipples, him sliding to his knees before me .. only, this time, he looked up into my eyes and whispered, "I get to remove these for you, because I just HAVE to see you!"
I didn't say no. In fact, I didn't say anything, although I could feel my jaw working frantically, but silently.
I watched as Tim 's fingers grasped the waistband of my bikinis and slid them down my legs. I was so stunned and embarrassed that I could not, of my own volition, raise my feet, so Tim had to use his hands to raise each of my feet to get the bottoms off.
And then he stared straight, eye-level, at my hairy triangle with its kinky ringlets and softly, but intensely, whispered, "My God! ... Beautiful, absolutely beautiful!," then leaned forward to plan a tender, loving kiss right at the top of my hairline.
My body betrayed me! One of Tim 's fingers, as he kissed the rising curve of my tummy, slid quickly through my outer lips, and the vast quantity of fluids there confirmed to him my excitement. Worse, my body wanted to spread itself and let him kiss me between those lips, something he'd unabashedly expressed a deep desire to do. My mind was afraid, but my body wouldn't obey my persistent orders to break way, run to the bathroom and hide!
But I managed to stop him with a pleading, " Tim .. please?"
His look up into my contorted face told him all that, I guess, because he DID stop, to stand up and kiss me again, a frantic, wanting kiss on both our parts, our tongues saying things our minds couldn't verbalize.
At last, Tim started to break away but, in doing so, he looked into my eyes, stared for a second, then softly said, "I can’t leave you like this ... it isn't fair." Before I could even think of questioning that cryptic comment, his hands moved me to the bed, pressed me back down on it and he lay down beside me, his hand going between my thighs.
I didn't -- couldn't -- resist.
Oh, my God, how GOOD his fingers felt! They slid through my slit, then settled on my clitty and the tender nerves around it, deftly pressing, rolling, vibrating .. thrilling! My naked hips rolled in response as our tongues and mouths locked together, but my legs (to my secret amazement/almost-shame) stayed wide apart so as not to impede his probing.
It was so GOOD!
And then it got even better! I almost screamed in joy as one of his fingers slid into my vagina, stretching it, rubbing the inner walls, while another, doubled finger still managed to hit my clit!
I went crazy, moaning, throwing my love-hump unashamedly up to meet his constantly re-entering finger ... faster ... ever faster ... "Oh..oh .. Tim! .. Oh .. OOH ... OOHHH .. oh MY GOD!!!" I screamed as I came and came in one of the most beautiful climaxes I've ever had in my life, my knees splayed outward and my tender lovenest rejoicing!
A few minutes later, as I neared recovery, Tim -- in obvious-but-controlled (and almost melancholy) excitement -- kissed me again on the mouth, planted one more quick kiss at the top of my exposed triangle, and said, "You .. you'd better get dressed now .. before this goes any farther." Then he got up and left the room, and I did as he'd told me, with a vague feeling of regret ... but a great deal of satisfaction .. and a world of love!
My subconscious mind, tired of watching the "surface me" messing around and wasting precious time(summer was almost over and it would soon be time to get ready for classes again; circumstances being what they were, that was going to eliminate any physical fun and games for the foreseeable future) took over. I let my conscious mind play its silly, self-deceiving games while, simultaneously, setting the stage for the next step in our physical relationship.
Three couples sit in the darkened roam as the film projector starts whirring, and numbers flash on the screen, to be replaced by a close-up of what, after a moment, everyone realizes is Jill's face.
The reason it's difficult recognizing her for a moment is because she's wearing her glasses, but absolutely no makeup, and her pale, lovely face is surrounded by .. something strange. She’s looking upward, a pleading look and hesitantly moving lips making it clear she's asking someone for something.
The camera pulls back slowly; it's only when it does that the audience realizes that Jill is wearing a classic nun's outfit; that weird item framing her face a wimple, the starched headcovering that conceals all of the head and neck except the face.
She seems to be praying.
The camera angle reverses and we see our 'nun" from the back and soon confirms our guess that the uniform she’s wearing is, indeed, the fully traditional, floor-length one. We can see, as the camera slowly zooms back, that she's in a small, spartan room, just a chair (that she’s using to rest her elbows on), a small crucifix on the wall, a metal bunk against the wall to the right.
Suddenly, both the picture and Jill jump as, seemingly by magic, three gold-foil-wrapped packages miraculously appear on the foot of the bunk. Thanks to a judicious piece of lighting, the packages seen to glow in the otherwise-drab room. Apparently, a noise accompanies their appearance, because Jill 's head swivels towards them . . and a look of surprise and some fear crosses her face.
Nonetheless, she gets up and, carefully, approaches the pile of packages, sitting down next to them on the bed before reaching over to hesitantly pick up the closest one and tremblingly remove the wrappings. She peers inside the box before reaching in and picking out a mirror and same assorted makeup. A quick glance toward the wall with the crucifix and, hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence, she begins making up her face, changes of camera angles allowing her to get rid of the glasses and put in her contact lens, not to mention accelerating the process of seeing her transform her face into the face of the Jill that all of us in the roam know and love (as often as possible, which is often, indeed!).
Package Two -- after Jill has admired her face in the hand mirror with obvious approval -- presents to her a pair of 4-inch high heels. We watch her take off her black "sensible” oxfords and replace them with the pretty heels, then get up to try, unsteadily, to walk the length of the room and back, at last sitting down to open the final package.
Inside of it . . . a large, black vibrator with a gold stripe and base, an exciting machine that Jill strokes in what seems like awe -- suddenly stopping, looking questioningly up at the crucifix for a moment before, obviously reaching a decision, she brushes the rest of the wrappings onto the floor, laying back on the bed with her heel-shod feet toward the wall with the cross on it.