Margaret Agrees to be Watched

Two heads nodded excitedly.

"Okay then, I'm prepared to go this far. You can watch me Paul, while James gets me off with his fingers. I don't mind if you touch my breasts, or anywhere apart from the vicinity of my pussy, and you can make yourself come if you want to. But as soon that's over you must leave. I desperately need a penis inside me, but it's my husband's I want. Have we got a deal?"

I never really got to hear an answer as James smothered my mouth with a kiss and pulled me down onto the lamb's wool rug in front of the fireplace. He laid me on my back, parted my legs and gently began running his fingertips over the outer lips of my vulva. Paul sat down on the other side holding my hand and gazing into my face, watching my eyes open and close, and my mouth emit soft, loving sighs as my husband started to build my arousal with his beautiful fingers. I could feel him sliding them alongside my slippery wet inner lips, teasing them apart, massaging them between his thumb and forefinger, gently stretching first one then the other. And opening me up to expose the fresh, pink, nectar filled rose, framed by its delicate, butterfly wings. Delicious little ripples were running through my pelvis, my juices were brimming and trickling down my perineum.

I spread my legs wider, inviting Paul to look deep into my sex and watch the fingers open me up to his burning gaze. I Paul's eyes widen with lust as he watched James teasing open my labia and probing deeply within me, and I pulled his hand across and cupped it over my breast, moaning as he caressed my nipples into aching hardness.

They could have done whatever they wanted to me, all I wanted was to feel their touch go on forever, to float slowly upwards until all sense and reason was lost in the joy of release.

I gasped as James's fingers probed the depths of my sex, causing a wave of my juices to overflow from my vagina, and my hips to involuntarily rise to meet them. I felt him reach deep within me, his fingers probing my cervix, then hooking upwards, massaging the wall of my vagina, seeking out the magic spot behind the pubic bone. His other hand was tracing its way over and around my vulva, which were slippery with my wetness, coming closer, little by little, to my clitoris.

I felt my face and breasts flush and I was breathing heavily and moaning softly. Paul's fingers were pinching my nipples, the slight pain a welcome distraction to prolong the pleasure that was building up inside me like a tidal wave.

The fingers inside me had centred over my g spot, massaging and pressing against it and making me feel as if I wanted to pee. And at the same time the fingers outside me had found my clit, their tips circling it, gliding across it, the rhythm building the wave, drawing me deep within it where all I could feel was the pleasure of my lover's fingers.

My moaning was continuous now, my mouth open, groaning, hungry for fulfilment. There was no more shame, only an overpowering need for the climax that I was being worked towards. Even the smell of our dirty unwashed bodies drove me higher.

Then the first of the wavelets began to ripple through my pelvis and I was losing control and sliding up the face of the wave. My eyes were screwed tightly shut, I was shouting with pleasure as the fingers detonated an explosion in my clitoris, sending sparks pulsating through my vagina and then the waves crashed over and over, and I was screaming and bucking, thrashing my head from side to side, calling on God and heaven, grabbing the fingers inside me with my thighs, wanting it to go on and on forever.

The crest passed in an orgasmic fury of sweat, tears and fluid spurting from between my legs, leaving me utterly drained and yet still floating. Knowing that another wave was there for the taking.

I opened my eyes and smiled up at James and Paul who were both grinning at me in wonder.

"Come for me Paul," I whispered.

He reached down and took his rigid cock in his hand. I could see the swollen, red glans between his fingers, already glistening with pre cum. Paul held my gaze as he stroked himself with his hand. Faster and faster he jerked it up and down his shaft, his face flushed and his breathing tortured. He didn't last long. I watched as his balls started to retract and his head tilted back.

"Come on me," I breathed, wondering if James would say anything.

He didn't, his smiling eyes watched brimful of lust as Paul's mouth gaped in primeval grunts and he baptised my breasts with his hot seed.

Paul must have dressed and let himself out while James fell upon me and devoured me. I could write that he made love to me. But that would not do justice to the passion and urgency with which he took me, not even stopping to wipe Paul's sperm off my breasts, just trapping it between our bodies where it mingled with our sweat and added to the lust fuelled, stink of our rutting.

Afterwards we talked. I won't go into all of that now, other than to say that I admitted to James that, despite my initial misgivings, I had loved the whole experience. If someone had told me a year ago that I would enjoy exposing myself in front of total stranger, having him watch me brought to orgasm and then ejaculating onto my breasts, I would said they were mad. Now I was just so glad that I had persuaded James to open up about his fantasies, but also a little bit worried about how easily I had managed to tear away so many ingrained inhibitions. I had wanted to rejuvenate our sex life, and I had certainly succeeded. I was also pretty sure that Paul had not seen the last of me.