NewU Pt. 08

Kneeling for me. My every whim and command was honored and obeyed with an almost religious reverence. Her total submission, gifting herself to me willingly.

Suddenly, we weren't alone in her fantasies. She wanted me to watch more than her pleasure herself. The slow grinding circles pressed harder and deeper as visions formed in her imagination. Her and Philippa, laying together, one on top of the other, faces buried between each other's damp thighs, tasting each other... that was as much a memory as a fantasy, but she wanted to see the look on my face as I watched. The two of them sitting, facing each other, their legs spread and entwined, their pussies pressed together and grinding as they scissored, both of their eyes flicking between each other and me. The feeling of Philippa's hand on the back of her head, pressing harder, as it had done countless times in the past, but not pushing her deeper into her sex, but deeper onto my cock.

Her watching. Watching Philippa with me, watching the two girls from the club share me, sometimes joining, sometimes watching, but always knowing that it was her who I would come back to, her I would finish the night with, her who would fall asleep in my arms.

She remembered the words that her friend, her housemate, and her lover had whispered into her ear during her late-night visits. "You are my toy!" There was a comfort to that, a yearning to be possessed and used as a woman. To be seen as a sexual being. Phillipa understood that and before last night, their times together had been some of the most sexually gratifying experiences of her life. Becky didn't know how much of Philippa's sentiments were spoken from the heart, and how much was said in the panted heat of the moment, but with her interest in Jimmy growing, and Becky's craving for me matching, if not surpassing that, Philippa seemed to have passed the mantle. A mantle I had picked up and claimed with the collar around her neck. Becky wanted to share her new lover with the old, but not today. Today was about us, about discovery, she wanted to see exactly what she could do to me before my self-control collapsed and I took her with the frantic, urgent need she craved so badly.

She wanted to be fucked. She wanted to be thrown up against the shower wall and taken, but she wanted me to do it because I had been driven to it. She wanted to see that primal, carnal hunger glinting in my eyes, hear the growled bass of my throat, and feel my granite-hard arousal plunge into her with the full knowledge that this was the effect she had on me. Little old Becky, quiet, unassuming, barely noticeable to the outside world for most of her life, had driven a man - a real man - to need her so badly that he couldn't contain himself any longer.

My new favorite sound was replaced almost immediately by the deep, guttural moan as her hand dropped, her palm pressed into her clit, catching it before the hood had a chance to retract, and grinding the ball of her hand into it as two fingers plunged deep inside her.

It was strange; I'd had over a month to get used to it, but another consciousness suddenly snapping into my awareness still sometimes took me by surprise. I had commanded my internal editing station to filter my awareness so that I could only hear only thoughts that were directly related to me. Until this point, Philippa's mind had been elsewhere and was silent, invisible, as it had been for all of the previous night. I could have accessed it if I wanted to, I just didn't have reason to, so I hadn't. But Becky's loud and passionate moan drew her attention to us in an instant.

And it turned her on beyond measure.

But there was something else burning beneath the surface; a loss, an anguish, an aching pain that - in hindsight - I should have paid more attention to. But in an instant, her thoughts snapped to me, or, more specifically, to us. Another loud moan from my blonde bombshell as her fingers curled up and pressed into her G spot shot a jolt of arousal through her brunette friend.

"He's fucking her!" Her voice echoed silently through my ears, providing an almost perfect - albeit inaccurate - soundtrack to the visions coming from Becky "I wonder how he is taking her. Is it his fingers? His tongue? She told me how big his cock is, and it certainly didn't feel like she was exaggerating when I felt it in the taxi. I wonder if he is stretching her around him right now. God, I want that! I want him! I want to make my little toy taste me off her lover's dick."

I could almost feel her thighs pressing together as she held her breath to listen to us, but each new throb of voyeuristic excitement was tempered by that dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Half of her mind was consumed with the increasingly loud moans coming from Becky, the rest of her was fighting a battle. Trying desperately to take her mind off... something... to think of anything other than that. To fight back the desire to curl herself into a ball and let the earth swallow her whole. The last part of her mind was a whirlwind of anguish, the hollow pang of.... Regret? No, not regret, something deeper.

Shame, embarrassment.... Rejection.

Rejection?!? Jimmy, I don't know how you've managed to fuck this up, but...

As soon as his name came into my head, I knew something was wrong. He was gone, he had been gone for hours. Philippa's efforts to think of anything other than what had happened and - if I am being honest - my own ridiculous levels of arousal wouldn't let me see exactly what had transpired. But even the most cursory cast of my mind into the rest of the house told me he wasn't here. Mile after mile, my mind stretched, searching, all of it happening in a blink of an eye until I found him. Sleeping in his own bed, in his own apartment, and entirely unalone.

I didn't even try to justify my anger at him by finding out who he was with. That was a fight for later. Right now, Philippa was suffering for his actions and was in the other room, listening, squirming, and grinding herself onto the bed, fighting that internal battle between unchecked and naked desire, and the fear of being rejected again. Becky was more than her plaything, more than her toy. She was a lover, one she knew she could go to, but she was with me. They had known each other for years but Philippa had never seen Becky so enraptured by a man.

But that was fine, though, right? Becky had me - there was almost an unspoken understanding that Philippa would be joining us occasionally - and she had Jimmy.... "Had"... the swell of embarrassment and pain rose up inside her again at just the thought of him. The disparity in the two nurses' luck threatened to overwhelm her; she had freely and willingly given up Becky to someone else, hell, she had encouraged it. There had been something about Jimmy she thought she could trust, something she thought she could love, just like there was in me. But in one sentence, in only a few short moments, he had shattered the illusion and robbed her of the one thing she prided herself on most; her confidence.

"I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me. I just can't do this to...." No! Fuck him! She wasn't going to do this to herself. She was gonna sit here and listen, listen to the sounds of her lover getting fucked only a few feet away. Another moan vibrated through the walls, higher-pitched and hungry... "I've heard that moan before, he's teasing her." She was going to tuck her hand into her suddenly sodden panties and imagine it was her, imagine she was with us, joining in, wanted, desired, safe... she was going to forget about Jimmy, forget about that hollowness in her stomach as she was going to listen... imagining.

"Although...." Suddenly, her words from the hospital echoed through her mind and into mine.

"Has she told you about her fantasy of watching her man fuck her friends yet?.... Well, make sure you keep me in mind!"

She licked her lips, pondering the thought. Her mind, like Becky's, flooded mine with images of imagined passions yet to come. I had never paid much attention to Philippa's erotic nature before that point, mainly because the focus of her amorous intent had been Jimmy. But as the possibilities of her circumstance dawned on her, the object of her desires switched to me. They became impossible to ignore.

A vision of Philippa and Becky on their knees before me, one mouth on my throbbing manhood, the other tending to my full and heavy balls, working for a while before trading places. Battling in a silent, unspoken, yet playful competition to see who could take me the deepest.

The sharing of my seed; it almost wouldn't matter whose mouth was on me when I erupted, the load would be taken, savored, and then shared. The hot, thick cream passed between the two lover's mouths as their lips pressed into each other, their tongues taking and giving the precious taste back and forth. It had been a while since she had tasted a man, but Philippa had made Becky bring herself to a shattering orgasm while her blonde lover had recounted the tale of her swallowing me in the hospital. Phillippa had watched as Becky panted and moaned out the words, she had listened, she had made sure that Becky hadn't seen the whites of her knuckles as she grasped the chair, or the squirm of her thighs as her sex flooded, she had teased her toy, her lover, into spilling every sordid detail, and then she had retired to her room and fingered herself to her own blinding high. Yes, it had been a while, but she was determined to not let that dry spell last much longer. She was going to taste me, swallow me, consume my essence. If Jimmy didn't want to be the one who....

And there it was again, his name; the surge of shame and the sinking hollowness of rejection that now seemed to come with it overtook and tempered the erotic fantasies that were playing in her mind. "Fuck!" she spat silently, shaking her head loose. The visions were gone and her ears desperately searched the air for the sounds that had birthed them in the first place. Becky didn't make her wait long.

Becky's fingers pressed hard into her core. No longer still, she started driving them in and out of herself, the wet slaps of her palm lightly spanking her clit, and the sloshing wetness of her fingers thrusting in and out of herself were only drowned out by the deep, loud, and guttural groan as her other hand tugged hard on one stiffened nipple. The groan vibrated through every fiber of her, it vibrated through the core of me, it vibrated through the walls and it vibrated powerfully through Phillipa's clit. Becky's wasn't the only moan that suddenly rang through my ears.

More visions filled my mind, I couldn't even tell who they were coming from at this point. The things Philippa could have done to me in the back of the taxi, the things she should have done, more than just trace the outline of my cock through my jeans. The vision shifted, I was on my back on a bed, one of them riding me enthusiastically, my hands on her bouncing breasts as she leaned backward, her hands supporting her weight on my thighs. The other sat on my face, grinding into my working tongue, the stubble on my cheeks tickling and teasing her lips and she ground into my mouth. Taking her pleasure from me as she leaned forward and ran her experienced fingers over the clit of her riding lover. More stimulation, more contact, more pleasure.

Two simultaneous moans echoed through my ears, one significantly less muffled than the other, as the vision changed again. Becky in the recliner in her room, naked. Her legs parted, her lips swollen and puffy, her wetness glistening in the dim light of her lamps, but not touching, resisting that almost irresistible urge to press her fingers into her center. Philippa on all fours on the bed in front of her, face to face, their eyes locked together. Well, as locked together as Philippa's faltering focus could manage as I pounded into her from behind. The loud spanks, the grip in her hair, the forced eye contact, the driving thrusts into her sodden sex as I took Philippa in the exact way that Becky craved for herself. Both of them teasing and being teased by the other as they watched their mutual arousal.

Becky shattered.

Her eyes were fixed on my groin as my hand worked slowly up and down my length, I didn't even realize it had moved. It may not have been the frantic thrown-to-the-wall fucking she had wanted, but she was quickly learning that my self-control was not something to underestimate. So watching my hand move idly, but determinedly, to my hardness, grasp it, squeeze it hard and start to slowly stroke had been a victory of mind-blowing and orgasm-inducing proportions.

The colors and lights behind her eyes exploded! Every shade of the rainbow swirled together, resonating and spreading from her core to fill every fiber of her being. From the follicles of the hair on her scalp to the tips of her toes as they curled into the hard, tiled floor, all of her was consumed by the light of her high. For the briefest of moments, she stopped being Becky, she stopped even being human, she was only pleasure. She'd had barely enough time to register the building of her wave before it crested and washed her conscious thought away into the boundless depths of her orgasm, Fireworks went off behind her eyes as more elaborate ones detonated in her mind. A controlled explosion that robbed her of breath, robbed her of thought, and left only the throbbing of her sex and pounding of her heart behind. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Her head had pressed back against the tiled wall, her eyes still fixed on my hand as her sex continued to clamp around her driving fingers. Even through the haze and fog of her climax, she didn't stop; even as her legs trembled and her knees threatened to buckle underneath her. Even as her lips parted and her throaty, vibrating moan raised in pitch and power to an almost animalistic cry. Even as the rush of fluids coated her fingers and the power of her contractions gripped her and demanded that she press in deep and hold steady, to feel full. She rode herself through her high, just as Philippa had taught her, her eyes never breaking from me. Considering the vortex of mind-consuming pleasure in her mind, the fact that she managed to do any of this was - frankly - astounding.

The visions in my head were gone, there was only that cry, only those quaking and hitched breaths, only the pants and whimpered moans, only those deep and hungry, startling blue eyes. Only that... and movement.

"I need to see. I need to see them... I just... Need!" Philippa's disembodied voice whispered tentatively to itself as I felt her presence cautiously stand from her bed, step out of her room, naked and nervous, and down the corridor towards the bathroom. It was like I could feel the location of her mind as she moved. But still, that fear was there. He had left, he hadn't wanted her, she had been standing in front of him wearing only a white lace thong and a seductive smile when his gaze had faltered and his eyes had moved away. What if he was lying? What if it wasn't him, what if it was her? What if she had only ever attracted the bad boys and the players because the decent guys could never want her? What if Becky was grateful to be free of her? What if she had misread the hungry look in my eyes at her flirting as little more than polite tolerance?

Her footfalls hesitated in the hallway outside the door. I could feel the hesitancy in her hand as it reached for the doorknob, it hanging in the hair as the battle raged in her mind. Even despite the thrumming post-orgasmic glow coming from the panting and whimpering Becky, my focus was consumed by the conflict and the pain in Philippa's chest. My heart bled for her, but there was such a simple solution. She needed to feel wanted, she needed to feel desired, she needed to have that sense of rejection taken out of her mind, thrown against a wall and shot. And just on the other side of the door from where she stood now were two people able to give her that.

"Go in." My voice seemed to echo through her mind before I even consciously realized I had sent it, moreover, I had no idea how I had sent it. I just knew what she needed to hear, what I needed to say, and how to make her hear it. "You are wanted, you are welcome, and always will be. He will make you happy. It will all be okay."

It would be a while before those words came back to haunt me.

Time seemed to slow down for a moment. It was like my heightened sense of awareness was processing information from multiple sources at the same time and my perception of the passage of time had slowed to allow it. Becky's eyes flicked up from my still moving hand to my eyes. Her deep, endlessly blue eyes fixed on mine with a new seductive glint, her lips curling into a hungry smirk as she pulled herself off the wall. At the same time, Philippa's fingers curled around the doorknob, turning it slowly and tentatively before pushing the door open just a crack.

She couldn't see me from her vantage point as the door inched open and her molten, hungry brown eyes peered into the room, but she could see Becky. The white light of anticipation and excitement exploded in her mind as she took in her naked form, watching her sashay seductively through the stream of water, her eyes fixed - presumably - on me. "So they weren't fucking... she must have been... Ohhh.. good girl". The white lights glowed bright, but behind it, that deep, dark red, almost Maroon-colored throb of pain and fear of rejection tinged in the background. The door swung open a little more and she took her first nervous step inside.

The movement out of the corner of her eye caught Becky's attention, the two girl's eyes meeting, the hunger in both faltering for a second. Becky's mind reeled, not for Philippa's presence, they had shared countless showers together and it wasn't uncommon for her to invite herself to join Becky, in fact, the blonde had loved those lazy, early morning romps under the steaming water. But Philippa had to have known that she wouldn't be alone this morning... and that could only mean one thing. The question of Jimmy's whereabouts didn't enter her mind.

Becky hesitated. The idea of sharing me with her brunette lover turned her on more than words could say, but not now. This was special, it was supposed to just be us, Philippa would be invited and she would probably be invited regularly if Becky had any choice in the matter, but she should also know when she wasn't. Okay, technically our first time together, when it really mattered that we were alone, had been the night before, but her mind didn't work that way. This morning was an extension of last night. It was a single, long event and Philippa was interrupting it. A flash of green annoyance pulsed behind her eyes. And Philippa saw it on her face.

That maroon throb of fear in Philippa's consciousness exploded, engulfing her mind in a heartbeat. She froze; halfway through the door, one foot in the bathroom, one foot out, a perfect analogy for the trepidation and excitement that threatened to overwhelm her. She was being rejected again, she could see it in Becky's eyes, she shouldn't have come, she didn't need to see the look in mine to imagine the same expression. That momentary flicker of shock on the blonde's face, the drop of her eyebrows, the frown, she wasn't welcome, she wasn't wanted... again. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach and the space where it used to be threatened to cave in on itself.

I didn't question the 'how' of it. I had stopped questioning that a while ago, it would be something to discuss with Jeeves, or learn about with Charlotte at a later date, but once again, my mind reached out. This time to Becky.