No Turning Back

I was really beginning to like them as friends, and not just playmates, as she bared her soul. They were so honest and direct and unashamed of their sexual practices. It allowed me to act out my fantasies in the company of a non-judgmental couple. I was also a bit fuzzy from the wine.

I was staring at Mirabelle as she talked. The super short plaid skirt left little to the imagination. I could see the tops of her thighs. Even though she was short, her legs were well proportioned. I could see a demi-bra pushing up her already full rounded breasts, which made them ready to burst out of her tight fitting blouse. She was chatting with me while holding a glass of wine. She was finishing her third glass and it didn't appear to have an effect on her at all. She was babbling on and I couldn't help staring at her breasts.

Now mind you I'm not really into women, but in the heat of the moment at the club it felt right to me. Having her eat my pussy was the highlight of the evening. She looked sexy, and those feelings I had at the club were resurfacing. The wine didn't hurt.

She stopped mid-sentence, noticing that my mind appeared to be elsewhere. "You want me now," she observed correctly.

I gave her a sheepish smile.

"You horny little slut." She waved her index finger at me as if I was a bad girl. I didn't know what overcame me to feel as I did and to admit to her that I wanted to have sex with her.

"They'll be time for playtime. Carlo has it almost set up. I can hear him coming up the stairs."

Sure enough, moments later he came into the room in a full sweat. His shirt was soaked and I so wanted to lick the sweat off his body. He looked that good.

"Thanks for waiting ladies. I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. Meet you down there in fifteen?"

He left before he heard an answer.

"He's gorgeous," I admitted when he was gone. I wouldn't normally talk to another woman about her husband like that but this was no ordinary woman I was talking to.

"I know," she said. "Look, I almost fainted when I saw him the first time. I was expecting a man that had a very severe disposition and appearance. I didn't expect him to look like a Roman god. And I didn't expect that when he was 'off the clock' (she used her hands to gesture) that he was an absolutely charming individual. You're not the first person to tell me that."

I still couldn't believe that I would be having sex with these two people in a very short period of time. Mirabelle cut short my concentration on what was to come.

"We'll be going downstairs in a few minutes. I wanted to tell you a bit about what's going to happen -- not everything -- but enough to get you into your role. Carlo and I like to take turns with what kind of scene we're going to be in. It was Carlo's turn this time, and he decided to do the 'naughty schoolgirl' scene. He thinks it could be a lot of fun."

"So I'm a naughty schoolgirl?" This did sound like fun.

"Uh huh. Just go with it."

We waited the requisite fifteen minutes. She got up and walked to the stairway leading to the basement. I followed, getting to watch her cute bottom sway as she negotiated the stairs in her heels. I was careful as well, still being a bit buzzed, though the chunky heels on my Mary Janes made it a lot easier. At the bottom of the stairs was a closed door. My heart started racing. I'd heard about homemade dungeons, and wondered what kind of devices of pain might be waiting for me.

Mirabelle opened the door and flicked on the lights. I was staring at a classroom, complete with student desks, a much larger desk for the teacher, and a blackboard. Carlo even added a few touches to complete the illusion that we were back in high school. I was surprised and frankly relieved to see that it wasn't some sort of torture chamber.

Mirabelle was as excited as me. She seemed like she was slipping into the scene already.

"Let's check out the girl's bathroom," she said.

There was a separate bathroom in the back of the large, windowless room. She opened the door for me, and I entered the oversized restroom, seeing only a toilet and sink and a lot of empty space that was probably used for storage. As soon as Mirabelle was in the room she pushed me so my back was against the wall and pressed her lips against mine. I heard the door close as she kicked it shut.

I was surprised at the unexpected kiss and at first kept my lips pursed shut, but her hand easily slipped under my short skirt and found my dampened panties. She rubbed her hand against my mound and the wonderful feeling caused me to close my eyes and part my lips.

It was my first real kiss with a woman, and it was infinitely better than any kiss I'd had with my ex, or any other man for that matter. Her tongue darted in to find mine, and soon I was dizzy with lust. Her hand went under the elastic band of my panties and found the source of the wetness, her fingers dancing on my clit.

"Oh ... God ... Mirabelle," I was able to moan as she penetrated me with two fingers. The alcohol and the sensuality of the moment made me forget where I was. I could only think about her, having her way with me.

The magic of the moment was broken when the door was flung open by an angry man.

"What the fuck are you girls doing?" Carlo was dressed like a high school teacher, completing his look with a well-worn plaid sport coat. There was rage in his eyes, and I immediately shrunk against the wall. Mirabelle was now next to me, looking as scared as I was.

"Well?" he demanded.

I was speechless. His sudden appearance caught me off guard, but I suppose this was the beginning of the scene.

"I'm sorry," Mirabelle squeaked, in a slightly higher pitch than her normal voice.

"You're damned right you're going to be sorry." Carlo was convincingly mad. I was still cowering.

"I have you girls here for detention for talking in class, and this is what you're doing when you go to the bathroom together?"

Carlo directed his piercing eyes towards me and put his hand under my chin.

"Well Karen? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I ... I don't know," I stammered. He was good. The nice Carlo was left upstairs.

"Both of you girls are going to be punished. Get back to your desks." As we left the restroom he gave us each a swat on our bottoms.

I had no idea where my assigned seat was and sat in the front row of the four student desks that were set up. Mirabelle sat next to me.

Carlo stood next to the teacher's desk, tapping his palm with a wooden ruler.

"Mirabelle?"

"Yes Sir?" she said innocently.

"Come up here."

She slunk up there, her head down.

"Put your hands on my desk and accept your punishment."

"No Sir," she said, practically shivering.

"Do you want me to fail you in Physics? Do you want to explain to your parents why you won't be graduating on time?"

He let his threat sink in. Mirabelle reluctantly placed her palms of her hands flat on the desk. Her shapely bottom was sticking out.

Carlo flipped up the short skirt so it was resting on her back. Her panties were fully exposed. He snapped them down to her ankles in a single motion. He bent over to take them off over her high heels and then flung them over to me. I caught them, but not knowing what to do with them.

"Are they wet?" he asked. I'm sure he knew they were, but wanted me to say it. I touched the gusset. It had soaked through.

"Yes, they're wet," I confirmed.

"Your friend here is a little slut. She's going to receive her punishment now. You're next."

It was a threat that made me shiver. He drew back the wooden ruler and took aim at his wife's delectable bottom.

"Thwack!" The snap of the ruler made me wince, watching Mirabelle bite her lip. A bright red mark appeared on her backside.

"That's for dressing like a slut to my classroom."

Another slap of wood against flesh. A faint moan escaped from her lips.

"That's for kissing your friend during detention."

Her legs are now quivering. I can see her standing unsteady on her heels and a tear trickling down her cheek.

His mouth was inches from her ear. He was an imposing presence, hovering over his whimpering wife. "You like this don't you? You're a little slut and you like to be punished."

She protested. "No Sir. I'm not a slut ... and I don't like being punished," she choked out between tears.

He stood behind her, roughly grinding the palm of his hand against her sex.

"Ohhh!" Mirabelle gasped, her knees giving way.

Carlo smeared the moisture on his hand against her nose and mouth. "Then tell me why you're so wet. You want me to fuck you with my fingers, don't you?"

"No ... no," she protested weakly.

He took his index and middle fingers, long and thick, and rammed them inside her, lifting her back to a standing position while he churned them inside her.

"No ... oh ... God ... what ... I ... ," she babbled incoherently as her voice became more high pitched and her breathing was reduced to gasps.

"Take it ... slut ... you know you like this." His fingers became a blur, and there was a frothy white foam between her legs.

"Huh ... huh ... huh ..." she uttered as her eyes closed. My hand had wandered inside the waistband of my panties, stroking myself as I watched their erotic dance.

Her body went limp on top of the desk. He suddenly turned to me.

"What are you doing?" He clearly saw me playing with myself while I was watching them. His eyes glowed. My knees turned to jelly.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. It will just make things worse."

"I was ... I was touching myself."

"You're a little slut, just like your friend here. Isn't that right?"

"No ... no ... I'm not a slut ... I'm a good girl." My protestations weren't any better than Mirabelle's.

"Really?" He took a step towards me. I took a step back.

"Yes ... yes ... my mother raised a good girl."

"Does your mother know that you like to kiss girls in the bathroom?"

"No."

"Does your mother know that you were playing with yourself in the classroom?"

"No."

"Well clearly your mother doesn't know who you really are. I do. You're a slut."

"No ...".

"And I'll prove it."

He held the hand that was moments ago in his wife's snatch in front of my nose. The foamy remnants of her orgasm were still clinging to his fingers. The heady aroma made me feel as if I was going to swoon.

"Lick it."

"No ...".

He used his fingers to smear the pungent discharge against my lips. I instinctively parted my lips, allowing him to put both fingers inside my mouth. I closed my lips around them and sucked off the creamy treat.

"See? That's wasn't so hard. Only a slut would lick Mirabelle's pussy juice off my fingers."

He looked at me and I responded by lowering my eyes to the ground. My action said volumes about my silent assent.

"Mirabelle!" he barked.

His wife stirred from the desk and got to her feet, still unsteady. "Yes Sir?"

"Get me ready."

Obediently, she got on her knees and lowered his pants and shorts to the ground. His cock sprung free. He was aroused as well. The head of his cock was already an angry purple and the veins pulsed in the shaft. Her petite hand gripped the base of his cock, the fingers not able to fully encircle it. She pumped it a few times, and then opened her mouth as wide as she could, sliding it in until it hit the back of her throat.

His fingers intertwined with her silky reddish hair, his hands moving in time with the motion of her head. When he was satisfied, he pushed her away, standing in front of me with his prodigious tool bobbing and oozing precum.

"Which will it be Karen? The ruler? Or do you want to take my cock?"

I wasn't into pain, but I also didn't think I could accommodate his cock. He was much better endowed than my ex, and I was afraid he'd split me wide open. But would he? Or would it be the best sex of my life?

"I'm waiting Karen, and I don't like to wait."

I had to make a snap decision. "Your cock, Sir."

A smile curled up on his lips. "Put your hands on the desk."

I turned away from him and put my hand on the desk. My body was buzzing with excitement. The alcohol haze hadn't quite burned off. I felt more tender hands pull apart the cheeks of my ass and then a tongue, no doubt Mirabelle's, tasting me.

Her tongue was velvety soft wetness, exploring the folds of my pussy and ass. I closed my eyes and let it just happen -- to let her, and then him, have their way with me. My surrender was more than a passive act, it was a conscious choice to become a submissive, like Mirabelle. To surrender control to Carlo.

It was so liberating. To not have to think, or to worry, or to obsess. Just to feel. And in that moment my feelings were only joy and pleasure. Mirabelle had undoubtedly pleasured many women before me, and her skillful loving brought me to the brink of orgasm over and over. Her pleasurable torture made me start begging her, but I knew no release would be granted until Carlo gave me permission, and during my coupling with his wife he was a silent spectator.

Then suddenly she stopped, and there was a profound sense of emptiness as she withdrew her lips and tongue. Bent over the teacher's desk, my legs had little strength in them, but the wetness between them was a prelude to the next act.

Carlo allowed me to languish there, alone with my thoughts of the girth of his cock and the feeling of fullness and satisfaction it would bring to me. I could sense his presence behind me ... waiting ... but for what?

Then it occurred to me. He wanted me to ask him ... to beg him ... that this was part of their perverse seduction. I was more than ready.

"Please?" I asked, tentatively at first, and then more forcefully.

I was answered with silence. My need was ever growing.

"Please Sir," I asked again.

"Please what?" he finally asked me.

These were words not easily said. But they were the only ones he wanted to hear.

"Please fuck me, Sir."

"Are you sure?" he asked, clearly teasing me.

"Yes, Sir. Very sure."

"Very well," he said. "But don't cum until ..."

And mid-sentence the head of his cock penetrated me, stretching my pussy to the point all of the air escaped my lungs in a prolonged gasp.

"You're ... so ... big ... Sir," I managed to say, the pain promising pleasure.

I heard him chuckle softly, then slip more of himself inside me.

Even though I was wet, the tight fit stopped his progress.

I braced myself for a renewed assault. Instead, he withdrew.

"Clean me slut," he said, speaking to his wife. I heard slurping and licking noises as his wife tasted me again and added her spittle as lubrication. She gave me a playful lick before positioning the head of her husband's cock to enter me once again.

This time, the passage more open to him, he thrust hard, impaling himself into me, his curly black pubic hair crushed against me. I tried to reposition my feet to get more comfortable, but by wriggling my hips I succeeded in only allowing him to push harder against my cervix. I was panting heavily, wondering if I would be rewarded for this discomfort.

He bent over, so while he was inside me his chest was pressed against my back. His hot breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "Now, my pet ...".

Then, like a runaway freight train, an orgasm bubbled up inside me and exploded. I squeezed my eyes shut as he, with each thrust, pushed me higher and higher into rarified air, the sensations turning to swirls of color as well as crackling electricity inside me. I was delirious with pleasure.

"Sir ... more ... more ..." I begged, not wanting to retreat from this plateau.

"Patience my pet," he said in a reassuring tone. He slowed, and allowed me to drift to the surface, before starting once again, lifting me higher until the explosion happened once again, but this time joined by him, as he stilled while my hips were still gyrating. He grunted once, before withdrawing, and I felt a trickle of him cum meander down the inside of my thigh.

Moments later, Mirabelle's tongue reappeared, this time to claim her Master's cum. The loving caresses with her tongue explored every crevice inside me, seeking her sticky reward. I had no energy to resist, nor did I want to. It was an act that to you might seem wickedly depraved, but to me it was yet another way that this couple demonstrated their way of showing affection for one another, and for me.

I couldn't believe I was capable of doing, or being a part of such acts that I might have regarded as lewd or lascivious. Being with Carlo and Mirabelle allowed a reclusive, conservative female, to be drawn into a world, that for her, had always been hiding in the shadows. I no longer had any interest in my old lifestyle, finding mindless entertainment to fill up my free time. There was too much here to ever turn back.

Mirabelle was sitting next to me, having finished her wicked "chore," and was using her finger to draw lazy circles around one of my nipples. Carlo was on the other side of me, running his finger between the lips of my pussy and around the brown, crinkled skin of my anus.

"We're obviously smitten with you Karen," Carlo said, with Mirabelle nodding. "We'd like to see more of you. Would you be interested?"

There wasn't anything I wanted more at that time. I said yes, and kissed each of them on the cheek.

Carlo continued, "You can see we have an open marriage and no jealousy between us. We want to see how this relationship evolves. Maybe there's something here. There certainly was today."

I used my hand and gave his cock a few pumps, rubbing the cum seeping out of the head onto my lips.

"Today isn't over," I told them, and then ran my lips down the underside of his pulsing cock, relishing my role as a submissive whore.

* * *

My relationship with Carlo and Mirabelle taught me something important about myself. My sexuality was nonnegotiable. I was entitled to my feelings and to express them as I saw fit.

I also learned that sex is much more than the physical act. Most of it occurs between the ears -- the mental interplay between partners. That's what I was missing. Gary wasn't able to give that aspect to me. He was only interested in getting himself off. He never realized that I needed more than his cock. I needed to experience the power of domination and the surrender of control. Those were the missing pieces of the puzzle, at least for me.

And to answer the question I posed at the beginning of the story -- that's why I found myself time and again, on the stage at Ally's club, sharing with others what brought me true sexual fulfillment. There was no turning back.