Past, Present and Future Ch. 06

I thought he looked delicious, eminently desirable. As I watched, a lingering drop of brook water ran off his abdomen, trickled down his half-hard length, lingered briefly, fell off to plop softly in the still water below him.

His laughter fading, he pulled me into a bare, wet hug. Letting go, he again began to circle me. His hands found my hips again, swept down over my bum, squeezed gently.

His arms came around my waist, pulled us together. He was no longer half-hard and I shivered at the feeling of his swollen stiffness against the small of my back, his balls pressed against my bum cheeks. His head came down, lips nuzzling my ear briefly. I wiggled my bum against him in happiness.

His hands swept gently up, over my ribs, coming to rest under my breasts, then lifted and cupped them, his thumbs swirling around and around my rock-hard nipples. I could feel a trickle of ladydew on my thighs. I hissed slightly, gripped the branch harder now.

Tony shifted, came to stand in front of me. His manhood was almost purple in his desire now; I could see its reflection in the water. I liked looking at it when it was like that, too, enjoyed seeing the effect I had on him. He’d given me so much pleasure with it; it was something we shared, something I could please Tony with and be pleased with in turn. It was wonderful in every sense.

His eyes ran up and down my form.

“So beautiful,” he said softly. His hands took my head, pulled our mouths together. His tongue probed my lips and I opened in welcome. Our tongues played, swept around each other, explored, then he pulled away, stood just in front of me, his eyes again sweeping over my nakedness.

“Is Tony pleased?” I whispered.

He chuckled, reached up, took my hands down and began to lead me along the brook, soft water flowing around our ankles. He held my hand with one of his, clutching picnic basket and blanket in his other. His stiff rod waved and bounced with each step he took; light leaking through the leaves above flashed and danced on his shaft.

Had it been up to me, I would have jumped him right there, in the middle of the stream, but Tony obviously had a destination in mind.

Another few minutes and we turned a bend. The banks became lower and the brook slightly wider. I could hear a late bird singing somewhere, saw a level grassy spot at the brook’s edge. Tony led me towards it, water splashing lightly over our feet and legs.

“Here’s the spot, Stephanie. Hungry?”

I stopped, held his hand firmly. He stopped, turned to face me.

Smiling, I knelt in the warm water, took his meaty weight in my hand, gave it a long, broad lick with my tongue, base to swollen crown. I leaned forward, felt its stiff rim pass between my lips, lowered myself down until it probed the back of my throat with its soft bluntness. Pulling back, I bobbed up and down on him two or three times, then pulled off, looked up at him with a smile on my face.

“Hungry, yes.”

I thought his smile the most wonderful thing in the world.

“If it pleases you, Tony.”

His laughter rang through the trees; he led me ashore, hand in hand, put down the basket, and spread out the blanket.

He stepped towards me, his hands pulling me in tight against his body. I felt my breasts pressed against his chest, my nipples tickled by his chest hair, his solid length pressed between us.

His mouth came to mine, lips seeking lips, tongues dancing, playing. His hands ran up and down my sides, squeezed my bum, rose to my head, pulled me in closer. I ran my own hands up and down his back, scratched lightly with my nails, heard him inhale in pleasure.

He pulled away, just a little, enough for an expert hand to find its way over my tummy, caress my inner thighs. I found his cock, seized its length, began to massage it slowly, squeezing its crown, stroking his slit. His finger found my sex and I groaned softly as his fingers spread my happy dew around my lips, my opening, my clit. I felt myself become wetter, my breast under one of his hands almost crying out itself in pleasure.

Then we were on the blanket. Tony’s hands positioned me on my hands and knees; I knew how much he liked to take me from behind, waited for the wonderful feeling it would give me, waited to be filled to my absolute depths.

His knees spread my legs and he knelt between them. I felt his tip sweep across my sex, slide between my lips, find its target and ease its way in. He pressed into my ribbed, welcoming darkness with one long, smooth stroke, stretching me completely.

“Tony!" I gasped.

He began to thrust into me, quickly, hard. I felt my boobs sway and swing beneath me, almost bouncing with the slapping impact of his hips against my bum. I tried to back into him, but his hands on my hips held me in place and I could only wiggle a bit from side to side.

My head lifted, high up, my eyes staring at the trees, my smile almost matching the sun above them.

I began to moan now with each of his strokes, a hoarse joy in my throat and chest.

Tony shifted, pulled my legs together, moved his knees to rest outside my own. He seized my hair, pulled my head back long enough for a passionate, sizzling, needy kiss. I felt it work its way through me, fanning my fires, lighting new ones.

Releasing my hair, he leaned forward, his hips still driving that wondrous cock into me. I could feel the heat within me burning higher, hotter.

He took more of his weight on one elbow, reached under me with the other, found a breast, squeezed. He seized my glowing nipple with thumb and forefinger, held it, shifting and pulling as he moved with each drive of his hips. His teeth nibbled my ear, released it.

He gently pinched the nipple and I was off, filling the woods with meaningless words and exultant cries as the joyous excitement exploded, flames running across and through every part of my body. Tony kept pounding into me, feeding, stoking my passion, pushing me higher and higher.

He froze, both hands on my bum now, pulling me against him, holding us motionless. I could feel him pulse and surge within me as he panted and gasped.

A minute later, he grasped me around my waist and rolled down to the blanket, pulling me with him. Still joined, we lay together, listening to the leaves, my orgasm gradually fading.

I still have no idea what was in the picnic basket.

+

We snuggled in bed that night, cherishing each other’s presence.

My head on his shoulder, I lay beside him in the candlelight, felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed. We talked, petted one another. Eventually Tony raised a subject I’d rather hoped he’d forgotten.

“How’s Marcy these days?”

Marcy, a fine art student, my residence roomie and definitely my best friend ever, was an irrepressible, bubbly cutie. With long dark hair, huge expressive eyes and to-kill-for lashes, she was also a varsity cheerleader, her body fit and sleek, petite but very shapely. Put simply, Marcy was an eye-turner.

She’d known of my arrangement with Tony and had accepted it as real but odd, something for Stephanie alone. One weekend however, suffering the aftermath of a family quarrel and a serious case of residence claustrophobia, she'd begged to join us in the country for a day, anything to get out of the city. After talking to Tony, I’d said yes, but, refusing to be the only naked woman, I’d insisted that she had to peel, too. I’d also warned her that Tony would most certainly enjoy watching her in the altogether.

Tony had soon made her feel welcome and she’d managed to deal with her embarrassment. While always polite and never creepy, Tony had indeed quite openly studied her nude beauty as she painted landscapes on his deck. He’d made no move to touch the girl, but it had been very obvious that he found her very attractive.

It being by coincidence his birthday, I’d brought a gift for him, a framed photo of me he had himself taken with my phone during a love-making session weeks before. I was dressed only in sterling silver and a sleepy smile; my arched back and hands behind my head emphasized my boobs. The photo showed a sheen of perspiration on my body and perfectly captured the wildly-contented, just-laid look on my face.

He'd been very pleased with the photo, but Marcy's unexpected, delectable presence had inspired me to what seemed to be the height of daring. I’d followed the photo with a bombshell offer.

“There’s something else, Tony.”

He’d looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

“How about a hall pass?”

I’d whispered that with Marcy sitting a few paces in front of us, bare as the day she was born. While she hadn’t heard us, it was clear to Tony who I was talking about. Amazed, his eyes flipped back and forth between me and Marcy as I continued to speak.

"Tony, we women can't help being jealous; it's the standard factory setting. But here’s the deal. I won't stand in your way. All I ask is that you don't try to hide it, don't try to keep it a secret from me.

"And it doesn’t mean I'm agreeing to take part, Tony," I said quietly. "I'm a boy girl, not a girl girl. But I won't try to stop you and I won't ever bitch at you or nag you for that. I promise.“

My offer had had a not-entirely-unexpected reaction. Tony had politely sent Marcy home early and then, over the course of the next hour, almost broke the bedframe.

+

“Marcy is doing better, Tony. She’s learning to ignore her witchy sister, which is entirely to the good.”

I paused, thought carefully. “Why? Are you considering my offer?” My words were spoken softly, scarcely daring to ‘speak of the devil’.

I’d decided that I loved Tony enough to share him with another woman. I was pretty sure no other gift would show how much I loved him, how much I treasured him, how much I wanted to please him. So, while I wasn’t entirely confident about it, I’d been quite sincere. It would be up to me to hold up my end.

Was it to be now?

“If I was thinking about it, Stephanie, would you reconsider joining in?” His eyes twinkled as he said that; I chose to take it as a tease. Yet...

I surprised myself by blushing. I’d never thought of myself as having a shred of bi in me. Marcy and I...

I looked away, stared at the flickering light on the walls. I had no idea where to go from here.

His arm came around my waist, hugged me softly. “Enough,” he whispered softly. “That was an unfair question, Stephanie. I was trying to make a small joke. I’m sorry. I take it back.”

“OK,” I whispered. “It’s OK, Tony.” I knew that he meant that, but he’d opened some doors I’d rather hoped would stay closed.

He went to sleep soon after. It took me longer, a lot longer.

My thoughts kept circling back to a brief interlude in Tony’s barn early that first day. Marcy was still clearly nervous about being naked in the presence of the elegant, clothed Tony and I’d spontaneously put out my arms as an invitation to a hug, a friendly, supportive gesture, nothing more. She’d accepted it in the same way - after all, we were besties; we’d hugged many times before. Once our arms held each other, once our bodies were against one another, the fact that we were nude hit both of us at the same time. We'd jumped apart, blushing furiously.

Tony had seen us holding each other, seen us jerking apart, seen us blushing. Gentleman to the core, he never mentioned it. I was pretty sure he thought about it, though.

Lying there beside him, I thought back to it. It had felt good, I realized. Very different, not at all like hugging a nude Tony, but still remarkably good. My mind lingered on how her bare breasts had felt against my own, how her hair on my shoulder had smelled.

On his birthday, I’d explicitly offered to step away, to go inside if Tony wanted to make a play for Marcy, seduce her right there on his deck. Now, running a thumb over his ring in the darkness, I thought about it. I knew any normal man would be delighted to bed Marcy. Whatever his devotion, his loyalty to me, he must have been — must still be — tempted.

Surprisingly, I realized that I could be happy for Marcy, too, if it happened. Tony was an amazing lover and she deserved some happiness.

A question began to coil and twist its way through my mind. If Tony ever took me up on my offer, if Marcy ever agreed, would it be better for me to be somewhere else, knowing, maybe even listening to Marcy’s happy cries as Tony slowly sent her spiraling up into that ultimate ecstasy? Or would it be better for me to actually be there, not having to imagine  what was happening?

And if I was ‘there’, to what extent?

My mind kept returning to the feeling of Marcy’s breasts against mine, of how her silky skin had felt under my hand. I was shocked to realize how aroused those memories were making me.

This was not something I could discuss with Tony. Not now at any rate.

I slipped silently from the bed, closed the bedroom door behind me, stepped out onto the deck. It was clear, a warm night for the season.

I stretched out on a lounge chair. From where I lay, I could see lights marking out farms here and there in the dark distance, the odd pair of headlights silently tracing their way through the night. It was utterly still.

In front of me, I noticed the chair Marcy had been sitting in while painting. It took very little imagination to picture the diminutive woman, her head shifting back and forth as she worked. I could see her figure in my mind - tiny waist, long, pink nipples, firm, shapely bottom. I remembered the way she had shifted long hair blown onto her face by the breeze.

Tony’s strong presence lingered on the deck, too, memories of kisses, of strong, gentle hands moving over me.

I closed my eyes, thought of Marcy in the chair, allowed one hand to drift up my thigh, over my tummy, up to touch first one breast and then the other. My nipples sprang to attention; I felt a slight quiver in my legs.

I opened my eyes, let them sweep over the countryside, looked at the chair again, thought of how Marcy had looked in the sunshine, how firm her bum had felt to my hands when we hugged in the barn.

I felt my ladybits grow heavy, then heavier still as I traced my nipples with both hands, rolled them between thumbs and fingers. I began to take deeper breaths, imagining her sweet face so focussed on her painting.

Far away, an owl hooted and I opened my eyes, searching the skies. I looked at Marcy’s chair, imagined her still there, squeezed my breasts, slid one hand to trace the soft skin of my inner thighs, felt my arousal grow.

The owl hooted again. I stopped, thought of Tony. Was this fantasy a betrayal of his faith in me? I’d never fantasized about him, but then I’d never had to. I thought on it, realized that he’d almost certainly be delighted to know I was dreaming about Marcy. I was positive he’d be thrilled to watch the two of us making love, too, would be heaven-struck if a threesome ever happened. So, no, I thought, this wasn’t cheating.

My hand began squeezing one boob softly, then the other. My other hand found its way to my sex, a finger exploring its way between my lips, then again. Again.

I felt wetness on my finger, felt a hollow weight in my loins. I closed my eyes, thought of Marcy stretching to relieve a stiff back, arms wide, head back, perfect boobs outthrust. My finger dipped deeper, flowed over my pearl, slid over slippery inner lips. Again. And again, slightly harder.

My breath was becoming ragged and I could feel a solid weight in my tummy. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples like balls of granite. I started to give a low moan, bit my lip. Tony was sleeping.

I slid a finger in, stretched and rolled my entrance, then two. Slowly, slowly, as deep as they would go, then, ever so slowly, pulling them out to flow over my applauding clit, fingertips pressing on my G-spot their way out.

Again, deeper, my thumb gently working my bud as fingers slid with excruciating slowness in and out of my depths.

I could smell myself on the air now and was biting my lip to keep the demanding chorus of moans and cries inside me. One hand continued to tease and stroke my sex; the other moved from breast to breast, fondling, rolling and pulling this nipple, then the other.

I felt my nipples almost glowing, felt the orgasm build, begin to surge. I slowed down, lightened my touches. Closing my eyes again, I tried to imagine it was Marcy’s hand stroking my boobs, Marcy’s fingers fondling my pussy. I tried to imagine what it would feel like if my hands were doing the same to her. I stretched it out, gloried in the image of the two of us entwined out here on Tony's deck, gently pushing each other into...

The owl hooted again and I started. The sudden movement of my hand was all it took. The joy rolled over me like a searing wind, consuming, flashing from boobs to pussy, ricocheting back and forth with a glorious surge of pleasure. I managed to keep my cries inside, mostly. I lay there on the chaise, biting my lip, my entire body quivering silently, the stars and a few night clouds applauding from far above.

I lay there a long time. The glow gradually faded and I was able to remove my fingers, catch my breath. I realized I had reached another turning point.

Maybe.

In a while, I rose, wiped myself down with a damp handcloth, slid back in beside Tony in bed.

This time, there was no problem sleeping.

+
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For those who enjoyed Stephanie’s tale so far, a sample of Chapter 7:

Tony eased himself out of me, lay beside me in the candlelight. Orgasmic ripples continued running through me as he adjusted himself, snuggled in closer. One hand swept gently over my panting body, clutched briefly on my bum, moved up to come to rest on my breast.

“You are amazing, Stephanie.” His hand squeezed my boob softly.

“I’m amazed at you, Mr. diRossi, so good to me, so kind, such an amazing lover.”

He squeezed again. “I wish I’d spoken up earlier, Stephanie, maybe the first time we met in the lab. So lovely, so warm – why did I take so long?”

“It worked out, Tony. You make me very happy. I love you.”

He paused, started to reply, cursed softly when my phone rang. I recognized the ring.

“It’s Marcy,” I whispered.