Room with a Secret Ch. 04

Saturday morning arrived at last; Jim had certainly been wishing time along in his mind, urging Saturday to arrive. It found him standing at his window watching for Sophie's car, dressed and ready rather than naked and stroking. The naked bit would come later, he was sure, and it would not be him doing the stroking. He was racing down the stairs as soon as he saw it drive up with two occupants. Two occupants who had absolutely no idea that they were about to engage in lesbian sex and be molested by two men, one man quite young and the other rather old.

The young women were all smiles. Yet, as Jim greeted them and they returned the greeting, Jim could not but think that soon those smiling lips might well be wrapped around male organs. A thing he had, like so many men, thought when looking at pretty work colleagues, but with other men there was so rarely the real prospect of it happening.

The two girls so nicely dressed, not in work clothes. Not jeans but pleasingly skirted, an effort made for a somewhat formal visit. They had been invited for coffee.

Mr Crowfoot too had made an effort. He was in a tweed suit with a surprisingly modern and wide tie. Jim was a little surprised. Had Mr Crowfoot been in town shopping?

Good to see the girls' knees as they sat together on the sofa in the front lounge before Jim was despatched to fill the perculator and make the coffee. He rather wished he had made a bit more of an effort in dressing. He felt a little out of place. It was not as if his jeans were not clean, even pressed and you could not fault his shirt. It was just not dressy. So easy to get such things wrong, though, assuming nudity later, it would not matter for long!

There was not a dramatic contrast between the two girls, but they were different. Jim liked them both.

Neither exceptionally busty, they did not possess the stereotypical large breasts men so like to ogle. They were not spilling out of their blouses. Jenny could be described as 'willowy,' a tall girl with legs to match which was not to say that Sophie's legs were unshapely or that she was short. She was sort of average sized and rather larger boned than Jenny with hips that could be described as 'child bearing.' Jim had already seen Sophie naked, knew intimately what she looked like. He not only knew but had fondled her sweet, rather conical breasts and her pale areolae and nipples. As the paleness implied, Sophie was rather blond and that extended to her fulsome bush of hair to the front of and between her thighs. As yet, but he had great hopes, what Jenny looked like beneath her clothes was mere conjecture. Jim could see that there was not a great deal to her breasts, the brassiere she was wearing perhaps not at all needed for support. Given the darkness of her hair he supposed rather darker pigmentation to her areolae and nipples - he had been paying attention to the girls in his magazines - and that her pubic hair would be similarly dark. Good to see Jenny smoothing down her dress over her thighs

As to sexual experience he knew Sophie was married, had even briefly met her husband but he knew little about Jenny. Was she seeing someone, was she regularly naked in bed with a young man and riding his pole; had she had a succession of young men or was she a virgin even? He rather doubted that.

It was perhaps the flimsy nature of their clothes, so different from the heaviness of male garments that in part explained why his eyes were so drawn to the girls. Even the material of jeans seemed more substantial with men's clothing, thicker and harder. Perhaps it was impression, perhaps imagination but the way Jennie's blouse and skirt hung and folded had a deep effect on Jim. How did women manage to look so pleasing? Just the way the soft material of her skirt draped from her knee and thigh was quiet enough to make him perspire. The way it moulded the top of her thigh certainly did nothing to assist. And, of course, the material did not have any old pattern, but a colour and design that harmonised with everything else she was wearing; not that it was overly dressy. It had that natural grace and ease with a wardrobe that girls seemed to manage.

Perhaps it was him. Not just men as such, after all Mr Crowfoot's suit, his checked 'country' shirt and brown brogues, showed an ease with an, admittedly, old fashioned but comfortable style. Even his light green/brown socks looked right. Perhaps, Jim thought, his own perhaps grace and style came out when he was naked. Perhaps - he smiled - he did not have a lot of illusions on that score.

The conversation was free and easy as they drank their coffee. At one point Jenny commented on the house and, it was perhaps then inenvitable that Mr Crowfoot would offer to show them around, even some of the upstairs rooms now he was on his feet again. Some of the bedrooms, and he did not show them all, had a very distinct feel of disuse. Unsurprising in a batchelor's house where he had no need for so much space and rooms. Jim was not the least surprised when one particular room on the ground floor was left until last. The study indeed and, again, Jim was unsurprised, when Mr Crowfoot closed the door and gave every impression of being in no hurry to return to the front room.

"Tell me, Jenny," said Mr Crowfoot, seating the girls on the leather Chesterfield, whilst he and Jim pulled up wooden chairs, "because I study such things, what do you think about when you are alone in bed pleasuring youself?" Her eyes widened as if the question had startled and shocked her; and probably it had, but she answered all the same.

"All sorts of things." She wrinkled her nose in a rather pleasing way, "Female things, often little romantic stories, sometimes..." and she paused, "not so much romantic as erotic, I suppose."

"Ah, yes, the erotic; the erotic thoughts of young women. So interesting, you can understand, to an old man like myself; a pleasure to hear. Now, tell me what you thought about last time you pleasured yourself."

"When was that?" Jim rather blurted out the question thinking he should say something.

"Two nights ago," answered Jenny, "after a hot bath." She smiled at Jim, "wrapped in a warm fluffy towel."

Was it the room that encouraged the extra information, Jim wondered, very much liking the idea of Jenny in a big, fluffy towel.

"And you thought about?"

Even the room's effect did not prevent Jenny seeming to pause. "I... I was imagining myself with a woman not a man. Not my usual thing at all but it just sort of came into my mind for a time." She glanced at Sophie and back. "Perhaps it's the same with you men?"

Jim shook his head. That had not at all been one of his fantasies. Nothing like that. Not even in his subconscious. He hadn't had a wet dream like that. He was sure.

Jenny looked at Sophie again, as if for support, there was a lovely blush to her cheeks. Embarrassed even in the room.

"I... yes, once or twice have thought about... what it would be like. I..."

It was lovely to watch Sophie a little echoing Jenny's thoughts. The two young women looking at each other as they spoke.

"Why don't you kiss." Mr Crowfoot's words echoed what Jim was thinking. The idea of the two lipsticked mouths leaning closer, a slight inclination of the heads to avoid a clash of noses and a touch of lip to lip. Soft lips to soft lips.

"Oh... I..."

"Imagine you are alone together; it is late and you have been sitting watching such a romantic film; it was so lovely, so delightful; it has aroused you both; you are sitting together with a strong sexual desire; there is no one else around; you both realise what you need; there is no harm in it; why not make love together; who is to know; it will be so interesting and nice; each of you so pretty; you lean in closer and one thing leads to another, and another. You kiss..."

And they did. So sweet and so erotic to see their lips touch tentatively at first then with increasing passion. Anything but a chaste kissing; tongues were very much involved. Their arms went around the other. At first it was just their backs that were stroked, then hair and then they were hugging. Jim looked at Mr Crowfoot and nodded. He liked what Mr Crowfoot was doing.

"I am sure you girls need no instruction from me. Imagine you are alone, ladies, and your desire for each other's body is mounting. Don't you wish to see, to touch?"

It was amazing what the study did to women, how easily its effect came over them. It was Jenny's hand first, reaching whilst they kissed to undo first one button and then the second of Sophie's blouse. She paused like a boy on an early date, unsure if he had permission to continue, testing the water by cupping one of the girl's breasts over her blouse and brassiere. A sigh from Sophie was all the reaction Jennie needed and Jim watched wide eyed as her hand moved upwards and then slid inside. Jim was jealous. He very much would have liked to do that himself. And why not. He was in the study. He made to get up, but Mr Crowfoot restrained him.

"Leave them, don't be so impatient, Jim. Take your pleasure slowly. Just watch. By all means get yourself out and have a stroke or two; take your clothes off if you like; even walk around them to get a different angle; enjoy being naked and hard with your colleagues but don't come too soon - perhaps I can still even at my age enjoy two women together, but that would be a waste of opportunity for you! Take your time. All good things come to him who waits. You need to learn patience. Let me tutor you. Just watch."

And so he sat there, just watching, seeing Jennie's hand moving inside Sophie's blouse, able to discern when her fingers began tickling a nipple and when they moved to the other breast. It was not long before Sophie's fingers were undoing her colleague's blouse too and sliding within. Two girls doing to another girl what they so often did to themselves in bed - that was certainly Jim's thought. What a thing to see. It had him so hard in his trousers and so desperate to join in, to poke his unsheathed penis between them and have both their lips touching it at once. His hand went up and he almost reached out to touch the girls.

A tap to his knee and a shaking of Mr Crowfoot's head. "Restraint Jim."

It was warm in the room and Jim was certainly perspiring; not just from the temperature. The sight of the two girls with hands to each other's blouses getting ready to unclip and remove brassieres was steamy. Restraint? His rock-hard erection felt very constrained and a glance at Mr Crowfoot had shown he had already released his own penis from his trousers. Mr Crowfoot was not touching it but it certainly showed his pleasure at what he was watching. Perhaps it was more comfortable like that, to be unrestrained; perhaps he was simply getting it ready to stroke; perhaps he was taking great pleasure at being exposed to the young women; perhaps it was all three!

Jim unzipped his fly but paused as blouses and brassieres were shed. He was now seeing Jenny half naked for the first time. Only little breasts, not even a handful each but 'my what big areolae you've got.' Jim licked his lips feeling very much like the Big, Bad Wolf with Little Red Riding Hood. Jenny had sweet little nipples, but they were surrounded by dark pigmentation and lots of it. If Jim liked what he was seeing it was clear so did Sophie. She was mauling them with a man-like fervour and clearly could not resist bringing her lips to bear. It was too much for Jim. He stood up and began walking, circling the couple and the seated Mr Crowfoot, his eyes fixed to the girls but getting a different angle with every step. He was shedding clothes as he walked, keen to release their restraint; keen to be naked with the girls even if not touching; keen to be without clothes before they were naked even if, under Mr Crowfoot's instruction, they could not see him.

What a sight if someone had sneaked into the back garden and been able to look into the study window: not actually easy given the ground was lower at the rear of the house making the basement, and not ground floor, level with the garden. Two girls engaged together, a naked young man prowling around them with penis up in the air and an old man in tweeds sitting watching closely in a chair (with exposed penis). A surprising sight to the voyeur. He would wonder what would happen next.

The girls were not hurrying, the delights of each other's breasts causing them to tarry but it was inevitable, sooner or later, a hand would touch a leg and slide upwards under a skirt. They were not wearing jeans, no need to undo a brass button, slip down a brass zipper and then feel down over or even within a pair of probably cotton knickers. Both Jim and Mr Crowfoot watched the progress of not one hand but two as they disappeared under skirts and crept upwards. The movement of the hands was clear beneath the cotton skirts, perhaps like a pair of hamsters seeking - the simile seemed apt - a burrow or nest. Perhaps, difficult to be quite sure, even from the various vantage points Jim could reach, it seemed as if furry mounds were first stroked without the knickers before fingers burrowed in to touch flesh.

So good to see first Sophie and then Jenny raise their bottoms and their friend draw down their knickers and simply discard them. Jim was still unable to see anything of either girl's sex beneath the skirts, though fascinated by the way each other girl's hands made the material move around the junction of their thighs. To continue the simile, it was like two pairs of hamsters were copulating, one pair under each skirt, and doing so with considerable enthusiasm.

Jim scooped up the pairs of knickers, one white, one a rather exciting bright red and brought them all lovely and warm to his penis, wrapping it in them and then stroking himself as if he was alone having, somehow, managed to acquire his two colleagues still warm knickers. As if he was sharing his flat with them and had found them in the laundry basket in the bathroom ready for the washing machine the next day; him following Sophie and Jenny in using the bathroom at the end of the day, sneaking their warm and discarded knickers back to his room for his own 'use' before returning them to the laundry basket, perhaps in rather more need of a wash than when the girls had dropped them into the basket, before he dropped off to sleep.

Lovely and warm, so soft and with the girls actually there whilst he wrapped himself in their knickers and wanked. They could not see him, but Mr Crowfoot could, and Jim was momentarily embarrassed by his action. Of course there was no reason to be embarrassed. They were there to enjoy sex and why should Jim not stroke his exposed penis with the young girls' discarded knickers? It was not as if Mr Crowfoot was not sitting there with his penis exposed and hard.

Mr Crowfoot held out his hand and Jim handed across the thin cotton, or were the red pair actually silk or, more likely, nylon? Jim's embarrassment at his somewhat fetishistic use of the knickers evaporated when he saw Mr Crowfoot do exactly the same, wrapping his penis and then stroking the twin knickers up and down, the purple head appearing and disappearing inside the red and white undergarments. It was a strange, shared experience.

"Very pleasant, Jim." He handed the red pair back and rather than continuing to use the white pair simply tied it around his penis making the knob swell. Jim rather felt he had to follow suite and was soon walking the room with a red flag to his penis and a particularly swollen knob to the end. How he wanted to ask Sophie and Jenny to suck it: not ask, but tell.

The skirts were removed completely revealing the girls to the men. Jim had seen Sophie before but that did not make her fulsome blond bush any the less pleasing, not with Jenny's fingers stroking and then running her fingers within the delightfully hairy outer lips. The girls lolled on the Chesterfield, fingers to breasts and within vulvas, all so open to the men's eyes. Jim felt the natural desire to inseminate attractive women very strongly. The urge to push between open thighs and into hot wetness so strong. The desire to do a lesser thing, grab his penis and wank until he rained his semen down onto their opened thighs almost as powerful. The animal desire to rut, fuck, inseminate just so wonderfully strong. A desire but an amazing feeling of pleasure to restrain himself and just bask in the feeling of arousal and his turgid cock standing out from his body.

And, of course, he was torn between the idea of copulating with fair Sophie and dark Jenny. He bent close to Jenny, seeing how her large lips splayed outwards like petals in her arousal, watched Sophie's bunched fingers really working in and out of her stretched vagina - how much better to have the smooth bulb of a penis pushing in: his penis! He loved the rather delicate way her dark hairs radiated out from her cleft of Venus across the mound of her pubic bone. Whereas Sophie's blond hair grew in an almost matted confusion of curls, Jenny's hair was much more restrained; not really curling but just laying rather flat; delicate work compared to Sophie's more rough and ready sex - if he could put it like that. In either case he would so liked to have released upon their hair; seen blobs of his semen, sticky and creamy soaking into their delightful pubic hair. Naturally, he would like to have been able to come again and again, releasing torrent after torrent of hot semen in so many places on and within their bodies. He was very aroused.

Jim wandered the room, peering, pausing, examining but not poking. Mr Crowfoot had forbidden that and, after all Mr Crowfoot was his somewhat self appointed, tutor and he did not want to disappoint or cross him. Mr Crowfoot was being an excellent mentor. Jim could not fault the practical demonstration and experience.

What lovely girls. If the men in the office could seem them now... But it was best not; best if that was kept to himself and his new-found friend, Mr Crowfoot. Jim was not at all sure he would like other male colleagues joining in. He shuddered at the thought of Charlie or Mike or certainly, Mr Grimshaw, joining him naked and with a view to being intimate with the girls. Mr Crowfoot was somehow different. Jim did not mind him having his penis 'out' in his presence, being naked together or sharing a girl or, Jim swallowed, it had not happened yet - girls. Jim did indeed see him as a teacher. An experienced man showing him what he should do.

Jim smiled - a bit different from his old teachers at school and college. What he was being taught now was quite different and, certainly, not at all what his, if he was honest, his favourite teacher had taught. The geography of young women, their uplands and deep wet places were not at all on the 'A' level Geography syllabus; Miss Redmond had not taught anything like that when describing the high plains or swampy wetlands.

The girls moved from playing with their fingers in each other's wet places, with a kiss they moved around, contrarotating until their mouths were lined with the other's sex. It was clear soixante- neuf was in prospect. What a sight to see, though actually Jim had seen rather more when fingers were inside vaginas; he had been able to enjoy a very good look at both vulvas being manipulated; seen vaginal openings stretched and very much enjoyed the squelching sounds of rapidly moving bunched fingers; he had leant in closely to watch little swollen clitorises being frigged; and had taken great pleasure in seeing the two girls making love together. Now with heads between each other's thighs and those thighs somewhat clamped around ears there was rather less to see, in fact. But, of course, sexual enjoyment is not at all simply about seeing, it is so much more about impression and thought. It is the mind, the brain, which is the real sexual organ, and it was the idea of what the two girls were doing as much as seeing it which kept Jim's arousal at fever pitch.