Servant Day Pt. 04

"Time for drinkies, then!" Rebecca said.

"That's a good idea. Jack?"

He looked up at her.

"We'd like aperitifs, please. Can you get me a gin and tonic?"

"And I'll have a martini," Rebecca added.

Jack was about to comment that he didn't know how to make a martini, when he realised that would be nonsensical -- Rebecca had to be talking to Dan. But Jack was now pretty sure what was going on. There was a single place setting at the table because Emma was having dinner "with" Rebecca, over the video call. The laptop on the table against the wall gave the impression of Rebecca being seated opposite Emma.

But there was more to it than that.

Emma wanted a gin and tonic. The gin and the tonic were both in the drinks cabinet, which was on the other side of the living room. And since Emma had asked him to move the table, that meant the drinks cabinet was in full view of the laptop camera, and Rebecca.

Now pretty sure he'd been set up, and that Emma and Rebecca had planned the whole thing, he paused at the doorway to the kitchen and looked at Emma, his glance taking in the drinks cabinet, the laptop, and his mostly-naked attire.

"Yes?" Emma said, coolly, looking at him with an arch expression. "Is there a problem?"

Well, that confirms it. "I guess not." Okay then -- Emma was happy with him being ogled by another woman too, who was he to complain? Especially when it was one as hot as Rebecca. He grabbed a high-ball glass from the cupboard, filled it with ice, threw in a wedge of lime, and strode into the living room with a confidence he didn't feel, wondering how far he'd have to get before he came into view.

"Whoo! Check out the arse on that!"

Not far, apparently.

He poured a finger of Bombay Sapphire into the glass, filling it up with tonic; the ice cubes made their enticing, hollow rattle, getting deeper in pitch as the glass filled. All the time, he could feel eyes on him, from Rebecca and Emma. Being the centre of attention for both women was even more of a turn-on and once more he felt himself stiffen. So it was with a semi-hard penis outlined in his trunks that he walked back to the table with Emma's drink.

"You look great, Jack," Rebecca said. "That look really works for you." She turned her attention to Emma. "You should have him dress like that more often, honey."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, attempting to be casual. "Do you need anything else?" he asked his wife.

"No," she said, placing her hand casually on his backside for a moment. "You can finish getting the food ready."

Not that Jack actually had that much more to do, but he hid in the kitchen anyway for the few remaining minutes until the pizza was done. He considered getting a beer for himself, but he realised that that wasn't part of Emma's plan, and she'd arranged everything so carefully that he didn't want to risk spoiling anything for her.

Meanwhile, Emma and Rebecca were chatting about nothing in particular. Emma was talking about awkward delivery times for parcels, or something like that. He wasn't really listening, but he did notice that she kept looking over at him.

When the pizza was ready, he retrieved the baking tray, slid the pizza onto a chopping board, and attacked it with four great sweeps of a pizza wheel, before sliding the whole lot onto a plate. Et voila! Dinner is served.

He carried the plate through to the living room, and placed it in front of Emma.

"Thank you," she said, as she pushed aside the nearly-finished gin and tonic. "Wine, please."

Jack retrieved the bottle from the fridge, carried it to the table, and filled her glass. He started to return to the kitchen to put the bottle back in the fridge, but she put out her hand to stop him.

"Stay here, please," she told him. "You can keep the glass topped up as necessary."

At first, Jack wondered whether she was planning to get hammered, but after a sip of the wine, she left it where it was. With her left hand, she picked up a slice of pizza and nibbled it; with her right, she caressed his backside. She continued her mundane conversation with Rebecca, but all the time, she was groping him. He was in view of Rebecca too, he realised, and that made him stiffen even more.

Rebecca was seated opposite her computer, just as Emma was opposite hers. Rebecca was wearing a midnight blue outfit that may have been a blouse or a dress or a gown. It was high-necked but sleeveless, tailored to fit her bust well, with a cut-out panel in the neck to show her cleavage. Gold hoop earrings completed the portion of the ensemble visible to Jack. She was eating a bowl of ravioli and, as he watched, she drained the martini glass and pulled the olive from the cocktail stick with her teeth.

"I'd like some wine, please," Rebecca said, looking off-screen. After a moment, a full glass of white appeared by her side. "Thank you," she said. "Stay here." Rebecca also possessively took charge of her man. Dan -- presumably, it was Dan, though it was hard to tell since he was only visible from thigh to chest -- was also in tight black trunks. Evidently, not only was this entire thing planned, but also coordinated. He wondered who had suggested what.

Rebecca also began fondling her guy's butt, as Dan stood there. "So," Rebecca said to Emma, "Did you see the new Jane Austin adaptation yet? What did you think of it?"

They'd watched it earlier in the week, and Emma launched into a commentary on the regrettable departures from the novel. As she did, her hand slid round from Jack's buttocks to the front, and started caressing his testicles instead. Jack widened his stance slightly, to give her more access. He was definitely enjoying this, and was fully erect. He couldn't tell whether Rebecca was looking at Emma or his swollen member. Jack realised he was greatly excited by the scenario. It wasn't merely that his lovely wife was playing with him, or even that she was doing so in full view of her highly attractive friend -- it was also that they were juxtaposing that erotic stimulation with such an everyday activity, chatting about inconsequential things as though they usually played with scantily-clad men as an afterthought.

After another minute of chat, Rebecca said, "Hmm, looks like Jack is enjoying himself."

Emma looked up at him, and then down at his erection. She squeezed it, smiling. "Oh yes, so it would seem." She didn't release him, but turned her attention to his penis, teasing it, squeezing it, and gently stroking it through the fabric, making him even harder. "Such a naughty boy. More wine, please."

She help up her glass with her other hand, so Jack picked up the bottle and topped off the glass. All the while, she continued to stroke him. "Am I being distracting?" she asked, innocently. "Oh no. How terrible of me." Naturally, she continued. Jack's breath quickened, and she immediately give him a light swat on the side of his penis. "No coming yet! I still have plans for you." Then she turned back to Rebecca and picked up the conversation about the movie, her hand still teasing his erection.

Rebecca had moved to stroking Dan now, too, Jack noticed.

Emma did not keep this up for long. After a few minutes, she let her hand fall, and instead fiddled with the stem of the wine glass with both hands. Jack wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he obviously wanted her to continue her ministrations; on the other, he wasn't sure how long he would last if she did.

Emma and Rebecca continued to chat for another five minutes about film adaptations in general, neither of them playing with their boy toy, and the break gave Jack's erection time to subside. He was still turned on to be standing there in full view, but his shaft had softened somewhat.

Emma picked up her purse, and withdrew from it a small golden envelope, which she handed to Jack in silence. She sipped her wine and looked at him devilishly from under her lashes while he opened it and read what was on the single folded piece of paper:

"Stand in the kitchen doorway facing me. Remove your underwear. Stroke yourself until you are hard. I want to watch you playing with yourself. Do not come yet."

He blinked, and then looked at her. Her smile widened.

Okay, then, he thought. At least it was out of view of the laptop camera. As instructed, he dropped his underwear in the doorway, and began to run his fingers along his penis. It did not take much stimulation to reach full hardness -- simply reading the note, and then seeing his wife's expression had done much of that. Emma leaned back in her chair, extending her bare legs forward, crossed at the ankles, and sipped her wine, watching him. The remains of her pizza were now pushed slightly away from her, discarded. But still she carried on her conversation with Rebecca about movies, looking over at the screen now and then, but always turning her attention back to Jack.

Jack found it difficult to hold her gaze. His eyes wandered as he stroked himself, and sometimes he closed them for a bit. He considered the evening. It was now about eight o'clock, and he'd spent much of the preceding two and a half hours in a state of considerable excitement. He'd had no idea that his bubbly little wife could be like this -- so calm and controlled and in control. And not only that, but also so determined, planning out every aspect of their evening, dispassionately plotting passion. He really hoped she was getting what she wanted and needed out of this.

He was very glad he'd let himself be talked into this.

He played with his balls with his other hand, encircling with his fingers the top of the scrotum where it joined the perineum, squeezing and tugging lightly. He ran the tips of his fingers up the underside of his member, and lightly around the head, spreading the pre-come fluid, then sliding his hand up and down the shaft slowly. So slowly, resisting with effort the urge to speed up and bring everything to a conclusion.

"More wine, please," Emma said, attracting his attention once more.

He reached for the trunks lying on the floor, but Emma shook her head. "Leave them."

Okay, then. He stepped forward and picked up the bottle -- that, at least, he could manage while still staying out of sight of the laptop camera. But Emma had last put her glass down on the other side of the table, out of reach. To top it up, he'd need to walk around behind her, with his solid erection in full view of Rebecca. Is that really what she wanted? Okay, then, he thought again, and had just steeled himself to take that step, when Emma apparently realised what he was waiting for, and moved the glass to within reach. He was, he realised as he topped it up, quite disappointed; he'd like to know what Rebecca's response would have been to his proud erection.

Emma reached into her purse again, and withdrew another small, gold envelope, passing it to him. This one said:

"I want you to go down on me under the table while I am talking to Rebecca. Nice and gentle, as we talked about. I do not want to come yet. You can play with yourself at the same time, as long as you do not come."

Once more, she was looking at him, waiting for his reaction to the note. An excited jerk from his penis betrayed him, drawing her gaze, and making her laugh. She shifted forward in her chair, so that she was more on the edge, and turned it to the side a little as she spread her legs, granting him access. Jack discarded the note, and crawled under the table as instructed. She was not wearing any underwear, and the flared hem of her dress gave her plenty of movement, presenting her freshly-shaved sex to him.

Even before he reached her, her scent enveloped him, drawing him in. As he placed his fingers on her to separate her labia, he could feel how wet she already was. He inhaled deeply and leaned in, lapping gently at her with his tongue as she'd directed him.

Emma continued her conversation with Rebecca, although they'd moved from movie adaptations of Austin novels onto musicals -- Judy Garland and Doris Day were featuring heavily. Although she'd directed him to approach under the table, Emma didn't keep his activities a secret. She frequently interspersed her dialogue with directions to him: "Slower, love, please", or "Up a bit, bit more, yes, just there", or simply, "Mmm, that's nice, love. Keep doing that."

Jack found the experience deeply erotic. He didn't feel the need to play with himself. Because she'd said that she simply wanted to enjoy the experience, and not to achieve orgasm, the pressure was off, and he didn't find himself getting frustrated or tense because of his lack of "success"; instead, he could relax, and devote himself -- "concentrate" was the wrong verb -- on her pleasure. He found it rewarding to know that this was fulfilling for her: in a day where she could be asking him for anything, this was what she'd chosen, and he was delighted to provide it. He realised that fulfilling her needs was fulfilling some of his, too.

Earlier in the day, Jack had focused on following Emma's continual stream of directions, Now that she was mostly talking with Rebecca, he was more able to appreciate her shaven state. There were no problems with pubic hairs tickling his nose or catching in his throat. There were no tufts of hair from one side of her labia entwined with tufts on the other side, making it harder to part her lips without causing discomfort. He also realised that Emma must have had similar problems with his own unshaven state, before today.

Emma was still talking with Rebecca about movie musicals. She absently ran her fingers through his hair while he serviced her. Again, Jack found this juxtaposition of the causal, everyday setting and the "normalness" of this conversation, while he went down on her, to be highly erotic.

After a good twenty minutes of this, in which the conversation meandered and Emma frequently issued minor corrections or notes of approval on his actions, Emma stretched in the chair. "This has been lovely, babe," she said to Rebecca, "but I think it's time for dessert."

Dessert? Jack didn't recall anything about dessert. Emma had only mentioned the pizza.

"Definitely," Rebecca agreed. "Talk tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah! Love!" And Emma killed the call.

Still stroking his head, she said to Jack. "Mmm, you've been very good. I was really enjoying that. Stand up. Let's have a look at you."

Jack crawled out from under the table and stood, eyes closed, flexing his back and neck to work out some kinks. He jerked as Emma's hands closed on his mostly-stiff erection.

"I think we can do better than that," she said, as she leaned in to take him into her mouth. It only took a minute for him to return to full hardness.

"There!" she said, pleased with the effect. Standing, she pushed the remains of dinner further away, and bent over the table, presenting herself to him. She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Now I want you to fuck me hard until I reach orgasm, and then I want you stop, and just rest inside me while I come. But make sure you don't come as well -- I want to finish you off myself afterwards. Understand?"

Jack was straining for release. He took a deep breath. "I'll try. You look really sexy like that."

Over her shoulder, her smile softened. "Thank you. Now fuck me."

A small step forward, and Jack slipped straight into her. He knew she was already wet and ready, and he quickly established a fast rhythm, his hips slapping into her backside as she braced herself. After several hours of being in a near-constant state of arousal, Jack's body was eager to reach climax, and he tried desperately to distract himself to avoid coming. How about up-cycling that old TV cabinet in the shed into a drinks cabinet instead, and selling it? Emma braced herself with her hands, pushing back into him in time with his rhythm, helping him go deeper. Could put shelves on the inside of the doors, like on a fridge door. She was making a small sound of arousal each time he thrust his hips forward, each one pulling him closer to orgasm. "uh-uh-uh-uh-uh". God she feels good. She looks so hot. No. Don't think about that. What would weight in the doors do to the balance? Don'tComeYetDon'tComeYet.

"God, that's good," Emma said, her head hanging down. "A bit harder." He increased the impact for each thrust. "A bit bit faster". He increased speed accordingly. "Oh, god, yes, that's it. Fuck me like that."

That's really not helping me hold on. Her aroma filled the air from her juices still on his face, mixed with the cologne she'd laid out for him. The feel of her hips in his hands excited him. The way her backside squashed into his pelvis as he penetrated her. Will need to do something to the wood. Make it look more attractive. She reached between her legs with one hand, and began fingering herself. Oh god. That's so hot. Oh Jesus. She moaned again, a longer moan.

Cabinet would need. Stripping. Sanding. Staining. Polishing. Oh god. Can't hold on.

"Harder!" Her fingers worked away, producing a rapid, wet sound.

Would have to. Figure out. How to make. Oh god. A mechanism to move the shelves inside. Oh Christ.

"Like that! Keep going like that!" Emma said urgently. Jack tried to maintain the pace, and not to increase in response to her growing heat. "Yes. Oh god I'm close keep going keepgoingkeepOH GOD YES Uuuhhhhhh!" She collapsed forward onto the table, one hand between her legs, the side of her face resting on her forearm on the table. She let out a long groan: "Gggnnnnnnn!"

It took Jack a couple of seconds after her orgasm started to remember that he was supposed to stop, so he thrust in one more time, and then held himself there, deep inside her. He held tight to her hips, keeping the pressure up, rammed in as far as he could be. He was grateful he'd been able to hold off from coming so far, but he wasn't out of the woods yet -- her vagina spasmed, squeezing him, and her expression, as the waves passed over her, was deeply erotic. Polishing. Sanding wood. Christ that feels good. Don'tComeDon'tComeDon'tCome. New brass fittings.

After a minute, Emma relaxed, and straightened up into a standing position, withdrawing herself from him. "That," she said, "was perfect." She embraced him and kissed him deeply, one hand between his shoulders, the other on his butt.

"One last job," she said, "and you get your reward."

***

The last job was the washing up. A pizza for one doesn't create much in the way of dirty dishes, but Emma had carefully made sure the dishwasher wasn't used at all during the day, so there were more things to wash up. "I want you to wash everything up, by hand, and I'm going to watch. And then you'll be done." As Jack filled the sink with hot water and stirred it into a mass of foamy bubbles, Emma turned on the oven, deposited the half-empty bottle back in the fridge, and retrieved her glass and her plate with the last slices of uneaten pizza, now cold. She settled down at the kitchen table, knees crossed, and nibbled a slice. "Mmm, there's certainly something about having a hot naked guy doing the washing up. This definitely should happen more often." She sipped her wine with a smirk on her face.

Jack had washed a few cups and plates when she approached and pressed herself up against him, from behind. One hand grasped his chest; another buried itself in his hair. He could feel her body up close against his backside. "Mmm," she whispered in his ear, as she slid her bare thigh up the outside of his leg. "You smell so good. And you feel so good." She rubbed her whole body against him, making him stir yet again. Her hands slid down his body, along his abdomen, and then grasped his penis and testicles, squeezing lightly. Jack shivered with pleasure, closing his eyes, his hands stilling in the water. The delicate fingers continued their exploration, squeezing, tugging, teasing. And once more, she whispered in his ear. "Did I say you could stop?"