She for Them Ch. 01

I took advantage of it the next round I made with my freehand, rubbing under her breasts, then over them, then cupping first her right then left, squeezing each gently and pressing each, in turn, against her chest.

She responded by moving more tightly backward into my chest and my hug of her breast and upper torso grew firmer, but I maintained the tension only for the moment, and I let go gently, moving off down to her abdomen across the silk of her panties and then back up her back to her now bare shoulders.

The songs were constantly changing. Sometimes there was a slow-tempo ballad, sometimes a more energetic and rhythmic one, but each piece dictated how I moved the brush through her hair or how I moved my free hand along her skin.

Sensing her affirmations, I moved my hand down to her left knee, up the inner thigh to her groin, and gently rubbed the fabric covering her crotch before moving down the right inner thigh then back up the front of the thigh, finishing up by crossing across her abdomen.

I was hoping to be giving her two messages. One that I was willing to take my time—maybe teasingly so—and two, I wanted her to feel pleasure-worshiped like the goddess she was becoming to me right now.

Another song began and I made another several passes across her body. I changed hands, brushing with my left and allowing my right to give to her opposite side of the body the same sensations I had been affording to her left.

And with each song change and each passage of my hand now more frequently dawdling over her crotch, rubbing it more frequently, sliding my finger into the waistband and across the abdomen, feeling the pubic hair tucked beneath in the front, eventually moving around back to slide one finger into the crack between her buttocks. As she expressed more gratification with her "Ohs," I became more generous with my touch.

Maybe it was the heat of the woodstove or the internal heat of our desire, but she suggested that we lie down. I went on my back, inviting her to lie partially on top of me. She did, putting one leg out straight, and one leg over my right thigh and, welcomingly, against my hard cock. I kept my right arm extended beneath her with my wrist pressing up against her covered groin.

As our faces were now only inches apart, I turned to kiss her gently on the forehead. She responded by extending her neck and presenting her ruby-lipsticked lips to me. We kissed delicately, again hesitantly exploratory in nature, but catalyzed by our mutual arousal, it did not take long for our lips to be moistened, to part slightly for our tongues to go spelunking into each other's respective oral cavities.

I was savoring the novelty of taste and sensation of lip-sticked lips, as she began to press her pelvis into my outstretched wrist in an obvious wanting way. She was steering her own arousal. So as we continued to smear her lipstick, I merely rubbed her back over the panties covering her buttocks, down her thighs, and back up again, repeating this motion, over and over.

Her pelvic bones pressing into my wrist, with the accompanying dampness, along with her plentiful pleasure exclamations, made me more aroused, close to the point of no return. When she started to maneuver her right hand to my groin to massage my cock, I had to break off.

Although I wasn't sure how she would take it, I requested that she not touch me there. I was too close, I told her, and gently extracted myself from beneath her.

I picked up the hairbrush, straddled her thighs, and with her prone, I began to once more stroke through her hair. Thankfully, that cooled me off, and I could now let my erection slowly rebuild itself under my own control.

It took another song or two for this transition, but I laid down again, and wrapped my right knee and thigh across her buttocks and hugged her around the back. We kissed some more, and I asked her how she was feeling. She whispered that she was perfectly content right now. The gradual arousal and the many mini-orgasms that she felt were just what she wanted. She was in a good place, she sighed, and felt it best for her to just relax now. She hadn't had this much sensual pleasure in a long long time, she added, and I inferred that she didn't want to have intercourse.

I, of course, was once more brimming with desire. I began humping her hip where it joined her flank, the underneath part of my erection encased in silk rubbing up and down her side, as I hugged her tightly from behind. I was getting closer to coming, but not quite on the edge. A bit delirious, I began talking a little unintelligibly.

"Do you mind if I use your body, to top off my arousal," I inquired.

She smiled, posing the query, "You mean, to rape me?"

The fantasy of having this sated and therefore willing woman letting me take full advantage of her, did bring out a rape fantasy in me. How had she inferred that, though, I wondered.

"I give you permission," she laughed, without providing any clues.

This was some woman, I thought. So, for another song I hugged and dry humped her, getting more and more aroused, and more and more delirious. I kept babbling about how happy she was making me.

Because I wasn't getting there fast enough, though, for her, perhaps, nor for me, I asked if she would mind squeezing my nipples a little bit.

To my delight she was quite receptive. She turned partially over to her right side to face me and began to finger my left nipple and then to rub her other hand along the underside of my silkened penis. I adjusted my forearm so it was in her crotch again. That allowed her to straddle my wrist bones so they were once more against her womanhood.

Her continued pinching and twisting my left nipple, plus her stroking of my penis through the silk, brought me to the edge.

When she began pressing her vulva more earnestly into my wrist and shouting "Oh, Oh, Oh" in ever louder decibels, I gave it up as well.

We climaxed together, she with her "Ohs," and me screaming "Ahhh," so loud that I had to turn my head to prevent possibly damaging her hearing.

I couldn't stop shouting, the pleasure squirting out of me from my cock below and surging upward to my brain above. It took minutes, maybe the entire rest of the song, before I was able to quiet my vocalization and then another song to slow my breathing.

We lay there together, me rubbing her back, her hair, her buttocks through the silk, and her thighs as far as I could reach. And she affirmed how wonderful that was for her, what she'd been missing, and to not stop rubbing.

I didn't. For song after song I stroked her using both the melody in the music, as well as the rhythm, trying to feel the sensibility of touch, warmth, sound, and smell.

At long last, although the music had not run out on the playlist, the fire had become only embers and the room was beginning to get chilly. I pulled a blanket over us for a while, but as the hour was growing late, and I did not want to spend the night, I told her that I would need to be leaving soon.

Although the answer seemed obvious, I still had to ask the question. Was she still interested in having a three-way with me, my friend, and her.

She looked deeply into my eyes, and smiled broadly.

"I'm looking forward to double the pleasure. You've been so good. If your friend is even half that good it will be really ecstatic."

She added that she would first like to meet with him, however, maybe do with him what she and I had done, to make sure they, too, were simpatico.

I smiled back in my agreement. My friend was equally good, I knew, maybe even more so. And I couldn't wait to tell him.