Sophia Pt. 14

THIRTY-SIX

'This is what Sophia's been waiting for all night,' said Peter.

Sensing that Neberu might be feeling a bit hacked off, he quickly added, 'I don't mean she doesn't appreciate you. She was just about losing it when she was wrestling with your weapon.'

'Nyala is not experienced in Sapphic love-making,' said Neberu. 'In many ways, Africa is a very conservative place.'

Peter couldn't quite bring himself to believe that little Nyala was an ingenue when it came to girl-on-girl action, but he held his counsel and let her performance be his guide. She was certainly holding her own end up thus far, as she probed Sophia's mouth. His wife was doing her favourite thing of feigning resistance, keeping her lips only slightly ajar and forcing her partner to do all the work. Nyala moved her head around, endeavouring to find the best angle to force entry. She enlisted the aid of her hands, placing them on Sophia's breasts and tweaking her nipples. Still, Sophia held firm.

'Nyala seems to be doing fine,' said Peter.

'She lacks confidence,' said her husband. 'I would break your wife down in a jiffy.'

'Maybe that's why she's taking things slow,' thought Peter. 'Where would be the fun in a quick kill?'

The Ethiopian continued to work on Sophia's mouth. Eventually, she prised the lips apart and all hell broke loose. Sophia threw her on her back and straddled her, lowering her glistening pussy onto her face.

'Clean me out, home-wrecker!' she said. 'Make me come like you made my husband come!'

Peter stole a glance at Neberu, naked beside him. His crescent-shaped penis was growing before his eyes.

Nyala peeled Sophia's lips apart with her fingers and started to rub her thumb over her clitoris.

'I said eat me, bitch!' cried the blonde, unused to being defied.

Nyala ignored her and continued to work on her clitoris, as if determined not to stop till she had brought her to orgasm.

'At least lick the fucking thing!' yelled Sophia.

Peter sensed that was just what Nyala was going to do until she was addressed so high-handedly by his wife. Instead, she swapped hands and continued her digital massage of the clitoris.

'Good for you, little Nyala!' Peter communicated silently to his new lover.

'I think Nyala has run out of ideas,' said Neberu in an aside to his companion on the sofa.

'I have the feeling she knows what she is doing,' Peter whispered in reply.

Sophia began to manoeuvre her bottom around so that Nyala would have little option but to dip her tongue in her well, but the African Queen stood firm. She did, though, compromise by, after letting a minute or two lapse, replacing her thumb with her tongue. The effect was immediate: Sophia stiffened and let out a low mewl. Nyala built up the intensity until the clitoris was as big and firm as a pine nut.

'Don't stop!' groaned Sophia, throwing in the towel so far as attempts at domination were concerned.

Nyala detached herself from Sophia's body to ask her if she would treat her with more affection and respect, 'like your husband does'. Sophia's initial impulse was to tell the slut to do her job and shut the fuck up about her husband. Instead, she took stock like a good accountant and found that, when all the calculations had been made, there still existed considerable credit on Nyala's ledger. She would deal with the manipulative wiles of that wretched husband of hers later.

'Do you understand, Sophia?' asked Nyala. 'I would feel uncomfortable to continue unless I had your assurance that I will not be subject to insults and abuse.'

Sophia wanted to put her straight about so many things, but more than that she wanted to reach a debilitating orgasm under her tutelage. So she replied with a simple 'Yes, I understand.'

'How about an apology?' chipped in Peter from the sofa.

Sophia pretended not to hear him and shimmied back into position under Nyala's expert tongue.

'Your husband is right,' said Nyala. 'I would feel more comfortable after you have made an apology.'

'I apologise for calling you a bitch and a home-wrecker,' said Sophia without a scintilla of sincerity.

'Thank you,' said Nyala. 'Now I can place all my attention on teaching you in the ways of love.'

Incandescent with rage as she was, Sophia realised she was faced with Hobson's choice: either she sucked it up or the slut would take Peter upstairs and fuck his brains out.

Nyala told Sophia to raise her body a little off her and took the opportunity to assess the going on her oval race-track. Good to firm it most certainly wasn't. More like yielding with some softer patches.

'You are very wet, Sophia.'

Sophia knew that Nyala was deliberately lengthening the time-out.

'I get wet easily,' she replied. 'Licking your husband's scimitar did that to me.'

'Take that you bitch!' was her subtext.

'Ah,' said Nyala. 'So you would like us to swap places so he can pump you full of his sperm?'

'Maybe later,' replied Sophia, wondering how she had got herself into this conversation when all was going so swimmingly.

'Alright, I will continue. But, please, stop me at any time and I will hand you back to him so he can finish his job.'

Sophia had no answer to that rubbish but to lower herself back onto the woman below her, the woman who was still controlling her. Nyala decided the time was right to get Sophia off - twice in a minute, if all went according to plan. She began lashing at her pine nut with all the power her tongue possessed. Within seconds, Sophia, so recently irritated by all the interruptions and humiliations, began bucking. The inevitable explosion followed almost immediately.

Not giving her a moment to recover, the peerless Ethiopian rammed her tongue into Sophia's pussy, where the going had officially been reclassified as heavy. Nyala's tongue negotiated all the obstacles in her way like a mudlark at Aintree, reaching the finishing post with a victory cry. Too tired for a Frankie Dettori-style flying dismount, she gathered herself in preparation for her next ride.

No sooner had they reached the master bedroom than she and Peter were at it again. Sophia could do little more than observe from afar as Peter carried her as if he were Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentleman over to the bed. Nyala's smile as he did so was even more nauseating than Debra Winger's in the movie. Neberu had sat down on an easy chair, not far from Sophia, who was slumped in the other one. Although not as overtly hostile as Sophia, more observant eyes than hers may have noticed that he began to wear the look of a cuckolded husband.

Until now, it had always been he who called the shots when they did a bit of wife-swapping, but now the tables had been well and truly turned. He had always felt that his fearsome scimitar was his trump card, but now it began to dawn on him that Peter had obtained a grand slam in no trumps. On the other hand, there was always that white trash wife of his. He would bide his time before claiming his prize in front of the arrogant Englishman and his disrespectful wife.

First, though, there was the ordeal of watching the two lovebirds to endure. The liaison had taken on a Romeo and Juliet quality: Peter, all smiles and expansive gestures, wooing Nyala, all laughter and singular devotion.

'For fuck's sake, cut to the chase!' raged Sophia inwardly.

Kneeling on the bed, Peter led Nyala, standing, in a little pirouette. It was all Sophia could do to desist from gagging. When Nyala stopped spinning, Peter found himself level with her breasts. Apparently seeking permission from his beloved (Sophia didn't have a clear view of this scene in the drama) and most certainly receiving an exaggerated nod from the hussy, he latched onto her left breast with what Sophia felt was a babyish move lacking in all finesse.

Regardless of how cold she was left by his feeble attempt at lovemaking, the African temptress reacted as if she was being serviced by Rudolf fucking Valentino, gasping and shuddering and god knows what. His ego thus having been massaged, Peter moved across to her right breast (very predictable, Sophia thought) and introduced a bit of variation by running his finger around her dark areola and massaging her nipple, before flicking it as if it were a cigarette in need of the expulsion of its ash. Rather than complain or call the whole thing off, the gamine charmer cooed her approval, begging Peter to pleasure her with his expert tongue. He latched onto this breast as he had the other, receiving much the same response in terms of enthusiasm, with the non-verbal validation being supplemented by oral guff such as 'finish me off with your hammer'.

Peter kissed Nyala lightly on the lips, drew back and smiled that slimy smile of his at her. Instead of shoving him down to her pussy to get the thing over with, Nyala growled (yes, literally - Sophia had no idea how she did it) and rammed her tongue into Peter's mouth. Peter struggled to keep up, his arms flailing about as if he were an inflatable doll. But only for a second. Pushing her onto the bed, he drove his tongue into her mouth, used his knees to ease her legs apart and placed his penis on her launch pad. Then, without so much as a countdown, he engaged maximum thrust and blasted off.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Sophia grabbed hold of Neberu's hand and fairly dragged him onto the bed. Not that he was especially resistant to her; rather that he had been transfixed by watching his wife brought to a stupendous orgasm by Peter. He was not a man to feel overawed or second-best, but he realised that the Englishman had raised the bar and that the onus would be on him to deliver a stellar performance. He remembered how crazy she had been for his propeller-like tongue in the kitchen and decided to make her the beneficiary of another demonstration of his oral prowess as a prelude to ramming his record-breaking Priapus into her penis fly trap. He placed a pillow under her ass both to ease access to her dripping box and to allow the spectators on the sofa a better view. That is, when they bothered to look at all, so much time did they spend giggling together, whispering sweet nothings and engaging in long, searching kisses with accompanying groping.

Neberu got between Sophia's leg and turned on his blender, which had been set on whisk function. Sophia couldn't get enough of his tool and started encouraging him to reach new heights. Having whipped up quite a lather in her vulva, he decided it was time to form stiff peaks (well, at least one of them) on her clitoris. His bravura performance on this most sensitive of organs encouraged him to bring his bicycle pump into play. At first, Sophia was unresponsive to his thrusts on account of the fact that she was caught up in speculations as to which part of her body his thingie would end up in. Would it be able to reach her uterus? If so, would it be capable of doing any serious damage? Sophia was made to refocus her attention on matters at hand when Neberu shifted his position and drove his penis in at an angle that promised to come back on itself, like a boomerang. The image was enough to drive Sophia over the edge, even as the Ethiopian emptied himself in her.

Unseen by the pair on the bed, Peter had been unable to resist Nyala's charms and had been quietly impaling her while their spouses had been in the throes of passion. They had just enough time to resume their seats before their other halves finished up. Sophia still had unfinished business with Nyala, and perhaps it would be a fitting way to conclude this volume by describing the final encounter of a torrid evening - torrid even by our heroine's standards. Before heading for the bathroom, she snapped her fingers at the smoky beauty, pointed to the bed and told her to wait for her. Peter was feeling a bit chilly and fetched a dressing gown for himself and a bathrobe for Neberu. They were chatting together when Sophia returned a few minutes later.

Nyala was lying on the bed with her legs raised and bent at the knee, her back arched and her arms thrown behind her head to form a diamond. She had her eyes closed. Sophia felt that old familiar feeling in her stomach as she slipped past her, opened the dresser, took out the bag containing the cream coloured strap-on and placed it on the floor next to the bed. She then got onto the bed beside Nyala and put her hand on her stomach. She was fascinated by her pubic hair, which looked like a Brillo pad. She ran her fingers through the triangle and noted the relative wiriness of the filaments compared to her own. Nyala remained motionless with her eyes closed.

Sophia traced her fingers over Nyala's body, her legs, arms, abdomen, chest and face, like a pianist running his fingers over the keys. Still, Nyala kept her eyes shut, but Sophia had Peter and Neberu's full attention. She whispered something in the younger girl's ear but received nothing in response. As if she thought she might improve her hearing, she started kissing her ear, planting light kisses on the outer shell and the lobe. Peter hadn't seen his wife this sensual and unhurried in her lovemaking for many months now. She seemed to be waiting for Nyala to respond. The interaction had something of the phoney war about it; neither side wanted to commit too much too early.

Sophia knew the Ethiopian would be tired after her exertions that night, especially with Peter, and that her mind might still be on him. Is that what she had been whispering to her about? She moved her mouth onto Nyala's and kissed her softly, upper lip and then lower lip. Nyala wasn't slow to respond, returning the kisses and placing her hands on the older woman's sides. Sophia showed her appreciation for her partner's effort by putting her hands on her cheeks and increasing the intensity of her kiss, bringing her tongue into play. One hand snaked down to her breast and began massaging her. The other did not remain idle - finding its way round the back of her head and drawing her deeper into the kiss.

Sophia's thoughts turned to the fake cock on the carpet by the bed and she felt greatly turned on by the idea of thrusting it inside Peter's plaything. First, though, she must bring her off by more traditional means and prove herself equal to her rivals in the arts of Aphrodite. She wrapped her mouth around Nyala's and drove her tongue into its recesses. She could feel the woman responding on an instinctual, animal level and she could sense her refocusing on a cognitive level. Sophia knew that every last thought of Peter must be driven out. Aware that timing was everything, she began licking her breast while her hand journeyed through her scrubland until it found the waterhole at which she sought refreshment. At the same time as her tongue found the hard black nipple, her finger found its way into the marshy surrounds of the oasis. Nyala arched her back, inviting her visitor to venture further in. Knuckle by knuckle, it delved into the pool, which had so recently been refilled.

'My God!' thought Sophia. 'I'm going to be drinking her juices mixed with Peter's cum. They ought to name a cocktail after that!'

Thus turned on, she moved down the bed and lined herself up at the opening to the Ethiopian's cunt - a cunt that was seemingly open all hours. Peeling the labia apart to reveal the pink interior, she gasped instinctively at its beauty. The thought of Peter's appendage stuffing this perfect hole further inflamed Sophia's passion.

'I know what they do to adulteresses in your country,' said Sophia, looking up from between Nyala's legs at her face. 'They purify them with lashings, then they bring them to repentance through the threat of the truncheon. First, then, you must undergo the purification by lashing.'

Using both hands to prise apart the sinner's dark brown labia, Sophia drove her tongue inside her vulva, instantly tasting her husband inside her.

'You Babylonian whore!' she cried. 'I can taste my beloved's seed inside you. I must remove every last trace of it before you can be allowed to proceed to the next stage of your purification.'

True to her word, Sophia returned to work on Nyala's flooded chamber. It was a seemingly impossible task to remove all trace of her husband, as, each time she lapped up pools of his sperm, new pools would appear as if from nowhere to replace them. Sophia broke off from her Herculean task once more to interrogate Nyala.

'How often did my husband come inside you?'

Nyala shifted uncomfortably under the older woman.

'Answer me, Nyala!'

'Three times,' came the timid response.

'Holy moly!' cried Sophia. 'God, I have no chance of cleaning you out. We must move at once to the repentance by truncheon step.'

Reaching beside the bed, she grabbed the nine-inch strap-on dildo and brandished it in front of Nyala.

'Ever had one of these used on you before?'

Nyala looked a little sheepishly towards her husband.

'Once or twice,' she replied.

'I thought so. I wish this were going to be punishment but I know only too well that you will enjoy this too. Isn't that right?'

'Maybe.'

Sophia swiftly tightened the harness and spread Nyala's legs wide. Yes, she would take her as she was, lying on her back. She would exorcise the spirit of Peter from her body. She lined up the bulbous head against the Ethiopian's once more tight pussy and probed with medium intensity, overcoming the desire to ram it into her. Taking hold of the younger girl's arms, she placed them at an angle of 45 degrees from her body as if in supplication. She then let her have the full extent of the rigid cock in one slow movement, drawing gasps from her mouth that Peter would never be able to equal.

'Like it, eh?' Sophia said with mockery in her voice. 'Want more?'

Nyala could only nod in reply.

Sophia started to power the beast back and forth in Nyala's vagina. Everyone in the room could hear the slurping sounds as the truncheon pistoned inside the cavern that was supplied with a spring that would never run dry. When Sophia saw that Nyala was at the point of no return, she drew the phallus out with a 'pop', looked her straight in the eyes, told her she must never think of Peter again and drove it back inside her. The reaction was fast and furious, as Nyala - her mind full of images of Peter's smile and Peter's cock - went hurtling over the edge, accompanied by a primordial roar from her tormentor.

AFTERWORD

Sophia leant back in her top-of-the-range high backrest soft pad leather and chrome executive chair and looked out over the Thames with the North Downs in the distance. Much had happened to her professionally over the past 18 months, culminating in her assumption of the post of CFO. Personally, too, she had undergone enormous changes - mostly pleasant, some painful - since that fateful day when she set out from home to purchase a wedding gift for an old friend and ended up buying into a whole new way of life. At the age of 33, what some people would consider the best years of her life stretched out before her.

What type of adventures lay in store for her, she wondered, as she glanced at her phone, where the latest Dow Jones update had just flashed up? With a trip to Germany planned for the new year and visits to the bank's offices in Japan and the States pencilled in for the spring and summer, there was little doubt that she would be busier than ever in her professionally capacity. But what of her personal life? Would she see further growth or would she experience a plateau? And how effectively would she be able to satisfy and at the same time manage Peter, whose lust for life had flourished alongside hers, but sometimes, she felt, at her expense?

THE END

Stay tuned for the further adventures of our heroine, as she prepares to return in Sophia's World.