The House Group Leader's Wife Pt. 02

Connor acknowledged the returning Todd as he walked off to join his wife, who was talking with two of the foreign students who had joined the church the previous year and had recently switched house groups. They were Nigerian: one, Abimbola, was pursuing a PhD in petrochemical law, while his friend, Olusola, was about to embark on the second and final year of a master's in international relations. Connor could see at a glance that Olusola fancied himself as a bit of a ladies' man and was very keen to get into Marcia's pants. Connor thought it would be fun to see how he operated when his style was being cramped by her husband.

The short answer was that Connor's presence didn't seem to make any difference at all. Always the very model of courtesy, as befitted the son of a diplomat, Olusola told Connor that he had just been telling his wife that she was the most beautiful woman at the party. Connor had what he thought was the perfect riposte.

"That is very kind of you, but I imagine that in your country there are countless women next to whom she would pale into insignificance."

This gratuitous putdown of his own wife took the Nigerian by surprise, not to mention, Marcia, who gave her husband a funny look, embarrassed that he could be so threatened by what she considered to be a bit of harmless flirting.

"Mr Regan," Olusola replied with great feeling in his voice, "in my country your wife would be treated as a princess. She has what we call a 'regal air'. She would be allowed to perform no domestic chores."

Marcia decided it was time to put an end to this silliness.

"In that case, Olusola, might I prevail upon you to top my drink up. And - here you are," she added, taking the glass out of Connor's hand, "perhaps you would be so good as to get Connor another of whatever he is having."

"The white wine would do fine," said Connor, accepting the olive branch his wife was offering him.

"Two white wines, then," Marcia smiled at Olusola, who moved towards the house with the silent Abimbola in tow.

"What was that all about?" said Marcia, wondering what had got under Connor's skin - even though she was pretty sure she knew, what with the presence of Jennifer, not to mention all the new talent: Sally, Meiling and Harper.

"Just banter," said Connor. "You know I think you're the most beautiful woman at the party too."

And he gave her a kiss as if to prove it, just as Daryl and Alicia joined them.

"You two should get a room," said Daryl. "Can't even wait for all the guests to leave until you start making out."

"What do you make of Annie Hall from California?" said Alicia, looking at Marcia and obviously expecting her to be the one to give her assessment first.

"I think she's likely to do a roaring trade in massages, if the reaction from the men at this party is any guide," she said, casting a meaningful glance at Connor.

"Jennifer says she's no mean yoga instructor either," said Alicia, also turning her gaze on Connor, just for the hell of it and to watch him trying so hard to pretend to have no interest in either of the two women.

Connor played it cool, merely smiling and pretending to play the role of a facilitator: letting others talk first. Daryl decided to help him out, never averse to a spot of male bonding.

"Well, if you ask me," he said, adopting his camp persona, "I wouldn't want her hands anywhere near my body. As for that Todd, on the other hand..."

He let his voice trail away, to the merriment of the others. As the laughter died down, they were joined by Jennifer and Dean. Dean, who had been itching to talk to the two Asian babes, had been given no opportunity to stray, as Jennifer had stuck to him like a limpet. It was consolation of sorts for him to be close to Alicia and Marcia, but how much better would it have been if he had been able to have them all to himself! He thought he had noticed a change in their attitude to him since he had let himself be rogered by Daryl (even if unwillingly - it was mainly to please them that he had agreed to the violation) and he was keen to leverage this reserve of goodwill.

A thought suddenly struck him. He wondered why he had taken so long to think of it. He concluded that he must be slowing down. Yes, that must be it; he couldn't bear to think that he might actually be losing his touch. He would set up not a threesome, but a quintet: him, Marcia, Alicia and the two Asian babes (he'd have to get hold of their names). They would make out in front of him (either together or one after the other - on reflection, preferably at the same time, so he didn't waste so much time), then he would take them one by one. The order would need a little thinking about, but provisionally he wanted to go Asian-Caucasian-Asian-Caucasian, finishing with Marcia. He'd need to come four times, but that shouldn't be a problem if a) he took a couple of pills beforehand, b) he spread the action out over a whole day, c) he got the women to swap partners and provide the entertainment between each of his sessions, and d) he didn't let the women make him cum when they gave him BJs.

"Dean, you seem very quiet," it was Marcia speaking. "Everything okay?"

"I was just thinking what a great party this has been," Dean gushed. "You know, great food, great drink and, best of all, great company!"

"You seem unusually quiet," Marcia continued. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Hell, no! To be here, surrounded by you guys, it's as close as a man can get to heaven on this earth."

"Did you sort yourself out a yoga session with Harvey?" Alicia asked.

"What? Oh, you mean with Harper?"

"Oh, is that her name? I knew it was something masculine."

Dean was going to say that there was nothing masculine about her, that she was all woman, etc., but thought better of it.

"You know, I was thinking about it. Either that or a massage. I think it's important to encourage the entrepreneurial spirit."

"Oh, that's funny," continued Alicia. "I thought she was working for a local spa."

"I guess it takes one to see one," said Dean, who had mentioned to Harper that he was looking to diversify into the leisure industry and was seeking partners who would fit well with his business model. "She is keen to strike out on her own and grow a business based on her own vision of the complementarity of yoga and massage therapy."

"Wow!" said Marcia. "Sounds like she really sold you on the idea!"

"Marcia, you need a vision when you are an entrepreneur. Without that you have nothing."

"I guess," continued Marcia. "But without money you can't get very far either, no?"

"Not at all. Look at all the great names that started in a garage. Or look at me. I started working out of a bedroom at home. Just a double house at that, with only two bedrooms."

"Well," Daryl said, changing the subject, though not really because Dean was being given the third degree. "Don't you think it's time we gave a shout-out to Bill for all the terrific work he's been doing on the grill?"

Clinking his glass with the Swiss Army knife, which he always carried with him, Connor quietened the assembly (if with some difficulty) and proposed a toast to all those who had made the evening possible. There was Mary, who had been so helpful behind the scenes, Bill, who had done such a sterling job on the grill, and finally Marcia, who had planned the whole event and even used it as a way of finally getting her husband to fix the lights in the yard, something he'd been putting off for months.

"Right, that's it," concluded Connor. "I just wanted to say that before it got too late, or before you got too tanked to hear it! The night is yet young, and there is plenty of food and drink to polish off."

A ripple of applause having greeted their house group leader's speech, the guests got back to the business of the evening.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by the group of six around Connor that Sally and Meiling had become very chummy with Todd and Harper. Dean in particular was keen to gate crash that group, but could feel the invisible collar that Jennifer had put round his neck chafing too tightly to risk incurring her displeasure by straining at the leash.

At what appeared to be a prearranged signal, Alicia and Daryl excused themselves and went to join the group of newcomers. This left not just Dean but also Connor frustrated. Dean mumbled something about mingling with the other guests, at which point Marcia called over Bill and Mary, who were receiving the thanks of the other older couple who had attended the barbecue, Ken and Cynthia. In the event, all four came over, leaving Connor and Dean feeling more trapped than ever.

What followed was like death by a thousand cuts, as Marcia, abetted by Jennifer, asked questions of each member of each couple in turn about their work, their families and even their thoughts about the direction the house group should take. At one point, Dean offered to get a red and a white wine, so he could top everyone up - he had noticed one of the Asian babes going inside and thought he might be able to lay a line on her - but Marcia intervened to suggest that Ken might like to do the honours, as Dean would be keen to listen to the suggestions for the direction of the house group. For his part, Dean had absolutely no clue what they had even been talking about.

Eventually, the party started to wind down, and Dean and Connor knew they had been thoroughly stitched up when the Asian babes, followed by Harper, said they'd be in touch - addressing their comments to Marcia and Jennifer. Later that evening, as he lay in bed with Marcia, Connor decided to bluff it and to every question she asked about the party he replied in a very positive vein, interlacing comments about the older couples with remarks about the students - both male and female. When Marcia asked him what he thought about the Californian couple, he said he thought Todd's contacts with the building trade could be very useful as the church planned an extension to its administrative block. When pressed about Harper, he told his wife that she ought to get a massage from her, especially in light of the lower back pains she had been suffering of late.

"That," she told him, "is exactly what I have arranged."

Chapter 7

When Marcia signed up for her massage, it was not through the spa where Harper was working part-time but as a private arrangement. Marcia had decided to arrange it for 9 o'clock in the morning, so she could go to Harper's place straight after dropping the kids off at school. She pointedly hadn't asked Harper how long the session would be, and Harper hadn't mentioned it either. As for the fee, Harper had told Marcia they she was happy for her to reward her with what she thought she was worth.

When Marcia arrived, she was greeted by Harper wearing a white jacket (rather like a judo jacket it was done up with a belt) and white pants. She was wearing very lightweight slippers of the type they provide in a hotel room. Harper, her hair tied in a ponytail, as usual, showed Marcia through to the room downstairs which they had converted into her workspace.

"Wow!" Marcia exclaimed, as she took in the white fittings and decor, as well as the scent from the dozen or so candles that were burning in the room.

"Why don't you undress here while I pop outside to get the oils? You can use this towel."

"Should I leave my underwear on?" asked Marcia, with a discernible tremble in her voice.

"It's entirely up to you, but the Tantric massage I offer is all about the whole body. You will gain more from the experience if you have nothing that can come between you and the outcomes you desire."

Marcia began to take off her clothes, but her mind wasn't on the job. She was starting to wonder if she shouldn't knock the thing on the head right now and head home. Then she thought what a slap in the face it would appear to the newest member of Connor's house group. She had just finished undressing and had slipped on the white towel, when Harper knocked on the door to check that she was ready. In a voice not quite her own, Marcia told her to come in.

Harper had her lie down on the table, which was surprisingly sturdy, and began working on her shoulders. Her hands were strong and she clearly knew what she was doing as Marcia began to feel the tension leave her body. Harper applied some oil, which she must have warmed, as it was scarcely noticeable.

"It contains many herbs and spices," said the masseuse. "The blend is first mentioned in the Kama Sutra."

Marcia had once found a copy of this book on the floor beside her mother's bed. She would never forget the drawings of different sex positions. The image she had been trying to block from her mind (of Harper, naked, about to go down on her) flooded her mind. As a result, she didn't hear when the young woman asked her a question, and had to ask her to repeat it.

"I just asked if you would be okay with my easing the towel down so I can do your back?"

"Oh, yes, sure," replied Marcia, still quite flustered.

"Just lift yourself up a bit then, so I can get the towel."

Before Marcia could think it through properly, she has raised herself from the table. Like a flash, Harper's hands had come, one from each side, to loosen the fold Marcia had made just above her breasts. As Harper's hands left the scene, one of them grazed Marcia's boob, causing her to let out a moan.

"I'm sorry," said Harper. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

Marcia said it was okay, but her body was telling Harper that it was a lot more than that. She pulled the towel down so that now it was covering her ass and her upper thighs, and got to work on her back, pouring some more of the soothing oil on her spine and watching it as it ran down towards her towel and then under it towards the crack between her buttocks.

Harper already knew that Marcia had a great body, but only now was she beginning to realise just how good. She couldn't wait to get her naked and find out how much resistance she was going to put up. If she'd read the signs correctly, there wasn't going to be much.

"You said your major area of concern was the lower back?" she asked, as she prepared to remove the towel altogether.

Once that step had been taken, she knew that Marcia was all hers.

"Um, yes, but I feel so much better already."

"Not as good as you'll be feeling in ten minutes," Harper thought.

"I need to work on your glutes," she told Marcia. "You okay if we lose the towel?"

"Is that really necessary?" asked Marcia.

Harper noticed how she had tensed right up. She had also spread her legs a little wider. Both of these signals told her all she needed to know about the house group leader's wife's real feelings about what she needed. And Harper for one wasn't going to disappoint her.

Without answering what she took to be a rhetorical question, the masseuse removed the towel and had to suppress a gasp as she took in Marcia's ass. The oil had indeed found its way into her crack; it would be lubricating Marcia's pussy, although Harper knew that this would constitute only a fraction of the lubrication she was about to find there. First things first, though; she couldn't pass up the opportunity to work on those fabulous globes.

Pouring a liberal amount of oil onto each cheek, she watched as a goodly portion of the liquid pooled around her asshole. She could see that Marcia had adopted the brace position, her hands clutching the end of the table and making the sheet bunch up around them. Her head was turned to one side and Harper felt rather than saw that her eyes were closed, since they were covered by her hair. She started to knead her buttocks with some force, increasing the pressure as she went. Marcia opened her legs a little further, so that Harper could now clearly see her fleshy labia and the lengthy gash they had long since stopped trying to protect.

"I'm going to work on your legs now," she said softly.

"If you think that will help," said Marcia, as if in a dream.

"The whole body is interconnected," Harper assured her. "In order to obtain the release you require, I need to work out all your little knots."

Marcia lay there powerless to stop Harper doing whatever she wanted with her. But for the moment she was doing nothing. Marcia wondered if she had got cold feet, but when she heard the sound of the heavy jacket falling to the floor, she understood the reason for the delay. She had to wait another few seconds while Harper removed her pants. At least, that was what she felt certain she must be doing.

When Harper picked up her foot and began to kiss the toes and the gaps between them, Marcia let out a deep moan. Encouraged by the older woman's response, Harper repeated the treatment on the other foot, before moving her strong hands to her ankles and presently to her calves. Once her hands reached her knees, she spread Marcia's legs even wider, moved her hands up her inner thighs and let her fingers lightly brush over her outer lips.

"Let's flip you over," she told Marcia, who felt like a violin string that was strung so tightly that just one more turn would cause it to snap.

Walking round to the head of the table, she leant down and kissed Marcia, her hands dabbling with her breasts. Marcia, as if released from chains that had long bound her, kissed her back with an intensity that took Harper by surprise. But she still had the upper hand, and she used that to fight fire with fire, the two women locked in an embrace that neither wanted to be the first to end.

Placing her hands on Harper's fledgling breasts, Marcia squeezed them, scarcely aware of what she was doing. Harper reciprocated by massaging Marcia's full breasts, avoiding the nipples as best she could. And still the women kissed. When Harper moved away, it was only so that she could start kissing her ears, then her neck and finally her breasts. Marcia sought out Harper's boyish ass, which reminded her so much of Vesna's, digging her fingers into the flesh, then prising her cheeks apart so she could imagine the puckered asshole gaping.

Determined to retain control, Harper began to work on Marcia's jutting nipples, the woman's reaction telling her everything she needed to know about the success of this move. Only the crowning moment when she began to eat her pussy remained for her (or so she thought) so it was a matter of whether she moved there now or waited a while. She decided to wait.

Marcia began to writhe on the table, which gave the masseuse an idea. She went to the end of the table, liberally applied oil over her body, mounted the table, then climbed on top of her customer. Like a snake, she moved her body over Marcia's, up and down, breast mashing against breast, pussy squelching against pussy. Getting Marcia to lift one leg, she began to scissor her until she felt she was on the verge of climaxing. Accelerating the tempo, she suddenly felt that she too was about to come.

"Oh, fuck!" she exclaimed, her cries unable to drown out Marcia's, but a suitable accompaniment to them, nonetheless.

Wasting no time, she got between the woman's legs and began to eat her out, as if she had eaten nothing for days.

"Yeah, god, yeah!" was all that Marcia could produce, as she searched for the words to urge Harper to even better things.

Harper was motivated by the response, to be sure, but it would be going too far to say that she needed any urging. The taste and texture of this glorious piece of womanhood was all the incentive she needed. She only wished she could make it last longer, but she recognised that was out of her hands. Within two minutes (three, tops) Marcia had embarked on another orgasm, this one more pulverising than the first.

Chapter 8

Harper was ready to end the session here, but she hadn't reckoned on Marcia, who had her own ideas about the direction which their encounter should take at this point. She knelt on the table face to face with Harper, let down her hair, and kissed her: this time even harder than the first time - almost violently. Moving to Harper's breasts, she flailed at them with her tongue, almost out of control, such was her state of arousal. Harper's flat nipples hardly budged, but the effect the older woman was having on her was unmistakable, as she began to make staccato noises midway between grunts and whines. Marcia could have spent longer at the girl's tits, but she wanted the bigger prize, and she wanted it now.