The Whole Enchilada

The music was coming to an embellished crescendo, so we finished our burlesque routine face to face, tight against each other's body. I lifted my right leg and hooked it around her hips, pressing Brigitte's pelvis into mine. As we embraced, her hand flowed along my elevated thigh towards my hip to eventually squeeze my bum underneath my dress. However, she then moved her hand up to my back, raising my dress in the process to expose my ass and G-string to the audience, inciting more off-colour hoots and hollers. We finally ended our performance with the anticipated kiss, remaining in our tangled position, my bum exposed, while our tongues played and danced in each other's mouth. Her lips were soft, sweet, yet electric, and only when the music stopped did we end our wet kiss.

The bar erupted in applause, whistles, laughter, and calls for an encore involving a lot more than a kiss. I glowed with excitement and made no effort to hide my tits. Brigitte and I performed an exaggerated curtsy to one another followed by several to the audience. During her curtsies, Brigitte held her short dress aloft to expose her pussy, possibly in moral support of my exposure. Finally I covered my breasts, quickly tying up my top, and turned to give Brigitte a hug and light kiss before returning to Chris.

My husband eyed me with interest. He had never seen me kiss anyone, let alone another woman, and while hugging me from behind he whispered, "You are full of surprises!" I was too flushed to respond.

Everyone got up to shake a leg after our performance, the bar metamorphosing into a zany dance hall. Brigitte and I became popular dance partners, and many of the men were eager to offer praise for our performance. During one slow rumba with the German man, he took the opportunity to thank me again for baring myself so blatantly a few days ago. His right hand lay low on my back, and I sensed my face redden as I recalled how I reclined on the beach that day, cracking my oyster apart for him. I smiled but remained quiet. As we continued dancing, he led me into a slow turn so that we were now looking at his wife dancing with a young man whose hands gripped her ass while she unashamedly rubbed up against him. I was speechless, but he just smiled and appeared at ease with the scene.

The dancing and partying continued until around midnight, at which point someone suggested a moonlight swim, so a group of around twenty tottered off to the beach, my husband and I among them. Once our party got to the beach, someone yelled out, "Last one in is a prude!" prompting everyone to quickly strip off their clothes. I untied the halter-top, unzipped my dress, slipping out of it quickly, and pushed my G-string down my legs, carelessly kicking it away. Despite the warmth of the tropical night, my skin turned to gooseflesh and my nipples puckered and hardened.

I stood nude on the beach again, but this time under the cover of night. I waded into the lagoon and felt a tingle when the water level reached my pussy, causing my nipples to pleasantly ache from both the coolness of the water and the thrill. People were laughing and whooping; every so often a woman would shriek and then laugh throatily. Chris and I were off to one side while others played and splashed. Eventually, couples paired off and drifted away to be alone, except for one group of five who remained close together. It turned out that it was the German woman and her husband with three other men, all gathered around her, and my mind raced with randy images that I knew too well.

Chris and I stood in waist-deep water and began kissing and touching. I stroked his hard cock down to its base and then cupped his balls. They seemed tight, most likely from retracting due to the coolness of the water.

As we kissed, I spied Brigitte wading towards us, nude, the moonlight reflecting off her blonde hair and illuminating her shape and full curves. I broke my embrace with Chris and welcomed her, wrapping my arms around her. We started to kiss, just like on the dance floor, but this time our hands wandered, and I kneaded her beautiful tits while she probed my cunt.

We kissed for a long time, and I tried to lose myself in her caresses and lips, but Chris was in the background, both mentally and physically. I debated what to do, and finally I pulled my husband in close to us, bringing him next to Brigitte. They embraced and kissed, and I watched Brigitte suck on his tongue and Chris's hand go to her tits to pluck greedily at her nipples.

It's been said that a first kiss is the confirmation of attraction, longing, and lust, and as such it becomes memorable due to its demarcation of a momentous change in an affair, the point at which a relationship—no matter how short or trifling—becomes free to express and act upon its physical desires. I watched them share this, their primal kiss, marvelling yet aching at its intensity, passion, and thirst.

Another time, another place, and the scene in front of me would have been infuriating. But tonight I welcomed the situation, its unusualness, its contravention of code, and its sacrilegious eroticism.

They separated and she turned back to me. We kissed again, but this time I was far more aggressive, grabbing her hair to tilt her head back while my hand attacked her pussy. And it went like that, the three of us trading kisses and gropes, with Brigitte rarely as observer.

Eventually, my husband suggested that we should go back to our room. We got out of the water and collected our clothes. I found my dress and shoes, but I couldn't locate my thong. I gave up looking for it and didn't bother putting my dress on.

We walked back, the three of us nude, stopping to kiss and fondle each other, not unlike my crazy weekend at the cottage so long ago. Once we were off the sand and onto the path, I brushed my feet clean and slipped on my slides; Brigitte, likewise, quickly strapped on her sandals. Chris watched us, his cock so hard that its thick head had mushroomed out beyond the foreskin, and enthused that we looked beautiful in the moonlight, naked and in our shoes. He then took our dresses from us under the pretence of chivalry.

"You just want to make sure we stay nude," I teased.

"You better fucking believe it," he exhaled.

So Brigitte and I walked along the path, holding hands, wearing only our heels, while Chris, also nude, carried our clothes. Along the way we passed a couple who were out for a late-night stroll, and we heard them laugh and giggle once we'd gone by.

When we arrived at our cabana door, Brigitte and I kissed again, our hands exploring each other's curves, while Chris searched for the room key. My eyes were shut in bliss when I heard the unlatching of the lock. We entered and stood next to the bed while Chris sat in a chair with one leg slung over an armrest, watching us while languidly stroking his cock.

After numerous deep kisses, Brigitte and I climbed onto the bed and continued kissing while kneeling. Our hands roamed over each other, stopping often to either fondle a breast, tug on nipples, or finger a wet, pulpy cunt.

I got behind her and turned her to face Chris, holding her from behind while we both knelt in an upright position. My hands clutched her lavish breasts, squeezed their luxurious mass, and pointed them towards my husband. Soon after, my hand drifted to her pussy; it was wet and slick, her excitement obvious. I caressed her sex while nibbling her neck, inciting her hips to gyrate, before tugging upwards on her tuft of pubic hair, lifting her vulva for Chris to see. But I wasn't satisfied; her knees were too close together. So I seized her blonde mane with one hand and yanked on it, tilting her head back. With my other hand I reached down, grabbed the inside of her knee, and roughly shoved it to the side, splitting her thighs wide apart. Then I leaned back, bringing her with me so that her pussy was directed at my husband, and again I pulled upwards on her sparse pubic hair, lifting her cunt to expose it for my husband.

I was like a cat that had caught a mouse, brought it home, and was now showing it off to the household. A sly smile played on my lips as I looked at Chris. Not a word was spoken, but I was clearly displaying my prize and gift to him.

As I held her and unveiled her vulva to my husband, Brigitte's head turned towards me. Her tongue darted out as she tried to touch mine, which was equally frantic. We stayed in that recumbent position, kissing while exhibiting her twat to Chris, until we finally tired.

At last we lay on the bed, our mouths poised over each other's pussy. We were tentative at first, each gently testing the other's waters, so to speak. She was sweet, far sweeter than I expected, compelling me to devour her. But the fluttering of her tongue gradually transformed into a delicate suction that ignited my clit and distracted me from pleasuring her. I tried to reciprocate, but the sensations so overwhelmed me that I simply lay back and allowed myself to relish her kisses to my pussy, spreading myself wide for her.

My clit scintillated under her mouth and tongue. The currents she transmitted through my eager cunt were received, then attenuated, amplified, and relayed throughout my body. My orgasm rose until it finally overcame my resistance and surged though me unimpeded, modulating in that unique, delicious frequency which carries a million crazy, disconnected messages.

After recovering, I took my turn to lick her, initially lapping the teeming fluids from her vulva. Soon, I sucked on her tiny clit while fondling her small, thin labia with my fingers. The tightness of her cunt intrigued me, yet it also caused me envy. My pussy was nowhere near as small as hers, and I wondered how she handled the girth of a hard, thick cock. I inserted a finger and rubbed upwards while mouthing her button. Her response encouraged me, so I slipped in another finger and scratched her special spot while still nourishing myself on her clit.

Her nipples tensed into large, hard nubs, provoking me to reach up with my free hand to twist them while continuing to suck her cunt. She raised her legs, spreading herself for me, so I increased the intensity of my sucking. Periodically, I would stop to vigorously finger-fuck her, holding her by an ankle to wrench her open while I plunged my fingers into her drenched hole. Finally, I concentrated on her clit, licking and sucking while stretching her cunt with my two fingers. Her hips bucked with force until, for a brief moment, she stopped as if paralysed before climaxing with loud grunts and free-flowing fluids.

We were resting, relaxing, and taking turns licking her juices off my fingers when Chris approached the bed, his cock wondrously hard. He came towards me and made no secret of what he wanted. His dick, coated with copious pre-cum, glistened in the soft light. I took him into my mouth, sucking his firm, blood-engorged flesh. Brigitte snuggled against me so that she was nearer and watched me suck my husband. I decided to put on a show, so I got off the bed, slipped my shoes on, and squatted in front of Chris to continue sucking him, my knees bawdily apart. As I bobbed on his cock, one of my hands held on to his ass while my other manipulated my cunt.

Brigitte followed me off the bed to crouch behind me, her knees embracing my body and her hands gripping my tits, and looked over my shoulder at my consumption of Chris. Her fingers concentrated on my nipples, delightfully plucking and twisting them while I sucked.

"Do you suck him often, Catherine?" she whispered.

Her question thrilled me, so I removed Chris from my mouth and responded, "Yes, I do it often," before resuming my blow job with renewed vigour.

"And when he has the orgasm, does he... in your mouth?"

I was close to cumming from diddling myself while I sucked and more so from her queries. I again released Chris and gave a slow lick from his balls to the top of his shaft.

"Yes," I answered, looking back at her, "most times he cums in my mouth—it gives me pleasure to taste him, to feel his convulsions, his spasms, the expansion of his penis. But, sometimes," I said while running my finger suggestively down her forehead and onto her nose, then onto her cheek before resting it upon her lips," sometimes, he decorates me."

She shivered upon hearing my words, her eyes closing while her lips clasped my finger.

"Come here," I beckoned, making space and patting the floor beside me.

She obeyed, crawling next to me, still in her heels, to kneel in front of my husband's cock. I held it at the base, gave it a leisurely draw until it popped out of my lips, and then pointed it at her. She sucked it without hesitating and began bobbing on his cock, causing my cunt to puddle. Chris's excitement was manifest: his groans grew loud, and his hips thrust forcefully at her face. I sensed he would cum soon if she didn't ease off, so I took his cock from her mouth and kissed her.

I smiled at her and said, "Let's kiss him together."

So we mouthed his erection, jointly fluttering our lips and tongues about his shaft. Every now and then, our tongues would meet, invoking wild, burning sensations within me. Our encounters with each other's tongue initiated passionate kisses between her and me, but we would eventually unlock our lips and return to our servicing of Chris.

Chris's breathing was audible as we suckled him. When one of us would draw him in, sucking him deep, he'd moan, hold our head still, and pump at our mouth with purpose. Brigitte and I allowed him this pleasure for brief periods, but then we would halt him, leaving him desperate and wanting, and kiss each other, tasting his cock on each other's lips, before resuming our teasing of Chris's erection.

But my husband could not hold out forever. Predictably, it was while Brigitte sucked him that his passion boiled over. It was sudden: he simply cried, "Oh fuck!" before pushing his hips into her face, keeping them pressed towards her mouth as he shot his streams into her throat, groaning incoherently as he did so.

It was her gulps that undid me. Watching my husband hold her head to fuck her mouth was seductive; staring at her lips clasping his shaft as it slid within her mouth was erotic; seeing him convulse and blow while his familiar cock was in her throat was electrifying; but hearing her gulp and swallow my husband's cum was staggering. I was hypnotised, fingering myself to an orgasm as I watched and listened to her drink his milk.

Once she had finished swallowing, Brigitte released Chris's cock and turned to face me. Semen oozed from both corners of her mouth. I licked the white, viscous rivulets, tasting my husband on her lips and chin. And then I kissed her, our mouths open, my tongue probing, searching, and finding Chris's emission.

I held Brigitte and rubbed her soaking pussy before kissing her again. We then scrambled onto the bed, whereupon I removed her sandals before planting my face between her legs. Chris, meanwhile, returned to his voyeur's chair, spent, to watch us indulge ourselves again.

I resisted diving into her and instead commenced slowly, caressing her with feathery kisses and light touches. I wanted to lose myself in her body—her tits, her skin, her cunt. The latter fascinated me; her petals were thin, small, and pink, unlike my dark, meaty flaps. In addition, her hole was narrow, infuriatingly tight, which was also unlike mine. I craved to stretch her, to make her big. Was this desire born of spite, jealousy, or lust? I still can't express the complexity of my emotions at that moment, but I did know that I hungered to witness my large vibrator fill and broaden her dainty cunt. However, I withheld acting upon my urge until my soft licking and mouthing of her pussy had rendered her dank and agitated.

Once I had primed her, I scampered to the night table to retrieve 'Mr Big' from the drawer and returned to commence my slow penetration of her petite pussy. Her quick breaths and wide eyes suggested alarm at the size of the toy, at its girth, but her raised and splayed thighs, which proclaimed her eagerness for the stuffing of her cunt, betrayed her.

Chris rose from the chair for a better view, watching as I progressively packed the thick plastic cock into her pussy. With her eyes open, she strained her head upwards to witness the cock inch into her, moaning and squirming as her cunt accommodated the toy. I was intrigued and impressed by the elasticity of her pussy, by its capacity and willingness to consume.

"Suck it; suck her cunt," I urged.

Chris wasted no time and dove onto her while I continued inching the toy deeper. Brigitte responded immediately, gasping aloud with her head tilted back, her hands tearing at the bed sheets. Before long she quivered while vociferously lamenting in French. When her tremors had ebbed, Chris lifted his head, his lips glistening and soaked, and kissed me, allowing me to taste her juices from his lips.

My husband now knelt next to me, his cock resurrected and eager, as we gazed at Brigitte's crammed cunt. He held one of her legs while I lengthened the action of 'Mr Big', pumping her hole with long, slow strokes. I gripped his shaft with my other hand, stroking upwards so that his foreskin would rise to cover his thick head before pulling down to fully reveal his bulbous, lustrous knob. With one hand on the toy and my other on his cock, I oscillated with the same cadence, sliding the vibrator into Brigitte's cunt while completing a concurrent downward stroke on Chris's cock, then vice versa, simulating and mimicking their copulation.

I smiled at him and asked, "Are you imagining that you're fucking her?"

"Yes," he said between breaths, leaning back, "yes, I am."

"Not yet—soon," I told him, both tantalising and frustrating him. "First, I want to see her suck and fuck."

Straightaway, Chris moved up to Brigitte's face to lay his erection across her face. She closed her eyes but opened her mouth to draw him in again. As soon as she started sucking, she expanded even more, allowing the synthetic cock to probe yet deeper into her cunt. I took one of her hands and guided it to her clit. She frantically rubbed herself, trying to coax yet another climax. I watched her writhe in ecstasy and abandonment, astonished at the beauty and vulgarity of her position, spurring vivid images to flash through my brain of my depraved gang bang at the cottage over twenty years ago.

I wanted to see her—or perhaps to see me through her—in another position, so I simply said, "Doggy style."

Chris immediately arranged Brigitte, who was compliant, onto her hands and knees. I ensured that her thighs were well apart and continued to marvel at the intrusion of 'Mr Big' into her small twat. Chris, meanwhile, remained in front of her, gripped her hair, and resumed fucking her mouth.

I was both surprised and amused by my dominance—surprised, for with Chris and other men before him, I tended towards submissiveness in bed—and amused because I briefly considered referring to Brigitte as "the bitch", but even in my heat, the term struck me as over-the-top and silly, especially since I harboured no real resentment towards her.

She absorbed the two cocks while on her hands and knees, enticing me to play with her magnificent tits. I bent low, my head below her torso, to watch her breasts hang and undulate. They were so beautiful, dangling like exotic, forbidden fruit. I could not resist their temptation, so I handled them, squeezing and tugging, feeling their weight and fullness, all while her backend gyrated from the continued invasion of her cunt by the thick toy and from her finger twitching over her clit. Her dark nipples beckoned me to twist and pull them, and when I did, I sensed a transformation in her. Again she convulsed in advance of becoming momentarily still, almost stunned, before violently exploding, her ecstatic moans muffled by Chris's cock. Her orgasm precipitated yet another flood of slick honey from her pussy so that the plastic cock now made squishy sounds as it worked within her slippery cunt. I removed the toy, allowing her juices to pour, and contorted myself to quaff her syrup.