Savannah and Martin at 219 Harper's Cove

by Deanndra Hall

  He leans up far enough to pinch one of my nipples, then the other, and I groan. Apparently he likes that, because he stands and, continuing to stroke me, he pinches and pulls first one nipple and then the other. I want to shriek but I don’t, just try to take it as best I can. “Like that? Feel good?”

  “Yes. Oh god, yes.”

  “Good girl.” He keeps up the teasing with his fingertip and slides a couple of fingers of the other hand into my pussy.

  “Oh, damn, Tate! Damn, damn, damn.” He pumps a little, then starts to stroke my G-spot with gusto and I cry out, “Oh god, Tate, please?”

  “Please what?”

  “Please make me come?”

  He laughs. “Oh, no. I’m nowhere near through with you yet.” He keeps up the stroking, then he sits back down and his tongue replaces his finger, his strong hands gripping the backs of my thighs, forcing my legs ever farther toward my head.

  Every muscle in my body is tensed and ready to explode. I’m getting close, very close. I make the mistake of groaning out, “Oh, god, Tate, I’m gonna come.”

  And he stops, then starts pumping two fingers into my wetness again. “Oh, please, Tate, make me come?” The pumping is fast and furious, his fingers raking the ridges on the swollen gland, and I’m so uncomfortable I can barely stand it. “Please, Tate?”

  “Nope.” And he stops.

  I start to whine. It’s all so intense that I’m almost in pain. “Oh, god!” I manage to cry out between panting breaths.

  He moves to stand beside me and begins to pull and twist my nipples, then suck the one nearest him while he keeps up the torture on the other. In a few minutes, he swaps sides and does the same thing. Then I feel him move back to the end of the table. The dragging sound of the chair happens again, and I feel his tongue explore my pussy, running as deep as possible inside it followed by a vigorous lapping around my super-sensitized nub again.

  “Oh, god, Tate, please?” I shriek. “Please, make me come? I need it so bad, babe. Please?” And I feel his head shake in a negative fashion.

  Everything is building again, and it’s more powerful and excruciating than before. “Oh, god, sweet mother of god, oh, oh, please, oh god,” I keep moaning and crying. With my legs tied the way they are, I can’t thrust my hips. The muscles in my belly are knotted and sore, and all I really want is that release that he keeps denying me. I want to shriek, to jerk, to pull away, but I can’t. He’s got me right where he wants me, and I’m not going anywhere until he’s finished with his fun.

  His voice is husky when he growls out, “Beg me, Savannah. Beg me for release. Tell me what you need.”

  I’m whining now. “I need to come! Please, Tate, let me come, please?”

  “That’s pretty good begging. Make it believable and I might let you.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

  All I can manage is a low moan. “Oh, god, please, Tate. Oh, gawwwwwddddd …” My voice trails off in a moan, and I think I hear him chuckle.

  “And what do you want after I let you come?”

  “I want you to do whatever you want with me. Please? Just let me come.” I’m desperate now and really, really afraid he’s going to stop again.

  He lets out a laugh. “I think you’ve earned your pleasure. Get ready, Savannah. I’m going to let you cut loose.” The stroking is ramped up, and the next thing I know, I explode.

  And I scream. I can’t help it. My hips can’t thrust, my legs are stiff, and I’m going crazy with the agony of it all. He keeps going until I can’t think and almost can’t breathe. Then he stops and leaves me panting. I feel him doing something with the rope, and quick as a wink, my legs are free and down, then my arms. And I wonder what’s next.

  He sits on the chair in front of me and pulls me down onto his lap―right onto his waiting cock. It’s hard as steel and I cry out a little as I slide down over it, the bulbous head smacking into the end of my channel and rocking everything inside me, reminding me that his possession of my body is complete. Five strokes and I’m shaking with another orgasm, this one deep and powerful, and his smile warms everything inside me. He’s really, really enjoying this, and something about pleasing him makes me smile all over. He lifts and drops me with strong hands around my ribcage, making my orgasm go on and on while he holds back, prolonging his satisfaction, offering me yet another orgasm as he waits it out. After twenty minutes and three orgasms on my part, I can feel him tense. “Savannah, this is it for me. I want you to come again with me, okay? You ready?”

  I shake my head. “Almost. Can you wait?”

  There’s a low chuckle that escapes his throat. “Yeah. I can always wait. My control is excellent. Let me know when you’re getting close.”

  I wonder how I’m supposed to do that when I can feel myself readying to come again. I groan at least once, my clit throbbing. He can’t help but know now. “Oh, shit, oh, Tate. I’m, I’m, I’m …”

  A low moan escapes his lips. “I am too, baby. Let go for me.” I can feel the muscles in my lower body take over, growing rigid as I shake and thrust, and he answers it all by shoving into me hard at least four times and then groaning out, “Oh, god, I can’t …”

  He holds me steady and pivots his pelvis, stroking into me fast and hard over and over until I feel him stiffen and he cries out, “Oh, god, Savannah, I love fucking you. Yeah, baby, yeah.” Every word is a guttural grunt as he empties into the condom he’s wearing and then drags me down onto his shaft for the last time and holds me still, his length buried deep inside me, and I’m overpowered by the sensation of warmth and power.

  I collapse against his chest. Tate wears something light and contemporary, a fresh, crisp cologne that makes me think of high-end department stores and yachts and evenings in fancy French restaurants surrounded by fresh flowers and candlelight. He strokes my hair and down my back and draws in a deep, ragged breath as he tries to recover his strength. “Was I good?” I have to ask.

  He pulls my face up to his and drops a soft little kiss on my mouth, then leans back and smiles at me. “Good? Yeah, you were good. You were good times ten. This is, what, our fourth time together?”

  “Something like that,” I whisper with a grin and kiss him back. “You know, what you lack in experience you make up for in stamina.” I grin even bigger when he throws his head back and laughs, a deep, rolling sound that makes my belly quiver.

  “Is that so? Well, maybe I can show you how much experience I have!” He helps me up and off of him, and I watch as he rolls the condom off his already-hardening cock. I can’t believe he’s going to be ready again in just a couple of minutes, but it’s clear that’s the case. “Come with me.” He takes me by the hand and leads me back up the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you upstairs to put the old guys to shame.” There’s a look on his face that’s pure mischief, and I love it.

  Once we’re in the bedroom again, he just pulls me down with him into the bed. “So, care to estimate how long I’m going to be able to fuck you before I come again?”

  I shrug. “Thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, thirty minutes it is.” I expect him to rise up above me, or put me on my elbow and knees, but instead he rolls onto his side facing me, then scoots up against me and slips his cock into me again. He wiggles until I can get my leg up and under him, then throw the other one over his hip above. With that, he starts a slow thrusting into me, nothing hard or fast, just a gentle rocking type of movement. It feels good―it feels damn good. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and he wraps his around my ribcage. The sensation is one of complete and total connection. There’s nothing unknown or unnecessary between us, just the rhythm of our bodies and the soft whir of the ceiling fan above us. I wonder for a second if Gloria was peeking through the blinds downstairs, then forget about her as my body readies for release.

  Two orgasms later, I’m still waiting for Tate to come. He doesn’t seem to be in the least bit of a hurry. “You know, Savannah, I alw
ays like being here with you. It’s just a comfortable, easy place to be. Is it this way for you and Martin?”

  I nod. “Yes. Always. I love being here with him, with you, with whoever I draw from the bowl. But especially with Martin.”

  He gives me a gentle smile. “You guys are really in love, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, we are.” I smile back. Some people might think it was weird, me thinking about my husband and fucking another guy, but for all of us, it’s just how it is. “We have been for a long time.”

  “I hope Makayla and I can hang on that long. I kind of see us as a younger version of you and Martin.”

  “Really? I’m flattered!” I hope my smile really conveys how I feel about what he’s said. It’s so sweet.

  “Yeah, we get along so well and have so much fun together. The only hiccup has been the thing with the four of us.”

  I nod. “You mean Ainsley and Marissa.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “She’s told me that if Marissa ever draws my keys and I agree to it, there’s going to be trouble.”

  “Why? I mean, she was with Ainsley, wasn’t she?” I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong, and then it hits me. “This is because you two guys hid all of this from the girls?”

  He nods. “Yeah, I think so. I think if we’d done things differently, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But we were trying to keep all of it so separate, and in the end it’s really worked against us.”

  “But why? I’ve never understood. Why didn’t you want the girls to meet?”

  He shakes his head. “We had it in our heads that if we kept them apart, that if they didn’t know who the other one was, it would seem more like we were having an affair and be more exciting. And it worked. Until they met.” He stops for a few seconds, then says, “I really think having them meet for the first time over here in front of a bunch of other people who knew what we’d been doing was probably a very bad idea.”

  I give him “the look” and reply, “Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re right about that. It put them both in a really awkward spot.”

  “I realize that now.”

  “Actually,” I begin, “I think what you did was make them each other’s competition.” He starts to speak, and I put a finger to his lips. “You were keeping them secret from each other. You obviously didn’t want them to meet. Why? Were you falling in love with the other girl?”

  “No. She was just a fuck. I don’t mean that in a slutty way. I mean, it just didn’t mean anything except a good time.”

  “Women don’t see it that way. If you’re purposely keeping her away from the other woman you’re sleeping with, you must be hiding something. And now her relationship with you is obviously in danger.”

  He stops stroking inside me and looks into my eyes. “I see what you mean. I never thought of it that way. I guess if the tables were turned, I’d feel the same way.”

  I nod. “Can you go back to what you were doing? Because that felt pretty damn fine.”

  “Oh!” He grins and starts again, his hips undulating between my legs. “Sorry. I was just thinking. But yeah, I see what you’re saying. I guess we should have a talk, huh?”

  “I’m thinking probably so. And I’d suggest that you and Ainsley sit down with both of them and talk about this, the four of you.”

  “That’s gonna take some balls.”

  “I’d say you’ve got ‘em.” I lean in and kiss him. It’s a little surprising when he returns the kiss a little deeper and harder, and pretty soon we’re down each other’s throats and he’s started a more purposeful rocking into me. “By the way, are you ever going to come?”

  A full chuckle rolls out of his throat. “Yeah, eventually! Why, you getting tired?”

  I laugh outright. “Hell no!”

  “Then let’s get serious about this thing.” His strokes become more insistent, and I’m having trouble hanging on, but I want to wait for him.

  I’m moaning and almost writhing and finally I say, “Oh, god, I need to come, Tate. Please come with me?”

  He laughs and nips at my neck. “You sure?”

  I nibble his earlobe, then whisper in his ear, “Sure. I’m totally sure. Oh, god …” The moan comes pouring out of me as my climax takes over, and suddenly I feel him stiffen.

  “Well, it has been thirty-two minutes …” And it’s over for him too. He presses down deep into me and grinds, the head of his cock scrubbing into me and holding the pressure I can feel at the top of my channel. His throbbing takes me down. I’m glad I drew his keys tonight. He’s more than good, and I’m satisfied completely.

  Twenty minutes later we’re lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, my cheek lying on his chest, his hand stroking my hair. Then out of the blue he asks this question: “Savannah, what makes you want to do this? I mean, why?”

  I think about how to answer that. How can I explain it? “Well, let’s see. It’s not because there’s anything wrong with Martin, or anything wrong between us, because there’s not. And it’s not because I’m a nymphomaniac.” He starts to laugh. “Well, I’m not!” He laughs even harder. “Oh, stop it!” I giggle and slap his belly, and he grabs my hand and hangs onto it.

  “So?”

  I’m still trying to figure out how to articulate it, and I don’t know how. Finally, I just say, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess variety? Knowing that other men find me attractive and appealing? I’m not sure. It’s like each one of you being glad that I drew your keys and not recoiling in horror is validating.”

  “Recoiling in horror?” Now Tate’s laughing right out loud. “I can’t imagine any man doing that with you. You’re a good-looking woman, and you’re a hellcat in the sack. No one could possibly have a problem with you.”

  I shake my head. “That wasn’t always the case.” He gives me a puzzled stare. “Martin and I had our own variety of problems a few years back, before we started doing this. We’d gotten bored with each other, bored with our lives, bored with the sex. He suggested this; I was resistant at first. But I started thinking about it and decided to try it. The first time I was petrified, but halfway in, I realized I was enjoying myself, and it looked like I was being enjoyed. That kinda lit a fire under me. The four of us talked it over and pretty soon we decided we’d try to add another couple to the group. And it just went from there.”

  “And now it’s just a staple in your lives?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I can’t imagine never doing this again. I’d miss all of you, and not just you guys. All of the ladies have become friends too. But there’s just something …” I stop.

  “Something what?”

  “I don’t know, something erotic about knowing that my husband is fucking another woman. And that makes me want to fuck another man. And it just goes on and on. Does that make sense?”

  Tate nods. “Yeah. Makes perfect sense.” A thoughtful looks lights up his eyes. “Have you ever watched him fuck another woman?”

  I shake my head. “No. That never occurred to me. I think part of the attraction is that I know whatever he’s doing with her, it’s private between the two of them and doesn’t include me. Kinda keeps me on my toes relationship-wise, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that would work.” He puts a finger under my chin and tips my head back to look into my eyes. “It turns me on to know that I’m fucking a woman whose husband is wondering what we’re doing.”

  I laugh. “See? That’s what I mean! I guess it’s that unknown factor that makes it appealing. I want to know what they’re doing, and I don’t want to know. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I do.” His hand trails down between my breasts, on down my belly, and settles in the valley between my legs. “Ah, yeah. Want some more?”

  “Absolutely,” I purr and lick his nipple. And more is exactly what I get.

  8

  Gloria

  Well, I took myself over there to the McIntosh’s after I saw all of the cars leave. They had all of the blinds drawn so
I couldn’t see a darn thing. I know there’s one bedroom on the ground floor, but it was dark so I’m pretty sure no one was in there. And there was no way to see in the dining room or living room.

  They’ve got to be up to something. I just wish I knew what. I’m still watching the Hendersons, Reynolds, and Millicans. I’m still trying to figure out what they’re all doing, but that one time, my god, that was an awful sight, just awful. What kind of people do that? Russell says I should just let it go, but I can’t. I care about my neighborhood and the people in it. If there are bad things going on, someone should take care of them. At least I think so.

  I’m trying to decide what to do next. Maybe I should try again next week. I’m sure they’ll have another one of those parties. And when they do, I’ll be watching.

  9

  Savannah

  “Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah, that’s good. Yeah, I’ll tell her. Let’s talk about it on Friday night, see what everybody else says. We’ll get a better idea what’s going on with her too. Okay. Okay, talk to you then. Bye.” Martin punches END on his phone and turns to me with a grin.

  “What was that all about?” I’m cutting up some celery for tuna casserole and he just walked in from work.

  “That was Harrison. He’s got an idea and I think it’s pretty good. Just wait―you’ll see.” He’s chuckling to himself as he walks away. I can’t wait to hear this.

  I made cupcakes, and I think they’re probably the most popular thing I’ve ever had here for everyone because they can take a couple of them back to the houses with them. We all sit down and start snacking on the pretzels and confetti dip that Marissa made. That stuff is like crack.